David A McIntee - Star Trek: The Next Generation: Indistinguishable from Magic

Red Alert!

More alarms went off, and Nog started to announce something. That was a bloody photon torpedo hit, Scotty cut him off. Red Alert! Qatqa was already throwing the ship into a roll, but Scotty called out to her anyway. Evasive maneuvers, Kat! It was more for the benefit of the rest of the bridge crew, so that they would know he was on top of things. Kat didnt reply, but Scotty could see her grin from where he was lowering himself into the center seat.

What the bloody hell are the Klingons playing at? he wondered. Stepping back into history was nice enough, but not when it meant going back to the bad old days of conflict with the Klingons.

The ship rocked again, less severely this time, and the Klingon warship momentarily flitted across the main viewer, swooping toward Intrepid and her cluster of support shuttles and runabouts. Theres something a wee bit off about that ship, Scotty mused aloud. He couldnt put his finger on it at first, beyond that it was attacking two Federation ships. He still had to remind himself that it was an unusual act for Klingons in this era.

Lieutenant Nog, I want a spread of torpedoes up that ships jacksie before they can do any more damage. Try to cripple their engines, so we can have a wee chat with them, if we can.

Aye, sir. Nog glanced across his tactical board.

The screen tilted, and the Klingon ship weaved across it again. It was a familiar shape, with two drooping warp nacelles and a long neck stretching out from its infernal red and yellow hull. Thats it, Scotty snarled....

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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Cover design by Alan Dingman

Manufactured in the United States of America

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ISBN 978-1-4516-0615-7
ISBN 978-1-4516-0628-7 (ebook)

I wandered through the wrecks of days departed

Percy Bysshe Shelley

A lot of people deserve a shout-out for this, starting with Marco Palmieri, who gave me my first Treklit assignment, On the Spot; Margaret Clark, who edited Reservoir Ferengi and worked on this; Jaime Costas, who bought this book; and Ed Schlesinger, who saw it completed.

Also, props to Christopher L. Bennett, Dayton Ward, and especially to the artist at Simon & Schuster who came up with such a great cover.

J ason Lambert was amongst the stars, and all the happier for it. He knew that most of his crew felt that just being aboard the U.S.S. Intrepid was being amongst the stars, but it wasnt Lamberts definition of the term. Wearing a pressurized environment suit, standing on the plating of his ships saucer-shaped hull, he was truly amongst the stars.

Inside the ship, even sitting in the center seat on the bridge, he was just aboard a ship, not really a space traveler. Out on the hull, with just the suit between him and the void, it was more real. This way, he was one with the universe.

The Intrepid was alone in the darkness, and Lambert was looking astern at the warp nacelles. The two cylindrical engines might be what pushed the Intrepid through the void, but from here it felt more like they were streamers flowing out from behind a kite as it flew.

Growing up, he remembered looking up at the stars over the Nullarbor Plain. If there was a place on Earth from which the stars were more clearly visible, and less distorted by the Earths atmosphere, he had never heard of it. Even so, the view out here made the view from his childhood home seem as if he had been looking at the stars through smoke and fog for all those years. He could feel the grin on his face every time he came outside, and suspected it would be impossible to remove even by surgery. Going back inside was the only, and sadly inevitable, cure.

He turned, focusing his attention on the engineers who had come out to replace some damaged hull plates with newly fabricated ones. The four of them were clomping around just below the large X of the ships registry number; NX-07 was emblazoned proudly across the saucer, though from Lamberts viewpoint it appeared to read LO-XN which he supposed might well be a word in somebodys language. If they ever met a race with such a word in their vocabulary, Lambert hoped it would approximate something closer to Gday than to anything more contentious or insulting.

He walked across to the engineering team, trying not to look too stupid as he carefully engaged and disengaged the soles of his magnetic boots with the hull. The others turned as he approached. His steps were silent in the vacuum, of course, but the vibrations were transferred to the four engineers through the soles of their boots. The copper-colored EV suits worn by everyone out on the hull were totally anonymous, but Lambert would recognize his chief engineers stance and bearing anywhere, and he angled himself to face her. Hows it going, Anna?

Exactly as I said it would, Captain, she replied. The speakers in Lamberts helmet flattened her Cuban accent, making her sound tinny rather than musical. We should be done by the end of this watch, no problem.

Not a difficult job, then?

Replacing a few damaged hull plates? Hell no. Just slow, is all.

Lambert nodded, knowing shed see the gesture through his faceplate. No worries; take as long as you need. I dont think anyone will be upset if were late getting the decorators in.

Id hardly call the upgrade program decoration. They say the engine upgrades will enable warp six as a cruising speed, and the new transporter firmware has greater safety margins.

Yeah, I dont doubt it. And warp six sounds pretty handy. Lambert pointed down at the X upon which he stood Rumor has it that, as well as the transporter and engine upgrades

And the torpedo yield improvements and crew rotation.

theyre going to be redecorating the ship.

That made her pause. Redecorating it? Youre serious....

All the NX-ships, and the new Daedalus-class are getting a makeover, or so says Johnny Archer. Painting the hull. Changing the registry. All the bureaucratic mumbo-jumbo and make-work that comes with switching over to being the United Federation of Planets.