Echoes of Coventry

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Echoes of Coventry Page 1

by Richard C. White




  Other eBooks in the Star Trek™:

  Starfleet Corps of Engineers series from Pocket Books:

  #1: The Belly of the Beast by Dean Wesley Smith

  #2: Fatal Error by Keith R.A. DeCandido

  #3: Hard Crash by Christie Golden

  #4: Interphase Book 1 by Dayton Ward & Kevin Dilmore

  #5: Interphase Book 2 by Dayton Ward & Kevin Dilmore

  #6: Cold Fusion by Keith R.A. DeCandido

  #7: Invincible Book 1 by David Mack & Keith R.A. DeCandido

  #8: Invincible Book 2 by David Mack & Keith R.A. DeCandido

  #9: The Riddled Post by Aaron Rosenberg

  #10: Gateways Epilogue: Here There Be Monsters by Keith R.A. DeCandido

  #11: Ambush by Dave Galanter & Greg Brodeur

  #12: Some Assembly Required by Scott Ciencin & Dan Jolley

  #13: No Surrender by Jeff Mariotte

  #14: Caveat Emptor by Ian Edginton & Mike Collins

  #15: Past Life by Robert Greenberger

  #16: Oaths by Glenn Hauman

  #17: Foundations Book 1 by Dayton Ward & Kevin Dilmore

  #18: Foundations Book 2 by Dayton Ward & Kevin Dilmore

  #19: Foundations Book 3 by Dayton Ward & Kevin Dilmore

  #20: Enigma Ship by J. Steven York & Christina F. York

  #21: War Stories Book 1 by Keith R.A. DeCandido

  #22: War Stories Book 2 by Keith R.A. DeCandido

  #23: Wildfire Book 1 by David Mack

  #24: Wildfire Book 2 by David Mack

  #25: Home Fires by Dayton Ward & Kevin Dilmore

  #26: Age of Unreason by Scott Ciencin

  #27: Balance of Nature by Heather Jarman

  #28: Breakdowns by Keith R.A. DeCandido

  #29: Aftermath by Christopher L. Bennett

  #30: Ishtar Rising Book 1 by Michael A. Martin & Andy Mangels

  #31: Ishtar Rising Book 2 by Michael A. Martin & Andy Mangels

  #32: Buying Time by Robert Greenberger

  #33: Collective Hindsight Book 1 by Aaron Rosenberg

  #34: Collective Hindsight Book 2 by Aaron Rosenberg

  #35: The Demon Book 1 by Loren L. Coleman & Randall N. Bills

  #36: The Demon Book 2 by Loren L. Coleman & Randall N. Bills

  #37: Ring Around the Sky by Allyn Gibson

  #38: Orphans by Kevin Killiany

  #39: Grand Designs by Dayton Ward & Kevin Dilmore

  #40: Failsafe by David Mack

  #41: Bitter Medicine by Dave Galanter

  #42: Sargasso Sector by Paul Kupperberg

  #43: Paradise Interrupted by John S. Drew

  #44: Where Time Stands Still by Dayton Ward & Kevin Dilmore

  #45: The Art of the Deal by Glenn Greenberg

  #46: Spin by J. Steven York & Christina F. York

  #47: Creative Couplings Book 1 by Glenn Hauman & Aaron Rosenberg

  #48: Creative Couplings Book 2 by Glenn Hauman & Aaron Rosenberg

  #49: Small World by David Mack

  #50: Malefictorum by Terri Osborne

  #51: Lost Time by Ilsa J. Bick

  #52: Identity Crisis by John J. Ordover

  #53: Fables of the Prime Directive by Cory Rushton

  #54: Security by Keith R.A. DeCandido

  #55: Wounds Book 1 by Ilsa J. Bick

  #56: Wounds Book 2 by Ilsa J. Bick

  #57: Out of the Cocoon by William Leisner

  #58: Honor by Kevin Killiany

  #59: Blackout by Phaedra M. Weldon

  #60: The Cleanup by Robert T. Jeschonek

  #61: Progress by Terri Osborne (What’s Past Book 1)

  #62: The Future Begins by Steve Mollmann & Michael Schuster (What’s Past Book 2)

  #63: Echoes of Coventry by Richard C. White (What’s Past Book 3)

  COMING SOON:

  #64: Distant Early Warning by Dayton Ward & Kevin Dilmore (What’s Past Book 4)

  #65: 10 is Better Than 01 by Heather Jarman ( What’s Past Book 5)

  This book 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.

