No Limits

by Peter David

  Peart set to work, his hands working the console with the same speed and dexterity that he displayed when using his personal padd. After a few moments, he spoke. “You should be getting some data now.”

  Arex growled as he continued to peer into the viewer. “If only this thing were bigger…”

  “That I can fix,” Peart said, his hands again flashing across the console. With a final entry, the image on the shuttle’s main viewer was replaced by a tactical rendering of the asteroid belt. Yellow crosshairs centered on each tumbling chunk, some of which were larger than the shuttle itself.

  “Excellent work, Stewart,” Arex said, turning to look at Peart. His expression must have registered a bit of surprise, prompting Arex to speak again. “We can set formalities aside for the mission’s duration, don’t you think?”

  “Absolutely, um, Arex.”

  “Wonderful,” Arex said as it was his turn to start working the shuttle’s console. His three arms whirled, keying in commands at a speed that Peart had not seen bested. “Yes, this is not altogether different from what I am used to working. Now, I appreciate that you trust me, but even the best navigator and pilot team is not as fast as a computer. So, we’re going to be along for the ride here, for the most part. Your job is to keep those sensors tuned and let me know if something unexpected happens. I will monitor the flow of the navigational information and the computer will be in charge of acceleration and actually flying us through this mess. Sound acceptable to you?”

  “Um, that presumes I have a choice, Arex.”

  “You always have a choice, Stewart,” he said. “We always could turn around and head in some other direction.”

  He needed little time to mull that option. “Let’s go.”

  Arex nodded and pressed a finger to a glowing red light on the console’s top.

  And there they sat.

  “Um, what’s wrong?”

  Arex tapped a few more commands. “It appears that the computer is weighing probabilities regarding asteroid collisions and optimal times to enter the belt. When it’s ready, we will go.”

  “So it could be a few minutes,” Peart said.

  “It could at that.”

  Peart drew a breath and exhaled, drumming his fingertips on the armrests of his seat. “So…you have thirteen sisters?”

  Arex turned and smiled at Peart. “They all are bonded for life.”

  “That’s not what I mea—aaaah!”

  The shuttle surged ahead as the young agent gripped his seat’s armrests. They appeared to bear directly on a large asteroid when the craft plummeted downward, making Peart feel as though he were in a runaway turbolift. He felt a jolt to his right and almost got knocked from his chair.

  “We’ve been hit!”

  Arex’s voice was loud yet calm as his arms flashed across the console. “It was not an impact. The shuttle’s thrusters are going to make a lot of sudden, pinpoint corrections and we are go—”

  The Triexian’s body hurled toward the console as the shuttle lurched nose-up. He would have slammed face-first into the controls were it not for his center arm, which grabbed the edge of the console and propped him up. “Take off my boot, Stewart! My center boot!”

  Peart hesitated for an instant, and then left his chair to hug the pod’s floor. He grabbed Arex’s center leg and tugged at his boot, which after two hard pulls came free. Arex shook his foot as if to unfurl his toes, then raised it. “Is that all?”

  “Lock my chair from swiveling!” Arex called as the shuttle heaved to the right, rolling Peart against his own chair. He flipped himself and reached for the opposite seat’s anchoring post, grabbing a metal lever and twisting it down to lock the chair into position.

  Peart scuttled to his belly, then pushed himself upright and fell into his chair. He watched Arex as his three hands fed navigational data into the autopilot while his legs formed a stabilizing tripod with his center foot firmly in the chair behind him. Peart grabbed another breath and turned his attention to the sensor logs. All appeared well until a loud klaxon blared in the cabin. “Impact! We’re going to get—”

  The two flew from their perches and struck the cabin’s ceiling, recoiling from an asteroid strike from above. Peart tried to shake off what felt like a small concussion. “Arex! Are you all right?”

  “Fine,” he shouted. “Give me a reading on the shields!”

  The agent looked at a readout on his console. “I don’t believe it! We’re already down to forty-two percent!”

  “I believe it,” he said. “That asteroid was twice our size and probably should have broken us in half. I’m sorry, Stewart, but it was my fault we hit it.”

