Finally, Data was able to devote his attention to the lizard being. Standing, he picked it up off his console, removed his phaser from the dangling piece of fabric that had been his pocket, and fired at point-blank range. The creature went limp in his grasp.
Setting the lizard being down on the floor as gently as possible, the android applied himself once again to the duties of a pilot. With the asteroid belt behind him, he aimed the station for open space and called for best speed from the thrusters.
At the same time, he whipped out his tricorder and observed the amount of time he had left before the super-Jovian worlds collided. Had he been human, he would certainly have gasped.
Thirty-eight seconds.
Data calculated how far the station would have to travel in order to escape the ignition’s effects. With an entire set of thrusters out of order, it would be close. Too close. Unlike the Republic, the alien facility wasn’t built for speed. More than likely, it had been transported across interstellar distances by some sort of space tug.
On the other hand, the android thought, he might be able to build some leeway into the schedule. His study of the aliens’ propulsion technology had shown him that there was a chance to increase the station’s speed by recycling the plasma flow that provided its thrust.
Immediately, he set to work on the problem. When he looked up, the monitors showed him an increase in speed. Enough, he estimated, for all the station’s occupants to survive the planetary ignition—at least in theory.
There were now only twenty-six seconds left before the super-Jovian world became a ball of intense, solar flame. All Data could do now was watch … and trust that his efforts to this point hadn’t been for nothing.
Twenty seconds.
The asteroid belt began to fade into the distance. The Republic was running neck and neck with the station now.
Fifteen seconds.
The android glanced at each of the three lizard beings who had attacked him earlier. Fortunately, they were all still unconscious. None of the aliens in the next chamber seemed to be undergoing a metamorphosis, so there would be no problems from that quarter in the immediate future.
Ten seconds.
He tapped the communicator badge on his chest. “This is Cadet Data,” he announced, “speaking to whatever Starfleet personnel still survive. Please brace yourselves. We are about to experience the shock wave from the ignition of the super-Jovian worlds.”
Five seconds.
Four.
Three.
Two.
One.
CHAPTER
11
As the larger super-Jovian world collided with its smaller companion, the android felt a shudder in the deckplate beneath his feet—one that started out small and seemed to build in intensity until it became something massive and irresistible, and he was certain the station would be torn apart by the sheer power of it.
But it wasn’t. Somehow, the alien structure managed to hold together, to weather a storm the magnitude of which its designers probably never contemplated.
As Data gazed at the rearview monitor in the operations center, he saw the waves of colored splendor that radiated one after the other from the meeting of the gas giants. For several minutes, nothing else happened.
Then, as if by magic, the combined mass of the two worlds began to erupt in a light so pure, so blinding, even the android’s artificial eyes couldn’t stand the sight of it. And when it was finished, only seconds later, the resulting object was a self-sustaining fusion furnace.
In other words, a star.
A new celestial body had come into being, Data reflected. A new pinprick of illumination in the night sky. And he had been on hand to witness it.
Abruptly, his reverie was interrupted—by the sound of a human voice. “This is the Federation starship Republic,” stated the voice, “hailing the unidentified station. Please respond.”
The android recognized the voice as that of the Republic’s communications officer. With the station now unhampered by the radiation produced in the asteroid belt, they were apparently able to converse freely again. He tapped his communicator badge again in order to reply.
“This is the unidentified station,” he said. “Cadet Data speaking from the operations center.”
“Data?” sputtered another voice, that of Captain Clark, he believed. “Is that you? ” she asked.
The android confirmed that it was indeed him.
“What’s the situation over there?” the captain inquired. “Where’s Commander Sierra? And Dr. Steinberg?”
“Due to the radiation that permeated the station,” Data replied, “I have not communicated with Commander Sierra since we first came aboard. And Dr. Steinberg is in need of medical attention, though her condition appeared to be stable when I saw her last.”
There was a pause on the other end. Then, “Injured?” echoed Clark. “How did that happen?”
The android told her … about the quakes and the lizard creatures and his journey outside the ship. And about Cadet Glen Majors, whom Sinna was still holding at bay with the aid of a phaser, as far as Data knew. He related everything he thought the captain might want or need to know, remembering the captain liked things brief and to the point.
“Stay right where you are,” Clark told him as soon as he was finished. “Now that we’re out of the asteroid belt, I can send over additional teams to establish order there. And you don’t have to worry about Dr. Steinberg. She’ll be in sickbay in a matter of moments.”
The captain was as good as her word. Data had hardly begun to remind her that he wasn’t worried about the doctor—that he was, in fact, incapable of worry—when a couple of officers materialized in the aliens’ operations center, both of them armed with hand phasers.
As soon as they were whole, the officers noticed the half-ruined door to the next room and the unconscious lizard creatures lying about. They looked at the android.
“Are you responsible for this mess?” one of them asked.
Data thought about all the lizard beings he had stunned in the course of his stay on the station. “Yes,” he said. “This and a great deal more.”
Once free of the asteroid swarm, the lizard creatures began gradually to revert back to their original forms. According to a fully recovered Dr. Steinberg, the glands that prevented the aliens’ metamorphosis were able to start functioning again once the radiation that had disabled them was no longer present.
What’s more, the aliens—who called themselves the Umiiga—were so grateful for the Republic’s help in rescuing them and repairing the station, they offered to share any number of technologies with the Federation. Captain Clark’s suggestion was that they apply for membership first, an offer the Umiiga promised to consider.
As for Commander Sierra, his group appeared to have fared somewhat better than Dr. Steinberg’s. The first officer had his share of run-ins with the lizard beings as well, but his people avoided any serious injuries. Apparently, as time ran out for the station, they were on their way to the operations center as well, although Data beat them to it.
