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Miasma
Miasma
Miasma
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Miasma

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Star Trek continues its fiftieth anniversary celebration in 2016 with an all-new enovella from New York Times bestselling author Greg Cox, set in the popular and blockbuster Original Series era!

The Enterprise-A is transporting a party of diplomats when it picks up a mysterious alien signal emanating from a nearby world. The planet’s dense, impenetrable atmosphere makes it unclear if the beacon is a distress signal, an invitation—or a warning to stay away. Spock, Doctor McCoy, and Chekov are part of a team sent to investigate, but an unexpected catastrophe forces a crash landing. Now the landing party is stranded on a hostile world, unable to communicate with the Enterprise. While Captain Kirk and Saavik race to locate the lost crew, a badly wounded Spock struggles to keep McCoy and the others alive until they can be rescued, even if that means making an unthinkable sacrifice...

™, ®, & © 2016 CBS Studios, Inc. STAR TREK and related marks are trademarks of CBS Studios, Inc. All Rights Reserved.
LanguageEnglish
Release dateFeb 22, 2016
ISBN9781501125317
Miasma
Author

Greg Cox

Greg Cox is the New York Times bestselling author of numerous Star Trek novels and short stories. He has also written the official movie novelizations of War for the Planet of the Apes, Godzilla, Man of Steel, The Dark Knight Rises, Daredevil, Ghost Rider, and the first three Underworld movies, as well as books and stories based on such popular series as Alias, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, CSI, Farscape, The 4400, Leverage, The Librarians, Roswell, Terminator, Warehouse 13, Xena: Warrior Princess, and Zorro. He has received three Scribe Awards from the International Association of Media Tie-In Writers, as well as the Faust Award for Life Achievement. He lives in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. Visit him at GregCox-Author.com. 

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    Book preview

    Miasma - Greg Cox

    One

    Captain’s Log, Stardate 8715.3.

    The Enterprise is transporting a shipload of Federation diplomats to an important conference on Musgrave IV. Although many pressing issues and negotiations await the diplomats, I do not anticipate any serious difficulties or ­complications en route to the meeting. Then again, if nearly four decades in Starfleet have taught me anything, it’s that you never know what might be just beyond the next star.

    Captain on the bridge!

    A yeoman announced James T. Kirk’s arrival as the captain strode onto the bridge, still decked out in his best red dress uniform. He had been hosting a luncheon with the ship’s distinguished guests when he’d been alerted that his presence was requested on the bridge. To be honest, he’d been grateful for the excuse to make an early exit; one could listen to only so much veiled bickering about interstellar tariffs and arcane jurisdictional disputes before a full-scale Klingon invasion would seem a welcome distraction.

    Report, Mister Spock? he asked crisply.

    The Vulcan surrendered the captain’s chair to Kirk. My apologies for interrupting you, Captain, but—

    No apologies needed, Kirk said, cutting him off. Trust me.

    Spock nodded in understanding. Be that as it may, Commander Uhura has picked up what appears to be an alien signal originating from a nearby star system.

    What kind of signal? Kirk asked, turning toward Uhura.

    Uncertain, Captain, she reported from her communications station. I’m detecting a good deal of interference from the source of the transmission, making it difficult to translate. It’s not in any language known to the Federation, but the repetitive nature of the signal, which keeps cycling over and over again, suggests that it’s both artificial and automated. She fiddled with her earpiece. I’m trying to clean up the signal so the Universal Translator will have more to work with, but it’s going to take some time.

    Understood, Kirk said. Keep at it.

    Aye, sir, she replied.

    Kirk had no doubt that Uhura would be able to decipher the transmission eventually; she was the best and most experienced communications officer in the fleet. But in the meantime his curiosity was piqued. An unknown language implied a possible first-contact scenario, a prospect that still got his juices flowing even after all these years. Encountering new life and civilizations was Starfleet’s first and foremost mission.

    So what could we be dealing with here? he said, thinking aloud. A distress signal? A greeting? An invitation?

    A no-trespassing sign? Chekov added from the nav station in front of Kirk. Or a lure?

    Always possibilities, Kirk conceded. As Chekov was both navigator and security chief these days, Kirk could not fault the Russian for raising the possibility that the signal’s message might not be a friendly one. Kirk glanced over at Spock, who had returned to his customary post at the main science station. What’s your take on this, Spock?

