Chapter
9

Somewhere over Latik Kerjna, Drema IV

Day 1

Katherine Pulaski made a mental note to have the inertial dampeners triple-checked if Lieutenant Xavier was ever scheduled to fly a shuttlecraft for her again.

As Xavier banked the Shuttlecraft Reeves into a turn fast enough for her stomach to threaten a response, she tried to keep in mind that they were not unlike an ambulance rushing to the scene of an accident. Fast was good. Fast and safe was better. The last thing they needed was for the doctors to be included among the injured.

A fiery red glow began forming around the shuttlecraft’s nose as they entered Drema IV’s atmosphere. She knew that somewhere behind them, the Trosper was finding a parking orbit and would send down crew of her own when it could.

She also knew that it would have been much easier for her to travel to the planet on the Trosper with Klesaris and beam down to the surface with the away team full of S.C.E. tech-heads that Captain Walsh was assembling, but to say she didn’t care for the transporter would be an understatement.

Of course, she could have always learned about the inertial dampeners herself, learned about flying shuttles, and made her own way through her transporter phobia, but that wasn’t her job. She’d thought about taking the training courses, but her medical duties won the day. It wasn’t her responsibility to make sure the inorganic systems worked properly.

What was her responsibility, however, was to make sure the triage units were set up and ready for incoming wounded. Contrary to earlier reports, as of the last word from the second guardian, six people were missing, including Captain Gold and Guardian Liankataka.

Five injured Dremans, probably seriously, stood to tax their knowledge base. Pulaski planned to get the local doctors involved as quickly as possible, if for no other reason than to have able-bodied, trained medics handy. The more, the merrier.

The deep whoosh of the air rushing past the shuttle’s nacelles as they entered the atmosphere slowly began to subside, and Pulaski looked out the forward window to see a wide, lush forest coming up ahead of them. She’d heard that the floes of liquid magma that had surfaced during her first visit to the planet had resulted in a rich, verdant plant life, but she hadn’t expected such dense greenery. All of this in five years? I know a few botanists who would love to get their hands on plants that take over so quickly. What we couldn’t do with those on a damaged world.

They didn’t run across many planets that were as damaged as Drema IV had been—at least not any that had survived. The odds of that being in the future of any Federation world, well, she didn’t want to think about that at that moment.

The shuttle took an abrupt bounce, nearly knocking Pulaski out of her seat.

“Sorry, Doc,” Xavier said, quickly turning and giving her an appraising glance. There was a near panic in the young lieutenant’s hazel eyes. “The thermals around here are severe, but small. By the time the computer picks them up, I have to take evasive maneuvers.”

Pulaski gave him a curt nod. She wanted to tell him it was okay and that she understood, but another thermal chose that moment to make its presence known. She was thrown hard against the restraint on the shuttle’s seat. Wincing, she leaned back against the backrest. Maybe I should reconsider the transporters, she thought.

Before another thought could form, Xavier said, “Hold on to your stomach, Doc. I’m going to try something.”

That was when it felt as though the floor cut out beneath her. Suddenly, she lurched forward. She was quite thankful for the restraint, though she could already feel the bruise forming. Clouds flew past the viewport in just the direction they shouldn’t, namely, moving straight up. Whether he had cut the shuttle’s engines or intentionally put them into a dive, her inner ear had stopped trying to determine, but she knew they were moving far more quickly in a downward direction than she liked. “Lieutenant,” she began, trying not to sound as though she were questioning his sanity too much.

That was as far as she got, however, as Xavier picked that point to bring them out of it. When Pulaski finally got her stomach back in order from the descent, she made the mistake of looking out the viewport again. The treetops were disconcertingly close. “Lieutenant,” she said, “please don’t ever do that again. One more second…”

Xavier audibly exhaled. “Yeah. Sorry, Doc. The sensors misread the bottom edge of that thermal.”

Before she could voice a word in protest, the shuttle banked to the right and set down with more stillness than she’d seen the entire ride. I definitely need to ask the admiral to order regular inertial dampener checks.

As she and Xavier were the only passengers on the shuttlecraft, it only took a few seconds for her to gather herself and disembark. When she did, she discovered that they’d landed in the middle of a small field, one that looked as though it had very recently been in use for some gathering. However, it also looked as though it had been quickly abandoned, presumably when the explosion occurred. The clearing was edged by trees with lush, blue-green leaves, and there was an overwhelming smell of food mixed in with something that reminded her far too much of her last trip to the arboretum on the Enterprise. There were so many different floral aromas floating around, she almost wanted to send a message describing them to the last botanist she’d known—wherever Keiko Ishikawa was these days—and see what she thought.

But that was for later. Now, there were patients for her to treat. Pulaski was just wondering when the team on the Trosper would beam down when the familiar high-pitched whine of a transporter beam beginning its work sounded. Three men, two women, and one tiny Belandrid appeared in the first transport wave. As Klesaris’s team numbered over a dozen, Pulaski knew there would be more people coming.

The cherubic smile of the Trosper’s captain was precisely as she’d expected. That robust, friendly nature appeared to be reflective of the rest of him, as well. While Captain Walsh could easily have been one of the more physically fit members of his crew as he’d risen through the ranks, the mildly expanding midsection under that red-and-black uniform indicated to her that the center seat had apparently agreed with him about as well as replicated Guinness cake.

That did not, however, change the fact that the man immediately extended a hand toward her as soon as the transporter beam finished its work. “Dr. Pulaski,” he said. “Nice to meet you in person. Where do you want us to set up?”

