Perhaps so, Deanna thought. But probably not. They all think I’m doing this to show off. At least Commander Gold understands my reasons. And she doubted very much if he’d let any other freshman follow in her footsteps—not without equally good reasons.
Deanna glanced at her teammates, who all wore the same test uniform she did. Whatever the scenario is, we’re all ensigns in it, she thought, absently fingering the single pip at her collar. Each team member also had a tricorder and phaser. What’s going to happen to us in there?
Auburn looked as if the mystery didn’t interest her. She just stood calmly waiting for the holosuite doors to open. Vandin’s lips curved upward ever so slightly, as if he looked forward to the test but was trying not to show it. Renny, who’d finally decided to take the test when campus opinion had dubbed Deanna’s team “the Sizzlin’ Redhots,” was chewing his lower lip nervously. And Tronnald, who’d decided to come because, he said, “I’m a lot more adventurous than you think I am!” stood to one side trying desperately not to tremble.
They were all lucky—they couldn’t empathically feel the crowd outside. Only Deanna could, and she could feel her teammates’ fear as well. Yet despite that fear, she sensed a firm conviction in each of her comrades. They’re ready, she thought with an unexpected sense of pride. We’re ready.
“I’ll go in first,” Vandin told the group in a quiet voice.
Renny shot him a look. “Jeez, are you still trying to play fearless leader?”
“He’s been studying Kirk’s command records again,” Deanna whispered.
Vandin refused to be baited. “Hey, study the best to be the best, beautiful.”
Deanna bristled. If Vandin had just made his remark, she would have been able to let it go. But his constant use of “beautiful” and “pet” and all those other names was becoming tiresome. She opened her mouth to retort, but then a cool hand touched her arm and she turned to find Auburn gazing intently at her.
The Ichthyan removed her hand without speaking, but Deanna got the message. Auburn’s right—it’s not my job to teach Vandin a lesson. Life will do that for him eventually.
The holosuite doors shoofed open. “Enter,” commanded the computer. Vandin shot forward, followed by the others. As Deanna stepped through last, one of her father’s sayings flashed through her mind: “May Lady Fortune smile on us all.”
Deanna found herself standing on the bridge of a starship. She studied the new surroundings quickly, trying to glean as much information as possible before the action started. This is a Miranda-class starship, she thought, small, crew compliment of 320, introduced in the late twenty-third century. She glanced at the ship’s dedication plaque: U.S.S. Chippewa. There was no such ship in the fleet, past or present. This scenario was going to be made up, then, not based on a historical event.
The ship’s captain rose from her command chair as the test team entered. Raising her head slightly, she said, “Transporter Room, are you standing by?”
“Aye, Transporter Room standing by, Captain Tallerday,” came a male voice over the intercom.
Tallerday is an imaginary captain as well, Deanna thought.
Tallerday faced them. “This is a rescue mission, people. We’ve intercepted a distress call from the freighter Borocco-Kai, a multi-species ship with Alpha Centurian registration. We have no idea what’s happened to her, but sensors show hull damage. Let’s presume there are casualties aboard, probably a variety of races.” She glanced at Tronnald. “Stabilize the injured for immediate transport to our sickbay.” Her gaze shifted to the rest of them in turn. “Find out what’s going on over there and be quick about it. If the Borocco-Kai was attacked, we could be a target as well.” She pointed. “You’re in charge”—puffing out his chest and radiating ego, Vandin started to step forward—“Ensign d-ch-Ka,” Tallerday finished.
Vandin froze. Deanna felt his ego deflate like a pricked balloon.
“Aye, sir!” Auburn bubbled to Tallerday.
The captain nodded curtly and took a step back. “Stand ready, team. We’ll transport you immediately, site-to-site. Transporter Room, energize!”
The shimmer of a transporter beam appeared around them. Deanna had certainly used a transporter before, but this was her first journey into the unknown. May Lady Fortune smile on us all, she thought again as the bridge faded away.
CHAPTER
11
Cargo Freighter BOROCCO-KAI
Alpha Quadrant, Sector C
Deanna felt all hope fade away as the Borocco-Kai’s computer announced, “Three minutes, forty-five seconds to shipwide decompression.” The freighter’s computerized environmental system was going to plunge them into deadly vacuum!
