Star Trek™: Corps of Engineers: Remembrance of Things Past Book Two Read online

  Star Trek™:

  Corps of Engineers

  Turn the Page by Dayton Ward & Kevin Dilmore

  Troubleshooting by Robert Greenberger

  The Light by Jeff D. Jacques

  The Art of the Comeback by Glenn Greenberg

  Signs from Heaven by Phaedra M. Weldon

  Ghost by Ilsa J. Bick

  Remembrance of Things Past Book 1 by Terri Osborne

  Remembrance of Things Past Book 2 by Terri Osborne

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  This book 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.

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  ISBN-13: 978-1-4165-4409-8

  ISBN-10: 1-4165-4409-7

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  For David Honigsberg

  A true Renaissance man.

  Thank you for touching all of our lives.

  You are gone, but you will never be forgotten.

  Have fun jammin’ with Hendrix.

  CHAPTER

  1

  Carol Abramowitz stared at the trees, the lush green lawns, and the old stone buildings of Cambridge University. Her attentions wandered to the other students as they made their way through Downing Street toward the Haddon Library, and she wondered how many thousands of other people had sat precisely where she was and just people-watched over the centuries the school had been in existence.

  It was so peaceful, so soothing. It felt like being home after a lifetime away. She adored springtime. Just the smell of the tree blossoms was enough to relax her when she needed it.

  “Carol!”

  She turned to see Gabriel Collins walking toward her, a giant smile on his features. That smile was infectious, and she found herself returning it in moments. “Hey, you,” she said, allowing him to wrap her in an embrace when he finally reached her. “So, the final went well?”

  “Perfect,” he said. “Looks like we’re both getting our master’s this year.”

  “Fantastic! So, what do you want to do to celebrate?” She had deliberately added a come-hither note to her voice, but in all of the years they had known each other, he had yet to take her up on it. This was no exception.

  “How about a pint? I’ll buy.”

  Taking a deep breath, she said, “Sounds good.”

  When they reached the pub, they were hardly the only ones celebrating the end of the term. A group of well-dressed students was in one corner, hoisting what appeared to be far more expensive drinks than ale. Ah, the law school grads. Can always count on them to be drinking beyond their means. In another corner, some lean, rough-and-tumble looking guys wearing footballers’ jerseys were drinking by the pitcher. That got Carol to wondering about the history of the place again. Wonder if the frat boys were that obnoxious when this university was just starting up?

  She finally decided that, probably, they had been. Frat boys were frat boys, no matter what century you were in.

  “Carol, come on!”

  Brushing a lock of black hair behind her left ear, she headed toward Gabriel’s voice, and the bar. He had already ordered a pint of Guinness for her, and the dark, strong brew was just the thing she needed right then. She took a few gulps, savoring the warm flavor as it slid down her throat. This was the way life should be. Good friends—perhaps even more if he kept this up—good drink, and good times.

  “All right,” Gabriel said. “Let’s see if there’s a booth that these hooligans haven’t appropriated for themselves.”

  They managed to find one, tucked back in the corner away from the football on the viewscreens scattered through the pub. Manchester United was playing Liverpool in the playoffs, and there would be a riotous time, no matter which side took the prize.

  Oh, there had been a time years ago when a club winning a playoff match usually also involved the police in full riot gear, but that was a long, long time ago.

  “Hey,” Gabe said, wrapping an arm over her shoulder. “Where are you going for your doctorate?”

  That stopped Carol in her tracks. She hadn’t really had a chance to think beyond her master’s thesis, but leave it to Gabriel to think big. “I don’t know. Why?”

  “I was thinking Cairo,” he said, his eyebrows rising in a how’s about that? manner. “I think white linens would suit you.”

  She cringed at the bad joke, but then softly smiled. “You’re serious.”

  “Deadly.”

  “You really want to do your doctoral work in the Egyptian desert?”

  He stared off for a moment, and then a gleam of manic glee lit his eyes when they turned back to her. “That’s where it all is on this planet, and you know it. It’s not half as bad as it used to be. Come on. Come with me.”

  Carol sat back for a moment. She’d heard some of the local students use the word gobsmacked before, but only at that moment did she believe she truly understood the word. Well, you’ve been waiting on him to make a move. Now what? Her thoughts were disrupted by a string of vulgarities in thick Liverpudlian accents.

  Then they sounded like Federation Standard. Shaking her head, she suddenly was no longer in the pub cozied up to Gabriel, but instead was in the middle of something that bore a strong resemblance to a jungle.

  “Carol? Carol, come out of it.”

  Fingers snapped in front of her face, the sound shocking her back to reality.

  “Hallucination?” This time, she recognized Bart Faulwell’s voice.

  Bart, Inana. You’re not on Earth, Carol. You’re on Icaria Prime. You’re looking for the temple that Gabriel found. Keep it together.

