STAR TREK - TNG - The Valiant

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Michael Jan Friedman - Star Trek - The Valiant For information regarding special discounts for bulk

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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents 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.

POCKET BOOKS, a division of Simon amp; Schuster, Inc. 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York,

NY 10020

by Pocket Books.

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POCKET and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon amp; Schuster, Inc.

Printed in the U.S.A.

For Cliff

Acknowledgments

I know you didnt buy this book to read the acknowledgments page but since youre here, I need half a

minute to thank some people without whose contributions there wouldnt be a book.

First, my editors, John Ordover and Carol Greenburg, whose patience and skill helped bring this rather

unusual project to fruition. Second, Paula Block, of Viacom, who again gave me the leeway to do

something different. And third, but not in any way last, my wife and sons, who did without me for weeks

while I banged away furiously at my keyboard.

You see? Half a minute. Now you can go on to the good stuff.

Book One

Valiant

CHAPTER

Warlos Tarasco of the 5.5. Valiant stood in front of his captains chair and eyed the phenomenon pictured

on his viewscreen.

It was immense, he thought. Noit was beyond immense. It stretched across space without boundaries or

limits, a blazing vermillion abyss without beginning or end.

Amazing, said Gardenhire, his redheaded ops officer.

Tarasco grunted. You can say that again.

Sommers, the curly-haired brunette who was sitting next to Gardenhire at the helm controls, cast a glance

back at the captain. You still want to go through it, sir?

Do we have a choice? Tarasco asked her.

The helm officer recognized it as a rhetorical question and returned her attention to her monitors. With

her slender fingers crawling across her control dials like an exotic variety of insect, she deployed

additional power to the propulsion system.

Ready when you are, sir .

Was he ready? The captain drew a deep breath.

The phenomenon had puzzled him ever since it came up on the viewscreen earlier that day. Their optical

scanners registered what looked like the universes biggest light show, but there was nothing there as far

as their other instruments were concerned.

Unfortunately, it wasnt merely a matter of scientific curiosity. Tarasco and his crew of eighty-eight had set

out from Earth years earlier, aiming to chart a stretch of space from their home system to the farthest

reaches of the Milky Way galaxypart of a sector that Terran astronomers had labeled the Alpha

Quadrant.

They had almost completed their assignment when they encountered an unexpectedly powerful magnetic

storm. At first, it seemed that they might be able to outrun the thing. Then they found out otherwise.

The storm caught them up and flung them light-years off course, well past what Tarascos cartography

team reckoned was the outer edge of the galaxy. If not for the readings their scanners took along the

way, they wouldnt even have known which way was home.

But knowing the way was only half the battle. The storm had wrecked both their warp and nuclear

impulse engines, forcing them to drift on emergency power until the crew could get them up and running.

Finally, after weeks of languishing under the glare of alien stars, Tarasco and his people got underway

again. They knew that their trip back to Earth had been lengthened by nearly eleven months, but no one

griped. They were just glad to be heading home.

And all had gone well from that point, the captain reflected. Until now, that is .

He couldnt be sure if the phenomenon had been there when the storm threw them so precipitously in the

other direction, or if it had sprung up since that time. Certainly, their computer hadnt made any record of

it.

One thing was for surethey werent going to get back to Earth without passing through the thing.

Tarasco glanced at Sommers. Lets do it.

He could feel a subtle hum in the deck below his feet as the Valiant accelerated to the speed of light. The

phenomenon loomed in front of them, a gargantuan, red maw opened wide to swallow them up.

Still no sign of it on sensors, said Hollandsworth, his tall, dark-skinned science officer.

Deflectors are registering something, reported Gardenhire. He turned to the captain. A kind of pressure.

So were not just seeing things, Tarasco concluded. I guess we can take some comfort in that.

Maintain heading? asked Sommers.

Affirmative, said the captain.

The closer they got, the more tumultuous the phenomenon appeared. The ruby light within it began to

writhe and shimmer, giving birth to monstrous caverns and towering eruptions.

It was beautiful in the way a stormy, windblown sea was beautiful. And like a stormy sea, it was

frightening at the same time.

