Star Trek: The Next Generation: Starfleet Academy #7: Secret of the Lizard People Read online

  “Aye, sir,” replied Majors. “I’ll remember.”

  CHAPTER

  3

  Though Data had seen graphic representations of asteroid belts, he had never had the opportunity to observe a real one. That is, until now.

  From his vantage point next to the communications console, he could see that this particular belt was comprised of hundreds of irregularly shaped rocks, each one between a half kilometer and five kilometers in diameter. Fortunately, they were spaced far enough apart from one another to allow the Republic easy passage through their midst, because somewhere in this collection of orbiting debris was the source of the distress signal they had received earlier.

  “Steady as she goes,” cautioned Captain Clark. She had taken a couple of steps toward the viewscreen as soon as the asteroid belt became visible. Nor had she taken her eyes off it since.

  Commander Sierra, who was still standing next to his commanding officer, moved now to a spot just behind the science console. “Anything unusual?” he asked casually.

  The science officer, a Pandrilite, shrugged his huge shoulders. “A fair amount of radiation emanating from some material in the asteroids,” he muttered. “But nothing powerful enough to present a danger to us.”

  “What did he say?” Sinna wondered out loud, craning her neck to listen more closely to the officers’ conversation.

  “He said there was a fair amount of radiation,” Data replied. “However, it does not represent a danger to us.”

  The Yanna looked up at him. “Thanks,” she told him, frowning a little. Obviously, she had still not forgiven him for his decision to ignore her advice.

  “You are welcome,” he assured her.

  “Be quiet,” Majors whispered sharply, “or they’ll tell us to leave the bridge.”

  The android nodded, resolving inwardly not to speak out loud unless he was required to by one of the ship’s officers. After all, he did not want to be the cause of their being dismissed.

  “I’ve got something,” announced the navigator, a man with red hair and freckles who couldn’t have been too long out of the Academy himself. His fingers danced over his controls. “Same bearing as the signal, and its composition is markedly different from that of these rocks.”

  “Can’t see it yet,” noted the captain. She folded her arms across her chest. “Try increasing magnification.”

  Everything on the viewscreen seemed to jump closer to them. And as it did, Data caught sight of what they were looking for. Tilting his head closer to Sinna’s, he whispered, “There it is.”

  His friend looked up at him. “There what is?”

  “Some sort of space station,” he explained. “With thruster capability, if its external structures are any indication. It is partially hidden by one of the asteroids.”

  Sinna turned to the screen, then back to the android. “You see something out there? Besides all those big rocks, I mean?”

  It was only then that he recalled how much more efficient his vision was than that of any biological entity. “Yes,” he confirmed. “I see the station I have attempted to describe. Or more accurately, a part of it.”

  Majors cast a glance in Data’s direction. “I told you to be quiet,” he reminded them.

  But it was too late. The captain had already turned to look at them.

  “Did I hear someone mention a station?” she asked.

  The android didn’t detect any rancor in her voice, though he was hardly an expert on interpreting human gestures. In any case, he took a step forward.

  “I mentioned a station,” he admitted. He pointed to the viewscreen. “The one up there,” he added.

  Captain Clark’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “You can see a station?” she asked. “When no one else can?” She paused. “Are your eyes that good, Mr. Data?”

  The android nodded. “Yes, sir.” It was no more than the truth. His eyes were that good.

  A few minutes later, his observations were shown to be accurate, as the Republic edged nearer to its target. The source of the distress signal was some sort of alien space station, though they couldn’t find anything like it in the ship’s computer files, and it had clearly crashed into one of the asteroids with which it was still entangled.

  To Data, the alien structure looked like a collection of white cones sticking out at odd angles, larger ones alternating with smaller ones. Some of the cones appeared to have windows in them, while others did not. There were also several small inverted cones, which the android had assumed were the station’s thrusters.

  The navigator seemed to agree with the assumption. Leaning back in his chair, he said, “Looks like it was trying to negotiate this belt when its thruster array misfired. Its inertia carried it into the asteroid … and boom.”

  Captain Clark turned to her science officer. “Survivors?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “Impossible to say. There’s too much radiation in the area. I can’t even tell if any of its systems are still operable.”

  “No one on board answers our hails,” reported the communications officer, a blond man with a neatly trimmed beard. “Either they’re not receiving…” His voice hung ominously in the air.

  “Or there’s no one left alive to hear us,” the captain concluded, “even though it’s still sending out a signal.”

  She scowled and turned to the science officer again. “How much time do we have before the planet’s ignition?”

  The super-Jovian worlds … Data had mentally put them aside in his preoccupation with the alien space station. He knew the answer to Captain Clark’s question nearly two and a half seconds before the science officer gave it to her.

  “Seven hours, sixteen minutes,” replied the Pandrilite. “And when it ignites, it’ll destroy this station and anyone on it, alive or otherwise.”

  Captain Clark bit her lip. “Is it possible for us to beam an away team over to the station so we can get some idea of what happened there?”

  The science officer shook his large, blue-skinned head. “Not with all the radiation we’ve got here. If you want some firsthand observations, you’re going to have to send a team over in a shuttle.”