    Impossible to formulate without sufficient data. The Vulcan consulted a display at his terminal. The signal appears to be emanating from the second planet in the Varba system, approximately 6.74 light-years from our present location.

    I’m not familiar with that system, Kirk admitted.

    There is little reason you should be. Spock looked up. An unmanned probe, several decades ago, detected no evidence of sentient life in the system, which remains largely unexplored.

    Kirk could believe it. The galaxy was a big place, and this quadrant alone still held vast stretches of uncharted space. Even a lifetime spent traversing the cosmos was not enough to see all the worlds and wonders out here on the final frontier.

    Not that he didn’t intend to give it his best shot.

    How long to the Varba system? he asked.

    Spock had already performed the calculations. Approximately 7.92 hours at warp 6.

    May I remind you, Captain, Saavik said from the helm, "that the Enterprise is expected at Musgrave IV?"

    The young Vulcan lieutenant had recently rejoined the crew, replacing Sulu as helmsman after the latter’s promotion to captain of the Excelsior. Kirk missed Sulu, but he was glad to have Saavik back aboard and as ready to speak her mind as ever. He appreciated her direct, forthright manner.

    Duly noted, Lieutenant, he replied. But, with all due respect to the diplomatic branch of the service, I’m reluctant to let a routine mission ferrying bureaucrats from Point A to Point B get in the way of investigating a signal from an unknown alien species.

    I am inclined to agree, Captain, Spock said. The impending conference on Musgrave IV is significant, but it is not of paramount importance. Wars will not ensue if our arrival is somewhat delayed, depending on what we may, or may not, discover in the Varba system.

    We might even be able to make up some of the lost time, sir, Saavik volunteered, if we increase our current speed and are willing to push the ship’s engines to a degree.

    Don’t let Mister Scott hear you say that, Lieutenant, Kirk advised her, grateful that Scotty was presently minding the store in engineering. "But you have a point. We have a new and improved Enterprise on our hands and our engines are in tip-top shape, or so Scotty keeps telling me. We can probably lead-foot it if we have to."

    Saavik gave him a quizzical look. Lead-foot?

    An archaic human idiom, Spock explained, referring to primitive land vehicles powered by internal combustion engines. A hint of a smile lifted his lips. I can testify from bumpy experience that the captain does indeed have a lead foot on occasion.

    Kirk caught the joking allusion to their adventure on Iotia decades before and Kirk’s own initially clumsy attempts to master driving an old-fashioned automobile. I got the hang of it eventually, he thought defensively. More or less.

    I see, Saavik said, raising an eyebrow.

    Kirk smiled. Saavik took after her Vulcan mentor in many ways. The captain felt certain that she would be thoroughly versed on the topic the next time it came up.

    Any indication as to how old that signal is? he asked, getting back to the matter at hand. Or how long it’s been cycling?

    I’m afraid not, Captain, Uhura said. At least not yet.

    In other words, it could be an urgent distress signal . . . or it could wait until later?

    An accurate assessment, Spock said. We also have no idea of how long the signal will continue to be transmitted. He looked over to the captain, a pensive expression on his face. It would be a great loss if the unknown beings responsible for the signal perished or simply relocated before we had an opportunity to investigate.

    A loss indeed, Kirk said, making up his mind. For all they knew, the signal demanded a prompt response. Mister Chekov, plot a detour to the Varba system.

    Aye, sir, Chekov said.

    Kirk rose from his seat and headed for the starboard turbolift. Mister Spock, the bridge is yours. I need to inform our passengers that there will be a slight delay in their travel plans. He winced in anticipation. Wish me luck.

    Vulcans do not believe in luck, Spock said wryly, although our own exploits are often compelling evidence to the contrary.

    Kirk paused before the open lift door, in no hurry to face a shipload of unhappy diplomats. He expected the Troyian ambassador to be particularly difficult. Are you implying that we’ve been getting by on dumb luck all these years?

    Not at all, Spock replied. Merely that you have demonstrated a notable talent for beating the odds.

    Kirk liked the sound of that. "Well, let’s hope that talent holds out when we

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