All available power to the shields, Tarasco ordered.

Aye, sir, said Gardenhire.

Suddenly, the ship jerked hard to starboard. Caught by surprise, the captain had to grab hold of his chair

back for support. He turned to his operations officer, a question on his face.

Were all right, Gardenhire reported dutifully. Shields are holding fine, sir.

Tarasco turned back to the viewscreen. They seemed to be entering a deep, red-veined chasm, pulsating

with forces that baffled him as much as they did his scanning devices. Before he knew it, the phenomenon

wasnt just in front of them, it was all around.

He felt another jerk, even harder than the first. But a glance at Gardenhire told him that everything was

still under control.

Behind the captain, the lift doors whispered open. He looked back and saw that his first officer had

joined them. Commander Rashad was a wiry man with a neatly trimmed beard and a sarcastic wit.

I hope Im not too late, Rashad said darkly.

Not at all, Tarasco told him. The shows just starting.

Good, said his exec. I hate to miss anything.

The words had barely left his mouth when the lights on the bridge began to flicker. Everyone looked

around, the captain included.

Whats happening? he asked his ops officer.

Im not sure, sir, said Gardenhire, searching his control panel for a clue. Somethings interfering with our

electroplasma flow.

Abruptly, the deck lurched beneath them, as if they were riding the crest of a gigantic wave.

Hollandsworths console exploded in a shower of sparks, sending him flying backward out of his seat.

Tarasco began to move to the science officers side. However, Rashad beat him to it.

Shields down forty-five percent! Gardenhire announced.

Another console explodedthis time, an empty one. It contributed to the miasma of smoke collecting

above them. And again, the ship bucked like an angry horse.

The helms not responding! Sommers cried out.

Rashad depressed the comm pad at the corner of Hollandsworths console. Sickbay, this is Rashad. We

need someone up here on the double. Lieutenant Hollandsworth has been

Before he could finish his sentence, the first officer seemed to light up from within, his body suffused with

a smoldering, red glow. Then he fell to his knees beside the unconscious Hollandsworth.

Amir! Tarasco bellowed.

For a gut-wrenching moment, he thought Rashad had been seriously hurt. Then the man turned in

response to the captains cry and signaled with his hand that he was all right.

Shields down eighty-six percent! Gardenhire hollered. He turned to the captain, his eyes red from the

smoke and full of dread. Sir, we cant take much more of this!

As if to prove his point, the Valiant staggered sharply to port, throwing Tarasco into the side of his center

seat. He glared at the viewscreen, hating the idea that his choices had narrowed to one.

All right! he thundered over the din of hissing consoles and shuddering deckplates. Get us out of here!

There was only one way the helm officer could accomplish that retreat. Wrestling the ship hard to

starboard, she aimed for a patch of open space.

Under Sommerss expert hand, the Valiant climbed out of the scarlet abyss. At the last moment, the

forces inside the phenomenon seemed to add to their momentum, spitting them out like a watermelon

seed.

Tarasco had never been so glad to see the stars in his life. Trying not to breathe in the black fumes from

Hollandsworths console, he made his way to the science officer and dropped down beside him.

Hollandsworths face and hands had been badly burned. He was making sounds of agony deep in his

throat.

Is he going to make it? asked Rashad, who was sitting back on his haunches. He looked a little pale for

his experience.

I dont know, the captain told him.

Before he could try to help, the lift doors parted and a couple of medics emerged. One was a petite

woman named Coquillette, the other a muscular man named Rudolph.

Well take it from here, sir, said Coquillette.

Tarasco backed off and let the medical personnel do their jobs. Then he did his. Damage report! he

demanded of his ops officer.

Shields down, sir, Gardenhire told him ruefully. Scanners, communications, lasers all off-line.

Beside him, Sommers pounded her fist on her console. The main engines are shot. That last thrust burned

out every last circuit.

Switch life support to emergency backup, said the captain.

Without waiting for a response, he peered over Coquillettes shoulder to see how Hollandsworth was

doing. The science officers eyes were open, but he was trembling with pain.