  “Yeah,” said Carol. She really hoped the disappointment at being pulled out of the vision didn’t come through in her voice too much. The last thing she needed was to have to explain the first few years of her relationship with Gabriel to the man’s wife.

  She’d needed reliving that one moment again even less.

  “You okay?” Inana Skanda asked. She’d known Gabriel ever since Gabe and Carol had arrived in Cairo for their doctorates. But still, Carol didn’t know just how much Gabe had told Inana in the intervening years. Enough for her to know that the two of them had been close, but it was difficult to tell anything beyond that from Inana’s attitude toward her.

  “I’m fine,” Carol said, trying her best to sound resolute. Nothing would change the fact that she could still smell the pint of Guinness, its aroma mixed in with his cologne. That isn’t you anymore. That isn’t you. You have Vance
now. Don’t forget that. Closing her eyes, she took several deep breaths before aiming her palm beacon straight in front of her and venturing forward, machete cutting the way.

  Sonya Gomez was drowning.

  She could feel the water cascading down her throat, filling her lungs, pulling her down. Lifting her arms, she fought as long as she could, trying to reach the surface once more…just for one more breath of precious air.

  “Sonya!”

  The sound of the rushing waters around her almost buried the voice, but somehow, she heard.

  She tried to scream, but it only made fighting the water worse. She reached out, her hands slapping what felt like the surface. So close. So close.

  But something just kept pulling her under.

  No!

  Then arms, strong arms, wrapped around her, pulling her out of the water. Sonya took a long, deep breath before coughing up far more water than she would ever have thought could fit in her lungs.

  “Sonya! Can you hear me?”

  She recognized the voice, but wasn’t sure from where. It almost sounded like Belinda, but it couldn’t be, could it?

  She sputtered some more, until a hand reached out and touched soft, moist grass. The whisper of rain-soaked leaves in the gentle wind sounded too much like waves in the distance. That was when reality came crashing back to her at warp ten. “Paul?”

  In an instant, the water was gone, leaving behind the peaty aroma of earth and vegetation mixed with the fresh rain in the forest that surrounded them.

  “Sonya. It’s okay. It’s not real.” Paul Cunningham’s voice was far more of a soothing comfort than she would have given him credit for just a few hours before. “It’s not real.”

  It had certainly felt like it. Suddenly she’d been right back there at Vieques, with Belinda, on that boat where she’d almost drowned after slipping on a wet deck.

  But Belinda had saved her.

  Or had she?

  Sonya fought with the memory, trying to control it as it assailed her once more.

  Yes, she had definitely felt a shove on her backside before the water had come rushing toward her. Her heart skipped slightly at the realization that she hadn’t slipped after all, but someone had pushed her into the water.

  Who?

  Fighting to keep her breathing even, she fought the flashback by sheer willpower. It seemed to be so very real, but she wrestled with it, reminding herself time and again that it was just a flashback, just like all of the flashbacks she’d had—and never wanted to admit—after Galvan VI.

  Post-traumatic stress disorder was something for counselors and doctors to diagnose and treat, not engineers. Sarjenka had other far more important things on her mind at that moment, and there was no way Sonya was going to interfere with her treatment of Captain Picard. She could control her reaction to it for the time being. It could wait.

  And it would.

  She hoped.

  “Sonya?”

  This time, she readily identified Paul’s voice. And remembered both the machetes, and the reason they’d brought them. That brought her to a standing position in record time. “Snakes,” she whispered.

  A small laugh that sounded like Abramowitz got Sonya’s attention. “Never thought you’d have a problem with reptiles, Commander,” Carol said.

  “Try growing up on a tropical island,” Sonya shot back. “I’ll pass on snakes, thanks.”

  That was when the pale look on Paul’s face caught her attention. “Are you okay?” she asked. “What did you see?”

  Paul gave her a sideways glance. “I’d prefer not to discuss it just yet.”

  She knew that tone far too well, having heard it out of her own mouth in the months after Kieran Duffy’s death. “Well,” she began, resting a hand on his shoulder, “when you’re ready to talk, I have a feeling I’ve been there.”

  With a small nod, and a look that bled gratitude, they both managed to regain their wits. That was when Sonya remembered their new companions. “Carol, Bart, Inana. What are you guys doing out here?”

  Inana exchanged a glance with Paul. “I’m guessing the same thing you guys are doing. The stones and the temple?”

  Paul nodded.

  “How many of the stones do you have?” Inana asked.

  “Just one,” Paul replied. “Figured you or Gabriel would have the other two.”

  Inana shook her head. “Just one. I even checked our tent before we headed over. Gabe doesn’t have the third.”

  Paul gave her a sideways look, “But I thought Gabriel took one to go over himself?”

  “He told me the other night he was done with it, and was going over to put it back in the work tent.”

