STAR TREK - TOS - The Janus Gate, Book - 2 - Future Imperfect

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Contents

Chapter One.6

Chapter Two.11

Chapter Three.18

Chapter Four24

Chapter Five.32

Chapter Six.38

Chapter Seven.45

Chapter Eight50

Chapter Nine.58

Chapter Ten.65

Chapter Eleven.72

About the e-Book.79

Chapter One

THE CARGO SHUTTLEbucked and shuddered, caught in a savage wind gust that had erupted out of a

still, clear dawn. Sulu threw a disbelieving look out his cockpit window at Tlaoli’s garnet-dusted sky and

saw nothing in its sunlit haze to indicate a storm brewing. He could even see plumes of mist, the exhaled

breath of hidden caves, rising straight and calm from the splintered landscape of karst and sinkholes

below him. But despite the testimony of his eyes, his hands and ears told him that a relentless avalanche

of air had the shuttle clenched in its grip. Sulu could feel the little ship falling farther and farther away from

the stable, banking turn he’d begun just a moment ago.

He’d been exultantly heading for home then, after locating a shadowy figure moving through the[2]

wilderness of fractured rock, a figure that could only be his own lost captain. That unexpected success,

made on the one brief reconnaissance flight Sulu had been allowed before evacuating the rest of the

stranded landing party from Tlaoli, had buoyed his spirits amazingly. After hours aboard theEnterprise

fighting Tlaoli’s unpredictable gravitational shifts and dangerous power drains, while Captain Kirk and his

rescue party struggled to survive the killing cold and darkness of the caverns where the original landing

party had been lost, it seemed as if the strange alien force that guarded this ancient planet had finally lost

its grasp on them.

Then from nowhere, gale-force winds roared out of a clear morning sky and sent the shuttleDrake

skidding out of control.

Sulu gave up trying to fight the wind’s pull and instead swung the shuttle hard into it, hoping he could

break through to calmer air on the other side. But before the roar of the engines had time to deepen in

response, before the straining nacelles could even start to shriek in protest, theDrake snapped to a stop

and hung frozen in midair. Sulu’s breath caught in his throat. In all his years of flying, in craft as small as

hang gliders and as large as theEnterprise, he had never before felt this kind of sudden arrest. This

wasn’t one of the alien planet’s odd gravitational perturbations, or the unstoppable power drain that had

made theEnterprise nearly crash into its surface only a few hours ago. This was simply—stillness.

[3]Sulu had no idea how long it lasted—a few microseconds? half a minute?—but there was absolutely

no doubt about how it ended. TheDrake was slammed out of its stillness by the unmistakable blow of an

atmospheric shock wave. Sulu’s inner ears told him the little ship was flipping sideways, but the sudden

darkness outside his cockpit window blocked any view of what had exploded down on the planet, or

which way he was being thrown by the blast. The deafening noise of detonation caught up with him an

instant later, fast enough and loud enough to tell Sulu he’d been near the epicenter of whatever had just

blown up.

The only thing that saved him from losing control entirely was the adrenaline spiking in his blood from the

wind gusts he’d been fighting a moment before. Sulu found himself responding almost before he was

consciously aware of the need to do so, flinging the shuttle across the vector of the blast instead of

fighting it, then spiraling its uncontrolled tumble into a gravity-assisted dive that made the metal nacelles

scream in protest as he exceeded their strain limit. That sound sharpened into a howl of torn metal as

Sulu hauled theDrake up out of its dive, praying every second that the blinding smoke around him

wouldn’t suddenly turn into rocky ground. When he finally got control of theDrake again, it was riding

the bow wave of the explosion like an awkward surfer. The shuttle’s steep, nose-up position told Sulu

more clearly than the red-flashing lights on his controls that he’d done some permanent damage to the[4]

nacelles. But for now, he was content to hold theDrake in whatever position gave it some aerodynamic

equilibrium, letting the wave of battered air sweep him ever farther from the epicenter of the explosion.