Easy now, Coquillette told Hollandsworth, and injected him with an anesthetic through the sleeve of his

uniform.

Tarasco heaved a sigh. Then he turned back to Rashad. Poor guy, he said, referring to the science

officer.

But Rashad wasnt looking at the captain any longer. He was stretched out on his back, eyes staring at the

ceiling, and Rudolph was trying to breathe air into his lungs.

Rashad wasnt responding. He just lay there, limp, like a machine drained of all its power.

Tarasco shook his head. No

Just moments earlier, his first officer had assured him he was all right. He had even asked the captain

about Hollandsworth. How could something have happened to him so quickly?

Then Tarasco remembered the way Rashad had lit up in the grip of the phenomenon, like a wax candle

with a fierce, orange flame raging inside it. Clearly, they were dealing with matters beyond their

understanding.

Tarasco watched helplessly as Rudolph labored to bring Rashad back to life, blowing into his mouth and

pounding Rashads chest with the heel of his hand. At the same time, Coquillette injected the first officer

with a stimulant of some kind.

None of it helped.

Lets get them to sickbay, a red-faced Rudolph said at last.

Numbly, the captain took hold of Rashad under his arms, though he knew his chief medical officer

wouldnt be able to help the man either. On the other hand, Hollandsworth still had a chance to pull

through.

He and Coquillette picked up the first officer, while Rudolph and Gardenhire hefted the lanky

Hollandsworth. Then they squeezed into the still-open lift compartment and entered sickbay as their

destination.

The air in the lift was close and foul with the stench of burned flesh. Fortunately, their destination was just

a couple of decks up.

As the doors slid apart, Tarasco and the others piled out with their burdens and made their way down

the corridor.

In less than a minute, they reached sickbay. Its doors were wide open, giving them an unobstructed view

of the facilitys eight intensive care beds, which were arranged like the spokes of a wheel. Three of the

beds were occupied, though metallic silver blankets had been pulled up ominously over the patients

faces.

Damn, thought the captain, his heart sinking in his chest. He had assumed the only casualties were those

suffered on the bridge.

Gorvoy, the Valiants florid-faced chief medical officer, looked grim as he approached them and took a

look. Put them down here and here, he told Rudolph and Coquillette, pointing to a couple of empty beds,

and get up to deck seven. McMillans got two more in engineering.

The medics did as they were told and took off, leaving Tarasco and Gardenhire to stand there as Gorvoy

examined Hol-landsworth with a handheld bioscanner. The physician consulted the devices tiny readout,

crossed the octagonally shaped room and removed something from an open drawer. Then he came back

to the semiconscious science officer.

Hollandsworth will heal, he told the captain. I wish I could say that for the others. Do me a favor and

cover Rashad, will you?

Tarasco gazed at his first officer, who was lying inert on his bed, his features slack and his eyes locked on

eternity. Moving to the foot of the bed, the captain took the blanket there and unfolded it. Then he

draped it over Rashad.

Amir, he sighed, mourning his friend and colleague.

Gorvoy glanced at him as he applied a salve to Hol-landsworths burns. He lit up like a lightning bug,

right?

Tarasco returned the glance. The others, too? he guessed.

Uh huh. Kolodny, Rivers, Yosh all of them.

The captain considered the man-sized shapes beneath the metallic blankets. But why them and not

anyone else?

Thats the question, the medical officer agreed. Was Rashad near an open conduit or something?

Tarasco thought about it. No. He was near Hollandsworths console, though. And it was shooting sparks.

It was possible the console had had something to do with it. However, the captains gut told him

otherwise. And judging by the expression on Gorvoys face, the doctor didnt believe it was the console

either.

Gardenhire was grimacing as he watched Gorvoy spread the salve. Tarasco put his hand on the ops

officers shoulder.

Go on, he told Gardenhire. Get back to the bridge. See if Sommers needs any help.

The redhead nodded. Aye, sir, he said. With a last, sympathetic look at Hollandsworth, he left sickbay.

