Star Trek: The Next Generation: Starfleet Academy #6: Mystery of the Missing Crew by Michael Jan Friedman Page A

comrades to us.”
    The leathery bulges seemed to contract and then enlarge again, though not all at the same time. “If you mean us no harm, as you claim, what are you doing here?”
    “We were simply passing through this sector,” the android explained. “We did not know that we would be disturbing anyone by doing so.”
    “And your assault on our field?” asked S’rannit.
    “We had no way to contact you … to initiate a dialogue. By attacking your field, we hoped to prod you into communicating with us.”
    The alien made the sort of noises that humans made when something was stuck in their throats. However, he—or was it she ?—displayed no signs of discomfort. The android got the distinct impression that S’rannit found some small degree of humor in the situation.
    “Obviously,” noted the alien, “you were successful in your efforts to encourage communication. That was quite clever of you.”
    Again, the bulges of S’rannit’s face seemed to shrink and expand. If Data was correct in his interpretation of what that meant, the alien had assumed a more serious demeanor again.
    For a while—a full minute, perhaps—there was silence on S’rannit’s part. The Yann began to get fidgety, to whisper among themselves. But the android didn’t say anything. He just returned the alien’s scrutiny and waited.
    Finally S’rannit spoke again. “We have decided to comply with your request and return your comrades … as well as those of the Opsarra. Unfortunately, our civilization has had much contact with aggressors in the recent past, which is why we created the defense field in the first place. However, our experience has been that truly warlike races seldom try to recover their vanished comrades. They simply desist and look for easier prey.”
    Data felt Sinna grab his arm. “We did it,” she breathed, careful to keep her voice from being heard by the T’chakat.
    But S’rannit seemed to hear her anyway. Apparently, his or her auditory sense was more acute than that of the Yann.
    “Yes,” the alien. agreed. “You accomplished your objective. However, we require that you—and the Opsarra as well—withdraw from this area as soon as your crews have been restored to you.”
    “I regret to inform you,” said the android, “that we cannot do that. You see, both our vessel and that of the Opsarra are in immediate need of repairs as a result of our encounters with your field—and in both cases, one of the systems that has malfunctioned is the one which propels us through space.”
    Again, S’rannit made that gagging noise. This time Data was certain that it bore a close kinship to laughter.
    “Very well,” responded the alien. “You will be granted a reasonable amount of time to effect the necessary repairs. What is more, we are discharging power from our field into your ship’s batteries, since we see now that you expended your reserves with your bold maneuver. But when you are again capable of interstellar flight, you must leave us and promise never to return.”
    “I agree to your most generous terms,” the android declared. “What is more, I believe my Opsarran counterpart will agree to them as well.”
    “Good,” said S’rannit. “Then we have an understanding.”
    In the next moment his face—or could it have been her face?—disappeared from the viewscreen in a flash of light, leaving in its wake the collection of Opsarran graphics that had been there previously.
    Data looked back at Lagon, Odril, and Felai, who seemed to have clustered in one spot behind him. The Yann looked back.
    “They said they would return our crew,” Felai reminded the android. “So where are—”
    Before he could complete his query, the bridge was bathed in a blue-white radiance that even Data had to flinch from. When it subsided, the place was full of people in Starfleet uniforms.

    The bridge crew had been restored. And not just the bridge crew, the android guessed, but every officer on the ship … as if