“The Orions know we’re trying to escape, and they know they can’t cut their way through the blast doors in time to stop us,” Deanna said over the blare of the klaxon. “They must have taken the environmental suits for themselves when they boarded the ship.”
“Then they’ve used this tactic before,” Renny realized. “Blast, why didn’t we see it coming?”
“Look, all that matters is that we’ve got five people and four suits!” squealed Tronnald. “What do we do?”
“Attention!” Auburn barked. Her command had the desired effect—the others turned their attention to her. “We have minutes left only. Listen and obey. Denburgh, does the pod’s launch system still operate?”
Denburgh checked a control panel. “No!” he reported, shocked. “The pirates have locked us out of the control system!”
“Is there a way to launch it manually?”
“No, there’s— Wait!” Denburgh thought a moment. “If we blow the pod’s airlock before the computer initiates decompression, the pressure of the atmosphere rushing out will be enough to push the pod away. But one of us will have to stay behind—” Auburn was already pushing Denburgh away. “Yes, yes, yes, just bring here the environmental suits!” She turned back to the away team. “I will remain to launch the pod. Go you with Denburgh.”
Deanna felt her stomach twist itself into a knot. “Auburn, we can’t just leave you behind!”
The Ichthyan held up her hand. “No arguments! No time! Do as I say!”
Deanna saw the determination in Auburn’s eyes. “Aye-aye, sir,” she murmured.
Denburgh ran back from the storage locker carrying four sleek environmental suits. Their sheer synthetic fabric was far too flimsy to keep anybody alive in the freezing depths of space. The real protection came from an energy field, or body envelope, that surrounded the wearer. Produced by a mini-generator located in the suit’s belt, the body envelope appeared as a thin shimmering yellow halo around the wearer. It would last up to four hours.
“Two minutes, forty seconds to atmospheric evacuation,” droned the computer.
As Deanna and the others hurriedly pulled on their suits, Auburn said, “Mr. Denburgh, you will show me how to disable the drive system. Before I die, I wish to keep the Orions from pursuit of you.”
Struggling to get the environmental suit on over his bulky work clothes, Denburgh answered, “It’s not necessary. The computer will decompress the ship by blowing all the airlocks. The engines aren’t designed to survive a temperature drop to absolute zero. They’ll explode all by themselves.”
“Stupid Orions,” Renny said. “They’ve destroyed themselves, and they don’t even know it!”
“They will know it,” Auburn stated in a frosty voice. “They will.”
“One minute, fifty seconds to shipwide decompression,” announced the computer.
Deanna finished sealing up her environmental suit. She fitted the small helmet over her head as Denburgh called out, “Here!” He hastily handed a big, heavy cargo clamp to each of them—except Auburn. “We have to exit the airlock and use these to attach ourselves to the pod before it launches.”
“How will you know when we’re ready?” Tronnald asked Auburn through his helmet.
“I will count to sixty,” Auburn said. “You will be ready
by then.”
Tronnald gulped but didn’t argue.
There was no time for good-byes. Denburgh activated the airlock, and he, Renny, and Tronnald stepped in. Deanna paused, looking back at Auburn standing alone in the vast expanse of the pod bay.
“Go, Troi!” Auburn urged, waving impatiently. “Be not so emotional!”
Be not so emotional? Deanna’s mind yelled. But she said nothing. There was nothing to say. Holding her cargo clamp so tightly her fingers ached, she whirled around and ran into the airlock with the others. Then the door closed, shutting Auburn off alone.
“One minute to shipwide decompression,” announced the computer.
With a piercing whoosh, the air was sucked out of the lock. The outer doors parted to reveal the infinity of open space. Totally black, without perspective, without guidelines, with only a million twinkling diamonds above, below, and stretching forward into all of eternity—it was like stepping off the edge of time itself.
Denburgh went first, since he’d space-walked many times before when doing repair work on the pod’s outer hull. He gently launched himself into nothingness and, grabbing one of the many thin duranium cables that held the cargo pod to the freighter, pulled himself to the pod’s hull. The others followed. Deanna, last, stepped into space just as she felt an empathic jolt from Auburn. Not panic, just the animal instinct that responds to danger. She’s alone and terrified, Deanna thought hopelessly. Oh, Auburn!
