by KATHY OLTION
The captain said, “Uhura, tell Shucorion to get back over here where he’ll do the most good.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Seven minutes to laser terminus.” the computer said.
Spock kept his eyes glued to the internal monitors, watching the power fluctuate to the deflector array. “Mr. Scott, we are still losing stability.”
“Hold onto your britches. We’re about done here.”
The signal degradation continued for two more minutes before it bottomed out at seventy-six percent, then it just as slowly began to improve. “That seems to have done it,” Spock said.
Suddenly the viewscreen filled with streaks of light. The Kauld were rallying for one final attack before their master weapon was neutralized completely. But this time the remains of the Federation’s mobile defenders were hot on their tails, and Shucorion’s fleet swooped in from all sides to join the battle directly beneath the antilaser shield.
It must have been a spectacular sight from the ground. Space battles were usually distant sparks and glints of light for all but the participants, but this time it raged across the night sky of the whole planet. Antimatter explosions actually lit up the ground like day for seconds at a time, and debris from disintegrating ships rained down in showers of multicolored meteors.
“Four minutes to laser terminus,” the computer reported.
Vellyngaith’s ship suddenly winked into view, plowing through the defenders as it built up ramming speed straight for the Enterprise. The Kauld leader had put all his ship’s energy into shields and engines, but at the last moment he couldn’t resist firing a disruptor at his nemesis as it hung there unmoving before him. In that moment of vulnerability, Kirk ordered full phasers from every ship in the fleet concentrated on the battleship, and its shields flared out. One of Shucorion’s ships fired at it at close range, blasting a huge section out of its flank, and a moment later the Kauld warship vanished back into warp drive.
“Three minutes to laser terminus.”
Vellyngaith’s flight broke the resolve of the Kauld attack force, and the rest of his ships fled the battle right behind him. Shucorion’s ships patrolled back and forth across the dark face of the planet, reminding Spock of a pack of sehlats strutting their stuff during mating season. Or a pack of humans, for that matter.
The power readings continued to fluctuate, but with Mr. Scott’s assistance they were able to keep the deflector array well within operating parameters. The computer counted down the final few minutes, then the final few seconds. At last it said, “Laser terminus has passed,” and a cheer erupted around the bridge. Spock was mortified to realize that he had nearly joined in, but he stopped the impulse at the last moment and stoically accepted the backslapping and the hugging that humans felt obliged to perform when things worked out as planned.
Chapter Thirty-four
ENGINEERING looked like a cyclone had hit it. Scotty and his crew had removed several access panels under the various workstations in his need to keep the deflector array running. He left them where they lay as markers for repairs that would have to be completed. Bluish smoke rose in thin columns from the master engineering console as well as from the environmental controls. It could all be fixed, and would be soon, but just now it didn’t matter. They were alive, and they’d managed to beat the laser.
Cheering filled the room as the reality of their success dawned on everyone, and Kirk’s voice echoed through the shipwide network: “We made it.”
Scotty wiped his brow with the back of his hand and felt the muscles in his neck truly relax for the first time since he and Dr. McCoy had found the Kauld fleet practicing their war games. He glanced over at the master engineering station again. All the major components it took to keep the Enterprise intact and operational were up and running, if not pretty. Around him, other engineering crew members were starting to poke around their stations too, reconnecting the obviously disconnected. They could take care of themselves for the moment.
The flashing red lights in the corners of the room shut off, indicating that the captain had taken them off alert status. Lieutenant Hanson nearly ran him over as she came around from behind with an armful of helical tensors. “Sorry, sir,” she said, dropping a tensor from her cache.
He bent over to retrieve it for her. “Watch where you’re going, lass, or you’ll be spending all o’ your time fixing what you crash into.”
“And thank you for your help too, sir,” she said, a smile tugging at her lips.
Scotty smiled back. “Aye. Good work out there on the EVA. Spock’s right. We’d never have made it with the array in the shape it was in.”
“Tensors?” a voice called out from deeper into the room.
“Gotta go,” Hanson said.
Scotty peered through the thinning smoke and watched as his crew stepped over debris and pushed aside mined displays to make room for replacements. He proudly listened to them discuss their options, debate the merits of each, and come to the same conclusions he would have. They were indeed a fine crew.
His communicator whistled for his attention. “Scott here.”
“How long before the warp drive is up again.?” Kirk asked.
He looked at the status monitor. “Captain, I canna possibly have it fixed before Gamma Night is over. Another five or six hours, anyway.” That ought to give the laddies working on it time enough.
“That’ll do. Keep me posted. Kirk out.”
Scotty returned his communicator to his belt and turned once around, looking for the job that needed him most, but he realized everything that needed doing was already being done. He might actually have a moment to breathe before the next crisis came along. A moment, even, to relax.
He turned to the wall where the storage lockers held sets of specialized tools, the rare personal item for the crew members on duty, or even—in this case—an heirloom. He cleared a space on the nearest workbench, then cautiously opened the locker that held the Brandons’ toaster. It had survived the hubbub of the fight with the Kauld and the defending of Belle Terre without so much as a scratch. It had already survived the trip out here and the blacksmith’s shop. It would probably outlast the Enterprise herself. Kaylene Brandon had placed her faith wisely after all. If her family was anything like her toaster, they were a tough lot.
