Foundations Book Three

by Dayton Ward, Kevin Dilmore

  “And that, more than anything else, is why we have cultural liaisons aboard our ships,” Scott added. “Even our S.C.E. ships.” On the screen, the Starfleet legend shook his head. “In fact, this whole thing reminds me of another time when a ship was lost far from home and came into contact with another species.”

  “Uh oh,” Gold said, looking to Abramowitz with a mischievous glint in his eye. “I feel another story coming on.”

  Abramowitz could not help laughing at the captain’s deadpan delivery. It was fascinating how Scott could be counted on to have a timely anecdote for whatever crisis the da Vinci crew happened to encounter. Then again, that quality was only part of what made Captain Montgomery Scott the unique individual he was.

  “Aye, but I think Dr. Abramowitz will appreciate this tale. For one thing, on this occasion it was one of our ships that was the lost little lamb, dependent on the goodwill of a previously unknown people to get them home….”

  Chapter

  2

  Stardate 7981.3

  “What do ye call déjà vu the second time ye get it?”

  As had happened three days earlier upon boarding the starship that had ferried him here, Montgomery Scott was struck by the familiarity of the transporter room in which he had just materialized. It, like its counterpart on the transport ship, was a near match for the Enterprise’s transporter room before his own ship’s extensive refit. Here the higher level of lighting served to intensify the already vibrant colors and give the room a pulse, a certain zest that he occasionally admitted to missing aboard the Enterprise. He knew that the heart of his beloved ship still beat proudly from beneath newer and stronger hull plating, faster engines and more advanced onboard systems. However, while his engineer’s mind had long since embraced and even relished the improvements bestowed on his vessel, the romantic in him had refused to dismiss the sense that something had been lost in the Enterprise’s redesign.

  One major difference, however, was that this ship’s transporter console was missing most of its components. The transport ship had performed the beam-in procedure all by its lonesome. This vessel was no longer on active duty, and many components had been removed, including the transporter.

  “You’re not going to pine over the tune-up your ship got again, are you?” Commander Mahmud al-Khaled asked as he stood before the gutted transporter console with a wide grin on his face, moving forward to greet Scott as the latter stepped from the platform. “I’ve told you before and I’ll tell you again: If you’re looking for sympathy from me, you’re wasting your time. You starship types are spoiled compared to the rest of us real engineers, so quit complaining every time they give you new toys to play with.”

  Ignoring Scott’s outstretched hand, al-Khaled instead embraced his friend. Drawing back, he cast the Enterprise chief engineer an amused look.

  “I thought you said you only grew that mustache on a dare and you were going to shave it off. How long ago was that?”

  Smiling, Scott replied, “A few lassies convinced me to keep it.”

  Al-Khaled chuckled at that. “Well, mustache or no, welcome to the Chandley. I’m glad you could make the trip.”

  “I had to come,” Scott said. “It was either this or Risa. Dr. McCoy has been champin’ at the bit for me to take shore leave.” His last conversation with the Enterprise’s chief medical officer prior to leaving the ship had been amusing, with McCoy shaking his head in disbelief that the engineer would choose to spend time with other engineers instead of immersing himself in the pleasures offered on the legendary resort planet.

  Scott followed as al-Khaled led the way from the transporter room. “You know, you were right the other day about Alhena’s knack for our line of work,” al-Khaled said. “Her mother sent some images over subspace of her tearing into an old food processor. She almost got it put back together, too.”

  Scott smiled at that. Though he had never had the opportunity to meet al-Khaled’s wife and daughter, he had heard all about them through his own irregular subspace correspondence with his friend. “What is she now, five?”

  “Just turned,” al-Khaled replied. “It’s way too soon for this dad to wish for it, but if she wants to be an engineer when she grows up, I’m certainly not going to stand in her way. There are plenty of worse careers she could choose.” Laughing mischievously he added, “I only hope I can convince her to join the Corps and avoid that cushy starship duty.”