The pod looked like a giant blister on the freighter’s skin, an enormous rounded metal lump about one hundred meters square, attached to one of the freighter’s many cargo locks. Normally one would enter it through that lock in the pod bay they’d just left, but the pirates had eliminated that possibility when they code-locked the pod.
Desperate to hold her empathic link to Auburn, yet terrified of the emotions she felt from the Ichthyan, Deanna pulled herself hand over hand along the cable. She located a docking hook on the pod hull and latched on just as the airlock exploded. The atmosphere of the pod bay rushed out, pushing the pod away from its mother ship and out into space. Deanna hung on with all her strength as the pod’s limited thrusters kicked in, shooting it farther and farther away. Auburn! Deanna called, but she knew it was pointless. She wasn’t telepathic, and neither was Auburn.
And then it didn’t matter anymore. In a brilliant flash of light, the Borocco-Kai exploded, and Auburn was gone.
Space was gone.
Deanna stood in the middle of a bare black room with a precise grid outlined on the walls, ceiling, and floor—Training Holosuite Four. She almost collapsed, but Denburgh grabbed her arm. “Steady there, Cadet,” he said jovially.
She looked up at him. “You’re … you’re a real person!”
“The only one in the simulation,” Denburgh said. “That’s why your empathy worked on me and not the Orions. My name is Lieutenant Commander Hicks. Pleased to meet you.”
Renny and Tronnald were both staring at Denburgh as well, their eyes wide and a little glassy, as if they’d just survived a war. Which, in a way, they had.
“You may deactivate your environmental suits” came a familiar voice. Deanna turned to see Counselor Gold standing at the holosuite door. “The test is over.”
Deanna deactivated her suit and took off the helmet. The only question on her mind was “Did I pass?” but she couldn’t say it. She was still in shock from the ending of her simulated adventure. It was so real! she thought numbly. Maybe too real. It frightened her to realize how easily she’d become wrapped up in the scenario, even to the point of believing that Vandin had really been killed and Auburn really sacrificed.
That, of course, had not really happened. Gold called behind him, “Come in, Cadets,” and both Auburn and Vandin entered from the corridor outside. Auburn’s face was flushed with triumph as she stepped to Gold’s side; obviously she’d found the whole ordeal exhilarating. Vandin, on the other hand, hung back, enveloped in a cloud of despair. The feeling was so strong that Deanna yearned to say something to comfort him, but she knew he would resent it. So she blocked off his emotions and focused her attention on Gold.
“I’d say congratulations, but you all know as well as I do that this test should never have taken place. Not this soon, at any rate. But,” said Gold, “I made an exception, and I’m quite pleased with the outcome.” He shook hands with Renny, Tronnald, and Deanna. “Cadet Renny, Cadet First-House, Cadet Troi—you three have passed. Your permanent records will reflect your achievement.” Then he shook Auburn’s hand. “And you will receive special citation for bravery and leadership, Cadet d-ch-Ka.”
Deanna felt Auburn’s emotions soar higher. Much higher than this and she’ll take off like a balloon, she thought, smiling at her roommate. Auburn winked back.
Gold turned to Vandin. “I’m sorry, Cadet Sidk.” There was genuine regret in the counselor’s voice. Vandin said nothing, just nodded, so Gold addressed them as a group: “Go clean yourselves up, eat a decent meal, and report to my office at sixteen hundred hours for debriefing. Dismissed.”
Before Deanna moved, Gold caught her eye. He gave her a quick understanding nod, then exited the holosuite, followed by Hicks.
Deanna didn’t know what to do at this point. In order to leave the holosuite, she had to pass Vandin. He seemed glued to one spot, his eyes hollow as he stared out at nothing, stunned by his failure.
When Deanna approached him, however, he rallied his spirits and turned his brilliant grin on her. The sight of that handsome, beaming face made Deanna wonder what Vandin would be like if he wasn’t such a cad. Despite his irritating manner, it was hard not to like the flirtatious Xybaki. But more than that, Deanna now felt something she didn’t expect—admiration for him. In this moment of defeat, he was trying to be gracious. “Well, so much for the macho method,” he said.