Carefully placing it on the bench, Scotty grabbed a stool and sat down to admire the toaster’s antiquity.
Lieutenant Hanson came up beside him, her arms free of their load. “Are you okay, sir?”
He angled his head slightly to look at her. “I’m fine, Lieutenant. I’m just taking a little time to relax, and I happen to have this unfinished project that’s been bothering me.”
She looked at the silvery object, recognition absent from her face. She finally said, “Okay. Call me if I can help,” and disappeared into the melee.
“Now then,” he said to himself, turning back to the toaster. “I need a Phillips screwdriver, and a soldering gun, and . . .”
Chapter Thirty-five
GOVERNOR PARDONNET’S office looked like a blizzard had hit it. Kirk had never seen so much paper in one room outside of a library, and never so much of it lying loose on desktops, chairs, and filing cabinets. There was no place to sit for anyone but Pardonnet, but the governor made no apology for it.
“This is the way I do things,” he said when he saw Kirk’s expression. “I know it would all fit into one datapad, but if I can’t see it nagging me for attention, I’ll never get to it.”
Kirk looked at a few sheets. Inventories, status reports, schedules—the detritus of a bureaucratic job. Kirk wondered how big a pile the contents of his datapad would make if he printed it all out.
That pile would be a bit smaller today than yesterday, at least. He could cross saving the world off his list. And patching it up, too. He smiled at the governor, then turned to Shucorion and Lilian, who stood by his side.
“Shucorion has brought all the building supplies he could fit into his ships,” he said
. “Plus the furnishings for new schools, medical centers, and community halls.” He looked askance at the Blood leader and said, “Quite a packing job, considering the cargo containers were form-fit around the hulls of his warships.”
“You’re complaining?” Shucorion asked.
“No. I make it a point not to complain when somebody pulls my bacon out of the fire. But I do wonder what made you think you could get away with it before you knew what the Kauld had planned.”
Shucorion shrugged. “I have my sources. I didn’t know exactly what they had planned, but I knew they were about to spring it on either you or us. Travelling armed seemed a prudent precaution.”
“Well, it certainly was,” Kirk admitted. “And I thank you.”
“The colony thanks you as well,” Pardonnet said.
“Helping defeat the Kauld was my pleasure,” Shucorion said. “But the building supplies were a business deal, and there is now the matter of payment. Your olivium mine is temporarily shut down. How long before you can resume production?”
Pardonnet narrowed his brows, then began searching among the papers on his desk. “I have that report here somewhere. Just a moment.”
Kirk took that as his cue to make a graceful exit. He turned to Lilian and said, “Why don’t we leave them to their business.”
“Certainly,” she said. “Would you care to walk me home?”
“I’d be delighted.”
Pardonnet glanced up at them, his eyes full of questions, but he said nothing. Kirk held the door for Lilian, and they walked out of the building and into the street.
He was a bit surprised when she reached for his hand, but he accepted the familiarity. If she wanted to be seen this way in public, that was fine with him.
“That was quite a light show in the night sky,” she said as they walked toward her house.
“It was pretty exciting from overhead, too,” Kirk replied.
She nodded. “I imagine it was.”
They walked a couple blocks in silence, just enjoying each other’s company. They were about to turn off the main street when Kirk spotted the familiar figure of Dr. McCoy walking toward them from the other direction. He was carrying something gray in his arms, and when he drew closer Kirk could see that it was a cat.
“Hello, Lilian,” McCoy said when he came closer. “Jim. Fancy meetin’ you here.”
“Likewise,” Kirk said. “Looks like you’ve found a friend.”
“I’m looking for a good home for her,” McCoy said. “Sickbay is no place for a cat. She’s getting into everything. And I refuse to let Scotty keep her in engineering, either. She’d get herself electrocuted, first thing.” He held her up so Lilian could see her. “So I thought I’d see if you could use a mouser.”
Lilian started to shake her head, but then she looked at McCoy again and stopped in midmotion. “I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe. Why don’t you bring her up to the house and we’ll see how she takes to it.” She took his arm in her free hand and started walking again between the two men. “Why don’t you both stay for dinner? My garden is looking kind of shabby at the moment, but I’m sure we can rustle up something worth eating.”
McCoy scratched the cat between the ears and said, “I’ll never turn down a home-cooked meal.”
“Sounds wonderful,” said Kirk. As they walked on up the street, he couldn’t help thinking how close they had come to losing all this. Pardonnet and Lilian and the others were building a real community here, and for the first time since he’d taken this mission he understood why they had gone to all the trouble to do it. Life wasn’t all duty and honor and glory; someone had to live the life that people like him fought to protect, or the whole thing would be meaningless.
He wasn’t about to give up the glory, but just this once, for a little while, he was happy to stop and smell the roses.
