Strange New Worlds IX Page 9

  “That hot spot was a focal node in the interference pattern of the multifield dissonance effect. By giving it a whack you set up another vibration in the pattern. Since it was right by the dilithium housing, the crystals picked up the vibration and amplified it, affecting the warp bubble.”

  Rose had to yell now to be heard over the building reverberation. “What? What’s that about the warp bubble?”

  “It will interrupt the feedback loop,” Scott said. The echo was finally dying out. “Everything should reset, but you’ll still need to do some fine-tuning.”

  “It’s working!” Rose still yelled, although the reverberations were gone. Crew members and debris that floated or were pinned to walls or ceiling started falling or sliding toward the floor. Soon other voices could be heard in the background. “Chief!”

  Chief Chandra had stopped spinning and was just starting to stretch out his arms and legs when he fell to the deck. Rose rushed forward, no longer having to navigate through zero g or across walls, and helped Chandra to his feet.

  Scott leaned forward. “Chief, this is Captain Montgomery Scott. How are you doing?”

  “Better than a moment ago, sir.” He looked back and forth between Scott and Rose as he ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. “I guess I owe you a thank-you.”

  “Thank Cadet Rose. She patched into the civilian network to get through to Starfleet. And I may have diagnosed the patient, but she performed the treatment.”

  Chandra looked surprised. “Remarkable. Well, sounds like she’s earned her dream posting on the next Enterprise.”

  “And who wouldn’t dream of being on the Enterprise?” To Rose he added, “You’ve got my recommendation, lass.”

  Rose looked a little uncomfortable, but before she could respond the engineering room intercom crackled to life. “DeSoto to Chandra. What just happened?”

  “We’ve got to get to work, Captain,” Chandra said to Scott.

  “Aye, that you do.” But Scott wondered about the cadet’s reaction to his recommendation and decided to try to get more out of her. Before they could cut the signal, he said, “Cadet?”

  “Aye, sir?”

  “A bit of advice, one of my secrets to being a great engineer: always work toward getting your systems running at a hundred and twenty-five percent of spec, but never let the captain know they go above a hundred and five. You want to impress, but you always want to be able to give some extra when you need it.”

  Rose and Chandra exchanged looks. Rose even looked a little sheepish. Chandra faced Scott. “There seems to be a bit of a misunderstanding here, Captain. Cadet Rose isn’t in the engineering program.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I tried to tell you before when you asked what year I was,” Rose said. “This was just an elective engineering rotation. I’m actually a xenopaleontologist.”

  “A what now?”

  “Xenopaleontologist. I study extraterrestrial fossilized remains of nonhumanoid species.”

  “You mean dinosaurs, lass?”

  “Yes, sir. Extraterrestrial dinosaurs.”

  “And you thought of patching through the civilian satellite network? And were able to do it?”

  “Well, I am a scientist. It seemed the logical thing to do.”

  “I suppose it did,” Scott said with a twinkle in his eye. “Good work. I still say you’d make a fine engineer.”

  Rose smiled, then flinched as it hurt her swollen lip. She put a hand to her mouth as she said, “Thanks. Scotty.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  The monitor went dark, then filled again with the triple Enterprise image.

  Jensen turned back from the monitor to face the holocameras. “Well, there you have it, the most exciting Terra Tonight segment ever, as Captain Montgomery Scott saves the U.S.S. Hood live on FNS.” She turned to face the beaming engineer. “I’m guessing it was moments like this that made you decide to come back to Starfleet on a permanent basis.”

  “Aye. After working with Admiral Nechayev, I said to myself, ‘How many times did I pull Captain Kirk’s bacon out of the fire?’ I can still do that for Starfleet. So I told the admiral I wanted to make it permanent.”

  “And we’re all glad you did.” Jensen turned briefly away from Scott. “Coming up after the news break, our next guest, Ambassador Lojal of Vulcan, will discuss the latest negotiations with Cardassia, the increasing Maquis problem, and the growing threat of the Dominion.” She turned back toward Scott. “Thanks for being a guest tonight, Scotty. You really made the show one to remember.”

