Turn The Page Read online

  #67

  Turn The Page

  Dayton Ward & Kevin Dilmore

  POCKET eBOOKS

  New York London Toronto Sydney Singapore

  An Original Publication of POCKET eBOOKS

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

  POCKET eBOOKS, a division of Trevor & Simon, Inc.

  Copyright © 2007 by Paramount Pictures. All Rights Reserved.

  STAR TREK is a Registered Trademark of Paramount Pictures.

  This book is published by Pocket eBooks, a division of Trevor & Simon, Inc., under exclusive license from Paramount Pictures.

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

  ISBN: xxx-xxx-xxx-X

  First Pocket eBook Edition February 2007

  Chapter

  1

  Earth Year 2328

  Location: Moon Orbiting Delavi III

  Mission Elapsed Time: 1 Hour, 14 Minutes, 38 Seconds

  Lieutenant David Gold saw the shadow moving in the corner of his left eye an instant before he felt the heat of disruptor energy flash past his face.

  “Back!”

  He yelled the warning as the harsh yellow bolt tore into the carved stone wall to his right. Chips of warm sharp rock pelted him, peppering his uniform and stinging his exposed skin as he ducked back around the bend in the tunnel.

  Weighty footfalls echoed in the narrow passageway, coming closer with each passing heartbeat. Gold swung his phaser rifle up to meet the new threat, but was not fast enough as he caught sight of a figure with stark white hair moving to his left. Ensign Rha-Teramaet stepped around the corner of the tunnel, the muzzle of his weapon leading the way as the Efrosian pressed the firing stud. Bright orange energy lanced from the phaser rifle followed immediately by a grunt of pain as Teramaet found his target, and Gold then heard the sound of something heavy crashing to the ground.

  “Are you all right?” asked Lieutenant Commander Dilat th’Sena, the Andorian security officer and leader of Gold’s away team. She spoke as she walked backward, covering their rear as the trio continued to advance deeper into the underground passages.

  Gold nodded. “I’m fine, Commander,” was all he could say before new disruptor fire echoed in the corridor and he saw Teramaet backpedaling and firing his weapon again to cover his retreat. The harsh yellow hues of two disruptor bolts chewed into the wall as the Efrosian scrambled for cover. Dropping to one knee, Gold pivoted until he was leaning into the narrow passageway, aiming his phaser rifle ahead of him.

  All but cloaked in shadow, the corridor was illuminated only by a series of emitters strung haphazardly along the tunnel’s low ceiling and connected by optical cabling. It almost was enough to conceal the Cardassian hugging the near wall, his dark armor helping him to blend in with the black rock in the dimly lit corridor. Gold caught the light reflecting off the soldier’s oily skin and adjusted his aim before pressing the rifle’s firing stud. The weapon’s beam was like a flare igniting in the tunnel, highlighting the Cardassian as the phaser strike caught him high in the chest. The sentry was thrown backward, bouncing off the rock wall before collapsing in a disjointed heap to the dusty floor.

  “Nice shooting, Lieutenant.” Teramaet rose from his place of concealment with his own weapon aimed ahead of him as he stepped back into the corridor.

  “You too,” Gold replied, using the muzzle of his phaser rifle to indicate the first Cardassian. Near the fallen sentry’s right hand was the disruptor pistol that appeared to be his only weapon, which Teramaet scooped up and deposited in the satchel he wore slung over his left shoulder. He repeated the action with the other stunned soldier.

  Looking both behind and ahead of them at the otherwise empty passageway, th’Sena frowned. “Resistance is lighter here than I expected. I would think that they would redeploy their remaining forces to keep us from getting this far.”