  As they continued down the corridor, Scott could discern more signs that the Chandley was not a starship on active duty. Panels that had once provided access to circuitry overseeing many of the ship’s key systems had been taken out, showing only dark maws where control mechanisms had once been. Defensive systems as well as most of the more powerful onboard sensor and computer components had been removed upon the vessel’s decommissioning.

  “They dinna leave much, did they?”

  “Enough for the Kelvans,” al-Khaled replied as they approached a turbolift. “When you see what they’ve been working on these last couple of years, I think you’ll agree that the trip was worth it.”

  “I have to admit to bein’ a wee bit intrigued at the offer,” Scott replied. “I haven’t been here in years, you know.” How long had it been since his first visit to New Kelva? For that matter, what was the planet’s original name? Tau Delta III, Delta Tau III, something else? The names of many worlds that Scott had visited during his service aboard the Enterprise had long since blended together, and the planet they were currently orbiting was not one he had ever regarded as a likely candidate for a return visit.

  They stepped into the turbolift and al-Khaled ordered it to proceed to the engineering deck. “The Enterprise crew is held in high esteem by Rojan and the others,” he said. “After all, if not for you, New Kelva would not have been founded, and the Kelvans would not be in a position to unveil their little surprise today.”

  Scott frowned, uncomfortable with such praise. After all, his first and only encounter with the Kelvans had been a trying one. The aliens had hijacked the Enterprise after their own vessel had been damaged during passage through the powerful energy barrier at the edge of the galaxy. Part of an advance scouting party from their planet in the Andromeda galaxy, they had been sent to find a new home for their empire when Kelvan scientists discovered that radiation harmful to their life-forms was rising toward lethal levels. Projections called for the extinction of all life in their galaxy within ten thousand years.

  Ships had been dispatched from the Kelvan Empire, traversing the void between their own area of space and the nearest neighboring galaxy, a journey that had taken generations to complete. In order to return with their report, the scouting party that had captured the Enterprise had intended to use the vessel to replace their own for the three-hundred-year voyage back to the Andromeda galaxy.

  Scott suppressed an involuntary shudder at the memory of how the Kelvans had asserted their control over the Enterprise crew. Using the awesome power at their command, the aliens had transformed the bulk of the ship’s crew into small, brittle duodecahredons, each containing the essential chemical components of the person it represented. He recalled walking the starship’s corridors, mindful of each step around the seemingly innocuous geometric shapes that had littered the decks. An errant footfall would have crushed one of the blocks, and brought instant death to the crewmember whose essence it contained.

  Despite the obstacles before him, however, Captain Kirk had naturally been unwilling to stand by and allow his ship to be taken from him.

  “It was Captain Kirk who was the real motivator,” he said. “Of course, he practically had to knock their leader through a bulkhead before he convinced the man that the Federation would rather welcome them than battle them.”

  Laughing, al-Khaled nodded. “Rojan told me the whole story over dinner last night. An inauspicious first contact to be sure, but one that could ultimately provide many positive ramifications for the Federation. They have been most generous in sharing their
scientific and engineering knowledge, which as you may remember was very advanced in many areas, especially with regards to engine design.”

  “Aye, that’s a fact,” Scott replied. “I dinna know how they did it, but they rigged up the Enterprise to fly at a speed I’ve seen bested only once.”

  The turbolift slowed to a halt and the doors opened again. Here, on the Chandley’s engineering deck, the evidence of the ship’s new status was even more apparent, though this time it was because of what was present rather than what might be missing. The corridor was littered with all manner of equipment, some of it undoubtedly Kelvan in origin and unfamiliar to Scott.

  “You haven’t seen anything yet, my friend,” al-Khaled said as they proceeded down the passageway. “I’ve been here long enough to dig into what the Kelvans are going to show the Federation tomorrow. In a word, it’s staggering.”