  Peart almost was shaken as much by Arex’s decision to be contrite at a time like this than he was by the impact. “Just get us through this and I’ll not say a word about it.”

  The shuttle continued to bob and weave while Peart watched the scanners. “It looks like the belt is thinning out!”

  “Yes…yes,” Arex said, his hands flashing as his head nodded on its skinny neck from the console up to the screen and back again. “Maybe another twenty seconds.”

  The shuttle dipped forward and banked to the left as Peart felt a lurch for which the inertial dampers could not compensate. The impact sent the shuttle into what felt like a flat spin as the lighting flickered. He leapt forward to study the console. “We took another hit. The shields are gone!”

  “We have lost thruster control on the port side as well,” Arex said. “At least we cannot argue with the timing of that last strike. It appears we are out of the belt.”

  He looked to the screen, which showed a black field save for a grouping of yellow crosshairs that swept through their view at a precise interval as they spun away from the conglomeration of damaging space boulders. Peart keyed in a series of commands that restored the shuttle’s viewer to its normal view. It would have appeared normal, Peart thought, were the shuttle moving in a normal fashion. Its flat spin, however, made the star field appear constantly to be rushing to their right.

  “Well, Arex,” said Peart. “Are we in agreement to send out a distress call?”

  Rather than meet his gaze, Arex bowed his head a bit. “I was not as successful as I hoped, Stewart. I am sorry I have failed us.”

  “What, are you kidding? We’re still breathing, right?” Peart reached down and plucked Arex’s loose boot from the floor, then passed it to the sheepish-looking Triexian. “I’ll get you home as soon as I can. I promise.”

  Arex accepted the boot and began to put it on. “I will hope our luck improves on Starbase 37.”

  Peart let loose an exasperated laugh. “I’d not set those hopes too high.”

  “Why do you have such reservations about the place?” Arex asked. “The last time I was there, it appeared to be a top-notch facility.”

  “Oh yeah? Tell me, Arex, when was the last time you visited Starbase 37?”

  “It must have been last…oh, my…seventy-two, maybe seventy-three years ago.”

  “Precisely my point,” said Peart as he moved to access the shuttle’s subspace communications system. “Times have changed for Starbase 37, but there’s something in me that is guessing you still will recognize the carpeting.”

  An unceremonious towing by a passing ore freighter, a mind-numbing debriefing by an overly officious commander, and a checkup in an automated sickbay later, Peart now found himself standing before the door of the noisiest gathering place on Starbase 37. Arex paused them both at the threshold while he tapped his memory.

  “The Admiral’s Lounge! That’s what this establishment used to be called,” Arex said with a bit of pride at his memory. “Not that I frequented the place.”

  “You won’t be wanting to frequent it any more now, although I admit that Galactic Barry’s is a bit catchier a name for a pub,” Peart said. “Our goal is to hire a charter pilot. We have the resources of the department to pay someone to take us straight to Edos.”

  Arex shot him a harsh glance.


  “Triex! Right, right, Triex,” Peart said. “Maybe I shouldn’t be the one doing the talking.”

  “You will be fine,” Arex said. “I will wait by the door and keep my eye on things from here.”

  The two shared one more glance as the door before them slid open.

  Waves of sound and scent engulfed the pair as they walked into Galactic Barry’s. Peart could not recognize the style of music coming from a sole performer in the one lit corner of the bar, but it looked as though patrons were meeting the clanking sounds he produced with approval. He did recognize various smells, much to his disgust, including bursts of Klingon food, Merakan incense, disinfectant, and the body odors of dozens of un-washed races mingling together to assail his nasal passages.

  He began to step toward the central bar, but not before feeling a tug on his sleeve. He turned to see Arex holding him with his right hand and gesturing him back to a corner booth with his other two hands.

  “What?” Peart stage-whispered over the cacophony.

  “Just a few things, quickly,” said Arex. “Do you see those two males laughing loudly a few tables away?”

  Peart squinted into the dim light and tried to single out the table Arex indicated. “You mean the Nausicaans?”