The smoke began to clear away from his cockpit windows, revealing tantalizing shreds and scraps of

ruddy light through its breaks. It didn’t look much like the cold rose-quartz dawn Sulu had taken the

shuttle up into. In fact, if he didn’t know better, he would swear the light had the sullen humid glare of the

tropics. Sulu glanced down at his instrument panel, whose gauges still flashed overloads and error

readings from the strange subspace interference fields that had made them all useless on Tlaoli. With a

sudden and completely unjustified intuition, he swept a hand across the bank of power switches, zeroing

them all to black, then watching them as they booted back up again. Each and every gauge came back a

steady, reliable green, even the one warning him about the high levels of tension where the shuttle’s hull

met its damaged nacelles. The subspace interference had vanished.

Wherever he was now, Sulu thought, it was nowhere near the strange alien caves of Tlaoli.

The smoke thinned a little, then, without warning, the shuttle surged away from the spreading wake of

the explosion and into clear air as the propulsion of its own engines finally outpaced the weakening

atmospheric shock wave it had been swept up in. Sulu saw a looming shadow of hills ahead of him and

[5]pulled theDrake up as gently as he dared, trying to spare its weakened nacelles now that he was free

of the blast wave. He was so intent on crafting a low-stress, minimum-clearance arc over those hills that it

took him a long moment to realize they were completely the wrong color.

The one thing theEnterprise had known about Tlaoli before it sent survey teams down to study it was

that the little planet was ancient and dry and mostly barren of life. The only vegetation Sulu had seen, in

his three trips down to the alien planet, consisted of drought-gnarled trees and thorny shrubs the same

dry gray-brown as the rocks and dirt around them. Butthese hills looked as if they were made of sodden

emerald velvet. Their canopied trees rose in such a lush tangle that Sulu couldn’t see any trace of bare

ground between them. In fact, the only things that didn’t glow a vivid shade of green were the violet-gray

strands of mist and ground-fog nestled in the hollows and winding valleys of the forested hills.

Sulu pursed his lips to whistle in amazement, but to his surprise, he found them too dry to allow any

noise to come out. That observation led to another—his hands were shaking despite their tight grip on the

Drake’s helm control, and his pulse was pounding so strongly that he could actually feel it throb beneath

the skin of one temple. He would have put the fear down to the aftermath of being engulfed by a

mysterious explosion if he hadn’t caught his gaze straying again and again to a gauge that he normally paid

no[6]attention to. With a start, Sulu focused on it now—and realized that the fundamental constant of

planetary gravity to which all of his other shuttle instruments calibrated themselves had shifted up by three

percent. The reading confirmed what some subconscious part of Sulu’s brain must have already noticed

and understood and been horrified by.

Theplanet he was on now wasnot Tlaoli.

Sulu gritted his teeth, fighting the urge to bank theDrake around at the speed he’d normally have used in

an emergency, as if he could somehow find his way back to Tlaoli and theEnterprise just by reversing

course. Some rational part of his brain knew that all the maneuver would accomplish would be to finish

the job of tearing off the cargo shuttle’s nacelles and strand him on this unknown world forever. But it still

seemed worthwhile to find out what had exploded upon his arrival here—a wormhole? an

antimatter/matter space warp?—so he maneuvered the wounded shuttle into a slow, gentle arc and

watched the crushed-velvet hills drift below him.

The verdant palette of chlorophyll-based colors should have warned Sulu that this unknown planet

probably wasn’t anywhere near as empty of animal life as Tlaoli had been. But it still came as a shock to

him when the green mass of forest abruptly ended, towering a surprising height above the black rock

walls that succeeded it. Sulu’s startled gaze followed those walls up toward the horizon and saw them

merge with others, rise in height, then become blunt[7]terraces bristling with spikes—no, not spikes, he

realized as theDrake came closer, but hollow pipes, pipes that were moving sideways, pointing outward,

turning to aim—at him!

Sulu cursed and wrenched theDrake into an evasive maneuver, momentarily forgetting the shuttle’s torn

nacelles. Fortunately, his downward dive kept torque to a minimum, at least until he was forced to pull up

out of it. In the meantime, he watched puffs of what looked like smoke emerge from the snouts of the

moving weapons and wondered just how primitive this unknown culture was. Clearly, they recognized

even a distant flying object as a threat and were prepared to shoot at it ... but what exactly were they

shooting? Nothing seemed to explode near him or on the ground below, even long after the smoke had

emerged, so it wasn’t some kind of explosive device or torpedo. Projectiles, perhaps, small enough to

make no sign when they missed their mark and fell to the ground.

