A Call to Darkness - Michael Jan Friedman [26]
It wasn’t a reassuring thought. The idea of the ship being caught like an insect in a spider’s web…
No doubt, Riker had considered that possibility-and decided it was a risk worth taking. So far, circumstances had yet to prove him wrong.
“Eighty kilometers,” called Data.
“The burden on the shields is increasing,” Fong reported. “At this point, it’s a geometric progression. But we’ve still got everything under control.”
“Good,” said Riker. “Let’s keep it that way.”
Where was the Klah’kimmbri response? Surely, by now, they would have noted the ship’s approach.
Or had they recognized the move for the bluff that it was? And decided to maintain communications silence?
From where Troi sat, she could see the muscles in Riker’s jaw rippling now beneath his beard. Was that what he was thinking too?
“Sixty kilometers,” said Data. “We have reached the safety threshold.”
“Shields are buckling,” warned Fong. “The friction is too much.” And then, almost in the same breath, “Shield Number One is gone, sir.”
Riker’s eyes took on a noticeably harder cast. He shifted in his seat. “Continue to descend,” he ordered. “Maintain speed.”
Not one of them balked. They continued to do their jobs as if nothing unusual were going on. As if there were no danger at all.
Troi herself resisted glancing at the first officer. She looked straight ahead, her hands composed in her lap-the picture of confidence, even if her feelings were in direct contrast.
“Come on,” said Riker. “Come out from under your rock, you slimy-“
“Shield Number Two is gone,” said Fong. “The hull is beginning to heat up, sir.”
“Fifty kilometers,” noted Data. “Still no break in the energy field.”
Was it Troi’s imagination, or was the bridge starting to feel warm? She could feel the perspiration beading up on her brow.
“Forty-five kilometers,” marked the android. “And-“
“All right,” Riker cut in. “That’s enough. Arrest descent, Data. Take her back up.”
It wasn’t an order that had come easy to him, Troi knew. But what choice did he have?
“Descent arrested, sir. Preparing to-“
“Commander!” cried Fong. “I’m receiving a hailing signal-from the planet’s surface.”
Riker pounded his fist on his armrest. Triumph, the empath told herself. Standing, the first officer turned to address Fong.
“Can we maintain this position?” he asked the security officer.
Fong frowned. “For a little while-but not long. We’re down to our last shield. And if the Klah’kimmbri should decide to fire on us-“
He was interrupted by a disembodied intercom voice. After a moment, Troi recognized it as Modiano’s.
“The engines are laboring pretty badly, sir. If we don’t get out of here soon, we may not get out of here at all.”
“Noted,” said Riker. “Nurse them just a little longer, Mister Modiano.” Then, to Fong: “Answer their hail. Let’s see what these Klah’kimmbri have to say for themselves.”
“This is the High Council of A’klah,” said one of the seven enthroned figures. “Who dares disturb our perfect peace?”
Riker, standing before the viewscreen, was prepared with a response. But before he could bring himself to say the words, he was struck by the Council’s appearance. With those narrow faces, that pale skin and those golden eyes, they were dead fingers for…
He shook off his surprise. “I am William Riker, first officer in command of the Federation starship Enterprise. It is not our intention to disturb your peace, but to obtain information-concerning the smaller vessel in orbit around your world.”
“We have been aware of it,” said the same figure who spoke earlier. “But we have no information concerning it.”
Riker darted a glance at Troi, standing over by a bulkhead-where she was not likely to be noticed. She shook her head subtly from side to side: they are lying.
Well, at least they’d established that.
But he couldn’t confront this Council with it. It would gain him nothing-and it might cost him the chance to learn something about Picard and the others.
Fine. The indirect approach, then…
“We sent an away