  “It was my pleasure. Thanks for having me.”

  The lights on the set faded. Jensen stood. As Scott stood as well, Lojal stepped up beside them.

  “We’re off the air for thirty seconds, gentlemen,” Jensen said. “Ambassador, you’ve met Captain Scott?”

  “Yes.” Lojal gave Scott a courteous nod.

  Scott responded with a small smile and said, “Aye. We were talking about a mutual friend before the show.”

  Jensen nodded. “Of course. Well, Ambassador, please have a seat.”

  Before sitting, Lojal said, “Congratulations, Captain, on your…” He paused, raising an eyebrow, “creative solution to the technical difficulties on the U.S.S. Hood. It was unorthodox, yet somehow logical.”

  “Thank you, Ambassador.”

  After Lojal sat down, Jensen turned her attention back to Scott, holding out her left hand. “Thanks again, really. I know you have a busy schedule. It was an honor meeting you and seeing you in action.”

  He took her hand and shook it warmly. “It’s no trouble sitting with a bonnie lass and doing my job. Good night, now.” With a last squeeze of her hand, and a final nod to the ambassador, he turned and walked off the set.

  As she sat back down Jensen called after him, “Good night, Scotty.”

  With a last smile and a wave, he was gone.

  Solace in Bloom

  Jeff D. Jacques

  In the hills above Labarre, France, the sun shone with an intensity that had been missing during the past few days of overcast skies and inclement weather. Now, though, with the sunlight on the back of his neck and the slight, grape-scented breeze flitting at the wide brim of his straw hat, Louis couldn’t have imagined a better day.

  And it’s going to get better, if I have anything to say about it, he thought as he adjusted his posterior on the seat of his bicycle.

  In an unprecedented and astonishing move, the Bloom sisters, the lovely siblings who were so near as his neighbors, yet so far out of reach, had invited him to come with them on an afternoon cycling trip in the hills. It was a dream come true—well, one of them at least—and the weather had cooperated splendidly. He’d told Jean-Luc about it, of course, but instead of congratulatory remarks and good-natured ribbing about what might be in store for him after the trip, his friend had said that the only thing Louis would find after the trip would be humiliation. The sisters were setting him up, he said, and it would be a mistake for him to go.

  Louis was disappointed that Jean-Luc felt that way, but he wouldn’t let it bring him down. How could he know for sure anyway? It was just his opinion, after all, nothing more.

  And so far, so good. Poised at the top of a steep embankment, his fingers clutching the brakes of his bike, Louis peered down toward the base of the slope where the sisters waited, cloaked in the shadows of the dense line of woods that added to the natural beauty of this fair land.

  “Come on, Louis,” said one of the sisters. He couldn’t tell which. “You’re not afraid, are you?”

  They giggled together, as though aware of the punch line of a joke they hadn’t yet told, and for a moment Jean-Luc’s warning haunted him. Stringing him along on some juvenile prank? No, he wouldn’t believe that. But even if it were true, he wasn’t going to make it easy for them.

  “Right behind you, ladies!” he called, then released the brakes and pushed himself over the lip of the slope.

  Down he went, h
is rate of acceleration constant as he kept some pressure on the brakes. Eager as he was, it would be foolish to speed down the slope pell-mell, particularly if he valued his life and more enjoyable motor functions. He kept his eyes on the uneven path below him, the overhanging branches above and the Bloom sisters at the bottom of the hill, waiting for him.

  Louis swerved left to avoid an indentation in the middle of the pathway, but caught a branch across the face for his efforts. As he instinctively maneuvered away from that obstacle, his front tire struck a rock embedded in the earth and his whole body jolted with the impact. His bike sailed over his body and for an instant he felt strangely serene as he flew through the air. He heard a gasp and someone crying out his name, but it seemed so far away.

  Then, the peacefulness of the moment peeled away as a tremendous bang pierced the forest as his bike crashed to the ground and his own cry of alarm stabbed his ears like needles.