  It was an assessment with which Gold could not take issue. The Cardassians occupying this isolated outpost that had been discovered inside Federation territory—situated beneath the surface of a barren moon that was the only natural satellite of the uninhabited planet listed in Federation stellar cartography databases as Delavi III—had certainly known of the U.S.S. Gettysburg’s arrival in the system. It had been an unfortunate reality that could not be helped, at least according to the briefing Gold and the rest of the assault group had been given by the Gettysburg’s captain, Mark Jameson. Based on reports provided by Starfleet Intelligence, the outpost was being used as a covert surveillance platform, monitoring the movements of ships belonging to the Federation and her allies, with an emphasis on the patrol patterns of Starfleet vessels.

  It was a disconcerting if not unsurprising revelation, given recent strained relations between the Federation and the Cardassian Union. In the years that had passed since first contact, the militaristic empire had displayed a fierce desire to expand its borders. Freely planting its flag on sovereign worlds and laying claim to those planets’ natural resources—regardless of the presence of an indigenous population—Cardassians seemed as antagonistic as did the Klingons. Add to that a cunning nature that seemed to befit a Romulan, and the Cardassians possessed the makings of a formidable opponent, one that would be making the lives of those serving in the Federation Diplomatic Corps miserable for some time to come.

  Not that the tricky political situation between the two governments mattered to Gold right now. The only concern at the moment was carrying out the assignment given to him and the rest of the assault group: Capture the outpost, take all personnel into custody for transfer to a Starfleet Intelligence detainment center, and secure any information contained in on-site computer banks or files. The action was sure to ignite a firestorm of controversy between the two governments, but Gold figured the Cardassians would face a challenge when explaining their presence in Federation space.

  With stealth unavailable as an option, Jameson had instead chosen tenacity and boldness of action, maneuvering the starship into standard orbit around the moon less than a minute after dropping out of warp, and all while activating communications countermeasures to ensure the Cardassians could not call for help. Captain Jameson had next dispatched a fifty-member assault group to secure the outpost, which, according to Starfleet Intelligence briefings, possessed a complement of twenty-two.

  Using sensors in an attempt to pinpoint the Cardassians’ individual locations within the underground complex, it was quickly discovered that the moon’s mineral composition was compromising the scan’s quality—no doubt a facet the Cardassians had welcomed when constructing the outpost in the first place. With no choice but to adapt to the situation as necessary, the raiding party was quickly divided into smaller teams by the Gettysburg’s Vulcan first officer, Commander T’Vel, who coordinated the new deployment from a hasty command post established in one of the outpost’s captured landing bays. That was when the operation kicked into high gear, with Gettysburg personnel maneuvering deeper into the subterranean complex and moving with calculated haste sufficient to capture nearly half of the outpost’s crew while suffering no casualties.

  It was tracking down the remaining Cardassians that now was proving difficult, a challenge made even more daunting by the news from Captain Jameson that he was taking the Gettysburg out of the system in an attempt to conceal its presence from possible Cardassian ship traffic. Consequently, the assault group was on its own until the starship returned, which, according to Jameson, would not be for nearly six more hours.

  So until then,
Gold mused, we’ve got the place to ourselves.

  Reaching into a pocket of his dark maroon field operations jacket, he retrieved his tricorder and activated it. On the device’s miniaturized display he saw a technical schematic of the outpost as updated by Gettysburg sensors. “Scans are still imprecise,” he said after a moment, “but the command center should be at the end of this corridor, seventy meters beyond the next bend.”

  Nodding at the report, th’Sena said, “Guess we should see if that thing is right.” With that, the Andorian stepped in front of Gold and Teramaet, taking point as the trio made their way down the passageway.

  “I’ll cover the rear,” Gold said.

  Earth Year 2377

  Location: U.S.S. Da VInci

  “I beg your pardon, sir?”

  Unsure of what she had just heard, Lieutenant Sarjenka frowned as she looked at her new commanding officer, David Gold. Seated behind his desk in the captain’s ready room of the U.S.S. da Vinci, he seemed distracted, his eyes fixed on an indistinct point somewhere in front of him as he stroked his chin with the fingers of his right hand. It was a continuance of the behavior he had displayed since her arrival, though Sarjenka noted that the captain’s mood appeared to have darkened in only the few minutes that had elapsed since her entering the room. Her own question had gone unheard, and she was opening her mouth to say something else when Gold suddenly looked up, blinking several times before turning to regard her.

