All Good Things__ - Michael Jan Friedman [56]
The former chief engineer worked at his console—but it didn’t look good. Finally he raised his head.
“Sorry, Captain. They’re just too much for us. I can’t keep the phase inducers on-line any—”
He was interrupted by another bone-rattling blow to the ship.
“Shields down to nine percent,” reported Chilton. “One more hit and they’ll collapse entirely.”
Beverly cursed under her breath. There was only one option left to her—and though she didn’t like it, she’d have to exercise it. “Worf,” she said, “open a channel. Signal our surrender.”
Thirty years ago, the Klingon would have protested, desperate to avoid even the appearance of cowardice. Older and wiser now, he simply complied.
They waited. A moment later, he looked up. But he didn’t seem happy with the results.
“They will not accept our surrender,” he informed them. “They intend to complete what they began.”
Before she could assimilate the information, the ship lurched again under the Klingons’ barrage, throwing her clear of the captain’s chair. Before she hit the deck, she saw Chilton’s console explode in a geyser of sparks, catching the ensign full in the face.
Jean-Luc, who was nearer to Chilton than anyone else, came to the woman’s aid as quickly as he could. But Beverly could see that it was too late. Her ensign was dead.
Jean-Luc looked up and met Beverly’s gaze. His expression reminded her that he’d lost people in much the same way.
In the meantime, Worfhad taken over Chilton’s duties from his aft console. “Our shields have collapsed,” he remarked soberly. “We are defenseless against them.”
Returning to her captain’s chair, Beverly ignored her bruises and fixed her attention on the viewscreen. It showed only one of their pursuers, who had now taken up positions surrounding them.
She sighed raggedly. it was only a matter of time now. Seeing that their prey had nothing left, the Klingons would apply the death stroke. And, knowing them, they would be quick about it.
“Captain,” said Data, “there’s another ship decloaking—bearing two-one-five mark three-one-oh.” Beverly turned to look at him, wondering why their adversaries needed reinforcements against a medical vessel.
The android looked surprised. “Captain… it’s the Enterprise!”
Beverly’s heart leapt at the mere mention of their old ship. Returning her attention to the viewscreen, she watched as the Galaxy-class vessel decloaked behind and above the unsuspecting Klingon cruiser.
Suddenly, the Enterprise let loose with a furious volley of phasers and photon torpedoes. Hammered beyond its capacity to defend itself, the attack cruiser shot apart in a cloud of blue plasma.
Before anyone on the Pasteur could celebrate, the medical ship pitched again. “Direct hit to the warp core,” shouted Geordi. “Heavy damage…”
Jean-Luc’s face went white with dread. “The warp core… we can’t let that happen! We have to stabilize it!” he cried—and moved to help Geordi at the console.
“The Klingon ships are disengaging,” Data declared.
However, the Pasteur was rocked yet again.
“But not without a few parting shots,” the android added.
“Captain,” Geordi bellowed, “I can’t stabilize the core. It’s going critical!”
Abruptly, a voice came through over their intercom grid—a voice that Beverly had heard before. “Enterprise to Pasteur. Our sensors show your ship has a warp-core breach in progress.”
“Damned right it does!” she responded.
“Prepare for emergency beam-out,” the voice advised.
Jean-Luc looked up in wonder. Then he turned to her, his eyes posing the question even before he could say the word.
“Riker?” he breathed. “Riker,” Beverly repeated, confirming it for him. Jean-Luc seemed perplexed—and no wonder. Just a little while ago, his former exec had refused to help him. And now…
Before she could take her speculation any further, Beverly found herself standing on the bridge of the Enterprise. Will Riker was sitting in the center seat, as he had in the past when Jean-Luc was absent or off-duty. Except