Chapter Thirty-six
THE OUTPOST TAVERN thumped and gyrated to the sound of squealing yeerids in heat—or perhaps it was alien music. Deloric couldn’t tell. He and Terwolan had finally managed to exchange their pay chits for local currency, and were now busy trying to learn enough about their new home to find a niche they could fill while they planned their new lives, but it was proving more complicated than they had hoped.
Deloric was still a bit stunned to think that he was no longer a soldier, and equally stunned to think that a woman like Terwolan would cast her lot with him. In all the time they had worked together, he had never guessed the depth of her thoughts, nor their similarity to his own. Now he could hardly imagine life without her, no matter where that life might lead.
He was just about to ask her to dance with him when two Kauld soldiers entered the bar.
He turned away and whispered to her, “Don’t look, but trouble just walked in.”
Neither he nor she were wearing their uniforms anymore. Those had been the first things they had gotten rid of. Still, they were the only other blue-skinned bipeds in the bar. He tried to look nonchalant as the soldiers stomped through the bar right past him and pulled up chairs at the empty table behind his back.
A large-eared, peg-toothed trader at the next table over said, “I hear the Kauld got their butts kicked a couple of days ago in the Beltar system. Any truth to that?”
The soldiers looked at one another, then in one fluid motion they rose up and grabbed the trader.
“Hey!” he squealed as they carried him to the door. “I was just making conversation!”
“Make it outside,” one of the soldiers said, and they heaved him out the door.
“Damn ear-flapper,” the other one said as they came back to their table and sat down again. “The news must be all over the sector by now.”
“It doesn’t matter,” said the first. “It’s a setback, nothing more.”
“Oh? Does Vellyngaith have another bright idea up his sleeve?” The one who spoke punched his companion on the shoulder. “Get it? Bright? Huh, huh, huh.”
The optimistic one ignored him. “I don’t know about Vellyngaith, but I know Yanorada’s got one, and the clock’s already ticking. Those humans may be laughing now, but they just traded a fast death for a slow one, that’s all.”
Deloric looked at Terwolan. She raised her glass and drained it, then stood up. “Time to go,” she said softly.
“Right.” He dropped a half-credit on the table and followed her out into the corridor toward their apartment.
“Those poor sons of bitches,” she said when they were out of earshot of the bar.
“Who, the soldiers?” asked Deloric.
“No, the humans. They’ve stepped into the middle of another mess.”
“They do seem to have a talent for that,” Deloric said. “Do you think we should try to warn them?”
She snorted. “What are we, their guardian angels? We paid off our debt to them already. They’re not our problem anymore.”
“I suppose not.” He followed her toward their apartment, but his eyes weren’t seeing the space station any more. He was remembering the view from the comet, how Belle Terre’s sun was just a bright star in the sky, and how the planet had been a barely visible speck of light beside it. Just one planet among millions, circling a nondescript star in an average sector of the galaxy. By all rights, a person should be able to go through his entire life without encountering another of its inhabitants ever again, but he got the feeling he hadn’t heard the last of these humans. They might be the newcomers here, but they were by no means helpless. No matter what this Yanorada’s plan was, Deloric was glad he was on their good side.
Pocket Books
Proudly Presents
STAR TREK®
NEW EARTH #5
THIN AIR
Kristine Kathryn Rusch and Dean Wesley Smith
Coming Soon from Pocket Books
Turn the page for a preview of
Thin Air . . .
The clear canister sitting on the Enterprise science lab bench held no more than a few handfuls of brown dirt taken dire
ctly from a field just outside Belle Terre’s main colony on the island side of the planet. It was farm soil, nothing more. Recently tilled, the dirt smelled of rich possibilities, seasons full of fresh, crisp vegetables, and the very future of Belle Terre.
Only there was something very wrong with this soil. And Spock was trying to figure out exactly what that was.
On the counter beside the canister were almost two dozen other canisters, all containing dirt from different areas of Belle Terre. The soil from the explosion-blasted side of the planet seemed darker, almost black with the radiation damage from what the colonists were calling the “Burn.” Two canisters seemed to be full of light sand.
But, from what Spock had been told, areas of soil around the planet were “going bad,” as the colonists put it. Plants were dying, and in places the soil even smelled foul and rotten. Lilian Coates had asked Captain Kirk to look into it, and the captain had assigned Spock to help the colonist scientists discover what was wrong.
All the soil canisters in the lab were carefully labeled and sorted by region and continent. It had taken three Enterprise crew members most of a day to collect all the soil samples for Spock. And he had spent the last two hours analyzing the data from scans of each sample. His findings had not been what he had expected. The soil contained polymers that logically just didn’t belong on Belle Terre, let alone in every sample from every region of the planet.
Spock held his tricorder over the sample of rich dirt from the largest island on the undamaged side of Belle Terre, then inserted a small silver probe into the soil. He again checked the readings of the soil, then stepped back and flipped a switch on a nearby panel, sending a slight jolt of electricity into the soil through the probe. What he had expected from his readings was a small puff of smoke as the electrical jolt broke down unknown gel molecules he had discovered in the soil.