  The captain weighed the option—her only one, apparently—for a second or two. Then she grunted.

  “A shuttle it is,” she decided.

  “I’ll get one ready,” responded First Officer Sierra. “And a team as well.”

  He was halfway to the turbolift when Captain Clark held up her hand. “Hang on, Mr. Sierra. We can’t spare experienced personnel for this purpose. I need them here with me, in case something goes wrong.” She turned to Data and his colleagues. “Looks like you folks are elected. Pick up some containment suits down in ship’s stores and meet Commander Sierra in Shuttlebay One.”

  The first officer didn’t seem altogether comfortable with the idea of leading a handful of cadets. “Captain,” he said, “if there are survivors, they’ll likely need some kind of medical attention.”

  “Agreed,” his commanding officer responded. “That’s why you’re going to bring Dr. Steinberg along. If there’s a problem in that regard, she’ll be able to handle it.” Clark harrumphed. “She’d better be. Dr. Steinberg is about the only health care professional we’ve got on board.”

  Commander Sierra looked as if he would have liked to protest further. However, he swallowed whatever additional objections he may have had and made his way to the lift.

  Data and his fellow cadets fell in behind him. Like the others, the android looked forward to the prospect of seeing what had happened on the alien station. He hoped, above all, that he wouldn’t appear incompetent in the eyes of Cadet Glen Majors.

  As Data and the other cadets filed into Shuttlebay One, the android reflected on how seldom he was likely to need a containment suit in his Starfleet career. After all, the alloys of which he was constructed provided protection for him against most forms of radiation, not to mention extreme heat and cold, and he was capable of going for long periods of time wit
hout oxygen.

  Of course, the radiation that had disabled the alien station might be one form to which he was vulnerable. And even if radiation turned out not to be a problem, he would need a means of conversing with his fellow away team members. The containment suits’ built-in communicators provided that means.

  Commander Sierra was standing next to the entrance to one of the shuttles, waiting for them. Dr. Steinberg, a sturdy-looking woman with blunt features and light brown hair, was speaking to him in clipped whispers.

  Data got the distinct impression that the two officers didn’t intend for the cadets to hear their conversation. But of course, he couldn’t help it.

  “Whose crazy idea is this?" asked the doctor. “Saddling us with a bunch of cadets on an away team?”

  The first officer grunted. “Not mine,” he whispered back. “The captain seemed to feel they could use the seasoning.”

  Dr. Steinberg shook her head. “Seasoning’s for when you’re not operating under a deadline. I’m going to have to have a talk with our fearless leader when this is all over.”

  Sierra smiled. “For all the good it’ll do. You know how stubborn she gets.”

  The doctor snorted. “Well, I can get pretty stubborn myself.”

  Data was not surprised by Steinberg’s lack of confidence in him and his fellow cadets. He hoped that by the end of their mission, the doctor would have a different view of them.

  Then the cadets were almost on top of them, and Steinberg and Sierra had to terminate their conversation. The first officer inspected each of his charges in turn, making sure their suits were sealed properly and their communicators functioning.

  “All right,” he said, once he was satisfied everything was in order. “Everybody knows what our mission is, right? We take a look around, locate the aliens that populated the station, and effect their rescue, if possible. Unfortunately, we don’t have time to engage in a full-scale investigation of the place. Just in and out as quickly as possible. Got it?”

  Data watched Cadet Majors. When he nodded, the android nodded, too. Then they entered the shuttlecraft and took their places in the seats provided for them. Within a matter of moments, Commander Sierra had moved them through the bay’s force field and out into the void of space.

  Peering past Sinna, who was seated in front of him, Data saw their objective through the forward observation port. The station was less than three kilometers away—a short trip, even for a shuttle.

  Glen Majors was in the seat across the aisle from the android. Data observed him for a moment, but the human didn’t return his glance. He was obviously too intent on what was ahead of them. The other cadets, scattered about the cabin, were silent as well.

  Before long, the android could make out something that resembled a bay door in the hull of the alien station. Apparently, the first officer had noticed it as well—with the help of his sensors, perhaps—because he was piloting them in that direction.

  Data could also discern a webwork pattern of small projections on the station’s hull at intervals of less than a meter from one another. It was logical to assume that these were designed to provide handholds for exterior repair crews.

  Of course, in dealing with an unfamiliar culture, one had to remember that appearances could be deceiving—or so Data’s instructors at the Academy had warned him. In the present instance, for example, what looked like a bay door might have turned out to be something else entirely.

  However, as the shuttle closed in, what looked like a door slid aside … and revealed itself to be a door, in fact. The chamber beyond it was big enough to house the Republic’s shuttle and several more like it.

  “Seems at least one system on that station is still up and running,” commented Dr. Steinberg. She turned to look back over her shoulder at the assembled cadets. “That means we may find life support still functional as well.”

  Commander Sierra guided them in through the open doorway. No sooner had they touched down on the surface inside the station than the doors slid into place again, closing them off from the vacuum of space. And a second later, there was a soft whoosh—the sound of atmosphere flooding the chamber, Data guessed.