The weapons along the black stone terraces slowly tracked him as Sulu hurtled down toward them,

coaxing the shuttle out of its dive by painful fractions of arc, wincing as he heard the occasional shriek of

metal ripping just a little further. He could tell that the barrels of the weapons weren’t able to keep pace

with his headlong dive, although to his surprise they all seemed to be trying. That was a gift he hadn’t

expected, that the crews who were manning those installations wouldn’t realize that what came down

must—if it were to survive—head back up again. If[8]even one weapon stopped trying to track along his

path and instead paused, waiting to meet him on the way back up again, Sulu was doomed.

But none of them did. He ground out the last nerve-racking curve that lifted the shuttle from descent to

ascent again, then began a horizontal turn at an angle he hoped they wouldn’t expect. It took him not

back toward the rain-forested hills he had come from, but directly toward the cloud of smoke that still

hung thick and sullen over the tallest towers of what now looked unmistakably like a fortress.

The shuttle darted into the smoke, and Sulu lost all sight of the weapons following him. He could still

hear them, though, a constant pounding thunder that made his head ache and his eyes blink in conditioned

response to the blows of sound. Still, nothing more than sound seemed to hit theDrake as it fled with

excruciating slowness through the lingering remnants of the explosion that had greeted it upon arrival.

Sulu began an upward climb while he was still shrouded in smoke, grimacing as his evasive maneuver

carried him so close to one black stone tower that he almost thought he could see a glare of eyes through

its narrow slitted windows. Then the smoke cleared again and he found himself high above the central

hub of this kilometers-wide installation. The weapons around the fringes no longer seemed to be aiming

or firing at him—no puffs of smoke drifted out of their long hollow barrels. By now, however, Sulu was

feeling too battered by fate to take that for a[9]good sign. He glanced around the hazy tropical sky, then

finally remembered that his long-range scanners would work here and slapped a hand down to activate

the vessel-detection screen. It took only one glance to tell him that his pessimistic instincts had been

correct. A raft of small yellow lights lay directly astern, already matching theDrake’s not-very-impressive

velocity. And even as he watched, the scanner showed a flicker around the nose of the foremost ship that

indicated some kind of power field had been detected there.

Sulu groaned and straightened theDrake out to give its nacelles the most support he could, then jacked

the engines up until the tensions measured along the hull flickered between yellow and red. To his

surprise, the unseen chase ships only matched his increase in velocity—they didn’t try to close the gap

between them. Now why, if they could have gone that fast to begin with, Sulu wondered, had they

waited for him to increase speed before they did? Was there some minimum firing range they needed for

the energy weapons that his scanners showed being fired now from several ships? If so, perhaps they had

miscalculated it for a ship as strange to them as his must be. Not a shiver or rattle went through theDrake

as those power flickers winked on and off the scanner’s detection screen.

He left the swath of central towers behind and crossed back over black stone terraces, empty of

everything except the turning barrels of weapons that[10]protruded from the edge like fangs. A towering

green tsunami of forest appeared beyond the final perimeter wall, rising almost to the shuttle’s altitude and

promising safety if only he could disappear into its deepest hollows. But the same glance that told Sulu

how close he was to shelter also showed him the turning spikes of the weapon barrels, swinging around

in unison to intercept his course. He groaned in dismay and self-disgust. After all his years in Starfleet

Academy and aboard Starfleet’s premier deep-space vessel, he should have known better!

Sulu had made the most basic mistake of space exploration, assuming that the alien strategists who

commanded in this fortress would follow the same rules of tactics as known civilizations did. Humans or

Vulcans or Klingons never fired anti-spacecraft weapons if there were more of their own fighters than

enemies aloft, because of the risk of being hit by friendly fire. But these fortress fighters were either a

more ruthless or more self-sacrificing lot. Sulu began—much too late—to lift theDrake up to a less

dangerous altitude, and saw the raft of yellow dots behind him on the long-range scanner increase altitude

to match his without ever getting closer. That gap suddenly made sense to him. It would give the

perimeter weapons a clear interval to fire before they encountered their own ships.

It also gave Sulu an idea.