  Scott’s brow furrowed. “What?”

  “They may very well let the genie out of the bottle.”

  What did that mean? Scott knew from subspace correspondence with his friend that al-Khaled had been dispatched by Starfleet to report on the progress of the engine design project initiated by the Kelvans several years ago. What had he found here? Was Kelvan propulsion technology even more advanced than Scott had believed based on his previous encounter with the aliens?

  He did not have time to ask any more questions before they arrived at the main engineering section. A glance around the room revealed a host of technicians, of whom almost none were dressed in any kind of Starfleet uniform. That made sense, of course, as most of the people currently aboard the ship were Kelvans. He had read in al-Khaled’s last message that only thirty-six Kelvans lived on the planet below, most of those having been discovered nearly seven years ago marooned on a small planetoid several light-years from here. The castaways turned out to be from the same ship as the Kelvans encountered by the Enterprise crew, and after their rescue they had been brought here to join their shipmates.

  No doubt they’re anxious to find more of their people, Scott thought before his eyes locked on the grouping of silver cylinders standing silently in the center of the engineering room.

  “Will ye just look at that,” he said as he regarded the odd object occupying the space where the matter/antimatter reaction chamber would normally have been situated. Appraising the construct, Scott realized it was not unfamiliar. After all, he had seen something very similar once before: the energy projector that Rojan and his group had installed aboard the Enterprise.

  But this, Scott could plainly see, was something altogether different.

  “Ah, yes,” al-Khaled said as they crossed the floor to the unusual equipment, “the Kelvan version of an intermix chamber. I personally cannot wait to see this beauty in action.”

  Venturing forward to more closely inspect the device, Scott reached out to touch it and was a bit taken aback at the cool sensations on his fingertips. He could also feel the pulse of power from within its chambers. “Is this supposed to be the bottle yer genie is hidin’ in, lad?”

  A voice behind him said, “If you are asking whether or not this is the central component of our engine design, you are correct, Commander.”

  Scott was surprised to realize that he recognized the voice, although it had been many years since last hearing it. He turned to see a tall, black-haired man dressed in a utilitarian jumpsuit. His complexion was not pallid as Scott remembered it, his skin instead sporting a healthy tan no doubt cultivated beneath the warm rays of the New Kelvan sun.

  “I believe you know Tomar,” al-Khaled said to Scott. “From what I understand, you two are old drinking buddies.”

  Unable to stifle the laugh his friend’s deadpan comment had provoked, Scott merely shook his head. It had been years since he had last thought about his unorthodox strategy to aid in overpowering the Kelvans who had taken over the Enterprise. He had managed to incapacitate Tomar, but it had taken several hours and nearly the entire contents of his liquor cabinet.

  “Aye, I remember,” he said as he extended his hand in greeting. “I certainly hope that you haven’t held a grudge against me all these years.”

  Smiling slightly as he shook Scott’s hand, Tomar nodded formally. “Neither I nor any of my people carry ill will toward you or your shipmates, Commander. I am grateful that you have chosen to join us for our tests, as your invitation was extended at my request.”

  “Mahmud here tells me that this project has been years in the making,” Scott said. “If it’s as successful as he says it should be, it’ll be quite an achievement for all of ye.”

  Tomar turned to survey the drive structure. “We are proud of the accomplishments that have come about due to our cooperation with the Federation. As you already know, before we arrived in your galaxy our way was that of the conqueror. While in transit aboard our generational craft, we were taught only how to overpower and rule other worlds. Now, with your help, we are ready to venture out, possibly to unite with our fellow travelers or at least prepare for their ultimate arrival. This is far removed from what might have been.”

  “That’s not to say you didn’t have your share of settling-in adjustments,” al-Khaled said. Scott recalled that al-Khaled and his ship, the Lovell, had been among the Starfleet detachment assigned to New Kelva to help establish the initial colony for Tomar and his companions.

