Scotty's Song

After his fourth straight night without sleep, Montgomery Scott could hear the music throbbing in his bones and echoing in his ears. It filled his chest with both sorrow and the too-familiar tightness of unrelenting stress. The recorded song, piped into the makeshift operations center Scotty had set up in the Enterprise's cargo bay, rose to a sudden crescendo. He looked up from the mess of sensors, gauges, and readouts in the cargo bay and fervently wished he were somewhere else.

The big engineer touched the wall of transparent aluminum in front of him, the material stretched to the point of breaking. If only the song playing now was the real thing, he thought. If only I could figure out what was making their life signs fade. If only I had some kind of song I could play for them to make their own songs return. But I've got nothing.

George and Gracie were dying, and there was nothing Scotty could do to stop it.

His problems began almost as soon as the Enterprise 1701-A had docked after its maiden joyride. Just moments earlier they had been warping through space, stars blurred through the viewscreen. Scotty had to admit that he'd had a blast along with the others when the Captain had taken the ship for a spin. Just like old times.

"She showed us what she's got, all right," Scotty muttered with a grin, on his way to the Engine Room. He was looking for his new recruit, Ensign Coletti. In typical Federation style, the builders of the new ship had spared no expense in installing the finest, most efficient warp drive into the heart of the Enterprise, along with the most beautiful hull he'd ever seen. But while Federation engineers had gotten those two things right - a wondrous engine and a sleek body - they'd more or less forgotten everything else. Scotty was in charge of the fastest, most technically advanced ship in Starfleet, but he'd be damned if he could get the turbolift to take him where he'd commanded it, or get the circadian lighting system to follow a standard twenty-four hour day. He was having trouble sleeping as a result, and just this morning his shower had refused to function. With a To-Do list bigger than his arm and growing by the second, Scotty was tired, slightly stale smelling, and happier than he could remember.

When he finally found the new Engine Room, after two wrong turns, he was ready to begin teaching his ensign - the only other engineer on the skeleton crew in space dock above Earth - how to recalibrate the system dampeners. After only five minutes of enthusiastic lecturing, his lesson was interrupted by a call from Dr. Gillian Taylor. Ensign Coletti was visibly relieved.

"Why lassie!" Scotty said, a smile lighting up his face as he called up her visual on the Engine Room's viewscreen. He kept an eye on Ensign Coletti, working at the dampeners, while he spoke. "I thought you'd be on the other side of the galaxy, studying new life forms on that science vessel of yours."

"I was, actually," Gillian said. She was standing in front of a choppy ocean under a cloudy sky, the image slowly swaying up and down. In the water behind her, all sizes of boats had gathered together, filled with onlookers crowding together. "But I missed my babies so much I took a three-month sabbatical. And I wanted to see if-"

"Not that one!" Scotty screamed, his brogue thickening. Coletti's hand froze above the dampener board. "Do ye want to blow the ship's entire life support systems? Green is go, yellow means no. How many times do I have to tell ye? I canna believe--"

"Scotty!" Gillian shouted.

He cleared his throat and turned back to the viewscreen. "Sorry, lassie. Just doing some, ah, training, up here. Our new ship is less than satisfactory."

"Scotty. We have a serious problem here on Earth. Is Jim there? I need his help, and probably Spock's as well."

"Captain's off at the Academy lecturing, and Spock's at Federation headquarters. They're both scheduled for shore leave in four days, so the bosses are getting all the work out of them they can before they leave for Wyoming." Scotty stood, fumbling absently with the tools in his belt. "What is it? There's not something wrong with the beasties, is there?"

After a long pause, Gillian spoke again. "There is. They've contracted some kind of disease, and as a result, they've attracted a massive crowd here in the Pacific. Every environmentalist and ecologist is out trying to figure out what's wrong with George and Gracie. It's a madhouse." The visual on the viewscreen switched to an external view from Gillian's boat.

Scotty watched, feeling a slight sense of nausea at the rocking of the Pacific. He didn't see a whale, but he did see close to thirty boats of all sizes filling the viewscreen. As he watched, a sailboat ran into a yacht, threatening to capsized the smaller vessel. The visual flickered into black and white for a moment, then returned to normal after a quick blow from Scotty's hand.

The largest ship was an ancient Greenpeace vessel with an equally ancient "Save the Whales" banner fluttering from its side.

Then, in the midst of the boats of well-wishers, Scotty saw the whale.

Continued...

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What the critics said about "Scotty's Song":

"'Scotty's Song' starts in a classic story fashion as well. Character, with a problem (no sleep) in a setting. And as the first short section is done, we know the problem isn't just Scott's lack of sleep, but the reason why he isn't sleeping, and the reader is hooked. Clear writing, done to the point, makes the opening of this story work perfectly."
— Dean Wesley Smith, series editor