Strange New Worlds 8

by Dean Wesley Smith

  “Help me what?” she asked, frowning.

  “Help you live,” he said. “I get the feeling you think I might know something that will cure your ailment. I’m afraid I do not.”

  Hailey’s pale cheeks flushed. “Why are you saying this? That’s not why I asked you here.”

  Phlox lowered his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said, realizing the extent of his social blunder. “I can—”

  “Never mind,” she said, ice in her voice.

  The waiter appeared a moment later. “Egg drop soup,” he announced, placing two decorative bowls on the table.

  Haily didn’t reach for hers, but Phlox slid his bowl under his face, the smell the very essence of what his nose had fallen in love with when they first entered.

  “Eat some,” said Hailey. Phlox hesitated. Hailey smiled. “Silly,” she said, grabbing her spoon and slurping the silken liquid.

  Phlox could no longer restrain himself and lapped the bowl with his long tongue. The taste complimented the smell perfectly. He stretched his tongue for more, then noticed Hailey watching him, wide-eyed.

  “Sorry,” he said, picking up the spoon.

  They ate in companionable silence and Phlox relished every drop. He ordered four more bowls.

  Hailey was full of tales on the way back to the hospital. “Once, in Canada, I had this huge bowl of spicy satay beef soup.” She stretched her arms wide in front of her, miming a bowl much bigger than she was. “That was maybe the best thing I ever ate. It had little crushed peanuts on top.”

  They accompanied each other as far as the fourth floor, but then had to part ways. “Thanks, Doc,” said Hailey, cheeks still red from the cold breeze. She turned down the hallway.

  “Hailey,” Phlox called. He hesitated, not sure of his phrasing. “I wonder if I could ask one question?”

  “Okay.”

  “Why did you want me to come with you?”

  She shrugged. “I can only go if a doctor accompanies me. And you seemed sort of sad.”

  Her observation surprised him. Phlox had always considered himself a jovial fellow. “I know that some things can’t be helped,” he explained. “So do you.”

  She nodded. “But you gotta have hope, Doc.” She spotted her mother coming down the hall, then added, “At least that’s what my mom says.”

  Phlox smiled, but the sight of Hailey’s mother—a handsome woman, but one whom the years had obviously not been easy on—quelled his rising spirits. The woman’s face wrinkled into a smile when she saw her daughter, and Hailey ran forward into her embrace.

  “We had the best time,” Hailey told her mother. “Doctor Phlox ate five bowls of egg drop soup! Can you believe it?”

  “I see,” said Hailey’s mom, nodding a thank-you in Phlox’s direction. Hand-in-hand, she and her daughter strolled away.

  Phlox nodded to himself and turned toward the exobiology wing, eager to return to his research.

  “Doctor,” Hailey called from down the hall. “Op-ti-mism.” She stretched her mouth into an oversized grin. Phlox grinned back, smiling literally from ear to ear.

  These humans really are remarkable, he thought.

  Phlox had trouble concentrating on his research and he abandoned it altogether the next day, focusing instead on Hailey’s condition. He made several promising discoveries, but all of the treatments required significant time to play out.

  She didn’t ask for this, he reminded himself. Which begged the question Why am I doing it? For her or for me?

  Hailey’s mother appeared later that afternoon, her lined face tranquil. “Hailey went a few hours ago, Doctor,” she said plainly. “I thought you’d want to know.”

  Phlox nodded and looked at the test tube in his left hand. Hailey had passed beyond his reach, but it was possible the research he had started might help another patient. Possible, but unlikely.

  He looked up again and met the woman’s eyes. She nodded and moved out the door.

  Phlox tried to organize the events of the last few days but found that they defied ordering. Something was suggested by Hailey and the way she had lived. The way she spoke. And in the lines of her mother’s face. And in the taste of the egg drop soup and the way it melted on his tongue.

  Hero

  Lorraine Anderson

  I saved the ship. That’s what Captain Archer says, and he never jokes with me when it’s that important. He says I should feel proud of myself. He’s always told me that, and I already do.

  “Hey, Jimmy, I need a cleanup over here.”