  “Then the looters must have gotten it,” Paul said, a resigned tone to his voice. “We’re dead.”

  “Take it easy. Corsi’s gone off to get Vale and track them down,” Carol said.

  “What do we do until they get back?” Sonya asked. “I’m not exactly thrilled with the notion of staying here.”

  “Where is Gabriel, anyway?” Paul asked, a sudden concern in his voice. “He discovered this temple. He knows it better than any of us.”

  “When I went to our tent, he was out like a light,” Inana said. “I couldn’t wake him. I’m not sure if it’s the hallucinations getting to him like they have Jean-Luc, or if it’s just that he’s exhausted. As soon as Sarjenka has a moment, I’d appreciate it if she took a look at him.”

  Sonya gave a curt nod. “I’ll make sure she does.”

  “Come on, then,” Inana said, hefting one of the machetes in her hand. “We’ve got a temple to check out.”

  CHAPTER

  2

  Okay, we turned right here, so I need to go left…

  Domenica Corsi cursed as yet another tree branch whipped her in the face. She was really beginning to hate the trees on Icaria Prime.

  Then again, she was really beginning to just hate Icaria Prime.

  Aiming her palm beacon ahead of her at a height that would allow her to see both the path she was walking and any more errant branches, she pressed onward back toward the archaeologists’ campsite. Just for her own sanity, she held her phaser—set to stun, to be safe—in her free hand. She knew full well it wouldn’t work, but it still made her feel better. She’d heard more than a few growls from indigenous life-forms in the distance. The last thing she needed was to get attacked by some bizarre alien animal.

  Dank, miserable, depressing place. I’ll bet the Letheans had nothing to do with wiping the Gretharans out. They probably killed themselves if they couldn’t get off this rock. Where the hell’s Vale, anyway?

  No sooner had the thought crossed her mind than the light of another palm beacon crossed her path. Corsi pulled the phaser up to bear, until she saw the familiar yellow tunic and auburn hair of Christine Vale. “Christine?”

  Vale sounded relieved. “Domenica. What are you doing out here?”

  That stopped Corsi in her tracks. “You don’t remember?” she asked, raising the palm beacon to shine just over Vale’s head. It was just enough light to see Vale’s face, but not blind the woman. Christine looked pale, too pale. “How are you feeling?”

  “Little bit of a headache, but fine,” Vale said, holding her free hand up to block some of the light. “Why?”

  Corsi’s brow furrowed. Vale had been firmly in the grip of a hallucination when Corsi had first found her standing stock-still outside one of the archaeologists’ tents, almost as though she’d been waiting for a turbolift to arrive. Then she’d snapped out of it and left. It had all been just a little too weird for her taste. Weird, and suspicious. “Nothing,” she said, trying to hide her concern, “I need your help.”

  It was Vale’s turn to look surprised. “You need my help? Okay, now I know there’s something you’re not telling me.”

  “It’s nothing to worry about,” Corsi said. “At least, I don’t think it is yet. Do you remember the looters hitting the camp?”

  Vale’s lips pursed. “Yeah
. We managed to fight them off, why?”

  One blond eyebrow rose. “Not before they got what they came for.”

  “That can’t be. We took an inventory after they were gone.”

  “Somebody missed this one,” Corsi said. “Do you remember three stone balls, roughly this big?” She held out her hands, fingers curled as though they were cupping a ball roughly the size of her fist. “Each one had—”

  “Glyphs all over them,” Vale finished. “Yeah. They checked out. One was in the work tent, one was in storage for Doctor Cunningham to study, and the third was in Professor Collins’s possession.”

  Corsi pulled Vale along as they headed back through the dense forest. “Well, either the looters got it, and Collins lied, or he’s gone off with it. It’s not there anymore. What direction did the looters head for when you drove them out?”

  “South,” Vale said after a moment’s thought. “There’s a small town about three kilometers south of here. It’s not Pibroch City or San Francisco, but it’s civilization.”

  Corsi pulled a good old-fashioned compass out of her pack. The needle declined to make up its mind as to what magnetic north was on this planet. Great, just what I need. A planet with an attitude problem.

  “That won’t work very well,” Vale said. “Magnetic north is weird here. It moves more than Earth’s does. I know how to get there, I think.”

  “You think?”

  Vale winced, and placed the fingers of her right hand against her temples. “Yeah.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Just starting to get a headache.”

  “You sure about that?”

  Vale took an unsteady step. “Yeah, I think so.”

  “Are you armed?”

  The light from Vale’s palm beacon went to the belt at her waist. Corsi could see a machete as well as a couple of smaller blades hanging from it. “Okay,” she said, “answers that question. Not a phaser rifle, but it’ll do. Let’s stop back at the camp, grab some more blades, and make these idiots regret they crossed our path.”