Star Trek: Starfleet Academy #2: Aftershock

by John Vornholt

  Chapter 4

  McCoy screwed his eyes shut, not wanting to watch himself hurtle toward the concrete. Then he realized that he wasn’t falling yet, and he wouldn’t fall until his fingers gave out. He tried to swing his legs to get his feet back on the ladder, but every movement weakened his grip.

  All he could do was hang in the air and depend on his fingers, already numb from wrapping bandages. He kept trying to think about what he had done wrong. Had he made a wrong step? No, it seemed as if the ladder had jumped on its own, as if a giant had bumped into it. He always knew he couldn’t trust these rickety contraptions.

  McCoy grunted as he swung up and got a better grip with his right hand. “Help!” he shouted.

  He heard the captain’s voice on a bullhorn. “Hang in there, Cadet! There was a real earthquake, and it knocked out our instruments. But … who is that?”

  McCoy heard a hissing noise, and he turned to see what had interrupted Captain Raelius. Flying straight toward him, standing erect in thin air, was a human rocket ship. He blinked in amazement until he realized that it was a cadet wearing a jetpack.

  Suddenly he recognized the long brown hair streaming out from beneath the helmet. “Lisa!” he croaked.

  The high-flying cadet said nothing—she just swooped ever closer. The noise from her jetpacks almost drowned out the pounding of his heart in his ears. Lisa looked like an angel as she hovered over him.

  “Cadet Donald,” warned the voice of Captain Raelius from below, “be very careful. The jetpack can’t support both of you!”

  “I know that,” said Lisa grimly.

  “Also, watch your fuel,” added the captain. “Don’t do anything hasty.”

  “Do something hasty!” shouted McCoy, as his grip slipped down to the first knuckle.

  “Hold still!” With rockets shooting from her back, Lisa swerved dangerously close to him. She took her right hand off her controls, reached for his utility belt, and just missed it. Her motion nearly caused a collision, and she came within a millimeter of slamming into McCoy’s legs.

  “Get away!” he yelled. “It’s too dangerous!”

  “Hold still,” she told him. With her face set determinedly, Lisa again piloted her body toward McCoy. This time, she reached out and grabbed his belt, nearly tearing him off the ladder.

  But he hung on as she fumbled for the clamp of his safety line. He watched in amazement as she pulled out the line and slammed the clamp onto the nearest rung. Now he could let go and not fall to his death!

  He grinned at the angelic Lisa as she swerved away on the jetpack. “Well done!” came a relieved voice from below. “Hang on, Mr. McCoy, as we lower you.”

  A few minutes later, McCoy was drinking a cup of hot broth from his own first-aid kit. Captain Raelius stood nearby, and the older lady looked apologetic.

  “Who would have expected a real earthquake?” she asked.

  “Well, San Francisco is famous for earthquakes,” McCoy pointed out. “Was there any damage to the city?”

  “Other than power interruptions, no. It was a mild temblor.”

  “It didn’t feel mild on that ladder,” said McCoy.

  Raelius smiled. “We often have to work under conditions like that.”

  “Wonderful,” McCoy said to himself.

  “Under realistic conditions, you did very well,” added the captain. “I’m giving you one hundred percent for this exercise. That should bring your score into the acceptable range for a medic.”

  “Then I can have the rest of the day off?” asked McCoy hopefully.

  Raelius shook her head sadly. “I’m afraid not. Tonight you have a class in emergency field surgery.”

  “Great,” muttered the cadet. “I nearly get killed twice today, and now I have a class in sawing off legs. Probably with no anesthetic.”

  “I’m sorry,” said the captain. “This is a crash course.”

  “Sir, I would make one request. When we go to three-person teams, I’d like Lisa Donald and Spock with me. It’s the least you can do to keep me alive.”

  Captain Raelius smiled and nodded. “I’ll consider it.”

  After the incident with the ladder, McCoy’s luck took a turn for the better. The second half of the training was devoted to teamwork, using a standard team of two diggers and a medic. With Lisa and Spock as his teammates, handling the hard stuff, McCoy had to do little more than aim his medical scanner or shoot a hypo.

