Star Trek_ A Choice of Catastrophes - Michael Schuster [70]
Something small dropped on his head, and he looked up. A cloud of dust engulfed him, and his eyes began to burn. More small bits pelted him, in the face, on the forehead, chest, shoulders. Squinting, he pointed his flashlight at the ceiling above him, just in time to see a large piece of it race down.
His legs moved of their own accord, but then his world collapsed, causing waves of pain to smother everything. Blackness was the only thing his eyes registered before giving up.
So far, Giotto hadn’t encountered any hostiles, but he knew his luck wouldn’t hold. Even if the Farrezzi had no sensors to tell them that intruders were aboard, he’d cross paths with them sooner or later. The commander had his doubts that they would ever find Yüksel. The botanist had been gone too long. There was a slim chance they might locate Chekov—a very slim one.
Sweat covered his brow, caused by the humidity. The air was warm and smelled like the rich soil of a garden. Distracting, but nothing he couldn’t cope with.
The floor suddenly shuddered. In the distance, Giotto could hear sounds. He sprinted to the nearest alcove and shoved himself in. Judging by the sockets and cables, its purpose was power distribution.
The sounds in the distance were barely audible. They became fainter, then disappeared altogether. Giotto waited another minute, just to make sure that they’d gone. Was it really possible that neither he nor the captain hadn’t been spotted? If this had been the Enterprise, and intruders had found their way aboard, they wouldn’t have remained undetected for long. It was possible, however, that this ship was not a military one. Giotto’s scan of the exterior had not shown any weapon emplacements.
So far, he’d found nothing that would help him in his search for two missing crewmen. He’d seen no brig, no holding cells, no torture chamber. He’d inspected every side corridor, every alcove, along the way. Nothing.
His instincts told him he was going in one big circle. He had good orientation skills, normally not needing a tricorder or a map, but the slaver ship was turning out to be a challenge. It all looked the same, just one big tunnel, like the ones they’d seen below the city.
Giotto checked his tricorder, which had been automatically mapping the interior. The map told him he was not going in circles, but it was of little help otherwise. He remembered what Chekov had said about the unique physiology of the aliens. No front or back, so it stood to reason that their vehicles wouldn’t have them either. Perhaps it was like the Enterprise’s saucer section, where everything important—bridge, sickbay, life support systems—was at the center. Common sense, right? At least, it was to humanoids. He was about to find out if the same was true for five-limbed squidthings.
“Now lift them up, slowly,” Spock said.
The weight of the large block that had fallen from the ceiling and narrowly missed the Columbus was considerable, so he had ordered it cut in two by precisely modulated phaser beams, to minimize the danger to Engineer Scott, who lay trapped beneath it.
If the Farrezzi pursuing the Columbus had caught up with them, there would have been more than one strike. Could it have been lightning?
Mister Scott had been the only one hit by the ceiling piece. Spock regretted that his conversation with Tra had distracted him from noticing the ceiling fragment until it was too late. The lower half of Scott’s body was covered by the larger chunk, making for an unsettling sight. It was fortunate that he had been standing close to the port nacelle’s aft end, as it kept the concrete from crushing his legs completely.
The engineer required immediate attention. Doctor M’Benga had interrupted the treatment of his other two patients, who had been moved to the Hofstadter. Spock had given the