But Gardenhire wasnt gone long before Tarasco heard the sound of heavy footsteps coming from the

corridor. Suddenly, another medical team burst into the room, carrying a young woman between them.

It was Zosky, the stellar physicist who had signed onto the mission at the last minute. She was a dead

weight hi the medics arms as they followed Gorvoys gesture and laid her on another bed.

My God, the captain thought how many more? And what could have killed them, while so many others

had been spared?

He watched as they laid Zosky down, as Gorvoy took a moment to examine her with his bioscanner and

as they pulled the blanket over her face. Not the console , part of him insisted.

The doctor eyed Tarasco. Maybe you ought to get back to the bridge, too, he suggested.

The captain nodded. Maybe.

He had started to leave sickbay when Coquillette and Rudolph came huffing in from the corridor. They

were carrying yet another victima baby-faced engineer named Davidoff.

McMillan said there were two of them, Gorvoy told them. Wheres the other one?

As if in answer to his question, Chief Engineer McMillan came shuffling in with one of his men leaning on

him for support. Tarasco recognized the injured man as Agnarsson, McMillans first assistant.

Agnarsson was a big man, tall and broad-shouldered, with a strong jaw and a fierce blond mustache. But

at the moment, he was weak as a kitten, fighting hard just to stay conscious. The captain helped

McMillan get him to a bed and hoist him onto it.

Whats the matter with him? Tarasco asked.

The chief engineer cursed beneath his breath. He started to glowhe and Davidoff both. It was the

damnedest thing.

The captain looked at him, his pulse starting to pound in his temples. He was glowing? And hes still alive?

Im fine, Agnarsson muttered, hanging his head and rubbing the back of his neck. Just a little light-headed

is all.

Then the big man picked up his head and Tarascos jaw fell. Agnarssons eyes, normally a very ordinary

shade of blue, were glowing with a luxuriant silver light.

CHAPTER

Captains log, December 30th, 2069. Tomorrow will be New Years Eve. We should be preparing our

usual celebration, festooning the lounge and watching Sommers mix her killer punch. Unfortunately, with

six of our comrades dead, no one feels much like celebrating. So instead of toasting 2070, were delving

under control consoles and wriggling through access tubes, trying to expedite the process of bringing

basic systems back online. The problem is every time we think weve fixed something, a new trouble spot

rears its ugly head. And even if we can solve all the little snags, well still be left with a great big one the

warp drive. Chief McMillan says it may be beyond repair this time. And if were restricted to impulse

power, none of us will live long enough to see Earth again .

Tarasco paused in his log entry, put down his microphone and looked around at his quarters. They were

small, crampedand yet palatial in comparison to those of the average crewman.

They hadnt seemed so bad when the captain first saw them. But back then, he was contemplating

spending six or seven years in the place, at most. Now he was looking at living out his life there.

He recalled the story of Moses, the biblical patriarch who led his people through a wilderness for forty

years and brought up a new generation in the process. But in the end, Moses was prohibited from

entering the Promised Land with his charges.

Is that how its going to be with me? Tarasco asked himself. After all weve been through, am I going to be

Moses? Have I already seen Earth for the last time?

It was a depressing thought, to say the least. Putting it aside, the captain saved his entry, got up and left

his quarters. After all, he was needed on the bridge.

Siregar stared at her fellow security officer as if he had sprouted another pair of ears. Youre kidding,

right?

Offenburger, a tall, blond man, pulled his head out from under a fire-damaged control panel. Not at all.

Im telling you, his eyes were silver. And they were glowing.

You saw him? asked Siregar, her skepticism echoing through the Valiants auxiliary control center.

No, her colleague had to admit. Not personally, I mean. But OShaugnessy and Maciello were in

engineering when Agnarsson lit up, and they both told me the same thing. Silver and glowing.

Siregar grunted, then returned her attention to the exposed power coupling she had been working on.

Normally, an engineer would have taken care of such repairs. However, with all the damage done by Big

Red, the engineering staff couldnt handle everything.

Especially when they were missing two of their best men.

At least Agnarssons alive , she said.

For now, Offenburger added cryptically.