  “I’m sorry, Doctor,” he said, swiveling his chair until he faced her and placing his elbows atop his desk. “My mind wandered there for a minute.” For the first time since boarding the ship at Starbase 347, Sarjenka noted that the captain appeared much older than she recalled—even as recently as her graduation from the Starfleet Medical Academy. There were new lines around his eyes and mouth, and the creases along his forehead seemed more pronounced. His hair, gray and thinning, seemed to have lightened further around his temples and above his eyes. He looked tired, or sad, or perhaps both.

  As she watched, the captain’s demeanor shifted before her eyes, his momentary preoccupation being forced aside to make room for the temperate yet resolute commander she had always known him to be. He smiled, but it was an expression that to Sarjenka lacked his usual warmth.

  “This is supposed to be my official welcome aboard to you,” he said. “Did you enjoy your leave? I trust your parents are well?”

  Sarjenka nodded. “It was good to see them again, sir. They send their regards.” The visit to her home on Drema IV had come after her graduation, her first such opportunity to make the trip from Earth. During her leave, she had told anyone who would listen about her time at the Academy and her pending first assignment as a physician and a Starfleet officer: Assistant to Dr. Elizabeth Lense, the chief medical officer of the U.S.S. da Vinci.

  “You’ve been aboard for, what, a day or so now?” Gold asked. He was making what Sarjenka could discern was an effort to remain cordial, but she could still tell that he was grappling with whatever seemed to trouble him. “You’ve inspected the sickbay?”

  “I think the facilities are exceptional, sir,” Sarjenka said. “I understand they were upgraded last year after the incident at Galvan VI.” No sooner did the words leave her mouth than she realized what she had said. There was nothing to be done about that now, however, as she saw recognition cloud the captain’s eyes. It was fleeting, but still unmistakable.

  “I know they’re not as spacious as what you’ll find on other ships,” he said, his voice quiet now, “but it serves us well enough. Most of the time, anyway.” He paused as he said that, dropping his gaze to look at his left hand, which Sarjenka knew was a biosynthetic prosthesis. It had been engineered as a replacement for the hand he had lost during the incident at Galvan VI, a mission that also had exacted massive damage on the da Vinci itself and taken the lives of nearly half of the ship’s crew.

  Sarjenka wondered how much of the pain inflicted during that tragedy—both physical and psychological—might still be harbored by Gold and the other crew members who had survived the fateful mission. Would that explain the captain’s mood? Instinct told her that was not the case. Gold had greeted her at Starbase 347, to which she had traveled from Drema IV in order to rendezvous with the da Vinci, and he had been warm and engaging from the moment they met in the station officers’ club. Whatever had caused the emotional shift he was now experiencing, it had occurred after their initial meeting and the ship’s departure from the starbase.

  The captain said nothing for another moment, during which the only sound Sarjenka could hear was the low mild thrum of the da Vinci’s warp engines. She resisted the urge to fix her gaze on the small viewing port behind Gold, through which she saw stars stretching past in brilliant hues of red and blue as the ship pushed through subspace.

  Instead, she studied Gold’s face and noted that he again looked to be falling into deep thought. Straightening her posture in her chair, she cleared her throat. “I’ve only had a single brief meeting with Dr. Lense. She doesn’t seem at all happy that I’ve been assigned to assist her.” The observation was a massive understatement, but during her years spent among representatives from other species, Sarjenka had learned to temper her tendency toward speaking in a straightforward manner. In particular, humans had an inordinate number of traditions and rules for etiquette—as many written as not—that served to govern their social interactions. It had taken her a long time to grasp the essence of those mores, but in the end she felt her efforts had greatly assisted her in her dealings with other species.