  An Original Publication of POCKET BOOKS

  POCKET BOOKS, a division of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

  1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020

  Copyright © 2006 by Paramount Pictures. All Rights Reserved.

  STAR TREK is a Registered Trademark of

  Paramount Pictures.

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

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

  For information address Pocket Books, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020

  ISBN: 1-4165-2047-3

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

  Visit us on the World Wide Web:

  http://www.SimonSays.com/st

  http://www.startrek.com

  To Joni: I can never tell you how much I appreciate all those late nights helping me edit this beast into something close to a story.

  To James Blish and Alan Dean Foster: The adaptations you did of the original Star Trek and the Animated Series reintroduced me to the series and got me back into reading science fiction/fantasy again.

  To Gary Huggins: Thanks for all the help with naval terminology and for putting up with this old Army guy’s questions.

  To Steve Roman: You introduced me to the concept of writing professionally, and after all these years, you still put up with me. That, dear people, is friendship.

  To Keith R.A. DeCandido: Thanks for taking a chance with me and letting me play in the Star Trek sandbox. (Psst…got any more work out there?)

  And finally, to Mom and Dad: See, all that time I spent on the couch reading finally paid off. Thanks for always being there.

  Chapter

  1

  2377

  “A single bulb hung from a wire, dimly lighting the hallway, creating flickering shadows. Toby Scholtz pushed the door open slightly and peered across the hall through the cracked doorway. He could see a figure fumbling with the lock on his office door. Reaching into his pocket for his .38-caliber snub-nosed revolver, Toby decided to approach the figure now, rather than wait for him to ruin a perfectly good lock. Slipping into the hallway, his soft leather shoes made no noise as he crossed the worn wooden floor…”

  Bart Faulwell rolled his eyes and shook his head, slowly lowering the padd onto the table in front of him. Now that he was no longer concentrating on the novel he’d been reading, the familiar buzz of voices in the mess hall came back into focus. Reaching out for his cup of coffee, he rubbed his eyes and stared up at the ceiling. “I can’t believe Anthony recommended this to me,” he muttered.

  “Recommended what?” a strange voice asked.

  Startled, Bart nearly fell backward out of his chair, before catching himself on the table. Turning his head, he found himself looking into a set of piercing blue eyes. Scooting back a few inches, he saw the blue eyes belonged to a young ensign who was standing patiently beside his table. She realized he hadn’t heard her approach and retreated several feet, blushing all the way to the edge of her blond hair.

  The moment stretched into an uncomfortable silence before Bart finally found his voice. “Oh, this?” he asked, indicating the padd. “It’s a novel a friend recommended to me. It was supposedly a genre popular back on Earth in the mid-twentieth century. I think he said it was called ‘noir.’ Personally, I don’t know what he sees in it.” He paused for a second, scrunching his mouth up as if he�
�d tasted something unpleasant. “There’s really not much to the plot, the characters are one-dimensional, and the writing is just atrocious.”

  “Oh,” the ensign said, pausing as if uncertain how to continue, her hands nervously playing with the braided ponytail that hung in front of her shoulder.

  “Please, sit down, ma’am.” As the ensign joined him at the table, he continued, filling in the awkward silence, “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Bart Faulwell. I’m the ship’s linguist and cryptologist.” He raised his cup to her in a welcoming salute. The more Bart looked at her, the more he was convinced she was fresh out of the Academy.

  The ensign blushed even more and then looked up, “I’m sorry. I’m Martina Nemeckova. I transferred to the da Vinci a few days ago. I’m assigned to communications, gamma shift.”

