Star Trek: Future Begins (Star Trek: Starfleet Corps of Engineers Book 62) by Michael Schuster & Steve Mollmann

Author:Michael Schuster & Steve Mollmann [Schuster, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Pocket Books/Star Trek
Published: 2006-04-01T00:00:00+00:00

At ten o’clock, the smoke had long since cleared, most of the patrons had left the ER, and Scotty was on his way back to the bungalow. Quincy’s mood had immediately improved the second he’d seen Scotty in his ancient uniform. From then on, everything had progressed as it always did. He’d pretended to be not quite the miracle worker people told him he was, running around like a headless chicken indeed, and he’d even shocked quite a number of patrons by having some of the “warp plasma” blown in his face.

When he unlocked the door, he was greeted by the computer’s voice that told him he was receiving a real-time communication.

Hurrying toward the office, he shouted, “Well, put it on, you glaikit heap of isolinear rods!”

Just as Scotty reached the room at the far end of the corridor, the computer obligingly activated the screen on the wall near his office desk, displaying the Starfleet emblem for a short moment before changing to the countenance of the one member of the Fleet he most seriously wished never to have met.

Admiral Alynna Nechayev stared at him with the same serious look on her face that he had expected to see. Not even once in all the time he’d had the dubious pleasure of working for her had he seen her crack a genuine smile.

Which was probably for the best. For all he knew, her face would split apart, and the top of her head would fall off.

“Mr. Scott,”she said in lieu of a greeting,“I hope I didn’t contact you at an inopportune moment.”

“Oh, you most certainly did not, Admiral. Ever since leavin’ the Fleet I’ve had more time on my hands than is good for me.”

“I see. I do have to admit that I am surprised to see you wearingthis.”

“What? Oh,” he said, realizing that he was still wearing his old engineer’s radiation suit, a replicated one whose design dated back to the same era as his standard duty uniform that he usually wore when playing the greeter at the ER’s entrance. “What can I say? Those were better times. You can’t fault an old man for doin’ a little reminiscin’, can you, lass?”

“Mr. Scott, I remember telling you on numerous occasions that I resent being called a ‘lass.’ Surely your memory is still as remarkable as it was?”

“Ach, would that it were. There’s things that I can’t seem to remember even if my life depended on it, and yet there’s things that I will quite possibly never ever forget,” Scotty said, deliberately choosing an ominous way of phrasing his reply. Why shouldn’t he remind Nechayev of what he knew? Maybe one day he’d tell everybody how she’d maneuvered him into betraying his oath and everything he believed in. The Federation newsnets would eat it up like Kaferian apple pie. After all, they liked stories about Starfleet scandals. He remembered the fuss the media had made about Jim Kirk’s death on theEnterprise -B. Poor John Harriman had had to bear the

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