Free The Folded World by Jeff Mariotte Page A

roll stopped and floated, bringing some of it back to where it could bump into the passengers. Kirk saw a tricorder heading toward him, and wondered who hadn’t secured it.
    â€œIt’s been a hell of a long time since I’ve been airsick,” McCoy said through clenched teeth. “But this trip just might do it.”
    Kirk glanced over at Spock. Through his helmet, the Vulcan’s flesh looked pale, his lips were clamped shut, his eyebrows arched.
    â€œ. . . Kirk  . . . read me? ” Scotty’s voice demanded. Most of the transmission was lost to static.
    â€œScotty!” Kirk called. “We’re experiencing some . . . turbulence. But the shuttle’s intact and we’re okay.”
    â€œ. . . cap  . . . jector  . . .”
    â€œNever mind that, Jim,” McCoy said. “He can’t hear you and we can’t hear him.”
    The doctor was right. And Kirk had other things to worry about. The shuttle’s interior lights flickered twice, then blinked out. At the same instant, the gentlebackground hum of its climate control system stilled. With it, the voices of the passengers went quiet.
    â€œAll systems are down, Captain,” Bunker said. “We’re dead in the water.”
    Everybody had an environmental suit on, so their temperature and oxygen needs would be met for a while—if those systems continued to work. If not . . . then coming into the dimensional fold was the mistake that many had believed it would be.
    â€œWe are on our own,” Spock said. “We cannot reach Mister Scott, nor can we warn the second shuttle to turn around.”
    â€œFull speed ahead,” Kirk said. Then he thought better of his response. “There must be a way to fix this.”
    â€œÂ â€˜Fixing’ it is beyond our capabilities,” Spock said. “The most we can do is hang on and hope.”
    â€œHope?” McCoy echoed. “That’s the best you’ve got?”
    â€œIt is the only option available to us at the moment, Doctor.”
    â€œBeing upset with each other isn’t going to help,” Kirk said. “And it’ll use up your oxygen faster.”
    â€œI know, Jim,” McCoy said. “Sorry, Spock.”
    â€œNo apology is required.”
    â€œOh, for Pete’s sake, you—”
    McCoy stopped in the middle of his sentence, because the shuttle shook as if it had just run into something solid. At the same instant, the interior lights returned, except— reversed was the only way Kirk could conceptualize it, like a negative image froman old photographic process. The light being emitted from the fixtures was black, the deepest shadows pure white. Every other surface was a shade of gray: light ones darker and dark ones lighter.
    And the shuttle began a reverse of its earlier roll. Halfway through, the artificial gravity kicked in. Floating objects began to fall toward the overhead. Kirk recognized the tricorder, and realized it was in the exact same position he had seen it before. The odds against that happening were astronomical, unless—
    The captain glanced at Bones and Spock. They were in precisely the same positions they had been before, their facial expressions identical. Even he was gripping the console in the exact same way.
    This was not like the earlier roll, in the opposite direction—this was the earlier roll, in reverse. They were reliving the moment, backward, with the only difference being his awareness of it.
    It couldn’t be happening.
    But—unless a lack of oxygen was causing him to hallucinate—it was.
    When the roll was finished, the lighting returned to normal, much to Kirk’s relief. Nearly everyone spoke at once, and Scotty’s voice blared from the speakers, still cut by static but not as completely obscured as before. “ canna read you, shut  . . . tain, are you