  Bart smiled at her, his brown eyes twinkling. “Well then, welcome to the da Vinci and to the S.C.E. I hope you’re ready for anything, because that’s what we tend to find.” His face twisted as an acrid taste filled his mouth. The coffee had gone stone-cold while he was reading. Hmm, must have been more intrigued with the story than I thought, he admitted to himself.

  “I’m sorry,” Martina said quickly. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

  He gave his head a quick shake and then went over to the nearby replicator to get a fresh cup of coffee. “Coffee, French roast, half-and-half, no sugar.” He waited for a second as his request was filled, then turned back to Martina. “No, you’re not disturbing me. However, was there something you wanted to ask?”

  “Well, it’s rather personal, so if you’d rather not talk about it, I understand.”

  Bart groaned on the inside, trying to keep his composure. He glanced around the mess hall, trying to see which one of his “friends” had sicced the young ensign on him, but none of the usual suspects were in sight. “What would you like to know?” he asked, waiting for the inevitable questions.

  “I was told you were in the Dominion War as a linguist. As fourth-year cadets, we were taught about the importance of communications security. They liked to use examples from the war to scare us.”

  Bart nodded. He knew that drill too well.

  She continued as if afraid she’d lose her courage if she stopped. “They also tested all of us for language capabilities our second year to see if any of us would like to transfer to intelligence.”

  “How did you do?” Her last comment raised his hopes. Martina’s predecessor had been more interested in the technical aspects of communications technology than the linguistic end; it would be nice to talk a little shop with someone else who’d been through the same training as Bart.

  A disappointed look crossed her face. “Not very well, but I really was interested in the field after that chief warrant officer talked to us. Anyway, I know what the instructors taught us at the Academy about security, but I don’t think many of them saw duty. I was just wondering what it was like—being in the war and all?” Martina finished up, her words pouring out like a runaway warp engine.

  Bart lifted his cup to his mouth, letting the hot coffee wash over his embarrassment. That certainly was not what he thought she was going to ask. His relationship with Anthony and its recent troubles were well known on board the da Vinci, so that was what he’d expected to be asked about.

  A sudden frown ran across his face as he thought about those troubles, but quickly took another sip of his coffee and turned his attention to the young ensign. He eased himself back into his chair and watched her with amusement. She acted like she was still in the Academy, perched on the edge of her chair and waiting intently for him to start speaking.

  “Oh, you’d be bored with my stories. It’s not like I was on the front lines or anything. I’ve probably seen more excitement here on the da Vinci than I saw the entire war. My battle experience pretty much consists of sitting in a dark, windowless room trying to translate documents and old subspace messages.” Seeing the disappointed look on her face, he decided to take another tack, “Although, come to think of it, there was this one time back at Starbase 34….”

  A half hour later, Martina’s eyes were filled with tears from laughing so hard. Faulwell finished up the last story about sending the poor petty officer to the supply officer for a left-handed magnaspanner, warp envelopes, and liquid to refill the particle fountain. Looking up, he saw he’d drawn quite a crowd in the mess hall, including the entire gamma-shift bridge crew, three of Corsi’s security people, and Nurse Wetzel. Loud applause broke out as he stood and took a bow to his appreciative audience.

  “Thank you, thank you! You’re a lovely audience.” Grinning from ear to ear, Bart bowed to the crowd and begged off, despite repeated requests for one more story. Grabbing his padd with the unfinished novel, he retreated from the dining hall.

  After taking the turbolift down to his quarters, he stepped inside and turned on the lights. He set the padd down on the small table next to his bunk and started getting ready for bed. He had some time before he was required to be anywhere and a nap would be just the thing to recharge him. After hanging up his uniform, he flopped down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

  Ah, if the poor ensign only knew, he thought as memories came unbidden from his tour of duty in Starfleet Intelligence. I’ve got stories that would curl her hair permanently. However, since I’m not really interested in being court-martialed and spending the rest of my life making big rocks into little rocks, I think I’ll keep them to myself.

  That little bit of hyperbole brought another grin to his face. Starfleet prisons weren’t into corporal punishment any more than regular Federation prisons, but that phrase had been part of military folklore long before the first space flight.

