Lost Era 05_ Deny thy Father - Jeff Mariotte [21]
“Good luck,” the Bolian said. As he did, he began to fade from view, and Will realized that the annular confinement beam was surrounding him, beginning the process of converting his molecules into energy that could be sent to a specific, predetermined point. He had aced his transporter theory class last year, and he had been transported numerous times. But that experience hadn’t quite soothed his concerns. He knew full well that the technology was safe and time-tested, but at the same time there was something just a bit wrong about it that he wasn’t able to get used to.
He didn’t have time to worry about it for more than a few seconds, though, before he found himself rematerializing someplace else. After a perfunctory self-examination to make sure all his parts had shown up when he did, he glanced about, looking for any of his squadron mates. But there were no transporter beams evident, and no one around. He was alone.
Dennis Haynes recognized his location, and, if it hadn’t been too much like a bad joke, he would have described the sensation in his gut as a sinking feeling. He was looking across water-a lot of water-toward Fisherman’s Wharf and the Embarcadero. Which could only mean that he’d been beamed to Alcatraz.
And Alcatraz was an island. An island that had formerly been used as a prison, at that. It had, of course, been a prison because it was difficult to get from there to the mainland without a boat.
Sadly, Dennis hadn’t been able to bring one with him.
What he did have with him was a paper envelope. He sat on the jagged rocks at the island’s edge and tore it open, appreciating the forethought that had gone into using such an old-fashioned technology. They’d been correct-he wouldn’t have been able to read anything except paper, here.
Of course, if he couldn’t get off the island, it wouldn’t matter much what the words on the paper said. He’d be unable to communicate with his squadron, and they’d all fail the project-and the class. He looked toward the mainland again. He could swim it, maybe. But it’d be bitter cold, and he figured the chances were fifty-fifty that he’d drown in the effort. That, he decided, would be a last resort.
Seriously last. The more he contemplated it, the laster it got.
Tearing his gaze away from the waves, he removed a sheet of paper from inside the envelope. A stiff breeze from off the water tore at it, threatening to yank it from his grip. But the paper-really, he knew, a polymer with many of the same characteristics as the old-fashioned stuff, whose name this material shared out of convenience-held firm against the wind’s worst efforts. Written on it was a single sentence. “At the feet of these twins, find your first checkpoint.”
Short, sweet, and almost completely unhelpful, Dennis thought. He knew from the reports of previous years that finding the checkpoints was often the most difficult part of the assignment. And it wouldn’t have helped if he’d been given coordinates and a map, if he couldn’t get off this damn rock. The squadron had agreed to meet at the peak of Nob Hill, as quickly as possible after being transported into the city, because it was a more or less central location. Already, Dennis was sure, the others would be rushing to the meeting point. But he, their leader for this project, wouldn’t be there.
Well, he thought, forcing himself to his feet and casting his gaze about the rocky outcrop. Things certainly look bad, but I’m not ready to admit defeat quite yet.
I might as well have walked here, Estresor Fil thought with mild disappointment. She had beamed in at the near end of the Golden Gate Bridge, which was barely a stone’s throw from the Academy itself. She hadn’t been sent far at all, but she had a good distance ahead of her to get to the meeting point. Cutting through Academy grounds would shorten the trip, though of course she couldn’t do that. She was in civilian clothes and carried no Starfleet