Free Star Trek: The Original Series: The More Things Change by Scott Pearson Page B

much as she could, taking her away from her patient. The situation just got worse and worse.
    Spock’s voice crackled over the intercom. “May I enter?” Chapel flinched, startled.
    Great, now what? “I’ll be there in a second.” She turned off the monitor so that Spock wouldn’t see the brainwaves and went to the door. Spock was standing patiently in the cockpit, outside the area that would trigger the door to open. His calm demeanor made her feel better, but it didn’t change the facts of their situation. “Commissioner Dax has had a setback. I think it’s because of the electromagnetic field. We need to move fast.”
    “I concur. But I need to use the crawlspace in the aft cabin. My access from this side is hampered by the emergency sealant you had to use. It would be best if you remained in the cockpit to monitor hazards in our orbit.”
    “But what am I supposed to do about them? I’m a doctor, not a shuttle pilot.” I can’t believe I just said that. Too many years serving with Leonard. She was grateful Spock let the use of the phrase pass without comment.
    “I trust you will do your best. Our extremely limited options leave us little choice.”
    Chapel sighed and checked Dax’s vitals one more time with a tricorder. There was no change. Dax was essentially stable aside from the weakening bond. Chapel linked the bed’s diagnostic systems to her tricorder so she could easily monitor Dax’s condition from the cockpit, then left the aft cabin.
    Spock briefed her on the displays. The short-range sensors and navigation systems were working and largely automated. Anything that crossed their orbit would be indicated on the tactical display, along with automatic minor course corrections. If the situation got complicated, the navigation computer would present her with course options, and she would have to make a judgment call, as Spock would be unable to break away from his repairs. However, if something really unexpected happened, requiring significant manual adjustments, Spock would return as quickly as he could.
    “That’s a lot of ifs , but we just need to get through this.” She looked back up at Spock. With a smile, she added, “What are you waiting for? Get to work.”
    He tipped his head. “Aye, aye, sir.” He entered the aft cabin, locking the door open.
    She watched him for a moment as he lifted an access panel in the center of the deck and kneeled beside it, considering his next step. But then she had to turn away as an alert tone sounded from the pilot’s controls. The display indicated in red an asteroid about the size of a briefing-room table tumbling toward their orbital path. The nav computer made a course alteration so minute Chapel could feel no change, but the tactical display of the asteroid turned green. With that taken care of, she took a look at the tricorder, which she had placed nearby on the console. Her patient was stable. Chapel could only hope that things continued like this.
    Time stretched out as the Copernicus orbited the planet. The sounds of Spock’s work were reassuring—soft tapping, the electronic tones of diagnostic scans, the hum of systems coming back to life. Even when something went wrong, with the lights flickering or a screech of metal on metal, there was no outburst of angry profanity—as she so often heard from McCoy in the lab—but instead, at most, a deep sigh and then more quiet sounds as Spock redoubled his efforts.
    She was grateful for that quiet, productive atmosphere, which helped her through her increasingly difficult assignment in the cockpit. More and more small rocks pinged against their shields. Every impact caused a flash on her readouts, which in turn caused her to flinch. She would have turned off that display, but often a burst of small impacts indicated a larger, more dangerous asteroid on its way, and she appreciated the additional warning.
    The instrument feedback was bad enough, but when those small impacts were against the forward