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Emalra’ehn shrugged. “Passable. I am glad the ship has stopped bouncing so much.” He shook his head. “It was disrupting my concentration.”

“Aye. I dinna like roller coasters.”

“I wish my ground combat skills were of use here,” added Emalra’ehn. “I’ve never cross-trained in shipboard weaponry. This mission makes me think I should have.”

The engineer knew the feeling. The Academy trained Starfleet officers to be in the thick of it at all times. He hated being forced to stand around with his hands in his pockets. Metaphorically speaking. His tricorder beeped. It had a clear read on the active satellite, which was directing a particle field at the planet’s surface. “Is that a weapon?”

“Negative, Mister Scott,” replied Spock. “The particle field is diffused energy—”

“What’s it being directed at?” interrupted Scotty.

Jaeger replied, “The ocean down there. But—” He paused for a moment. “There’s a storm down there—a small one, but it’s definitely there.”

“There are storms everywhere down there,” M’Benga mumbled.

“But before there weren’t,” Jaeger responded. “There was the big storm over the continent. That was it! Mister Spock, can you plot where this satellite was when we made planetfall?”

“It was over the southern continent. I believe your hypothesis is correct,” Spock replied evenly.

“What?” asked Scotty.

“That satellite,” said Jaeger, “caused the storm down there. It’s a weather modification device.”

“Fascinating,” said Spock. “The Farrezzi hid themselves because they were near the point of environmental collapse. They needed to leave an infrastructure capable of returning the planet to its original state. Approximately one thousand weather modification satellites could accomplish the task in one hundred twenty-six years.” He paused. “Plus or minus two-point-seven.”

“We should shoot it down,” said Emalra’ehn. “We don’t need any more weather like that.”

Scotty held up a hand. “Wait,” he said. “I want to know exactly how that thing works.”

“Your curiosity is admirable, Mister Scott—” began Spock.

Scott cut him off. “’Tisna curiosity, Mister Spock. A device that can shoot one beam of particles can shoot another.”

“And a phaser beam is made up of charged particles.” Emalra’ehn’s face lit up.

“Exactly.” Scotty looked over at the inert satellite sitting in back of the shuttle. “If we can figure out how that thing works, we’ve got ourselves another weapon.”

Kirk held on to the nearest cryopod as tightly as he could as the transport ship surged upward. It had been a long time since he’d flown aboard an old-style ship. As every ounce of his body was pulled downward, Kirk decided that he much preferred inertial damping, to hell with the romance of early space flight.

Horr was even more agitated. Its shouts had degenerated into squeaks the universal translator couldn’t decipher.

“Calm down,” Kirk shouted, “it’s almost over!” In actuality, he had no idea, but Horr quieted. Kirk continued to hold on to the pod just in case. The captain felt himself become lighter, his feet coming off the deck.

Horr was screaming again. “Assistance requirement! Assistance requirement!”

Moments later, Kirk’s feet dropped back to the deck. So Farrezzi technology had progressed enough to have artificial gravity. Impressive. “We’re in space now,” he said, knowing that Horr required an explanation, “probably on our way to the Orion market where the New Planets Cousins are going to sell you and your people. My people are on the surface. Horr, I need your help, and the help of your people, to stop these slavers.”

Horr quivered, but it stood upright, its eyestalks straight. “Request: orders. Demand: liberation!”

Kirk smiled. Perhaps with an army of liberated Farrezzi, he could rescue Giotto and Chekov, find Yüksel, and put an end to the slave trade.

The odd pair worked their way down the line of two dozen pods, pressing their “purge” buttons. Kirk doubted that this random collection of citizens would be combat-trained. If the New Planets Cousins were smart, they would have avoided stealing military personnel