Siregar looked at him. Whats that supposed to mean? Do they think hes going to die?

They dont know what to think, he told her. Theyve never seen anyone with glowing eyes before.

But is he going downhill?

Offenburger shook his head. I dont know but I sure hope not. Itd be nice to see at least one of those

guys pull through.

Siregar nodded. She hadnt been especially close to any of the victims, but she mourned their loss

nonetheless. After she had spent years working alongside them, it would have been impossible not to.

Yes, she agreed, it would be nice.

Jack Gorvoy completed the last of his autopsy reports, sat back in his chair and heaved a sigh.

Six casualties, the doctor reflected, and each one showed the same characteristics. Severe damage to the

victims nervous systems, synapses ravaged up and down the line, cerebral cortices burned out as if

someone had plunged live wires into them.

Yet none of the victims had suffered external injuries. There were no burns, no surface woundsnothing to

indicate that their bodies had been subjected to electromagnetic shocks.

With that in mind, the open-console theory didnt seem applicable. Besides, only Rashad and Davidoff

had been in the vicinity of sparking control panels when they collapsed. Yosh, Kolodny, Rivers, and

Zosky had been in more secure sections of the ship.

It seemed the phenomenon had found a way to affect the victims brains without intruding on any cells

along the way. A scientific impossibility, as far as Gorvoy could tell. And yet, he couldnt think of another

explanation for what had happened.

Which led to another question, perhaps bigger than the first How was it that these six people had died

when the majority of the crew had survived unscathed? What was different about them? the doctor

asked himself. What was the common denominator?

He glanced hi the direction of the intensive care unit, only a small slice of which was visible from his

office. He could see Agnarsson, the only patient left to him now that Hollandsworth was well enough to

return to his quarters. The engineer was sitting up in his bed, glancing at a printout of his DNA analysis.

Unlike the others who had burned with that strange light, Agnarsson didnt appear to have suffered any ill

effects. Though his eyes had changed color, his vision was still perfect. In fact, the man claimed he felt

better than ever before.

Under normal circumstances, Gorvoy would probably have discharged him and pronounced him fit for

duty. But he couldntnot when the engineer was their best shot at obtaining an understanding of their

comrades deaths, and by extension, the forces that comprised the space phenomenon.

Abruptly, the medical officer realized that Agnarsson was returning his scrutiny. Like a voyeur caught in

the act, Gorvoy pretended to be busy with something else for a moment. When he looked up, his patient

was gazing at the analysis again.

No doubt, he told himself, Agnarsson would prefer a novel to an analytical printout. Swiveling his chair

around, he examined the lowest shelf of his bookcase, where he kept some of his favorites.

Picking a mystery, the doctor slipped it out of its place and walked it over to the intensive care unit. The

engineer didnt look up from his printout as Gorvoy approached him.

Here, said the doctor, offering his patient the book. You might find this a bit more interesting.

Agnarsson continued to study the analysis. Can I see some other printouts? he asked.

Gorvoy shrugged. I dont see why not. But if I may ask, what do you want them for?

The engineer finally looked up at him, his eyes gleaming with silver light. Just get them, he said softly but

insistently, and Ill show you.

* * *

As Captain Tarasco entered Gorvoys office, he could see the doctor peering at his monitor screen. You

called? he said.

The medical officer didnt look up. I did indeed, he replied absently. Have a seat.

Im a busy man, Tarasco ventured.

Gorvoy nodded. I heard. McMillan says well be lucky to get the warp drive up and running this century.

That estimate may be a little pessimistic, said the captain. But not by much , he added inwardly.

At last, the doctor looked up. Take a look at this, he advised, swiveling his monitor around.

Tarasco examined the screen. It showed him a collection of bright green circles, some empty and some

filled in, perhaps a hundred and twenty of them in all.

I give up, he said. What is it?

Its a DNA analysis, Gorvoy explained. Those circles are traits. Sexual orientation, height, eye color, and

so on.

The captain looked at him, still at a loss. Is this supposed to mean something to me?

Agnarsson created it, said the doctor. From memory.

Tarasco looked at the screen again, then at Gorvoy. This is a joke, right?