  Scott nodded. “As ye said, all of that is behind ye. But now I canna wait to learn more about these engines of yours.”

  “There is no need to trouble yourself with such details now, Commander.”

  Scott turned at the new voice and saw a young Andorian standing at al-Khaled’s side, wearing a Starfleet uniform with insignia designating her as a lieutenant and an engineer. What Scott noticed most of all, however, was the hint of a smug grin on her soft blue face.

  “There will be plenty of time to discuss specifications once we’re on our way,” she continued. “Before we can do that, however, I need to review some calibration data with Tomar.”

  Scott felt his jaw go nearly slack as Tomar excused himself and joined the Andorian, both of them stepping away to consult one of the computer monitors lining the bulkhead in this room. He had not been so smartly brushed aside by someone that…that young before.

  “Well, that was a fine how-do-ye-do.”

  Al-Khaled leaned toward his friend. “Scotty, meet Lieutenant Talev zh’Thren, one of Starfleet’s latest additions to the S.C.E. Though she’s assigned to the Tucker, she’s been on temporary duty here, helping with the Chandley’s refit. She knows her way around the computer system overseeing the new engines better than the Kelvans who designed it.”

  “Aye, but apparently she knows it,” Scott replied, not bothering to keep his first impression of the young officer from his friend.

  Chuckling at that, al-Khaled said, “I’ll admit that she needs to refine her interpersonal skills, but don’t let that close your mind to her abilities.”

  Scott frowned. We’ll have to see what we’ll see, I guess.

  Dismissing the haughty young lieutenant for the time being, Scott instead looked about the engineering room. “You know, ye could have told me before that the Chandley had been selected for this project.”

  Al-Khaled exhaled sharply before saying anything. “Well, it has been a long time, and I wasn’t sure that you would make the connection.”

  “That this was J’lenn’s ship?” he asked, recalling the young Alpha Centauran whom he had known all too briefly before her tragic death so many years ago, during his first mission with al-Khaled. “She’s always been hard to forget, I’m afraid.”

  A vibrant, energetic woman, J’lenn had been assigned with Scott to render assistance to one of the outpost stations lining the Neutral Zone near Romulan space. She had been killed on that mission, one of the earliest occasions that Scott had been forced to deal with the loss of a fellow officer and friend. One of the few things he had learned about J’lenn prior to her death was that a previous assignment had been
aboard this very ship, which had been tasked with patrolling the area of space separating the Federation and the Klingon Empire.

  “I think of her sometimes, Scotty,” al-Khaled said. “She’s always been a reminder to me that our work is dangerous. It hurts me any time one of my shipmates dies, but each one makes me think of J’lenn, and then it hurts worse.”

  “J’lenn was a fine engineer, Mahmud,” Scott said, sensing his friend’s pain. It was al-Khaled who had assigned J’lenn to the detail that resulted in her death. “And ’twas your leadership that made that mission a success. Just like this one will be.”

  Frowning, al-Khaled replied, “I don’t know about that. There are several hundred people involved with this project, many of them volunteers, but Rojan is still very much the leader here. He figures that more members of his race are out there, on their way from their home planet, and neither he nor the other Kelvans are content to simply sit and wait for them to arrive. They know that the clock is ticking for their people back home, and that if billions of migrating Kelvans show up without warning, there’ll be no room for them. New Kelva can’t sustain that many people, so Rojan and the others want to start looking for other suitable planets.”

  “So why not set up a contingency plan with the Federation?” Scott asked. “There are a legion of researchers and bureaucrats ready to place new settlements on planets of one sort or another.”

  “Because in spite of everything that’s happened since they settled here, they’re still Kelvans, Scotty. They want to do this, and they want to do it on their terms.”

  Gesturing for Scott to follow him, al-Khaled began a slow walking circuit of the engineering room, pausing every so often to inspect a computer display or a control console. Scott regarded his friend quizzically as he worked, shaking his head in mild amusement.