“ARE YOU CALLING ME A LIAR, CAPTAIN?”

Nassir, unmoved by the Klingon’s display of indignation, replied in a calm, even voice, “I don’t believe that’s what I said, Commander. What I requested was the record you or someone else surely sent to your superiors, who in turn would have relayed that information to your diplomatic envoys for transmittal to their counterparts within our Federation Diplomatic Corps. This procedure was put into place when it became apparent that both our governments expressed interest in exploring the Taurus Reach, so that incidents such as this apparent and unfortunate miscommunication might be avoided.”

Standing at the rear of the bridge, Terrell forced himself not to smile. The captain was known for his enjoyment of spirited debate on a vast array of topics, and relished laying oratorical traps for any opponent foolish enough to accept his challenge.

“Somehow,” Terrell whispered, his words audible only to Theriault, “I don’t think this guy’s in the mood for cunning wordplay.” A quick look over the shoulder of Lieutenant Commander Bridget McLellan at the information displayed on her tactical console told him that both the Sagittariusand the Klingon scout ship had raised their defensive shields, but he felt a twinge in his gut as he noted that only the enemy vessel’s weapons were powered.

I hate when that happens.

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Cover design by Alan Dingman

Cover art by Doug Drexler; station design by Masao Okazaki;

Ptolemy-class design by Franz Joseph

Manufactured in the United States of America

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ISBN 978-1-4516-0691-1

ISBN 978-1-4516-0698-0 (ebook)

ALMOST TOMORROW

Dayton Ward

For Addison and Erin:

You always make me look forward to tomorrow.

HISTORIAN’S NOTE

The events of this story take place in early 2265, several months prior to the completion of Starbase 47’s construction and the station’s being declared fully operational ( Star Trek Vanguard: Harbinger; Star Trek: Corps of Engineers—Distant Early Warning), and before the U.S.S. Enterprise’s first voyage to the edge of our galaxy (“Where No Man Has Gone Before”).

THE TAURUS REACH

2265

1

Commander Clark Terrell stepped onto the bridge of the U.S.S. Sagittarius,pausing at the entrance to take stock of the situation before him. Doing so took only a moment, as the Archer-class scout’s command center was smaller than the room Terrell had shared with two other cadets at Starfleet Academy more than a decade earlier. Of course, the bridge was more tastefully appointed.

And it definitely smells better.

Sitting in the command chair, which along with the tactical station was situated at the center of the compact bridge, Captain Adelard Nassir turned to regard his first officer with a deadpan expression. “What took you so long?”

“I got lost,” Terrell replied as he stepped away from the door and allowed it to close behind him. “You know, that joke doesn’t get any funnier the more you try it.” Given the size of the Sagittarius,one could travel between any two compartments in under a minute, and that included any movement requiring the use of either of the three ladders connecting the ship’s three decks. Terrell’s cabin was next to the bridge, along the port bow. He could traverse the distance in seconds should an emergency situation present itself, but the first officer otherwise preferred to spend a few minutes making a circuit of the ship’s interiors before reporting to the bridge for his assigned duty shift.

Nassir asked, “But you know I’m just going to keep trying it, don’t you?”

“At least until someone throws you out the airlock,” Terrell countered, stepping farther onto the bridge and pushing up the sleeves of his olive drab jumpsuit—the standard duty uniform worn, without rank or other insignia, by every member of the Sagittariuscrew.

Eyeing the first officer as he drew abreast of the command chair, Nassir chuckled. “I assume that was said with all due respect?”

“Oh, absolutely, sir,” Terrell replied. “You’ve even got my word as an officer that I promise to salute when I push the jettison button.”

Nassir nodded. “See that you do.” Despite the Deltan’s bald pate, fair complexion, and slight build, the captain carried himself with the confidence of an experienced leader who harbored no doubts as to his authority. Though he had little use for the pomp and circumstance that so characterized much of Starfleet’s various protocols and regulations, when the situation called for it Nassir could be the very model of by-the-book efficiency and expertise. Terrell knew that it was the captain’s easy willingness to toss that book when a situation warranted such action that endeared him to subordinates and superior officers alike. Even Commodore Reyes, the commanding officer of the starbase to which the Sagittariuscurrently was assigned, not only respected Nassir’s unorthodox leadership style but welcomed it, giving the captain whatever latitude he needed to carry out his mission.

Terrell moved to take up a position next to Ensign Vanessa Theriault, who sat at the bridge’s science station. Studying the image of the lush, green world that dominated the upper third of the main viewscreen, slowly rotating from left to right as the ship maintained its high orbit, Terrell asked, “What’s the story?”

Looking up from her console, the young, red-headed officer said, “The story is that Traelus II may well be the proverbial gold mine.”

“Dilithium?” the first officer asked.

The science officer nodded enthusiastically. “Dilithium, pergium, rodinium. This planet’s a buffet.”

“That’ll make the folks back home happy,” Terrell said.

Rising from his seat, Nassir moved to stand to Theriault’s left, opposite Terrell. “Or, it might just give them all bellyaches.” He shook his head. “Considering how close we are to Tholian space, you know Starfleet Command’s going to throw a fit when they hear about this.”