Its not, said the doctor.

But how could he have done this?

I wish I knew, Gorvoy told him. About an hour ago, he said he was bored with lying in bed while I ran

tests on him, so I gave him something to look athis DNA analysis. He decided to play a game with

himself, to see how much of it he could memorize.

And he memorized all of it? asked Tarasco, finding the doctors claim difficult to believe.

Gorvoy smiled a thin smile. All of them .

With a touch of his pad, he brought up a different analysis on the monitor screen. Then another, and

another still.

Seven in all, Gorvoy said. My analyses of the seven individuals who were afflicted with the glow effect.

The captain absorbed the information. Obviously, this has something to do with his eyes.

Obviously, the medical officer confirmed, but only in that they appear to be symptoms of the same

diseaseif you even want to call it that. According to Agnarsson hes never felt better in his life, and my

instruments back him up in that regard.

Tarasco frowned. Id like to see him speak with him.

Be my guest, Gorvoy told him.

The captain left the doctors office and followed the radiating corridor that led to the center of sickbay,

where the intensive care unit was located. Only one of the eight beds was occupied.

Tarasco could see that Agnarssons eyes were closed. For a moment, he considered whether he should

wake the engineer or wait to speak with him at a later time.

Theres no time like the present, Agnarsson said, speaking like a man still wrapped in sleep.

Then he turned to the captain and opened his eyes, fixing Tarasco with his strange, silver stare. He smiled

as he propped himself up on an elbow. My grandfather was the one who told me that.

The captain felt a chill climb the rungs of his spine. What made you decide to say it now?

Agnarsson shrugged. Im not certain, exactly. It just seemed to make sense at the moment.

Tarasco tried to accept that, but he had a feeling mere was more to it than the engineer was saying. The

doctor tells me youve developed a knack for memorizing things.

You mean the DNA analyses? Agnarsson seemed to be staring at something a million kilometers distant.

To tell you the truth, it wasnt that hard. I just gazed at them for a while, and suddenly they were the most

familiar things in the world to me.

Thats pretty amazing, the captain observed.

The engineer shrugged again. I suppose you could say that. But do you know whats really amazing?

Tarasco shook his head. What?

Agnarsson pointed past him. That.

The captain felt a whisper of air on the back of his neck. Whirling in response, he saw something silvery

sweeping toward him and put his arms up to protect himself from it.

Too late, he realized what it wasa metallic blanket from one of the other beds. As it sank to the floor like

a puppet whose strings had been cut, the engineer laughed.

Tarasco turned to him, uncertain that he could wrap his mind around what Agnarsson had doneand even

less certain of how the man had done it. That wasnt funny, he said, not knowing what else to say.

The engineer bit his Up to keep from laughing some more. Sorry, sir. I just thought I dont know.

That it might be interesting to float a blanket over and surprise me with it? The captain couldnt believe he

had said that.

Agnarsson met his scrutiny with his eerie, silver stare. As I said before, he replied, it seemed to make

sense at the time.

I see, said Tarasco, not seeing at all.

He was trying to effect a facade of confidence and calm, but he didnt feel those qualities on the inside. He

had been prepared to find a lot of things in the vastness of space people as strange as the dispassionate,

pointed-eared Vulcans and even stranger.

But this this was the stuff of fantasy.

Im not sure you do see, said Agnarsson. He laid down on his bed again, gazed at the ceiling and smiled

an unearthly smile. But thats all right, I suppose for now.

The captain wanted to know what the engineer meant by that and then again, maybe he didnt. Mumbling

a few words of goodbye, he left Agnarsson lying there and left the intensive care unit.

He felt an urgent need to talk with Gorvoy. * * *

Mary Anne Sommers was learning what it felt like to be sitting in the eye of a storm.

An even dozen of her fellow crewmen were laboring around her, punctuating their efforts with grunts,

sighs, and colorful language. Some of them were trying to repair the control panels that had blown up.

Others were removing and replacing burned-out sensor circuits with new ones.

The helm officer wished they could have replaced the warp drive that easily. Unfortunately, she mused,

they didnt carry that spare part.