  Finally, seven days after the grueling training started, the members of Disaster Relief gathered with Captain Raelius and their trainers in the empty cafeteria. It was time for their induction into the service club.

  With twelve hours of training every day, there hadn’t been any time for fun. Plus everyone else on campus had gone home for winter break. So this induction was a welcome time to blow off steam.

  Captain Raelius treated everyone to sparkling apple cider. “It was a tough training,” she said, “especially with so many new members to the club. I wish to thank all the veteran members, who either took the training again or helped me do it.”

  The new members applauded the old members, many of whom had been trainers. McCoy looked around the room and estimated that the service club numbered about sixty. They didn’t look especially brave or hardy, but they shared one important trait: They were all willing to risk their lives to save disaster victims.

  At least, all of them were willing but one.

  McCoy had never spent much time risking his life, although he knew it was part of serving in Starfleet. He hadn’t planned on risking his life this early in his career, before he even got out of the academy. He didn’t know how many dangers he could brave, or how many bleeding people he could save.

  He looked around the room at the happy, smiling cadets. Did they realize what they were getting themselves into? He supposed that none of them really knew if they could run into a burning building until it came down to it. McCoy took some comfort from that thought as he sipped his apple juice.

  Captain Raelius went on, “Our membership roll is higher now than it has been in five years. Our training didn’t break any speed records, but we didn’t lose anybody.” She glanced at McCoy and smiled.

  McCoy smiled back, just grateful that it was all over.

  Captain Raelius raised her glass. “Let me welcome all of you to the greatest service club in the history of Starfleet Academy—Disaster Relief. Wherever you spend the rest of your careers, I want you to remember that you are part of this team. So I have a little surprise for you.”

  Raelius nodded to an aide standing by the door, and he rushed out. He returned a moment later pushing a clothing cart that was laden with jackets. The gray jackets had leather trim and beautiful patches showing a lightning bolt and the silhouette of two cadets carrying a stretcher.

  “Our own jackets!” shouted someone.

  “Yes,” answered Raelius with a grin. “I’ve been thinking about doing this for a long time. After all, we’re a team, so we need team jackets. I hope you like the patch, which I designed myself. We have lots of sizes, so form a line and get your jacket.” There was enthusiastic applause for the faculty advisor.

  “Isn’t this exciting!” said Lisa Donald, standing beside McCoy.

  McCoy smiled at Lisa. “Yes, it is. Thanks a lot for getting me through this in one piece.”

  “You’re welcome,” said Lisa with a bow. “And thank you for talking me into joining in the first place. As you promised, there was plenty of fresh air and exercise.”

  She nodded thoughtfully. “McCoy, I think you’re going to make a good medic. You work fast and seem to know what you’re doing.”

  “I’m not sure I do,” answered McCoy. “The medical part comes naturally—it’s the human side that’s tough. What do you tell a child who has lost his parents in a disaster? What do you tell a person who is dying and can’t be saved? They didn’t teach us any of that.”

  Lisa shrugged sympathetically. “I don’t think they can teach us that. You’re v
ery sensitive, McCoy. I like that.”

  Gazing at Lisa, McCoy suddenly got a brainstorm. She had a boyfriend, true, but her boyfriend was probably gone for winter break. He was planning to head home tomorrow, so tonight might be his only chance with Lisa.

  “You’re not leaving until tomorrow, are you?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “I don’t think I’m leaving. It’s a long way to my home on Alpha Centauri. By the time I got there, I would just have to come back. And it’s so quiet in the dorm that I think I’ll stay and get a head start on next semester’s reading.”

  “You can’t read on an empty stomach,” said McCoy. “How about joining me for dinner?”

  Lisa smiled. “Let’s get our jackets, and I’ll think about it.”

  McCoy was surprised when he put on his club jacket, because he actually liked it. Clothes didn’t usually impress him, but this was a very handsome jacket. Plus it was warmly padded for those cool San Francisco nights. For the first time, McCoy felt proud and not nervous about being in the Disaster Relief Service Club.

