What's Past_ The Future Begins (Book 2) - Michael Schuster [39]
“Acknowledged. Thirteen seconds, Commander,” replied the clipped voice of the transporter chief.
“Good-bye, laddie—Geordi. Hopefully, I see you again soon. It’s been too long between visits.”
“Sure has,” La Forge said. “Good-bye, Scotty.” He continued to speak even as he felt the beginnings of the transport sequence. “Maybe someday you’ll get a chance to finish telling me that story….”
Future Construction
Stardate 53426.4
April 2376, Old Earth Time
The visitor on the starship’s bridge silently observed the goings-on that characterized every single vessel of the Federation’s exploration/defense fleet, amusing himself with comparisons of single crew members to friends of times long gone.
In the center seat of the bridge sat a lean Bolian man, his collar pips clearly identifying him as the ship’s captain even though his posture alone did a very good job at doing the same. His name was Bor Loxx, and he commanded the ship that Scotty himself had picked as the vessel to extend a hand of friendship toward the people on Kropasar who had been so deviously relieved of their prized possession of Breen origin.
The ship’s name was Akarana, and it belonged to the class of transport vessels named for the city of Istanbul on Earth. Usually when Scotty needed a ship to send somewhere, he just tapped one of the four Saber-class ships that carried around the S.C.E.’s mobile teams, but this time all he needed was a ship capable of transporting a group of people from one place to another. The mobile response teams were better deployed elsewhere, considering all the postwar reconstruction going on, and so Scotty had called on the crew of the Akarana.
“Entering Akiganel sector,” the Vulcan at navigation announced.
“Thank you, Mr. Lorin,” Loxx said.
Scotty sat on an empty chair at one of the science stations aft of the captain, next to the starboard turbo-lift. From there, he could survey the entire bridge, watching everybody there doing their jobs, accompanied by the sounds the computer made reacting to command inputs.
Their mission here was simple: help the Kropaslin rebuild their society by lending what technological help they could.
Of course, this was not simply a Starfleet mission—it couldn’t be. This was a matter of immediate concern to the entire Federation, which was why Scotty had had to address the entire Council in the Palais de la Concorde, and not just once, but twice in as many weeks. Despite his recently increased influence as the head of the S.C.E., he was sure it would not have worked if President Zife had not supported his petition.
Yet why exactly the Bolian had done so was beyond him—just as it had been beyond him when Nechayev had told him about Zife’s decision to reopen negotiations with the Kropaslin. Then, the numpty had had an ulterior motive: technology. It was highly likely that there was such a motive now as well.
But Scotty didn’t care. As long as they let him help the people on Kropasar pick up the pieces of their society and start anew, he didn’t give a tinker’s cuss about what the president thought he’d get from it.
In the time between the petition and now, Scotty had feared he’d strangle himself with red tape as there was a googolplex of forms and documents to fill out and sign, a myriad of people to talk to and practically beg on his knees for their support.
But all that was now a thing of the past. Now Scotty was on his way, aboard the U.S.S. Akarana, to deliver goods, technology, and a shipload of engineers and ambassadors to Kropasar so that the people there had a fair chance of survival, despite all the pain and sorrow Starfleet had caused them without their knowledge.
“Captain Scott?”
“Hm? What is it, lad?” he asked the Bolian captain.
“Now that we’re almost on their doorstep, I believe we should contact the Witenagemot. Maybe you want to do that yourself?”
“That I do, lad, that I do. Thanks for indulging an old man.”
“Oh, it’s no problem, Captain Scott. It’s your project, so it’s only fair that you get to do the talking,”