  “How is it?” asked the doctor.

  The first officer shrugged as he consulted his instrument panel. “Looks breathable,” he noted. “Acceptable temperature, too … and gravity is point nine eight percent of Earth-normal. If it weren’t for the radiation problem, we probably wouldn’t need our suits at all.”

  “But there is a radiation problem,” Steinberg responded, “so we’ll keep them on.” She eyed each of the cadets in turn. “Won’t we?”

  They all agreed that they would. Then Commander Sierra opened the hatch in the side of the shuttle and stepped out to look around. A few moments later, he gestured for the rest of them to follow.

  In less than a minute, they were all standing outside the shuttle, looking around the alien chamber. If it had ever been used as a vehicle bay, it was empty now—except for their own vehicle, of course.

  The bulkheads here were white, like the exterior of the station. And the cone pattern was repeated on them, though only in the minutest detail. To the human eye, Data was certain, the bulkheads looked almost perfectly smooth.

  “All right, people,” said the first officer. He pointed to the bulkhead to the right of the shuttle, where the outline of a door could be seen rather easily. “Let’s move out and—”

  Before he could complete his instructions, the deck bucked savagely beneath their feet, throwing them all to the ground. All except Data, of course—and even he had trouble keeping his footing under such adverse conditions.

  Then, as quickly as the incident had begun, it was over. Normalcy was restored. Picking themselves up, the android’s biological companions gazed warily at one another and at their surroundings. However, there was no repeat of the strange and sudden quake.

  “What was that?" asked Cadet Petros. She was rubbing her elbow, on which she seemed to have fallen.

  “Good question,” replied Commander Sierra. “My guess is that the station’s propulsion system isn’t entirely disabled after all, and that curve it just threw us is one of its fits and starts.”

  Sinna looked at the first officer. “Then we can expect that sort of thing again,” she noted.

  It wasn’t a question, but Commander Sierra answered it anyway. “I’d say it’s a good possibility, yes. So let’s stay on our toes.”

  Dr. Steinberg sighed. If the frown on her face was any indication, her discussion with the captain would be even more heated than she’d originally intended.

  The first officer, on the other hand, didn’t show any outward signs of being daunted by the tremor. With a wave for the rest of them to follow, he led the way to the bulkhead with the door in it.

  Like the door in the hull of the station, this one moved aside at their approach, revealing a corridor beyond. Commander Sierra walked up to it, poked his head out, and looked both ways. Then he stepped through.

  Data caught a glimpse of Glen Majors as the rest of them filed out of the open doorway. The second-year cadet seemed as calm and confident as the first officer. Only his eyes moved, taking in sights that no Federation citizen had seen before.

  Once everyone was out in the corridor, the android could see that it followed a gently curving path in either direction. Which way would they go?

  Dr. Steinberg scanned the place with her medical tricorder. Judging by her expression, the results were not promising.

  “No evidence of life signs whatsoever,” the doctor announced, her voice flat with disappointment. “Though the radiation is making it rather difficult to obtain a reliable reading.”

  “It may be that there are no life signs to read,” Cadet Petros pointed out. Then, noticing the looks of disapproval her remark had prompted, she added, “Of course, for the time being, we’ll naturally assume otherwise.”

  They still hadn’t decided which direction to take in negotiating the corridor. It was Co
mmander Sierra who finally came up with a plan to address that problem.

  “We’ll split up,” the first officer announced. “Majors, Data, Sinna, and Petros, you’re with Dr. Steinberg. Everyone else is with me.” He thought for a moment. “We’ll meet back here in half an hour, tops. And sooner, if necessary.”

  “If necessary?" echoed Data.

  Sierra regarded him. “If there’s another quake, much worse than the first,” the human explained. “Or a series of them.” He took in the rest of them with a glance. “Anything that looks too dangerous for us to handle.”

  “In any case,” the doctor added, “we’ll stay in communicator contact, so there won’t be any real judgment calls. Right, Commander?”

  The first officer nodded. He pointed to one end of the corridor. “Good luck,” he told his fellow officer.

  “Thanks,” she tossed back at him. “You, too.”

  Then, as Commander Sierra and his chosen team departed, she turned to her own charges. The android looked at her expectantly.

  “Well,” said Dr. Steinberg, “here’s where the real fun begins. Shall we?”

  “Certainly,” replied Data, though no one else uttered a word, including Majors. As his fellow team members started down the corridor, he realized that he had answered a rhetorical question. Yet again.

  He would have to be more careful to avoid that in the future.

  CHAPTER

  4

  Data would have expected that, after several minutes, the curving corridor they were following would have intersected with some other corridor or produced something like a turbolift. As it turned out, it did neither of those things.

  Nor did it produce any sign of the station’s occupants. Finally, Dr. Steinberg couldn’t help but take note of the fact.

  “Still no trace of the owners,” she observed. “Doesn’t exactly inspire confidence, does it?”

  “Maybe they had to cluster together to escape the radiation,” Sinna suggested. “Some parts of the station may be shielded from it better than others.”