  Spock came up behind them and accepted a jacket. If possible, the Vulcan looked even more dour than usual.

  “Spock,” said McCoy, “this is supposed to be a happy occasion. Why aren’t you happy?”

  “I am satisfied with our training,” answered the Vulcan. “However, that is no reason for unseemly displays of emotion.”

  “No, of course not,” said McCoy. “You wouldn’t want to offend anybody.” He just shook his head, glad that most Vulcans in Starfleet served aboard the Intrepid. At least he would never have to serve with Spock. What a pain that would be.

  “We’ve got to go somewhere and show off these jackets,” he told Lisa. “What do you say?”

  She smiled “Okay.”

  McCoy jabbed a victorious fist in the air. His luck indeed had changed. Tonight, a date with the lovely and brave Lisa. Tomorrow, off to see his family!

  He looked around the cafeteria, wondering when they would be dismissed. Captain Raelius was deep in conversation with a Starfleet officer who had just entered the room. Both of them were looking at an electronic clipboard. Most of the cadets were still admiring their new jackets.

  “Are we done?” asked McCoy.

  “I believe not,” answered Spock.

  McCoy turned to see Captain Raelius stride to the front of the room. She put her hands up to quiet the cadets, and she looked as somber as Spock.

  “Attention!” she snapped, stopping all noise cold. “You’re going to be able to use your training sooner than we thought. The colony planet of Playamar has suffered severe and unexpected earthquakes that have liquefied much of the coastal regions and river banks.

  “With a high content of clay and sand in Playamar’s soil, the liquefaction is having a terrible effect. It’s toppling buildings and causing rifts and mudslides. Units are being flown in from all over the Federation to help the rescue effort. We leave in half an hour.”

  “Half an hour?” whispered McCoy in shock.

  “Don’t bring any personal items—we’ll supply everything. Report to transporter room one.”

  “Transporters?” He looked helplessly at Lisa.

  She shook her head. “You were right, McCoy.”

  He blinked at her. “I was?”

  “Yes, you said we would be going to exotic places. You can’t get much more exotic than Playamar.”

  “Move it out!” barked Captain Raelius.

  Chapter 5

  McCoy stared at his aunt Delia, a slim woman in her late fifties. She was wearing an apron and basting a turkey as she talked to him over the video link.

  “I don’t know where your dad is, Leonard. Can I have him call you back?”

  The cadet’s shoulders slumped. “No, Aunt Delia, that’s all right. I’ll be gone by the time he gets back. Just tell Dad I’m sorry, but I can’t make it home over the break after all.”

  “Oh, you can’t,” said Delia. “That’s too bad.”

  “But it’s for a good cause,” added McCoy, trying to sound upbeat. “I’m in the Disaster Relief Service Club, and we have to respond to an emergency.”

  “Well, be careful. We’ll miss you.”

  “Thanks. Good-bye, Aunt Delia.” The cadet closed the connection and slumped back in the seat of his comm booth. For the first time he realized that there were real sacrifices involved in a career in Starfleet. It sounded like fun and adventure, but one’s personal life had to come second, after his duty.

  McCoy wanted to save lives and do his duty, but he also wanted something like a normal life. Maybe that wasn’t possible in Starfleet.

  He stood up, picked up his new jacket, and left the comm booth. As he strolled across the campus green, he glanced at the lawn where the fateful football game had taken place. Until that day, he had thought that Starfleet Academy was about studies and exams, like any other school.

  Now he realized that he had been kidding himself. All of Starfleet was about risking your life for other people, being part of a team, and putting duty before personal business. It was a sobering thought for a young man who was used to thinking mostly about himself.

  Not only that, but the entrance to transporter room one loomed ahead of him. There was already a line of cadets, even though he was early. McCoy’s heart started pounding as fast as it had been when he was dangling from the ladder.

  Spock stood in line ahead of him, and Captain Raelius was checking off names. “McCoy, you room with Spock in four-twelve.”

  He blinked at her. “Room with Spock?”