  As he tumbled down the slope, his bike looped around again and came down hard on his back before careening into the trees to the side. Rocks, dirt, and pieces of wood came in contact with his face and body as he tumbled downward. And then he screamed as his leg snapped below the knee and a pain unlike any other he’d ever experienced exploded through his body, reaching his teeth, his eyes, and every bone in his body. It was the pain of death. It had to be. No one could ever feel this much pain and not be dying. Through his own shrieking, he thought he heard his name again, but the words were drowned out by—

  His rapid descent came to an abrupt end as his body slammed against the trunk of a tree. He continued to scream as agony held him in a tight embrace, his bruised and bloody hands clutching at his shattered leg.

  If there was a worse pain than the one he was enduring now, he wouldn’t wish it on anyone.

  At the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean, two hundred and fifty kilometers off the coast of France, Louis screamed as the Jem’Hadar soldier loomed over him and sliced deeply into his right thigh with a kar’takin, the nasty bladed weapon of choice for this warrior species. This was a fact he wouldn’t normally have been aware of, but the Vorta in charge of his interrogation had an annoying tendency to become chatty during the welcome respites from the physical and mental assaults, as though they were good friends. He also knew the Vorta loved rippleberries, though he suffered the misfortune of not having had any for almost a year. Considering his current predicament, Louis found it difficult to sympathize with the alien, though he had to admit that a bowl of rippleberries, whatever they happened to be, sounded pretty damned enticing about now.

  As the director of the Atlantis Project, Louis had been spared the instant death bestowed upon his coworkers when the Vorta suddenly appeared two days before with a contingent of Jem’Hadar and Breen soldiers. At least, it felt like two days ago. It might only have been hours. In any case, he had long decided that those people—his friends, his family in this underwater home away from home—were the lucky ones.

  “Please!” he cried, his voice growing hoarse as he struggled uselessly against the bonds that held his arms and legs to the chair he was in. Blood seeped out of his leg wound and onto the floor, taking with it his strength and hope. “I don’t know anything!”

  “I would advise against struggling,” the Vorta said. “I can’t guarantee a clean cut if you continue to move about.”

  The pain suddenly intensified as the Jem’Hadar’s blade struck bone, and Louis screamed louder than he thought possible. He wondered if any aquatic creatures could hear him out in the deep beyond.

  “Hold,” said the Vorta, and immediately the Jem’Hadar straightened and stepped back, leaving the kar’takin embedded in Louis’s flesh.

  Louis wanted to reach for it, to pull it out, but even if he could, wouldn’t that do more harm than good? What was the protocol for those situations? He’d have to look into that if he got the chance.

  “You must be in considerable pain right now. You don’t even have to answer,” the Vorta said, leaning close. “I can see it in your eyes. The fear. The hopelessness. The screaming is also a strong indicator.”

  His body trembling, Louis opened his mouth to speak, to defy these monsters. “I…don’t know what you want. Please…” He glanced at the gleaming weapon lodged in his leg.

  “I would be only too happy to alleviate some of your pain,” the Vorta went on, as if Louis hadn’t spoken. “All you have to do is tell me what I want to know. Why are you here? It’s such a simple question and a simple solution to your obvious discomfort.”

  “\/-_/-|/,” the Breen soldier said in a language so alien, even the Universal Translator couldn’t make heads or tails of it. The Breen had mostly been observers during the ordeal, though their leader occasionally bickered with the Vorta, who clearly considered himself in charge.

  “It’s called negotiating,” the Vorta said, his pasty face tinged with annoyance. “You may want to look into it. It’s sometimes more effective than blasting your way through everything.”

  “//-/-//-|_||,” the Breen said.

  The Vorta turned sharply. “I beg your pardon? That very much sounded like a threat.”

  “//_-/_-|||. //_—||-///.”

  “As a matter of fact, that is how I took it,” the Vorta said. “So let me make myself clear to you: While your people may have carried out the attack on Earth, you did so under the orders of the Dominion, and as their official representative, I am the Dominion on this particular mission. Is that understood?”

  “—//.”

  “How delightful. Now then,” he said, turning back to Louis, “please go on.”

