A Star Trek: The Next Generation: Time #1: A Time to Be Born - Softcover

Vornholt, John

Softcover

ISBN 10: 0743467655 ISBN 13: 9780743467650

Verlag: Star Trek, 2004

Inhaltsangabe

On the cusp of their epic battle with Shinzon, many of Captain Jean-Luc Picard's long-time crew were heading for new assignments and new challenges. Among the changes were William Riker's promotion to captain and his new command, Riker's marriage to Counselor Deanna Troi, and Dr. Beverly Crusher's new career at Starfleet Medical. But the story of what set them on a path away from the Starship Enterprise? has never been told.

UNTIL NOW.

The site of one of the Dominion War's fiercest battles, the Rashanar Sector now contains a vast interstellar graveyard littered with the lifeless hulks of hundreds of devastated starships. The explosive destruction of so many varied warp drives has severely distorted the space-time continuum in this region, resulting in dangerous unleashed energies and bizarre gravitational anomalies.

The Enterprise has been assigned to patrol the perimeter of the danger zone, while other vessels carry out the difficult and highly hazardous task of retrieving the bodies of the dead from the wrecked warships.

To some alien races, the former battleground is hallowed space. To others, including the rapacious Androssi, it is a scavenger's paradise, ripe for salvage. None expect this ship's graveyard to hold a deadly secret that will force the android Data to make a heart-wrenching decision about the path his life will take -- and that will endanger not only the Enterprise, but Picard's future in Starfleet.

Über diesen Titel

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

John Vornholt is the author of several bestsellling Star Trek novels including two of the hugely successful four-volume Next Generation/Deep Space Nine DOMINION WAR sequence. He lives in Tuscon, Arizona.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

Chapter One

The gaunt woman, wearing a ragged shift and shoes made of discarded insulation material, knelt in the gully and ran her fingers through the grimy soil. While the sun beat down mercilessly, she searched until she found a shriveled root, which she popped into her mouth and chewed ravenously until it was gone. So intent was she upon her search that she hardly noticed the shuttlecraft that set down in a cloud of blowing sand not fifty meters away. Thrusters clicked off; then a hatch opened. Even when three humanoids in flight suits emerged from the craft and approached the old woman, she continued her desperate search for food.

All of this was observed by a nondescript male of her species who sat on a bench about twenty meters away. He, too, wore rags and makeshift shoes, but he was not hungry, at least not for food. Behind him stood a row of deserted buildings that had once been stores, homes, and places of recreation and worship. Most of these dusty structures were collapsed or falling apart, and their hinges creaked in the constant wind. A ghost town, this place would have been called on another planet far, far away, the man on the bench decided.

The three strangers approached the woman. One of them said kindly, "Madam, we are here from the Relocation Bureau. Are you ready to go?"

She looked up at the men with unbridled hostility and spat at them, although she barely had enough spittle to wet her fingertip. "This is my home!" she rasped. "Who told you I was going anywhere?" She continued scrounging for roots.

The three strangers looked uneasily at one another, and another one of the men said, "Look around you, madam. This planet is finished -- nothing will grow in this irradiated soil. Your leaders have agreed to this relocation, and all of your neighbors have already left." He glanced for a moment at the man on the bench. "You two are the only ones left on this whole continent."

"Damn the Federation! Damn the Dominion! Damn them all!" shrieked the woman. She sobbed and pounded the worthless soil. "Why did you have to make war here? Why did it have to be our world? What did we ever do to anyone? We just wanted to live in peace -- to raise our children, to raise our crops. Now they're all gone...all gone." She buried her face in the scorched dirt and sobbed pitifully.

The three men tried to help her up. She fought them off with screams and flailing fists. That was enough for the observer on the bench, who rose slowly and walked toward them with a creaky gait that belied his youthful appearance. None of them could really tell how old he was, and their descriptions of him would later vary.

He motioned the trio back. They obeyed him without question. Then the nondescript man bent down and put his arms around the gaunt woman. "Mother," he said tenderly, "these men are not at fault for what happened here. No one chooses to be in a war, nor do they choose the place to fight it. Yes, our beloved world was once good to us, but now it's spent. Let's leave it as a shrine to the dead and departed. It's best to leave now, Mother, and go with these men. They will be kind to you and give you plenty of food. They have your welfare at heart. Go with them, please."