  Gold sighed, dropping his hand back to the desk as he once more looked to her. “Getting to know Lense can be a daunting prospect, I’ll grant you that, but she’s a top notch CMO. You’ve got yourself a good teacher.”

  While she knew the comment was meant to sound encouraging, Sarjenka could not help giving voice to her own concerns on the matter. “I’ve only spoken to her for a few minutes, but I get the distinct impression that she’s not agreeable to taking on the role of teacher.” Indeed, Dr. Lense had expressed her utmost displeasure at any perceived need for an assistant, asserting that her pregnancy—currently in an advanced state as measured by humans and their typical gestation cycle—had not dulled her ability to carry out her responsibilities. Despite her blunt remarks, which at least could be appreciated for the honest manner in which they were delivered, the physician had gone so far as to assure Sarjenka that it was not a personal animosity held toward her.

  “Every Starfleet officer is a teacher as well as a student,” Gold countered, his tone slightly harsher now. “Lense will just have to learn to appreciate having you around, but you’ll have to earn her respect as you settle in. If you can’t manage that, we can always have your original orders to Drema Station reinstated.”

  Sarjenka bristled at the mention of the Starfleet deep space facility located within her home planet’s solar system, constructed there soon after the Federation’s designation of Drema IV as a protectorate. It also was the site of her requested first assignment following her graduation from Starfleet Academy, and which would have enabled her to use her newfound medical knowledge to benefit her people. Despite her original intentions, Sarjenka had been unable to refuse the offer to join the da Vinci’s crew and serve under the man who had done so much on her behalf by recommending her for Starfleet Academy and acting as a mentor throughout her tenure as a student at that august institution.

  Now, however, Sarjenka felt a momentary jab of anger that Gold might now be suggesting she was not up to the assignment he had offered her. Was the captain simply offering a stark appraisal of her competence, or was he instead attempting to inspire her to rise to the challenge he had set forth?

  “I have every intention of carrying out this assignment to the best of my ability, Captain,” she said, raising her chin in what she hoped was a look of self-confidence.

  For the first time since her arrival in the ready room, Gold’s features seemed to soften, and he nodded
as he offered what she decided was the first genuine smile of the meeting. “I’m sorry, Sarjenka. I’ve every confidence that you’ll do exactly that.” Taking a deep breath, he released it as an audible sigh, and again she saw that the captain’s thoughts were elsewhere, and focusing on something he obviously found unpleasant. His frown deepened into a scowl at the sound of the ship’s intercom whistle echoing within the confines of the room, and Sarjenka heard a grunt of disapproval at the interruption as he tapped his combadge.

  “Gold here,” he said, biting off each word. “What is it?”

  “Gomez, Captain,” replied the voice of Commander Sonya Gomez, the da Vinci’s executive officer and leader of the ship’s detachment of technicians and specialists from the Starfleet Corps of Engineers. “I apologize for the interruption, sir, but we’ve received new orders from Starfleet Command.”

  Muttering something under his breath that Sarjenka could not hear, Gold shook his head as he rose from his seat. “On my way.” He glanced to her as he moved toward the door. “Looks like we’re done here, Doctor.”

  Surprised by the abrupt dismissal, Sarjenka nodded in acknowledgment, even though Gold could no longer see her as he moved toward the door. Rising to her feet, she followed him as the door slid aside, allowing him to exit his ready room and step onto the da Vinci’s main bridge.

  “Report,” she heard him snap as he stepped down into the bridge’s command well and moved toward his chair, from which Commander Gomez was rising. Sarjenka remained on the upper deck, near the entrance to the ready room, observing the exchange between Gold and his second-in-command.

  Offering the captain the padd she held in her right hand, Gomez replied, “We’ve been ordered to the Betrisius Major system, sir. It’s home to a planet that has petitioned for Federation membership.” Reaching up to push a length of her dark hair from her eyes, she sighed, which to Sarjenka sounded like one of resignation. “It seems our diplomatic envoys have run into some trouble there, and they’ve requested Starfleet assistance, and we’re-”