  “Yes,” she answered. “You two were partners in training, and you’ll be partners from here on out. We haven’t got time to break in new teams. Lisa Donald will make the third in your team on Playamar, but she’ll room somewhere else.” The captain headed off to intercept two more cadets.

  “We are boarding the Nightingale,” explained Spock. “She is a hospital ship, and they have converted some hospital rooms to crew quarters.”

  “Oh, great,” muttered McCoy. “We’ll be sleeping in a hospital room. If that’s not an omen, I don’t know what is.”

  Spock squinted slightly at him. “An omen? Do you mean the quaint custom of foretelling events by signs and portents? Most illogical.”

  “It’s just an expression,” said McCoy, getting testy. “Let’s get one thing straight, Spock. I’m the medic on our team, and that makes me the boss. Understood?”

  The Vulcan nodded curtly. “That is my understanding of the chain of command. Our mission is to save lives and relieve suffering. As the medic, it is logical that you can best direct our actions.”

  “And don’t you forget it,” snapped McCoy. “And this team is going to be run by emotion. Good old human emotions. We may do some illogical things from time to time, but the overriding concern is to save lives.”

  “We are in agreement,” said Spock. “However, I will point out the logical course if it differs from yours. It would be negligent of me not to do so.”

  “I’m sure.” McCoy looked up and saw the transporter operator motioning them toward the platform. He turned a skin color that was stranger than Spock’s.

  “Are you ill?” asked the Vulcan, taking the medic by the elbow.

  McCoy winced. “Just head me toward the transporter. I’ll deal with it.”

  Spock lifted an eyebrow. “Fear of transporters. Portabrevaphobia. Most interesting.”

  “It’s with good reason,” said McCoy. “In med class, we’ve been studying about transporter accidents.”

  “Statistically unlikely,” said the Vulcan.

  If only to get away from the know-it-all Vulcan, McCoy puffed up his chest and jumped on the transporter platform. Go ahead, let them scramble his molecules. What difference did it make after everything else that had happened to him lately?

  Spock stepped up on the pad beside him. “Transporters are the safest form of mass transit over short distances.”

  “I don’t care,” muttered McCoy. “The
y’re unnatural.”

  McCoy nodded to the transporter operator, who said, “Energizing.”

  Holding his breath, McCoy watched the room dissolve all around him, only to be replaced by a room that was gleaming white and chrome. Emergency equipment and gurneys stood neatly off to the side, and there was room to transport an army of casualties.

  Being in a medical facility relaxed him somewhat, and McCoy was able to walk off the transporter platform instead of run. A lieutenant checked him in, and he tried to stay two steps ahead of Spock. But the Vulcan took a few strides and caught up with him in the corridor.

  Well, thought McCoy, there was no way to elude him—they were both going to the same place. “So which way?”

  The Vulcan pointed. “Turbolift C to deck four. We are going in the correct direction.”

  The Nightingale had the look and feel of an empty ward in a sleek new hospital. Several of the numbered rooms had clear doors, yet he could see nothing but darkness beyond. There were empty nurses’ stations, empty offices for support staff, empty laboratories. They would all be filled in a few hours.

  The turbolift was large, built to hold gurneys full of patients. It felt odd riding on the huge lift with only Spock for company. When they got off on deck four, McCoy was relieved to find that it was a bit livelier.

  Several people were loitering in the corridors, talking in low voices. Not all of them were Starfleet cadets. A group was playing cards in one of the empty nurses’ stations, and a laboratory was in use. McCoy and Spock nodded to the others as they walked past.

  They found room 412 without any problem. It had cots instead of hospital beds, a computer console, and uniforms in the closet. Otherwise, it was a hospital room. There were even curtains to separate one patient from another, but McCoy didn’t think he would mind the privacy.

  Spock looked with interest at the computer console. “If we are connected to the ship’s computer, I can do some preliminary research on Playamar.”

  McCoy yawned. “I’m sure they’ll tell us everything we need to know. I’ll take the cot by the door.”

  “As you wish,” answered Spock. He sat down at the computer.