（外文电子版资料）STAR TREK - SCE - 03 - Hard cash.pdf

STAR TREK S.C.E HARD CRASH By Christie Golden Our communication system appears to be damaged. I am receiving no response from you. Jaldark, please come in. You need to effect repairs so that we can communicate. Jaldark, please come in. Jaldark, respond. Please. Tlaimon Kassant sipped a cup of hot jiksn. He had the late shift, the solitary shift, and he liked it that way. His people were known for their close-knit bonds and love of socialization, but Tlaimon was considered unusual in that he preferred his own company for a few hours every day. He considered his oddity a boon as he was paid twice for being willing to go the entire night by himself. Most Intarians liked to work in huddled groups. All alone for the night. What a pleasant thing. Easy job, too; watching the monitor for things that seldom happened. Most ships communicated their arrival long before they showed up on the monitor. They were always eager to get to Intar. It wasnt as well known in the quadrant as Risa, admittedly, but then, what planet was? Tlaimon stretched the retractable tentacles that served the Intarians for arms and lazily brought his multifaceted-eyed gaze toward the screen. The cup of jiksn fell to the padded floor unheeded and bounced twice. Its contents formed a pool of sticky lavender fluid. Tlaimon swore a deep oath under his breath while his two hearts raced with fear at what the screen revealed. Something large was approaching the city from space. It was several million kilometers away, but it was closing fast. Too fast for comfort. He adjusted the controls swiftly, his tentacles more deft than any humanoids clumsy digits. Tlaimon could see the outline now. A ship of some kind, though the computer kept flashing that most frustrating of words, Unknown, on the screen. It was long and spiky and promised destruction if it continued on its trajectory. Tlaimon quickly hit the button that would translate his message in every language known to the Federation.