From the universe of
Star Trek The Next Generation®
Peter David's bestselling novels of Star Trek: New Frontier have been a genuine publishing phenomenon. Now the series hits a new landmark with the first original hardcover to chronicle the adventures of Captain Mackenzie Calhoun and the valiant crew of the U.S.S. Excalibur. But the latest chapter begins with the future of Calhoun and his mission very much in doubt....
The Excalibur has been destroyed, the victim of insidious sabotage. Last seen on board only moments before it was blown to bits, Captain Mackenzie Calhoun was assumed lost with his ship. Now First Officer Elizabeth Shelby has been granted a command of her own, the U.S.S. Exeter, where she will discover exactly what kind of a captain she is meant to become.
But what about Calhoun? Unbeknownst to Starfleet, the resourceful Xenexian officer escaped the cataclysmic demise of the Excalibur, only to end up marooned on the primitive outback world of Yakaba. There he eventually befriends Shula, a woman with the strange and inexplicable ability to summon rain for her parched and struggling frontier community.
Shula's powers, however, have made her the target of jealous and avaricious enemies. They will stop at nothing to seize control of her special gifts -- or destroy them forever. Trapped on a hostile world, unable to contact Starfleet or even let Shelby and the others know he is still alive, Calhoun is drawn into a life-or-death struggle against relentless foes.
Full of unexpected twists and surprises as only Peter David can devise them, Restoration is a major turning point in the ongoing saga of Star Trek®: New Frontier.
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Pocket Books/Star Trek
October 30, 2001
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Adobe DRM EPUB
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Excerpt from Star Trek: New Frontier: Excalibur #3: Restoration by Peter David
She knew he was coming before she even saw him.
It wasn't unusual for her to feel that he was approaching. Truth be known, most days she would get a cold feeling in the base of her spine. At those times, wherever she was -- whether it be doing chores in her run-down abode or standing on the cracked and arid plain that constituted what she laughingly referred to as her property -- she would stop what she was doing and wait to see if some sign of him appeared on the horizon.
Most times, it did not. On such occasions, the feeling would pass, and she would return to whatever it was that she had been doing. In short order, she would forget that she had felt any sense of dread at all.
This time, however, when she did see him making his approach, all those false alarms were naturally forgotten. Instead, all Rheela could think was, I knew it. I can always tell when he's coming. A gentle breeze was wafting across the plain, which was an unusual enough event in and of itself. She straightened the strands of green hair that were blowing in her face and turned back to the house. "House" might have been far too generous a term; it was not much more than a hut, although it was built of sturdy enough materials that it managed to keep the interior remarkably cool, despite the crushing heat. Just to provide a bit of style, she had even constructed a small porch on the front of the hut. She now sat on the edge of the porch, arranging her hands neatly in her lap and staring out at the emptiness of her land. Every so often, she would glance down at her hands, turning them over and studying them as if she was looking at someone else's hands. They were leathery and weather-beaten. When she had been a little girl, her skin had been so fair, so pale; but now it was such a dark brown that it seemed as if the sun had baked her as thoroughly as it had the land around her.
It was amazing, though, that the vegetation -- her crops -- was still fighting resiliently for life. They poked up through the cracks, green and brown cacti-like plants that seemed determined to ignore the untenable nature of their respective situations. They were going to need water, though, and very soon. It wasn't just her crop, either; she'd been hearing as much from other steaders as well. They spoke to her, as always, with that telltale look of annoyance and resentment, even as they talked wistfully of the rain that was needed in order to salvage their crops.
She looked to the sky, trying to feel the moisture in the air, in her bones. Nothing was forthcoming. But she could have sworn that the intensity of the heat was growing, rolling in waves off the land. Not for the first time, she felt a sense of vague despair. She didn't simply reside on the world of Yakaba. She fought it. She struggled with it every single day, the way that a germ cell would battle the white blood cells that strove to kill it. It wasn't her favorite analogy, though, because that, in essence, made her the infection, and she didn't fancy thinking of herself in that way. But perhaps that was how the planet thought of her.
The wind was picking up, and she heard a distant rolling. Although she continued to sit on the porch, still she shielded her eyes with one leathery hand while studying the horizon line. Ironically, she knew what she was going to see before she actually saw it. Sure enough, there he was: Tapinza.