Pulaski scanned the field. Outside of the shuttlecraft and the dais, the place was still empty. “First we need to find out how close to the mine we are. Xavier,” she said, gesturing toward the dark-skinned pilot, “take the shuttlecraft up and scout around. Make sure we’re close enough to be effective here. The last thing we need is to have it take so long to get here that the survivors die en route.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Something tells me you won’t have a problem finding the mine by sight, young man,” Walsh said. “But our sensors said it was about a half-kilometer north of here. Start there. Look for the crowd of people. I’ve seen a few of these mining communities before. When the mine’s in trouble, everyone shows up thinking they can help, and they end up just standing around waiting.”

Xavier nodded curtly. “Yes, sir.” Within seconds, he and the shuttlecraft were once again airborne.

Klesaris chose that moment to step forward. Gesturing toward her right, she said, “With your permission, if the site checks out, I’ll have the trauma units set up over near the dais.”

“Do it,” Pulaski said.

Klesaris turned around so quickly her long ponytail almost whipped her in the face. Tapping her combadge, she began speaking to the Trosper’s transporter chief about beam-in locations for the equipment.

While the young redhead would probably make some captain an excellent CMO one of these days, Pulaski was still a little concerned over how often she still seemed so…young. “And, Mary?”

Klesaris raised her head, “Yes?”

“We’re on emergency protocols here. You’ve got the trauma units. While we’re here, that’s your department—your decisions.”

The younger doctor gave a quick nod of understanding, and went back to her conversation.

The tiny Belandrid wandered over to Dr. Pulaski with what appeared to be a tool kit in his seven-fingered right hand. Even though he was standing at his full height, the humanoid little creature barely came up to her waist. Reports from the Federation contact team who had been sent to the ocean planet of Belandros roughly a century before had said that all Belandrid looked alike, yet not even Starfleet’s best geneticists had been able to determine how they managed it without cloning technology. Pulaski only knew of three of the species in Starfleet, and they had been allowed to apply after one of their kind had helped save Earth from a biological attack by the Romulans approximately ninety years before. Still, what they might not have had in physical strength, they more than made up for in resilience to injury.

He saluted his captain, and his tiny, circular mouth made a sound not unlike bubbling water before he spoke. “Dddoctor Pulaski?”

“Yes,” she said, quickly glancing down at the creature’s uniform collar, “what can I do for you, Lieutenant?” She couldn’t help but notice that on the creature’s translucent blue skin, the yellow and black uniform of a Starfleet engineer looked a little, well, odd.

“Lllolo, please.”

She recognized the name from Walsh’s mention during their first conversation. “Of course, what is it, Lolo?”

The Belandrid’s vertical eyelids opened wide, his neon-yellow eyes centering on her. He shifted his booted right foot on the ground in what Pulaski would, in a human, have considered a gesture of nervousness. Pulaski couldn’t help but note that the boots weren’t standard-issue, presumably to account for the creature’s webbed, yet still seven-toed feet. “Cccaptain Walsh asked me tto mmmaintttain equipment.”

“Work with Lieutenant Klesaris. She’ll have the most use for your skills.”

“Yes, mmma’am. Nnno problem.”

With that, Lolo walked off toward Pulaski’s assistant. She thought briefly about a quiet comm with Klesaris to make sure she knew about the Belandrid’s rather waterlogged manner of speaking—truth be told, he sounded like what Pulaski would have expected to hear if an old-fashioned water cooler had suddenly developed sentience—but realized that, from the meager bits she knew of how the Corps of Engineers worked, Lolo and Klesaris had probably been thrown together on the Trosper during the hour they’d had to get the equipment together. If half of what she’d heard about their latent engineering ability was true, she had no doubt of his qualifications when it came to keeping an eye on that equipment.

Pulaski’s combadge chirped. “Xavier to Pulaski.”

The young man’s voice came through loud and clear. Tapping her own badge, she said, “Yes what is it, Lieutenant?”

“We should be good, ma’am. The mine is about a half-kilometer due north. Sensors read about seventy-five people at the head of the mine right now. No open area to set up there, so we’re as close as we’re going to get.”

Pulaski gave a curt nod, even though she knew Xavier couldn’t see her. “Understood. Get back here as soon as you can.”

“Yes, ma’am. Xavier out.”

Before she could give a thought to where to begin, one of the Trosper’s engineers walked over, padd in hand. “Lieutenant Commander Barreto, ma’am,” he said, backing it with a friendly smile. “We’re working on a way to get a transporter lock through the interference. It’s playing merry hell with the explorer drone. We can’t send it down. I’ve got an idea or two that I think will work.”

“Any luck improving the scanning accuracy through the interference?” Walsh asked.

Barreto raised a dark brown eyebrow, running a hand over his close-cropped brown hair. “Not much, sir, but we’re still working on it. Ensign Borosh from the Progress even had a couple of ideas that we thought might help, but we’ve been trying to recalibrate the ship’s sensors six ways till Sunday and can’t get it to improve. We can tell that the area may not be one-hundred percent stable, but as for finding anyone specifically? No. There’s something about the dilithium that’s keeping us from being able to get a signal through it.”

Walsh shook his head. “We do this the old-fashioned way, then. I’m sure the Dremans must have procedures in place for what to do when the mine collapses.”

“You mean outside of praying for the souls of the dead?” Pulaski asked, only semi-rhetorically.

Walsh’s arms dropped from where they’d been folded over his chest. “I’ll go see if I can’t find Second Guardian Karjella and get the digging going.”