Crossover - Michael Jan Friedman [16]
Then he turned to his companion. The youngster cringed at Scotty’s stern expression, but to his credit didn’t turn away.
“What’s your name, son?” Scotty asked.
The boy seemed surprised by the question. “Adam,” he sputtered.
“Adam,” he began, “do you know who I am?”
The boy shook his head no.
“When you get back to the base, I want you to look up Montgomery Scott of the U.S.S. Enterprise.”
The boy tried to speak, but Scotty cut him off.
“There is nae time for questions, lad. I need you to do exactly as I tell ye. Understand?”
The boy nodded his agreement.
The turbolift came to a halt, the doors opened and Scotty escorted the lad out into the corridor. They turned left. After just a few meters, they came to the transporter room.
Its doors parted for them. Scotty pulled the boy inside
“Have ye ever taken a transporter?” he asked.
“N—No,” the youngster responded, looking around with some trepidation.
The engineer grunted. “It’s perfectly safe, ye know.”
“I know,” the boy piped up. “It’s one of the securest forms of travel ever.” Obviously, he was repeating something he’d heard—in school, perhaps.
“Good,” Scotty told him. “Now, if ye dinnae mind, I’d like ye to get on one of the transporter pads. Ye’re goin’ to have an adventure, Adam.
“Though clearly still apprehensive, the boy stepped onto the transporter platform. Scotty took his place behind the controls. He tapped the intercom.
“Captain Scott to Ensign Hammond,” he said, making a point of using his rank. “Hammond here,” came the reply.
“I have the boy in the transporter room, Ensign. But there’s nae time to bring him to you. I’m prepared to transport both of us to the shuttle while ye’re in flight.”
The tension in Hammond’s voice was evident even over the intercom. “Sir, I can’t allow that. We’ll wait for you here.”
Damn, Scott thought. He was out of options. If the shuttle didn’t take off, he would have no choice but to take the boy down to the shuttlebay and submit to failure.
That was when the Yorktown saved him. The ship went to red alert: flashing lights, klaxons, and all.
Scotty smiled. If the ship were a woman, he would have kissed her right then and there.
Hammond’s intercom voice was taut with urgency. “On second thought, sir, I don’t think there’s time.”
“I’ll scan ye,” Scotty offered, “and transport as soon as ye clear the ship.”
“Acknowledged,” came Hammond’s reply.
“You’re coming with me?” Adam asked from the transporter pad.
Scotty shook his head. “No, son, I’m nae. I need this ship for an important mission.” “Where are you going?” the lad wanted to know.
“I’m going to … to face the Romulans,” Scotty told him, watching the boy’s eyes go wide. “They have a friend of mine,” he continued.
That’s the first time I’ve told anyone else the truth about what I’m doing, the engineer thought.
Scanning his board, Scotty could see that the shuttle was clear of the ship.
“And, son,” he said, smiling and meeting the boy’s awestruck gaze, “I could nae have done it without ye.”
Then Scotty energized the transporter. He reveled in the feeling of the sliding controls under his fingers. Better than those damned touch pads they use today, he mused.
A moment later, the lad vanished from the transporter platform in a blur of color and light.
He used the ship’s sensors to confirm that the boy was safely on board the shuttiecraft. Then he headed out the door at a jog, ignoring the intercom’s insistent chirping.
A few seconds later, he was back at auxiliary control. Sitting down at the control panel, he heard Ensign Hammond say, “Hammond to Scott. Hammond to Scott. Captain Scott, please respond.”
Though it pained him to do so, he ignored the hail and got to work. It was a simple matter to halt the engine overload. Next, he locked out the shuttlebay, so that the doors wouldn’t open when the maintenance shuttle approached—which Scotty calculated would happen in less than a minute.
Then he set to work releasing the ship from the tractor beam moorings. A simple feedback loop