  “Yes, Stewart,” Arex sighed. “So you know about Nausicaans, then.”

  “Oh,” Peart said, rolling his eyes. “Give me some credit, please.”

  “Fine, fine. Just do not approach the Nausicaans,” he said, scanning the bar once again. “The big one near the musician is a Brikar. You would do well to stay away from her, too. In fact, Stewart, maybe you should just limit your contacts to humans.”

  Peart scowled at Arex as he returned his twisted smile. The sight made him laugh despite himself. “Five minutes, and we’ll be out of here.”

  “I do trust you, Stewart, especially now that I have gotten a good look at the place,” Arex said.

  “That made a difference?”

  “It did, because you were right about one thing,” he said as he nodded toward the floor. Peart looked down to see Arex scraping a boot toe against the soiled flooring. “I do recognize the carpeting.”

  Peart laughed again, thankful that Arex’s even temperament was helping a bad situation seem a bit brighter. “I’m getting a drink. Want anything?”

  Arex mulled a moment. “Q’babi juice sounds good today.”

  “So much for my reputation in this place.” Peart made his way to the bar and placed his order for an Andorian ale and Arex’s Q’babi juice. Before he could be served, he noticed an odd-looking humanoid sidle up to his right. Definitely an older male, the haggard-looking spacer seemed friendly…too friendly to the overly wary Peart.

  Great, what race is this guy?

  “Welcome,” said the bald spacer, who followed his greeting with a split-toothed grin. “You are known as Starfleet? An investigator, not true?”

  Peart felt his adrenaline surge a bit as he remembered he still was wearing his combadge and departmental pin. If this gap-toothed spacer already had identified him by his attire, who could guess how many people had made him when he walked in the door. His unease with the spacer began to grow.

  “I’m just enjoying a drink, sir,” Peart said, trying not to look him in the eye.

  “Oh, forgive!” Peart was unsettled by his volume and theatrics as he gesticulated somewhat exaggeratingly. “Simple trader am I, and new to this place. You seek services of I, to the bar come.”

  “Certainly, sir, to the bar come,” Peart said as his drinks arrived. He placed his thumb to a data padd offered by the barkeep, then grabbed the glasses and moved away from the spacer. He scanned the place and found Arex, but a flash of glitter caught his eye. Turning, he saw a pair of human-looking women…beautiful women…at a nearby table and he could not help but follow his gaze to their sides.

  “Well, hello, ladies,” Peart said as the taller of the two swept back her tightly braided black hair with a bobbing move of her supple neck. “Um, either of you wouldn’t happen to be, um, charter pilots, perhaps?”

  The tall woman flashed a smile, exposing a set of metallic, razor-honed teeth, giving her an inhuman and definitely unnatural look. “Back off, Starfleet,” she grumbled in a voice two octaves lower that Peart thought befitted her womanly figure. “Get your own ship.”

  Wordlessly, Peart took two quick steps back and spun on his heels to walk—and stepped full force into a wall, spilling his drinks against it.

  “This is a new blouse,” said the wall.

  Shocked, Peart slowly looked his way up the wall and into the eyes of the Brikar, who apparently had moved away from the musician. His first instinct was to start wiping the remaining liquid from the front of the now-soiled blouse, but his arm was seized in the Brikar’s grip before he could swab a drop. Returning his gaze, Peart tried a smile.

  The Brikar was not amused.

  “If I was in your shoes, I would be—”

  “Um, leaving,” finished Peart. “What a good idea.” He felt himself being helped along to the main door by the massive being, his feet barely brushing the floor. Arex spotted him and moved quickly to trigger the door’s automatic opener, and with a kick of his feet tripped the mechanism. As they neared it, Peart decided to set aside any pride in favor of a little pleading.

  “Don’t toss me, please,” he said. “It was an accident!” He winced and squeezed his eyes shut as he felt his body being swept upward and out into the brightness of the hallway…where he was gingerly deposited on his feet.

  “I do not just toss people,” the Brikar said. “I am a lady, after all.”