  I hear that a lot. I’m pretty important around here. That’s what Captain Archer says, and I believe him. There’s some people on this ship who think I should’ve been left on Earth, but Captain Archer and Mister Tucker say I do an important job around here. They say, “Well, someone’s got to do it,” and that’s me.

  Scientists can be pretty dirty. Not in their labs, they’re pretty clean in there, but you should see their rooms. Clothes all over the place. I straighten up everybody’s room once a week, sweep the halls, compact the garbage…You should see all the garbage. Until we eject it into some sun. Kabloom! Instant incineration.

  Mister Tucker says that we could probably incinerate it in the engine room with the bathroom stuff, but he’s not quite ready to have an engine that runs on…well, my mom told me I shouldn’t talk like that, no matter where I ended up.

  Anyway, a couple of weeks ago, I was in the engine room. It was a normal day, a normal day in the Expanse, Mister Tucker says, which means there were only two alerts a day. I kinda like alerts, they keep me awake, but Mister Tucker hates them “with a passion,” he says. I was just sweeping down the catwalks. Someone’s got to do it and the engineers have more important things to do. “Not more important,” Captain says, “Just different.” If I didn’t keep it clean then they would have to do it and they’re too busy calibrating things. Whatever that means.

  “Hey, Jimmy, I need a haircut.” I also cut hair, ever since we lost Tom about three months ago. I was learning it. Captain says we all need two skills. That’s my second one. I was turning to Mister Tucker and saying that I could do it whenever he wanted when one of those crazy waves came through. I grabbed the rail and fell to my knees and held on.

  It was a crazy wave. It knocked me up and down and sideways. I saw Mister Tucker yelling at me, but I couldn’t understand him. He pointed. I saw a hole behind me. It didn’t look good. I turned around and looked at Mister Tucker, then picked up my sweeper. I punched it into the hole. It fit. But only if I stayed there. If I pulled it out, the hole didn’t look good, all shimmery and shiny, and I knew there shouldn’t be shimmery shiny lights in engineering. So I kept the sweeper up there. It’s a real sturdy material, I knew it would hold. Another crazy wave came through, I kept it up there.

  Mister Tucker was yelling at me. I couldn’t hear him. Then I saw him beside me, holding up some sort of material. He pushed me out of the way and slapped it up, then turned toward me. “Jimmy,” he said. “Are you all right?”

  He looked sort of gray. Then I realized my legs were gone and everything went away.

  I woke up in sickbay. Doctor Phlox was looking kinda gloomy and was shaking his head at Captain Archer. I saw Mister Tucker in the other bed, sitting up and looking at the doctor. I like Doctor Phlox—sometimes he lets me feed his animals.

  I felt good, but really weak, then I started to throw up. Phlox looked at me and said, “Well, that’s to be expected.”

  “Hi, Captain Archer.”

  “Hello, Mister Horn.”

  I smiled at him. Nobody calls me that; usually everybody just calls me Jimmy.

  “Trip says that you saved the ship. If you hadn’t thought to push your broom against the hole, the hole might have gotten worse in the next wave and the engine might have lost containment.”

  “Containment?”

  The captain smiled. “The ship might have blown up.” He chewed his lip. “Why did you volunteer, Mister Horn? There are some times when I thought you
should’ve stayed home, where it was safe.”

  “Because I wanted to help.” I thought a second. “I wanted to make a difference.” I smiled. “And I wanted to see other planets. And, Captain, my home was in Florida.”

  “Oh. Yes.”

  “Did I save the ship?”

  “Yes. Yes, of course. You should be proud of yourself.” He looked sad, and I wondered why.

  Doctor Phlox looked at me. “Jimmy, you’re going to get very, very sick. I’m going to do everything I can to help you.”

  “Okay.” I thought a moment. “Is Mister Tucker all right?”

  “He’ll be fine. He wasn’t as exposed as you were.”

  “That’s good. The ship needs Mister Tucker.” My eyes closed. “I’m very sleepy now.”

  Captain Archer smiled. “I just wanted you to know. You’re getting a medal. I’ll have it ready for you when you wake up. You’re a hero.”

  “Okay.” I smiled. Mom loved me, but she never thought I’d be a hero. Even though Mom is dead, I still talk to her in heaven. I would tell her later. Right now, I feel a lot like sleeping. The doctor looks concerned. I’m smiling as I go to sleep. My name is James Horn, I’m the ship’s janitor and barber and I’m a hero, Mom….

