Star Trek: Dti: Forgotten History by Christopher L. Bennett

Author:Christopher L. Bennett
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Science Fiction, Fiction, Adventure, Media Tie-In, General
ISBN: 9781451657258
Publisher: Pocket Star
Published: 2012-04-23T22:00:00+00:00

Sulu awoke to see Doctor Christine Chapel kneeling over him, scanning him with a medical probe. The side of his neck stung, telling him he’d been injected there with a spray hypo. “Christine, what . . .?”

She helped him sit up. “Most of us passed out. Some form of interphase sickness. We’ve been reviving the crew with the theragen derivative Doctor McCoy whipped up that time we tangled with the Tholians.” Sulu looked around to see Ron Liftig, a dark-haired lieutenant from the nursing staff, assisting in the revival of the rest of the bridge crew, including . . .

“Cella!” Chief Marcella DiFalco sat on the deck beside her navigator’s station, a hand against her bloodied forehead. Sulu rushed to her side. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” she said, smiling weakly up at him. “It’s just a scrape.”

He clasped her shoulder. “Still, we should—”

“Mister Sulu!” Kirk’s voice rapped from behind him. “Damage report.”

Sulu shook himself, reminding himself of his priorities. He and Marcella had grown close in the months since V’Ger, sitting side-by-side every day at the forward console. But they had kept their romance relaxed and noncommittal, particularly once he’d become the acting first officer. They both understood that his duty had to come first. But he found it was harder than he’d expected.

Still, he had a responsibility to his captain, the one person he least wanted to disappoint. After giving DiFalco a tight smile, he stepped over to check the readouts at the damage control station, whose regular operator lay on the deck under Liftig’s care. “Shields and propulsion are off line,” he reported after studying the screens, “but no reports of serious damage. That surge burned out some of the sensors.”

DiFalco had resumed her station after Chapel had sprayed plastiskin on her scalp wound. “Attempting positional fix, sir,” she said in her faintly Italian lilt. Sulu trusted her to work around the damaged sensors while he coordinated with the repair teams below.

After a few moments, she had her report. “We’re still in orbit of the Vedala planetoid, Captain, but . . . we’re sectors away from where we were. Sir, we’re less than a parsec from Epsilon Eridani, practically in the Earth-Vulcan space lane.”

Kirk turned to communications, directly across the bridge from where Sulu worked. “Uhura?”

The elegant communications officer shook her mahogany-skinned head. “I’m not picking up any Federation transmissions, sir.”

“No navigational beacons, sir,” DiFalco confirmed.

Kirk tensed in his chair. “Chronometer readings?”

DiFalco glanced at the time readout alongside the astrogation dome. “Stardate 7583.6,” she said. “Same as before.”

T’Viss stepped down to the lower deck, acting as if she’d never been affected by the blackout, though she bore a livid green bruise on her sharp chin where it had struck the deck. “Verify against pulsar referents.”

Kirk nodded. “Do it.”

The chief ran the check. “Verified, sir.”

“So we’re still in our own time,” Sulu said to Kirk. “That’s something.”

“But not in the same place,” the captain replied, rising from the center seat. “And if there are no Federation signals . .

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