  Peart slowly opened his eyes, to see the female in standard lighting. She stood two heads taller than him, easily, with a face that looked to him as more stone than skin. Her eyes peered from a mantle of a brow as her slit-like nostrils flared a bit and her gash of a mouth made for a solemn expression.

  “Of course you are,” Peart said, and forced out a laugh. His arm had been released, and he snatched it close to rub at where the Brikar had grabbed it.

  “Not like your toothy friend in there. I’ve seen her bite chunks from someone’s hand or neck just for fun,” the being said as she extended a three-fingered hand. “I’m Mirg, and you said you were looking for a charter pilot.”

  “Yes, yes!” Peart returned the greeting and watched his hand get swallowed in Mirg’s massive mitt. “I need to get Mr. Arex to his homeworld as soon as possible. How fast can your ship travel?”

  “I can get warp five if I push it. I don’t like to push it,” Mirg said as she turned to greet Arex. “Triexian, right?”

  Arex smiled and looked more at Peart than at the pilot. “A distinction not easily made by some. Thank you for offering your assistance.”

  “I did not say it was going to be cheap,” Mirg said.

  Peart, who had scooped his data padd from his shoulder bag and was rapidly entering commands, spoke without looking up. “At warp four point five, we can make Triex in twelve hours. If we arrive in less time, Starfleet will add twenty percent to your standard rate. Is that acceptable?”

  “Did I say warp five was pushing it?” Mirg asked as she led them away from Galactic Barry’s. “A push is probably closer to warp six….”

  For the first time since they left Starbase 37, Peart decided to interrupt Arex’s hours of meditation. For a thankful change of pace, Peart thought, it was with good news. He activated the chime at the door of the Brikar cargo ship’s lone guest cabin, and it slid open to reveal Arex seated on the floor of the room with his legs folded under him. His yellow eyes were closed and his breathing was deep and regular. His sessica lay at his side.

  “Um, Arex,” Peart said softly. “Arex?”

  The still figure slowly opened his eyes. “Have we arrived?”

  “Yes, and ahead of schedule,” Peart said. “Mirg is starting her landing procedures. Do we need to contact anyone for you?”

  “That is not necessary,” Arex said as he rose.
“My family is likely to be prep—”

  A rumble that began rocking the ship cut Arex’s thoughts midstream. Peart braced himself against a bulkhead as the creaking and quaking of the ship continued to increase. “Turbulence?”

  Arex shook his head. “Not exactly, but I fear we may have another problem.”

  “What?” Peart asked as Arex moved past him and toward the cargo ship’s bridge. “What? What?”

  He caught up with Arex and they entered together as the shaking continued to increase. Mirg struggled in her pilot’s seat, her hands gripping a joystick control. “The atmosphere is ionized,” she said. “We’re going to shake ourselves apart.”

  Arex perched close to Mirg, looking over her control panels. “Can we remodulate the shields?”

  “I tried that, but this ship just isn’t equipped for this,” she said, fighting the controls. “Is the whole planet like this?”

  “I am afraid so,” said Arex. “Severe ion storms are a natural phenomenon on Triex. It can pose a problem in some cases.”

  Mirg looked up at Arex. “I’m sorry, but I have to pull out. Even if I got us down okay, I can’t guarantee I’d ever take off again.”

  Arex nodded as Peart felt panic rising in his blood yet again. “What do you mean we’re pulling out?”

  “Mirg’s ship cannot land in our atmosphere,” said Arex. “We may be stranded.”

  “Stranded?” Peart asked. “So just beam us down.”

  The ship’s attitude noticeably stabilized, prompting Mirg to loosen her grip on the joystick. “Transporters won’t work in this. Too risky.”

  Arex agreed, saying, “Even with pattern enhancers on the ground, chances of a successful transport on Triex are slim. Our people use transporters only in the direst of emergencies.”

  “Okay, then, how are we getting down there?” Peart’s question hung in the silence of the room. “Anyone?”

  “You could wait for another approaching ship and hitch a ride down with it?” Mirg offered.