Praying that theDrake’s abused nacelles would take the strain, he began to level the shuttle off at[11]an

altitude that still kept him dangerously close to the unknown weapons ahead. Just as he expected, the

long-range scanners reported his chasers doing the same thing. Then, just as he crossed over the edge of

the black stone terrace and into weapons range, Sulu began a sharp banking turn at the tightest angle he

could manage and still keep the nacelles from shearing off. It took theDrake into the sudden thundering

fire of the ground weapons, and this time Sulu could hear the sickening thuds as projectiles hit and

cratered the shuttle’s duranium hull without ever breaking through. He winced, but held his course. The

Drake was a cargo shuttle, never meant for battle, and its shields were designed to ward off particles of

space dust and fragments of comets, not armored projectiles. Sulu wasn’t sure how many of those

impacts it could take without breaking apart at the seams, but he was gambling that it wouldn’t be long

until the fusillade ceased.

He craned his head to watch the weapons from the side of his cockpit as he swung the shuttle around,

and allowed himself a grim smile of satisfaction. These unknown fighters might not be predictable, but

they were certainly consistent. Once again, all of the weapons were tracking him in unison, following the

Drake faithfully around on its 180-degree turn, until they found themselves pointed at their own ships as

well as at the intruder. There was a moment of confusion when waves of projectiles slammed into the

leading chase ships, bringing several of them down[12]with surprising efficiency before the thunder of the

ground weapons rolled into silence and smoke drifted away from their empty barrels.

The phalanx of chase ships was in chaos now. Sulu took advantage of it to thread his way through them

and cut sideways, slipping over a different part of the outer stone wall before the ground weapons got a

chance to retrain their sights on him. He lifted theDrake with a stomach-churning lurch that just cleared

the towering wall of green on the other side, then settled down to hug the tops of those monstrous tree

canopies as he raced for the hills on the horizon.

It took the remaining chase ships a few moments to regroup, and another minute for Sulu’s

vessel-detection screen to give him the bad news he’d expected. Now that they were all past the edge of

the installation, there was no doubt that those alien ships were faster than theDrake, probably faster than

it had been even before the powerful explosion back at the towers had half-torn its nacelles off. He

jacked the engines back up as high as he dared, but he could still set only a snail’s pace compared with

the ships behind him. It was only a few moments before they were in visual range again, a half-dozen

blunt-nosed attack ships with darkened cockpit windows and parabolic wings. Sulu could see through

the side of his cockpit the heat-wave shimmer of the energy weapons that the scanner insisted were being

fired from their snouts. Still, theDrake flew on without so much as a lurch or twitch of response.

[13]The cargo shuttle’s strange imperviousness to their weapons must have been apparent to the

attackers, too—one buzzed him overhead, close enough to make theDrake shudder and roll in the wake

vortex trailing behind it. Sulu dragged the shuttle back to equilibrium with difficulty—the torn nacelles had

a tendency to exaggerate every loss of stability into a sideways roll. It wasn’t until a second attacker

buzzed and flew off, leaving him enveloped in the heat-shimmer of its energy weapon’s discharge, that

Sulu noticed that all of his control panel gauges were black and powerless.

Sulu’s eyebrows shot up as he realized what must be protecting theDrake. Chief Engineer Montgomery

Scott had insisted on shielding the cargo shuttle’s warp core and engines before Sulu took it down into

the dangerous power-draining force fields of Tlaoli. Now the unknown aliens on this planet—maybe even

the same ones who built that underground installation—were firing some kind of energy-dispersive

weapons at him. Those weapons would probably already have sent any normal shuttle plummeting down

to the surface in an unpowered swan dive. TheDrake’s stubborn ability to fly seemed to be making the

aliens both impatient and, Sulu suspected, somewhat nervous.

He took a deep breath and slowed the engines again, holding his course as he was buzzed several more

times by the flickering shapes of the attackers. There didn’t seem to be anything else they could do but

fire those heat-shimmer pulses at him, but that didn’t make Sulu feel safe. With half-torn nacelles[14]and

a pockmarked hull, Sulu didn’t want to spend hours being jostled by them or, even worse, drive the

aliens to desperate tactics like a suicide ramming. He was equally reluctant to put the shuttle down while

they watched and circled overhead like vultures to mark the spot where he landed. What he needed was

to convince them they didn’t need to worry about him anymore, and for that he was going to have to use

a fairly desperate tactic himself.