Sommers would have chipped in some elbow grease, except someone had to keep an eye on the

Valiants progress. At impulse speed, it wasnt all that difficult, of course. But with their shields in such

ragged condition, they didnt want to run into any surprises.

Boy, said Gardenhire as he walked by with a circuit board, some people have all the luck.

The helm officer begrudged him a smile. Yes, I feel very lucky. I love being stranded a gazillion

light-years from home.

Hey, said the redhead, looking past her in the direction of the viewscreen, watch where youre going.

Sommers turned and studied the starfield, with which shed had ample opportunity to become familiar. To

her surprise, Gardenhire was right. They were a half dozen degrees off course.

As she made the correction, she thought she saw something flicker on her monitor. But when she looked

down, she didnt see anythingonly the black of a system whose sensors were off-line.

Uh, Mary Anne? said the navigator.

The helm officer shot another glance at him. What?

Gardenhire pointed to the viewscreen with a freckled finger. I think you may have overcompensated a

bit. Youre seven or eight degrees too far to starboard now.

Sommers examined the screen again. And to her surprise, her colleague was on the money. The Valiant

had deviated from her course in the other direction.

Sommers didnt get it. Nonetheless, she made the necessary correction. Hows that? she asked

Gardenhire.

He leaned closer to her. You celebrating New Years a little early this year, Mary Anne?

She looked back at the navigator, indignant. No, I am not celebrating a little early this year. For your

information, I think theres something wrong with the helm. Maybe you can look into it after you finish

rebuilding the sensor system.

He chuckled drily. No problem. Then he went back to his work.

Sommers harumphed. Of all the nerve, she thought. She checked the viewscreen again to make sure

everything was all rightwhich it was. Then, purely out of force of habit, she glanced at her monitor.

And gasped.

Something wrong? inquired Gardenhire, who had stopped halfway to his assigned task.

The helm officer stared at her monitor, her blood pumping hard in her temples. There was nothing there,

she assured herself. Its blankcompletely and utterly blank.

No, she said. Everythings fine.

But she wasnt at all certain of that. A moment earlier, she thought she had seen a face on the monitor

screen. A mans face, with curly blond hair and a thick mustache.

Agnarssons face.

Captain Tarasco regarded the handful of staff officers he had summoned to the Valiants observation

lounge. I think you all know why were here, he told them.

Weve heard the rumors, said Tactical Chief Womack, a sturdy looking woman with short, straw-colored

hair.

But rumors are all theyve been, said Pelletier, the perpet-ually grim-faced head of security. Id like to hear

some facts.

A reasonable request, the captain noted. Heres what we know. During our attempt to get through the

phenomenonBig Red, as some of us have taken to calling itAgnarsson lit up and collapsed. But unlike the

six who shared his experience, he survived.

He more than survived, said Gorvoy, picking up the thread. He became a superman. Without even trying,

Agnarsson can absorb information at astounding rates of speed, pluck thoughts out of peoples minds

even move objects through the air without touching them.

According to Lieutenant Sommers, Tarasco remarked, Agnarsson manipulated her helm controls from

his bed in sickbay. And to add insult to injury, he projected his face onto her monitor.

Womack smiled an incredulous smile. Youre kidding.

Im not, the captain told her.

There was silence in the room for a moment. Then Pelletier spoke up. You want a recommendation?

Thats why I called this meeting, Tarasco replied.

In that case, said the security chief, I recommend you place Agnarsson in the brig and put a twenty-four

hour watch on him. And if he tries anything like tugging on the helm again, you have him sedated.

That sounds pretty harsh, McMillan observed, his eyes narrowing beneath his bushy, dark brows.

Were out here by ourselves, Pelletier reminded them, in the middle of nowhere, with no one to help us.

We dont have the luxury of waiting until Agnarsson becomes a problem. We have to act now.

I think youre forgetting something, said the engineer. Geir-rod Agnarsson is a person, just like the rest of

us. He came out here of his own free will. He has rights .