  Louis explained, again, what the Atlantis Project was all about. But whether due to genuine lack of interest or part of some ploy to break his will, the Vorta wasn’t interested in hearing about raising the ocean floor, creating a subcontinent, and exploring a new world on one’s own planet for the fourth time.

  “Fascinating as this all is, even I’m getting tired of hearing about it,” the Vorta said once Louis was finished. “I can’t believe that you’re simply toiling away on the ocean floor in the middle of a war, which, I might add, the Federation is in danger of losing.”

  The Vorta’s demeanor, from persistence to disbelief, was infuriating. Was he being purposefully obtuse just to aggravate him? Louis didn’t know for certain, but whatever the case, he was finding the alien increasingly tiresome.

  “It’s the truth,” Louis said, trying to control his breathing through the pain and exhaustion ravaging his body. “Why won’t you believe me?” The Vorta just stood there, looking at him with an expression that seemed perpetually locked in a state of mild amusement. “Please…Nothing we’re doing here has anything to do with the war. It hasn’t even reached us down here, for God’s sake!”

  “Really?” asked the Vorta. He made a show of looking around the central hub of the complex and Louis was compelled to follow his roving gaze as it passed the dead bodies of his coworkers and friends, the pools of blood, the ruined computer consoles and equipment…and the brooding stares of the cold, reptilian Jem’Hadar soldiers and masked Breen.

  Louis almost retched as the Vorta leaned in close, his alien stink mixing with the lingering odor of blood, charred circuits, and death. His piercing blue gaze stung him like an electric shock.

  “I beg to differ,” the Vorta said smugly.

  Louis hung his head, uncertain how to proceed. His jaw ached from clenching his teeth together against the pain, and his thigh muscle, strained tightly ever since the Jem’Hadar sliced into it, felt ready to explode. His eyes strayed to the gleaming, blood-smeared weapon embedded in his leg, so agonizingly close. He extended his fingers toward it but pulled them back into a fist again, acknowledging the futility of the effort with a hopeless sigh. The intervening inches might as well have been measured in light-years.

  Finally, unable to hold the muscle tight any longer, Louis released it, anticipating a painful rejoinder, but not expecting the sheer intensity of it. He cried out as a searing bolt of p
ain, like liquid fire, tore its way through his leg and into his chest. With a willpower he didn’t know he still possessed, he flexed his leg again and forced himself to breathe and keep from hyperventilating.

  “My, my, my,” the Vorta said. Louis looked up and saw the alien staring at him with a curious expression, the oily smile mocking him. “You humans are a tenacious species.” Still smiling, he glanced at the Jem’Hadar who waited nearby. “Finish it.”

  The gray-skinned warrior advanced and before Louis even registered the movement, the Jem’Hadar snarled and slammed all its weight down on the kar’takin it had left in Louis’s leg.

  Louis screamed again as his world briefly swelled, then vanished into darkness.

  “Hydroponics? Are you daft?”

  Louis turned and scowled at Jean-Luc through the long grass in which they lay. “No, I’m not daft,” he said, keeping his voice low, lest he announce their presence to the objects of their attention. Well, his attention, at any rate. “Why would you say that?”

  Jean-Luc didn’t reply right away. His attention was drawn through the swaying, reed-thin stalks to the small beach where the Bloom sisters prepared for a swim. Legend held that the close siblings exercised their skinny-dipping techniques when they were sure none of their many suitors were nearby, and that was something Louis, for one, just had to see.

  “Jean-Luc,” Louis said, prompting his friend with an elbow to the upper arm.

  “Well, why would you want to get into something so boring?” Picard asked, then turned toward the beach again.

  Louis couldn’t have been more surprised by his friend’s words if he’d declared he was joining the circus. “Boring? How can you say that? It’s a vital science, Jean-Luc. Crucial for food supply on new colony worlds that won’t support crops initially. Think of the benefits, not only to those worlds, but to ours as well.”

  “We have plenty of food on this planet,” Picard said.

  “Yes, but if we can make the process more efficient, there’s no telling—”