  Insanity

  A. Rhea King

  An Ulio dashed through the crowded promenade of Ariebyl 5. Only four feet high, the alien was wiry and thin as a sapling. Heavy folds of skin creased over his forehead, partially covered by white, unruly Albert Einstein hair. His military fatigues were an alien fashion with rank bars sewn into the collar. He laughed and howled as he ran, knocking things over and causing a commotion.

  Two Klingons chased him. They shoved anyone in their way out of their way and threw many into the merchant kiosks that lined the corridor.

  The Ulio turned in to a docking tunnel, running onto Enterprise. He slowed to a stop in the hall, momentarily calm.

  “Stop!” someone yelled.

  The Ulio spun, finding two security guards running toward him. He turned, skip-running away from them. Even at this slow pace, he was faster than the Starfleet officers. He came to another hall and stopped. Two guards ran around the corner. The Ulio whirled, muttering unintelligibly. He spotted the lift control panel and ran over to it, hitting all of the buttons. The door opened and he trotted onto the lift. He pressed a button with trembling fingers. As the lift descended he muttered, talked, and hummed to himself, an occasional hyena laugh escaping.

  The door opened and he ran off. He raced in and out of quarters, starting to become irritated. He ran into Hoshi’s quarters and froze, staring at a small tranquility water fountain. Water fell down the miniature mountainside onto marble-size pebbles.

  “Dartops!” he gasped.

  He searched his pockets and retrieved a metallic black marble. As if presenting an offering to a god, he carefully placed the marble in the fountain. He piroutted and skipped to the computer terminal.

  “Ship. Ship. Name of ship!” The Ulio pulled up the information.

  On the monitor appeared: Starship Enterprise NX-01.

  Rejoicing, the Ulio danced in a circle and chanted, “Enterprise! Enterprise! Enterprise NX-01!”

  In a burst, he bounded out of Hoshi’s quarters and ran down the hall. A guard ran around a corner behind him, spotting him.

  “Stop, dammit!” the guard yelled.

  Laughing hysterically, the Ulio bolted down the hall. He raced through the ship, screaming and laughing, escaping the security guards. Four guards caught sight of him and chased after him. He ran full-speed into the airlock and headlong into Archer coming through with Trip and T’Pol.

  The force of the collision threw Archer back against the wall. Trip grabbed the Ulio’s arm. The Ulio began screeching at Trip in his own language.

  “Hey, little fella, calm down. I ain’t gonna hurt you.”

  The guards ran up, winded from the chase.

  “What’s going on?” Archer asked.

  “That little guy moves like a cheetah, sir! He has been all over the ship and we’re pretty sure he was in some quarters. I ordered a thorough scan.”

  Archer stepped around Trip, watching the Ulio try to punch him. The Ulio’s arms were shorter than Trip’s and he was being held at arm’s length, so the Ulio was only hitting air. The scene amused Archer.

  “T’Pol, see if Hoshi’s back. I want to know what this alien’s doing on our ship.”

  T’Pol turned to the companel next to the airlock controls and froze. “Captain.”

  Archer looked up. The two Klingons that had been chasing the Ulio stood in the docking tunnel with weapons drawn and aimed at the group. The guards drew their weapons, putting themselves between the senior officers and the Klingons. The Ulio looked around Trip, saw the Klingons, and started screeching with an increasing volume.

  “You will return our prisoner,” one Klingon ordered.

  “A Klingon that takes prisoners alive? That sound normal to you, T’Pol?” Trip asked.

  The Ulio grew still, looking from the Klingons to the humans. Archer glanced at the Ulio, noticing his change of behavior.

  “That is not typical of Klingons,” T’Pol answered.

  The Ulio suddenly let out an ear-piercing screech that momentarily paralyzed everyone in the immediate area. Trip let go of the alien so he could cover his ears. The Ulio dashed away and the Klingons pursued.

  “Hey!” Trip yelled, starting after the three.

  “Let them go, Trip,” Archer ordered.

  “But he—”

  “He knew we were trying to help. He chose to leave. Let him go.”

  Trip turned away from the chase and followed the others onto Enterprise.

