The Good That Men Do - Andy Mangels [0]
Michael A. Martin & Andy Mangels
POCKET eBOOKS
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An Original Publication of POCKET eBOOKS
This eBook is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.
POCKET eBOOKS, a division of Trevor & Simon, Inc.
Copyright © 2007 by Paramount Pictures. All Rights Reserved.
STAR TREK is a Registered Trademark of Paramount Pictures.
This book is published by Pocket eBooks, a division of Trevor & Simon, Inc., under exclusive license from Paramount Pictures.
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.
ISBN: xxx-xxx-xxx-X
First Pocket eBook Edition May 2007
Historian's Note
The main events in this book take place early in 2155, just after the crew of the Enterprise stops the xenophobic group Terra Prime from destroying Starfleet Command (“Demons” and “Terra Prime”).
“People sleep peaceably in their beds at night only because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf.”
—George Orwell (1903-1950)
“He that would live in peace and at ease must not speak all he knows or all he sees.”
—Benjamin Franklin (1706-1790)
“All war is deception.”
—Sun Tzu (5th century B.C.)
“The future is up for grabs. It belongs to any and all who will take the risk.”
—Robert Anton Wilson (1932-)
“The evil that men do lives after them; The good is oft interred with their bones.”
—William Shakespeare (1564-1616)
Prologue
The Early Twenty-Fifth Century
Terrebonne Parish, Louisiana
ALTHOUGH LIGHT-YEARS SEPARATED HIM from his homeworld, the cool rain falling through the moss-covered trees reminded Nog of Ferenginar. The smell was different here, of course; the Louisiana swamps were redolent with decay and rot, and the lukewarm rain- falling at not quite a glebbening level yet, but close- added a dampness that made the humid air almost palpably pungent.
Nog stepped wide to avoid a greasy-looking puddle, and almost immediately regretted it as a sharp twinge went up his hyperextended left leg. Making sure the pack he carried slung over his shoulder was secure, he crouched down onto his right knee, his fingers deftly massaging the pained left leg.
It seemed strange to him that the newer leg, regrown from his own tissues years ago to replace the biosynthetic limb he’d needed because of an injury suffered during the Dominion War, should always be the one that gave him trouble. Of course, a few of his other joints suffered aches and pains as well- it was all just part of the process of getting older- but his new left leg should have felt better, not worse, than either his natural limbs or the now-discarded biosynthetic one. His doctors had examined him several times in recent years, but they could never find anything inherently wrong with the new leg, and always ended up telling him that he probably just favored it differently than the bionic part he’d spent so many years getting used to, thus creating unfamiliar stressor points on his left side.
Nog stood, peering up the path before him and thinking about his friend. Why did he choose to make his home so far off the beaten track? He imagined young Jennifer probably didn’t relish playing in the yard- if he even has a yard- since hew-mons generally seemed to have an aversion to muck and dampness.
Another dozen meters, and as he rounded a bend in the pathway, he saw the two-story house directly ahead. Soft light was visible through several round-topped windows, and a wisp of smoke curled out of a chimney on the home’s southernmost wall, drifting lazily up through the damp twilight air. The fact that a fire was burning and lights were on gave Nog hope; he wanted to surprise his old friend, and hadn’t contacted him to let him know he was coming.
The murky pathway ended at the edge of a small expanse of open, well-tended lawn, and Nog stepped