A Call to Darkness - Michael Jan Friedman [22]
“Of course,” Pulaski went on, “that’s just in this part of the ship. Conditions might be radically different elsewhere, so let’s not get lax.”
“I second that,” said Picard, remembering his pledge to Riker. He could still feel the heat of his first officer’s glare back there in the lounge.
They all watched as a fifth member of the party took on substance. Geordi’s VISOR was unmistakable, even before the molecular stabilization process was complete.
The Klingon tapped the communicator beneath his containment suit. “Lieutenant Worf to transporter room. You may beam down the remainder of the team as a group.”
The answer was somewhat garbled, thanks to the blanketing effect of the energy field. But a moment later, the transporter chief indicated his understanding another way: by depositing the last three members of the team in the space between Pulaski and Geordi.
“All right,” said the captain, as each of them got his or her bearings. “Lieutenant La Forge, you and your people will inspect the engineering section. Start with the engines; after that, life-support and whatever else you have time for. Lieutenant Worf, take Mister Palazzo and search Deck Two-laboratories, cargo areas, sickbay. Doctor Pulaski and Mister Badnajian will investigate personal quarters.”
Worf looked at him. “And you, sir?”
“The bridge,” said Picard. “I’m going to see if I can wring anything out of ship’s computer.”
The Klingon scowled but didn’t protest. No doubt, he knew it would do him no good.
“Questions?” asked the captain. There weren’t any. “Then let’s get cracking.”
Riker was starting to get antsy. As much as he understood and sympathized with Picard’s motives in this case, he couldn’t help but feel that his place was with the away team.
Don’t be a mother hen, he told himself. They’re all big boys and girls. They can take care of themselves.
Then again, the crew of the Mendel had been a capable bunch as well. And look what had happened to them.
What was worse, he couldn’t even keep tabs on the away team through the monitoring function of their communicators. Thanks to the energy field, the signals were weak and sometimes disappeared altogether.
“Mister Fong,” said Riker. “Contact the captain for me.”
“Aye, sir.”
A moment later, Picard’s distinctive voice broke like a wave over the calm of the bridge. The considerable static caused by the energy mantle rendered it necessary to turn up the volume-making the captain sound even more commanding than usual.
“Can you hear me?” asked the first officer.
“Barely, Number One. Is something wrong?”
“I just wanted to know how things were going.” Even as he said it, Riker realized how foolish it sounded. “Anything I should know about?”
A pause. “Nothing yet. However, I’m on my way to the bridge now. Perhaps I’ll find something there.”
“You’re alone, sir?”
Picard confirmed that he was, indeed, alone. “We’ve split up,” he explained, “to go over the ship more quickly.”
Of course. That’s what Riker would have done in the captain’s place. But the idea still made the hairs on the back of his neck prickle a bit.
“Objections, Number One?”
“No,” said the first officer, feeling the heat climb into his face. “Carry on, sir.”
He had barely uttered the last word when the connection died. Just like that-no sign-off on Picard’s part, as custom and courtesy dictated.
Was it the captain’s way of telling him he was getting in the way? Maybe-though Picard was usually the model of Starfleet etiquette.
More likely, the energy field had become particularly unruly at that moment. Yes, he decided. That had to be it.
In any case, he’d found out what he wanted to know. There was no point in reestablishing contact-and making himself an even bigger pain in the butt.
Since the moment she’d set foot in the transporter room, something had been gnawing at Pulaski. She’d done her best to concentrate on the task at hand, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d left some job undone. Forgotten something-something important.
The feeling plagued her as she