Believe me, Bill, the security chief responded soberly, Im not forgetting any of that Im just thinking about

the welfare of the other eighty-one people on this ship.

So its a numbers game, McMillan deduced.

It has to be, Pelletier insisted.

If I can say something? Hollandsworth cut in.

Tarasco nodded. Go ahead.

The science officer looked around at his colleagues. Were all assuming that Agnarsson is going to use his

abilities to hurt us to work against us. Im here to suggest that he may decide to help us. In fact, he added,

I think he already has.

What do you mean? asked Womack.

When I was lying in intensive care, said Hollandsworth, recovering from my burns, I felt as if there were

someone there with meencouraging me, helping me to heal. At the time, I didnt know who it was, or even

if the feeling was real. But now, I think it was Agnarsson.

The captain looked to Gorvoy. Is that possible?

The doctor regarded Hollandsworth. He did recuperate a little faster than I had expected. But then,

everyones different.

Then it is possible, Tarasco concluded.

Gorvoy shrugged. Who knows? The man can read minds and move objects around. Maybe he can help

people heal as well.

Talk about your godlike beings, Womack breathed.

Hes no god, said the chief engineer, dismissing the idea with a wave of his hand. Hes just like you and

me.

The security chief chuckled bitterly. Except he can steer the ship just by thinking about it.

McMillan shot him a dirty look. Imagine if it was you who had been altered. Would you want to be

caged up like an animal? Especially when you hadnt done anything wrong?

This isnt about justice, Pelletier maintained. Its not about right and wrong. Its about survival.

And whats the point of surviving, McMillan asked him, if were to throw right and wrong away in the

process?

Hundreds of years ago, said Hollandsworth, people in Salem accused their neighbors of being monsters

and murdered them, because they feared what they didnt understand. He looked around the room. Is

that what were doing? Lashing out at our neighbor out of ignorance? And if I do that, whos the real

monster herehim or me?

Were not lashing out at Agnarsson, Pelletier argued doggedly. Were just talking about restraining him.

For now, McMillan told him. But what happens if your restraints dont work? Once youve taken that first

step, its a lot easier to take the next one, and the one after that.

As someone once said, Hollandsworth added, weve established the principle now were just haggling

over the price.

Pelletier didnt answer them. Instead, he turned to Tarasco, his eyes as hard as stone. What are you going

to do, sir?

The captain frowned as he thought about it. Coming into this meeting, his inclination had been in line with

his security chiefshe had considered the idea of having Agnarsson watched closely and, if necessary,

confined to his quarters. However, McMillan and Hollandsworth had made some good points in the

mans behalf.

Agnarsson had been one of them, right from the get-go. He had risked as much as anyone to carry out

the Valiants mission to the stars. And even if he hadnt, he was a human being. As McMillan had stated so

eloquently, the man had rights.

For the time being, Tarasco decided, Im just going to talk to Agnarssonlet him know hes treading on thin

ice.

Pelletier didnt look happy. And if he starts throwing people around instead of blankets?

The captain looked him in the eye. Well cross that bridge when we come to it.

CHAPTER 3

Captains log, supplemental. I have had another conversation with Geirrod Agnarsson. This time, I made

it clear to him that I wouldnt tolerate his tampering with any of my ships systems, or for that matter,

frightening any of my crew. I also told him that he was to cooperate fully with Dr. Gorvoy in his efforts to

explore Ag-narssons condition. Agnarsson seemed to understand the consequences of diverging from my

orders and promised to follow them. For the time being, Im willing to believe him.

Chantal Coquillette had heard the stories about Agnarssons manipulation of the helm controls.

But when she entered the intensive care unit, he didnt look like a superman. He just looked like a normal

human being, engrossed in one of Dr. Gorvoys beloved mystery novels.

How are you doing today? the medic asked, her voice echo-ing from bulkhead to bulkhead, emphasizing

the loneliness of the place.

Agnarsson looked up from his book. Just fine.

The eyes, thought Coquillette. She had forgotten about his weird, silver eyes. But truthfully, even those

werent enough to make him seem like some alien entity, ready to tear the ship apart on a whim.

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