Then she turned her attention to McCoy and the Gamma team. “Special recognition must go to the Gamma team. Not only did they discover the cause of the aftershocks, they bravely went underground to capture the saboteurs!”
The mess hall shook with wild, sustained applause from sixty cadets. Lisa smiled and dabbed a tear from her eye. Spock looked calm about all the attention, if somewhat puzzled. McCoy could only shake his head, amazed they were still alive.
“That’s the last landing party I’m going on,” he whispered to Lisa. “Once I’m a doctor, I’ll just sit in my office.”
“I bet,” said Lisa.
“One more thing,” said Captain Raelius. “The Danai claim that the trouble was caused by a separatist group from their planet. But they have agreed to make full reparations to the colonists and aid with the rebuilding.”
There was more applause, and everyone was in a great mood of camaraderie. McCoy figured that if he would ever have a chance to ask Lisa for a date, this would be it.
Captain Raelius smiled and lifted her glass of sparkling apple cider. “It doesn’t seem possible that only a week ago, we were all lifting a glass to welcome our new members. There are no new members anymore. You are all battle-scarred veterans. I salute you, the best service club in Starfleet Academy!”
She drained her glass, and so did everyone else. The applause was wild. It must have rocked the ship.
The captain remembered something. “Oh, yes, Happy New Year! Tonight is New Year’s Eve, and we’ll be back in San Francisco half an hour before midnight.”
That was the clincher, thought McCoy. Now he had to try to ask Lisa out. He turned to her as she was starting to get up from the table.
“Lisa,” he said, “what are you doing for New Year’s Eve?”
She gave him a sympathetic smile and sat back down. “I told you, I have a boyfriend. I already called him, and he’s meeting me.”
“That’s right,” said McCoy, trying to sound brave. “Who is this lucky guy?”
“You don’t know him. He’s just a first-year cadet.”
He frowned at her. “What his name?”
“Jim Kirk.”
McCoy slapped his forehead and groaned. “Not James T. Kirk?”
“Do you know him?”
“I wouldn’t be here except for him.”
“Yeah, he’s a great guy, isn’t he?” Cheerfully, Lisa got up and walked away.
McCoy turned around and saw Spock looking at him. “What do you want?”
The Vulcan straightened in his seat. “I want nothing. I do feel the effects of lack of sleep. Several hours of sleep would be most refreshing.”
“So you’re going to sleep on New Year’s Eve,” said McCoy, shaking his head. “Are you really half human?”
“Biologically,” answered Spock. “In every other sense, I am Vulcan.”
“Stick with Vulcans. You wouldn’t want to serve with humans.”
“Perhaps I would,” answered Spock. He looked around at the boisterous celebration. “They can be fascinating.”
Humans could also be lonely, thought McCoy, as he waited in line to beam down to Starfleet Academy. Most of the cadets had formed bonds with their teams, and they hung out in the same threesomes. McCoy stood by himself at the end of the line. Lisa was far ahead of him, anxious to get down to her boyfriend, that dunderhead, Kirk.
Spock stood nearby, but McCoy doubted whether he could talk the Vulcan out of his stimulating plans to sleep. He supposed he could tag along with a group of cadets, but he didn’t know if he had the energy to be sociable. Maybe Spock was right—sleep wasn’t such a bad idea.
When it was his turn to beam down, McCoy screwed his eyes shut. He didn’t care how many times he transported, it would never feel natural or healthy. He stepped off the transporter platform and was checked in by an ensign. Transporter duty on New Year’s Eve, thought McCoy. That’s what Starfleet is all about.
He stepped out of the building and felt the nippy air, full of salt and sea smells. It reminded McCoy of Sunshine Hamlet, and he shivered and pulled up the collar of his new jacket. It was not the same jacket as before, as the first one had gotten destroyed.
“Handsome jacket you got there,” said a voice.
McCoy whirled around and saw his gray-haired father step out of the shadows. He held out his arms. “Welcome home, Son.”
“Dad!” McCoy rushed to give his dad a hug, then he shook his hand like a long-lost friend. “Dad, what are you doing here?”
“When I got your message and I heard about Playamar, I started following the story. They said you were coming back today, so I took a shuttle. If you can’t come to see me, there’s no reason why I can’t come to you. Besides, you can’t be alone on New Year’s Eve.”
“No, Dad, you can’t.” McCoy gripped his father’s arm, making sure he was real flesh and blood.
“How about some late dinner? Then you can tell me all about your adventures. By gosh, it’s good to see you, Leonard.”
“You, too, Dad,” said McCoy with a grin. “First of all, do you have any idea how strong Vulcans are?”
“Strong, huh?”
“Let me tell you…” The McCoys walked down the sidewalk as the mists of San Francisco floated across the campus green.
About the Authors
JOHN VORNHOLT was born in Marion, Ohio, and knew he wanted to write science fiction when he discovered Doc Savage novels and the words of Edgar Rice Burroughs. But somehow he wrote nonfiction and television scripts for many years, including animated series such as Dennis the Menace, Ghostbusters, and Super Mario Brothers. He was also an actor and playwright, with several published plays to his credit.
John didn’t get back to his first love—writing SF—until 1989 with the publication of his first Star Trek Next Generation novel, Masks. He wrote two more, Contamination and War Drums; a classic Trek novel, Sanctuary; and a Deep Space Nine novel, Antimatter. For young readers, he’s also written Starfleet Academy #4: Capture the Flag. All of these titles are available from Pocket Books.
John is also the author of several nonfiction books for kids and the novel How to Sneak into the Girls’ Locker Room.
John lives in Tucson, Arizona, with his wife, Nancy, his children, Sarah and Eric, and his dog, Bessie.
About the Illustrator
TODD CAMERON HAMILTON is a self-taught artist who currently lives in Kalamazoo, Michigan. 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 he is not drawing, painting, or writing, his interests include metalsmithing, puppetry, and teaching.
Star Trek: Starfleet Academy #2: Aftershock Page 9