  Hoshi slept on her stomach, an occasional soft snore or mutter escaping. Her alarm clock went off. She scrunched her face in detest.

  “Alarm! Snooze!” she mumbled.

  The alarm stopped. Hoshi fell asleep again, lightly snoring. The alarm went off again five minutes later. She scowled, opening her eyes.

  “Alarm. Off.”

  The alarm shut itself off. She rolled onto her back with a heavy sigh and rubbed her eyes with a wide yawn. Heaving herself off her bed, she staggered to take a shower. A half-hour later she ran out of the bathroom, quickly dressing and getting ready to leave. She ran over to the shelves, picking up a barrette. She glanced at the water fountain as she turned away. Hoshi stopped and turned back, pursing her lips. She picked up a metallic black marble that she had never seen before and examined it. Hoshi shook her head with a smile.

  “I bet he thought I’d never notice!” Hoshi told her room.

  Hoshi dropped the marble in a pocket, fixed her hair, and hurried to start her shift.

  Hoshi strolled along the hall, greeting other crewmen as she passed them. She looked down at the marble as she drew it from her pocket and began rolling it from hand to hand.

  “Good morning, Ensign,” T’Pol said, walking up to Hoshi.

  Hoshi glanced at her. “Good morning, T’Pol.”

  Hoshi tossed the marble in the air. T’Pol watched it go up and land in Hoshi’s waiting hand.

  “How was your rest?”

  “Decent, but I had some strange dreams.” Hoshi tossed the marble again.

  “What is the item you have?”

  Hoshi grinned. “I think Commander Tucker is pulling a prank on me. I found it in my water fountain this morning. Looks like something out of engineering, don’t you think?” Hoshi held it up for T’Pol to look at.

  “Commander Tucker’s humor is interesting.”

  As Hoshi dropped the marble back into her other hand, she thought she felt the top and bottom hemisphere of the marble twist. Hoshi looked down at it.

  “Interesting ha-ha? Or interesting pec—”

  Around her the hallway morphed….

  The bridge was filled with eye-burning smoke. A fire burned behind the engineering console and had engulfed a corpse on the floor. T’Pol and Archer lay on the floor. T’Pol’s head w
as split open; Archer’s chest had been torn apart from an explosion. Malcolm was slumped in his chair, blood dripping from an unseen wound down his arm. Travis was the only other live person on the bridge and was bleeding profusely from a head wound.

  Hoshi worked the controls, trying to keep communications up. The viewscreen showed five ships of unknown origin attacking Enterprise.

  “The bridge is the only deck with atmosphere, Travis! Everyone else is dead!”

  “Should I?”

  Hoshi looked up at him, confused by the question. “Should you what?”

  “Start the self-destruct sequence.”

  “You want to destroy Enterprise!?”

  “Captain Archer wouldn’t want them getting his ship, Hoshi. You know that.”

  “Maybe you haven’t noticed, Travis, but there isn’t much of his ship left to get.”

  A cannon blast blew the hull out above them. Hoshi grabbed her throat as the oxygen was sucked from her lungs and froze in that position.

  T’Pol knelt beside Hoshi, trying to keep her still as she acted out her hallucination. Phlox ran up, setting his medical case down as he knelt.

  “What happened?” Phlox asked.

  “I don’t know. She suddenly collapsed. She believes Enterprise is under attack and Ensign Mayweather is about to destroy it.”

  Hoshi stopped breathing. Phlox grabbed a scanner from his bag. He didn’t have a chance to aim it at her before she gasped for a breath. Hoshi clutched her stomach, curling into the fetal position.

  “Hoshi?” Phlox asked her. “What’s wrong? Where does it hurt?”

  “Everywhere,” Hoshi whimpered.

  Phlox scanned her and then laid a hand on her shoulder.

  “Hoshi, I’m not detecting any injuries. What hurts?”

  “Make the pain stop! Make it stop!”

  “Hoshi, you aren’t injured.”

  Hoshi started crying. Her breathing became increasingly labored. Phlox scanned her again. He shook his head.

  “What is happening to her, Doctor?” T’Pol asked.

  “This doesn’t make any sense. Her body is reacting as if she’s going into hypovolemic shock, yet she has no blood loss!”