“Idiot,” Auburn stated flatly. Deanna almost gasped before Auburn added, “I will miss you, Xybaki. You are a good man.”
Vandin’s emotions spiked, and Deanna was afraid he had taken Auburn’s comment the wrong way. But Vandin ua Xadmy Sidk got nose-to-nose with Auburn and murmured softly, though not so softly that the others couldn’t hear, “I didn’t want to scare you, water woman, but you’re really gorgeous, you know that? I mean, Deanna’s drop-dead beautiful, but you—you’re galactic, know what I mean? I figured if I said so, you’d get all egotistical at me.”
Auburn snorted. “As I said—idiot.”
“You gave it a good try, Vandin,” Renny told him.
“I’m sorry it didn’t work out,” Tronnald added sincerely.
Vandin shrugged. “Okay, okay, enough. I just want to leave.”
“Wait.” Deanna draped a chummy arm around Vandin’s shoulders. “Let’s all go to the mess hall together. We’re a team, after all. Right?”
“Right!” the others chorused. Whether he liked it or not, Vandin was swept away for one last dinner on campus.
Deanna felt the Xybaki’s insatiable ego eat up the attention, and she smiled.
CHAPTER
12
San Francisco
Earth
Deanna wished she could smile as she walked briskly along Franklin Avenue. The beautiful city of San Francisco, its sky a brilliant blue and its streets bustling with activity, did not lift her spirits. All she could think about was her mother.
Counselor Gold had given Deanna permission to leave campus, a rare privilege. Too bad she had to use that privilege for this purpose. This should be a joyous visit, she thought in despair. You should want to do this. But Deanna wished she were doing anything but this.
The elaborately carved oak door of a grand Victorian mansion swung open at Deanna’s approach.
Little One! came a familiar mental voice from inside.
Deanna climbed the steps leading up to the porch. She nodded to Xelo, who had opened the door, then turned to her mother, who waited, smiling, just beyond the entrance. “You’re not angry with me anymore, Mother?”
Lwaxana gest
ured to herself with a “Who, little ol’ me?” expression. Angry? Why should I be angry? You passed that Borocco-Kai whatchamajig, didn’t you? She ushered Deanna inside, and Xelo dutifully closed the door. I’m simply happy that you’ve come, Little One! It took you long enough.
Deanna wanted to explain why she was here, but the sight of the mansion’s foyer stopped her dead in her tracks. “Mother … you live here?” Deanna gasped, staring at the fine wood-carved interior, the lush draperies, the huge crystal chandelier—everything, no doubt, authentic decor from Earth’s Victorian era.
Lwaxana brushed off her daughter’s awe. Oh, these are temporary quarters, she projected. Nothing special.
“Nothing special?” Deanna practically reeled from the sheer luxury of the place. “Mother, when in the world are you going to be honest with me?”
Lwaxana ignored the question. Come, let’s sit in the parlor. That was the custom in these old houses. It’s quite enchanting, really. She led the way into a small room, and mother and daughter sat on the plush couch.
Deanna started to talk, but Lwaxana put a finger on her lips. Let me speak first. Quickly she added, “Out loud, all right?” She thought for a moment. “I’m proud of you, Deanna. I sensed your success the moment the test ended. But the fact remains that you did a very foolish thing.”
“No, Mother,” Deanna cut in, “I did what I had to do. More than that, I did what I wanted to do. That’s the real issue here, isn’t it?” She paused. “Look, I know you had plans for me on Betazed. I know you hoped I would follow certain paths that you felt were the best for me. But I’ve discovered my own path. Let me follow it.”
“Whatever makes you think I’m not? I let you apply to Starfleet, didn’t I?”
“Yes, but since then you’ve done everything in your power to persuade me to change my mind. Tell me something—why did you come here?”
Lwaxana looked exasperated. “You keep asking me that question when the answer is obvious: I got a job.”
Star Trek: The Next Generation: Starfleet Academy #12: Breakaway Page 7