She gazed fondly at her neighbor, and her gnarled hand patted his. "Do I know you?"

He smiled. "Yes, you do, but you've forgotten. It doesn't matter. Let me help you up."

The neighbor gently lifted the woman to her feet and handed her off to her would-be rescuers. "Thanks for your help," said one of them. "Where are her belongings?"

"Belongings?" asked the local with amusement. "The Dominion War took care of everything she considered dear. Just take her and go."

They led the woman toward the shuttlecraft, expecting the man to follow. When he didn't, one of the officers walked back to him and said, "You have to go too, sir."

"I have my own transportation," he answered.

The man shook his head skeptically. "What transportation? There's nothing here but -- " He motioned around at the derelict buildings and arid fields.

"This is your last chance, sir. By the end of the day, there won't be anyone on this planet but you. You're signing your own death warrant."

"I won't be dying here," the local assured him with a smile. "You're doing a good job...a necessary job. But your work here is finished. Go on home."

The officer looked unconvinced; then he turned and strode after his companions, who had ushered the woman into the shuttlecraft. In a flurry of dust, the small vessel took off and streaked into the pale sky.

The man on the ground sighed, and he looked his true age of twenty-seven Terran years. "This planet died too young."

"I know," replied a kindly voice beside him. "That's the nature of war -- death at an early age. It will take many generations for the Alpha Quadrant to recover from the Dominion War. You did well on this vigil, Wesley, however you came close to interfering in that woman's life."

Wes turned to gaze at his slight, bald, unobtrusive friend, a being he had known for a dozen years without ever knowing his name, only his extraordinary existence as the Traveler.

"When you helped me save my mom's life, weren't you interfering a little?" asked Wesley.

"Just a little," agreed the Traveler. "There's always a price to pay when we interfere. In your case, I had to take on a protégé."

The young man gazed at the stark landscape and said, "It was painful, watching this planet and these people suffer...then wither away and die. They tried so hard to reclaim their world."

"I know," answered the Traveler with sympathy. "We all experienced what you did, remember. Their suffering will not be forgotten. You performed well in this trial."

"This trial?" asked the young man, angrily. "I have sat too many vigils in the last six years -- all that training, never seeing my mother, never having the companionship of my own kind. Most of all, never being myself. I don't feel what you feel. Watching this suffering and not being able to help...it only left me depressed."

"You must submerge yourself," said his guide sternly. "But soon you will feel what every Traveler feels, because this was your last trial, Wesley. I will no longer be able to call you by that name, because your identity will merge with ours. You will be born anew as a Traveler."

The human stared at his mentor in surprise. He had been waiting for this moment -- with dread and anticipation -- and now it had arrived. "Will I be able to go anywhere?" he asked. "By myself?"

"Yes," answered the Traveler, casting his pale eyes downward. "Any place, any dimension, any time -- they are open. Our combined focus will enable you. However the temptation will be great for you to do more than watch and record. Remember, no experience will be yours alone, it will belong to all of us. You can visit the Enterprise, but you won't see it as you once did. I believe it was a human who said, 'You can't go home again.'"

"Thomas Wolfe," replied Wes with a nod. "I feel so old already, after all the training and vigils, but I don't feel that much wiser."

Now the Traveler smiled. "That's because you're aware of everything you don't know. To most cultures, what we do is magic, but the more we discover about life and how to focus, the more inadequate we feel. The more we witness, the more we hunger to see."

The young man didn't contradict his friend, but he really hungered for warmth and familiarity -- a poker game, a scratch on the back, a birthday card. Seeing the triumphs and suffering of others was not the same as experiencing them, even if he had godlike powers to move through dimensions and blend in with a crowd until he was barely noticeable. Living without being in danger, without having to suffer -- that was both exhilarating and weakening....

Details zur Ausgabe

• Verlag: Star Trek
• Erscheinungsdatum: 2004
• Sprache: Englisch
• ISBN 10: 0743467655
• ISBN 13: 9780743467650
• Einband: Taschenbuch
• Anzahl der Seiten: 304
• Kontakt zum Hersteller: Nicht verfügbar
• Verantwortliche Person: Nachyta Pederzini; n.pederzini@terminaldistribuzione.com; ; Via Bruno Buozzi, 24/26,; Granarolo dell'Emilia BO,; 40057; Italien