The android reflected on this information as the turbolift doors opened and he emerged onto the bridge of the Republic, followed closely by his friend Sinna and Cadet Petros. Some of the bridge officers grinned at them as they made their way to the captain’s ready room.
Pausing, they waited for the door to open. Then they filed inside and came to stand before Captain Clark, who was seated at her desk, intent on the monitor that dominated it. It was a moment before the captain looked up and scrutinized each of the cadets in turn.
“I’d ask you to pull up a chair,” Clark told them, “except I haven’t got one for each of you.”
However, Data mused, if the captain had asked them to “pull up a chair,” he would have been clever enough not to take her literally. At least he had learned something during his brief stay at the Academy.
Clark leaned forward. “I’m going to make this short and sweet,” she said
. “What you did on that station was nothing short of brilliant. And more than that, it took guts.” She turned to the android in particular. “I know you’re going to deny that you’re capable of exhibiting guts, Mr. Data, but I’m going to beg to differ with you. And since I’m your commanding officer for the time being, I’d think twice about disagreeing with me.”
Restricted from dissenting, the android said nothing. The captain smiled at him.
“Good move,” she remarked.
A moment later, Clark’s expression changed. It was as if a shadow had fallen across her features, Data noted.
“Unfortunately,” she went on, “not everyone on your team displayed the qualities I would hope to see in a Starfleet candidate. I think you know of whom I’m speaking.”
Just for the record, Sinna said his name. “Cadet Majors, sir.”
The captain nodded. “Yes. Obviously, he’s going to be held accountable for what he pulled back there on the station. My guess is he’ll be expelled from the Academy as soon as we return you to Earth.” Clark sighed.
“It’s too bad. He was the most promising cadet we’d had in years. Everyone expected big things from him, myself included.”
The android looked at Captain Clark. “Sir, is it possible that Cadet Majors’s career can still be redeemed? Perhaps, given a second chance…”
Clark grunted. “Are you absolutely sure you’re not human, Data? If I didn’t know better, I’d say your emotions were showing.”
“I did not speak from an emotional perspective,” the android replied. “I only hoped to spare Starfleet the loss of a most promising resource.”
That restored the smile to the captain’s face. “We’ll see,” she said. “And in any case, that’s not for us to decide.”
“One thing puzzles me, sir,” remarked Sinna. “With all the times Data was forced to grapple with the lizard creatures, why didn’t he receive a second electrical shock from them?”
“Good question,” Clark replied. “As it happens, I just learned the answer a little while ago. It turns out only the Umiiga males were capable of generating that kind of charge. And among the Umiiga, females outnumber males ten to one.”
The Yanna nodded. “That makes sense. Thank you, sir.”
The captain smiled. “You’re welcome.” Clark went on smiling a moment longer. Then she dismissed the three cadets with a backhanded gesture.
“Go on,” she told them. “Get out of here. Thanks to you, I’m going to be up to my eyeballs in reports all the way back to Earth orbit.”
Without further ado, Data and his companions turned and left the ready room. As they crossed the bridge, the android noted again how the officers there were grinning at them. With approval, he thought.
Commander Sierra turned in his chair. “Good going,” he told them. “Any time any one of you wants a berth on a good ship, you just say the word.”
“Thank you,” said Data. Sinna and Petros expressed their gratitude as well.
As the android led the other two cadets into the turbolift, he noted that his attitude had changed somehow. He seemed to be taking all this praise in stride—as if he deserved it. As if he was reasonably certain that he could earn their praise again.
Could this be confidence? he wondered.
Petros accompanied them as far as deck five, where her quarters were located. Data’s quarters, and Sinna’s as well, were on deck seven.
As the lift doors closed, the Yanna looked up and smiled a tight smile at the android. “I told you so,” she remarked.
Data tilted his head. “I do not understand.”
“About Cadet Majors,” she explained. “I told you he wasn’t worth modeling yourself after.”
“Yes,” the android agreed. “You did.” He thought about it. “It appears I was not very perceptive when it came to Cadet Majors.”
“That’s all right,” Sinna went on, her grin widening.
“Contrary to what Professor Pritchard may think, we all make mistakes.”
Data had to concede that his friend was right. However, he resolved, he would try to make fewer of them as time went on.
About the Author
When roused (usually by his wife, Joan) from one of his frequent and enduring daydreams of a world where baseball players never go on strike and White Castle hamburgers grow on trees, Michael Jan Friedman will admit to being the author of sixteen books, including twelve Star Trek and Star Trek: The Next Generation novels (three of them collaborations with other authors). Mike additionally pens the Star Trek: The Next Generation and Darkstars titles for D.C. Comics (actually, he types them, but why split hairs?).
When he’s not writing—a condition that occurs less and less frequently these days—Friedman enjoys sailing, jogging, and spending time with his adorable spouse and two equally adorable clones … er, sons. He’s quick to note that no matter how many Friedmans you may know, none of them is related to him.
About the Illustrator
TODD CAMERON HAMILTON is a self-taught artist who has resided all his life in Chicago, Illinois. He has been a professional illustrator for the past ten years, specializing in fantasy, science fiction, and horror. Todd is the current president of the Association of Science Fiction and Fantasy Artists. His original works grace many private and corporate collections. He has co-authored two novels and several short stories. When not drawing, painting, or writing, his interests include metalsmithing, puppetry, and teaching.
Star Trek: The Next Generation: Starfleet Academy #7: Secret of the Lizard People Page 8