Sulu inched theDrake upward a few hundred meters to give himself a little maneuvering room and a

better view of the landscape below. There was rain forest everywhere below him now. The alien fortress

had dwindled to a distant smudge of smoke behind a range of hills, and ahead of him the sky was painted

with tiger stripes of orange, saffron, and crimson around a setting tropical sun. The forest was vast and

featureless, webbed everywhere with streamers of violet-tinted fog as the cooling air drizzled out its

moisture. Then, off to one side, Sulu caught a glimpse of what looked like a shattered mirror whose tiger

stripes matched the sky. He wasn’t sure if it was a lake or an enormous river, but at least it was

something to orient himself by in this endless span of green. Sulu took a deep breath, waited for one last

attacker to shower him in heat-shimmer, then cut all power to the shuttle’s engines.

They made them practice this maneuver in Starfleet simulators, over and over again, but Sulu discovered

that it didn’t really prepare you for the[15]gut-wrenching feel of fading momentum and dragging gravity,

the sidelong plunge that couldn’t really be called a roll, the spinning plummet that increased with such

shocking speed that by the time he cut the engines in again he was far closer to the forest canopy than he

had planned.

The trees closed in around the shuttle while he was still trying to pull it out of its dive, and Sulu heard a

rising shriek from the nacelles as their ripped seams tore open further. He made one last effort to lower

his speed, but the torque was too much for the hull. With a sound almost like an explosion, one nacelle

tore off completely, followed a moment later by the other. TheDrake plunged downward, still spinning

uncontrollably but powered enough to turn its deadly vertical plunge into a dangerous horizontal slide.

And the trees themselves helped, their many branches flickering past too fast to see but braking his

momentum just the same. TheDrake’s shields warded off the worst impacts from the larger branches,

although Sulu didn’t think they would be much help if he hit one of the monstrous trunks that must rise

through this greenery somewhere. But as the ship twisted and lurched and skidded slowly downward

through the darkening shade of the canopy, the one thing he was sure of was that it must have looked to

his pursuers like a real, honest-to-God crash.

He ended up sliding only slightly canted along a humus-littered forest floor, and finally bumping to an

almost laughably gentle stop against a fallen log[16]whose diameter matched the shuttle’s height. Sulu cut

the engines off again with shaking fingers and wondered if he should power-down the warp core in case

its shielding had been damaged. He would think about that in a minute, he promised himself, after he

caught his breath and wiped the sweat of suddenly humid air off his face. The shuttle’s battered hull must

have sprung a leak on its way down through the forest. He would know soon enough if there was

anything toxic to humans in this planet’s atmosphere.

In the meantime, he could finally relax long enough to realize that he was now a hunted man on an alien

planet whose name he didn’t know and whose location could be almost anywhere in the galaxy.

“Oh ... this isn’t good. ...” Shaking her head slowly, Yuki Smith did something Pavel Chekov had never

dreamed a Starfleet security guard would do—she retreated several steps toward the center of the small

karst plateau, as though contemplating running away entirely. “He’scrying!” she whispered fiercely in

Chekov’s direction. “They don’t train security guards to deal with crying.”

Chekov didn’t think it worth pointing out that Starfleet Academy didn’t exactly offer electives in dealing

with crying for Astrogation majors, either. Instead, he just nodded as though her objection made perfect

sense, and kept his attention focused on the boy who knelt a few meters in front of them on the edge of

the uneven plateau.

[17]The boy wasn’t really crying anymore. The tears had lasted only a few wrenching, naked moments,

when Chekov and Smith had first cornered him at the edge of the steep drop-off. Now, the only remnant

of the boy’s tears was a sheen of wetness on his cheeks and a ragged edge to his breathing that made it

sound as though he took three quick breaths on every too-deep inhalation. His fear had already began to

mutate into something else—something cunning and more productive. Chekov couldn’t precisely identify

the emotion glowing in the boy’s keen hazel stare, but he’d seen glimpses of it on the face of the adult

James Kirk during the last eighteen hours. He suspected it meant that even a very young James Kirk

would prove a formidable adversary.