  His grin faded as a less pleasant thought ran through his mind. Running a hand through his thin brown hair, he remembered when he first transferred to the S.C.E. from Starfleet Intelligence after the armistice. He’d sat through several rather thorough debriefings and thumbprinted several nondisclosure agreements swearing he’d never reveal anything he’d ever seen, done, talked about, heard, or imagined. He was surprised they hadn’t run a large degausser over his head, just to be certain.

  There were times he was glad he couldn’t talk about things. In fact, there were some things he’d rather not even remember.

  Chapter

  2

  2375

  The small shuttlecraft eased its way into the docking bay at Starbase 375 and settled into its berth. A soft hissing told Bart the walkway was attached and they’d be disembarking in a little bit. Ill at ease, he pulled at the collar of his uniform and waited with as much patience as he could before the airlock cycled open. When he heard the familiar sound of the door opening, he finally relaxed and started his trek through the starbase.

  He wasn’t quite certain why he was being transferred. Then again, the way the war was going, this sudden temporary reassignment didn’t surprise him. The unexpected orders had only given him four days to report to this starbase. That was barely enough time to wrap up what he’d been doing with the latest batch of translations and pass the keys for the Cardassian Fifth Fleet’s encryption system to the analytic section before he had to pack and catch a ride on the U.S.S. Sutherland.

  SI’s linguistics department was already shorthanded and getting shorter by the battle. According to scuttlebutt, one of their scout ships either had been destroyed or captured by the Cardassians during a scouting mission near the Badlands. As guilty as it made him feel, Bart sincerely hoped for the former. The last thing anyone in intel wanted to do was meet a Cardassian interrogator on his terms.

  “Excuse me, are you Petty Officer Bart Faulwell?” a gruff voice asked, shaking him out of his reverie. Bart turned and saw two burly security officers standing there. The shorter of the two was staring at Bart over the padd he held in his hand. The other security officer was scanning everyone else coming off the shuttle.

  “Guilty as charged,” he quipped, and then sobered up when the officer’s lack o
f a humor gene became painfully obvious. “What can I do for you?”

  “I’m Ensign Thomas. You’ll need to come with us,” the one holding the padd said in a tone of voice Bart recognized. There was no questioning the implied “or else.” Bart simply gave him a nod and fell into step, with Thomas leading the way and the quiet one following close behind.

  By the time they reached their destination, Bart was glad for the escort, humor gene notwithstanding. They’d changed directions, gone up and down different turbolifts, and doubled back more than once. At this point, he had no idea where he was. Finally, they stopped in front of a door in a fairly deserted hallway.

  Using a special passkey, Ensign Thomas motioned Bart through the door. Curious, Bart looked inside and saw a standard briefing room. Sighing, he stepped in, jumping as the door suddenly closed behind him. Looking at it, he noted it required the same type of key to exit also.

  “Welcome to the party,” a warm voice called out to him. Bart turned around to see a human sitting in the corner. He’d been so quiet and still, Bart had missed him when he first walked in. The man exuded confidence as he rose from his chair and strode across the room to shake hands. He was older than Faulwell, with a shock of white hair darkened only by a few flecks of brown, but his grip was sure and firm. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Chief Warrant Officer Cruz.”

  “Bart Faulwell, Petty Officer First Class, and it’s a pleasure to meet you too, sir. Any ideas what’s going on here?”

  “Not a clue,” the warrant officer said, sitting down at the conference table, putting his elbows on it and resting his chin in his hands. “I’ve been teaching an advanced course in communications analysis at the Academy the past couple of years. I finally got to take some leave at home on Alpha Centauri and then next thing I know, my leave gets cancelled and I’m on the first starship heading this way,” Cruz said, giving a huge mock sigh, before grinning up at Bart. “All I know is, if someone’s going to all this trouble it must be good.”

  The door slid open again, cutting off Bart’s sardonic reply as a Vulcan entered and quietly took a seat near them. He carefully rested his arms on the table, relaxed but alert.

 

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