“Listen to me.” Chekov struggled to pitch his tone just the right distance between solicitude and

belligerence to keep the boy from bristling. He was close enough to his own teen years to remember how

much he hated adults speaking to him as though he were stupid, but just far enough away from them to

appreciate how stupid teenaged boys often were. “We’re not going to hurt you. You said your father is in

Starfleet. Then you know we’re here to protect civilians, not to hurt them.”

The boy’s eyes flicked back and forth between gold uniform and red, touching briefly on sleeves,

insignia, and waists. Anticipating the boy’s concern, Chekov spread his arms out to either side.

“Look—we don’t even have weapons.”

[18]It seemed to bother the boy a little that this stranger would understand what he was thinking. Sinking

back on his heels, he thrust his chin vaguely in Chekov’s direction. “What’s that?”

It took Chekov a moment to realize he meant the small device still curled in Chekov’s left hand. “A

compass. For finding our bearings.” He held his hand out flat in front of him so the boy could see the

imprinted face and the swinging, hair-fine needle. Moving his hand slightly in a more distinct offering, he

said, “Here. Take it.”

Interest moved across the boy’s face, replacing suspicion for the first time since they’d pinned him here.

Once again, Chekov was reminded of Kirk’s fearless curiosity, and he felt an irrational surge of guilt to

be standing on the surface of an alien planet trying to reassure a fifteen-year-old version of his own

commander.Whatever this place did to you, he found himself promising silently,we’ll fix it . Because

the thought of theEnterprise without Kirk in command was simply intolerable.

Stooping slowly, Chekov folded the compass closed and set it on the wind-polished rock at his feet. A

nudge with his toe sent it skittering just far enough for the boy to lean forward and pick it up. Chekov

watched him open it and turn it this way and that to check the needle’s lazy swing, and tried to decide if

the boy looked any calmer. Light from the freshly risen sun cut sharply across the boy’s left shoulder,

hiding half his expression in shadow as he bent over[19]the small device. At least his breathing had

steadied to a more regular rise and fall.

“We have a base camp about an hour’s walk from here—” Chekov began.

This younger Kirk cut him off with the same impatient brusqueness that would strike fear into the hearts

of his subordinates when he was twenty years more refined. “I saw it.”

Chekov had to bite back an abashed and automatic, “Yes, sir.” Instead, he fought to keep his voice

rigorously even. “You should come back to camp with us—”

“No!” No longer some dim reflection of a great starship commander, he was just a boy again, obviously

angered by the fear that flew too easily into his protest. His hand closed convulsively around the

compass, and he glanced once, briefly, over his shoulder as though considering anew whether he could

jump the deep rift between the karst towers. The sun made him squint and look back too quickly.

Chekov nodded, pretending not to notice the boy’s vehemence. “Well, we can’t stay out here all day.”

“You can’t, maybe.” The boy lifted his chin in a brave defiance that wasn’t at all feigned. “I’m not going

anywhere.”

You have no idea how true that is. If they didn’t find out what this planet had done to Kirk—not to

mention to Lieutenant Sulu, and possibly to Chekov himself—Chekov had a feeling none of them would

be going anywhere anytime soon.

[20]“Do you rank her?” The boy asked it suddenly, as though the thought had only just occurred to him.

Chekov glanced aside at Smith, strangely unsure how to respond even though the answer was obvious.

He was too used to being the most junior member in any gathering to think of himself as ranking anyone.

“Yes. I’m an officer.” It was the first time he’d ever said that about himself.

“Then make her leave.” The boy clicked the compass shut and folded it into his fist like a talisman. Alert

hazel eyes locked on Smith, daring her to move. “She’s security,” he continued defiantly to Chekov.

“You’re just some command maven. If anybody can hurt me, it’s her.” He glanced away from her only

long enough to pin Chekov with his stare. “Make her leave.”

From ranking Starfleet officer to command maven in just under thirty seconds. A new galactic record,

certainly. Still, the boy wasn’t wrong, and Chekov had to give him credit for thinking clearly even if he

was less than subtle about how he expressed it.

“Go on.” He turned pointedly away from the boy, letting Kirk see that he was willing to turn his back

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