Broken Bow - Diane Carey [18]
Archer led his crew through the breezeway to the airlock attached directly to the ship. As they moved, the speech was piped through to the bridge.
The bridge was a compact command center, austere and spartan, mostly steel-walled, with a source of light from hidden panels overhead. There were no carpets or amenities, just various stations with bucket seats, and a maze of gauges, dials, and little scanner screens. In the middle was the captain’s chair, to which Archer dutifully moved while the universe watched.
“Imagine it,” Cochrane’s voice thrummed. “Thousands of inhabited planets at our fingertips ... And we’ll be able to explore those strange new worlds, and seek out new life, new civilizations. ... This engine will let us go boldly where no man has gone before.”
Barely conscious of it, Archer noticed his own lips moving to the words. He stopped and cleared his throat. Everybody was waiting for him now.
“Detach mooring umbilicals and gravitational supports,” he ordered. “Retract the airlock and disengage us from the Spacedock. Confirm all break-offs. Internally metered pulse drive, stand by.”
“Impulse drive standing by, sir,” Mayweather responded. “All sublight motive power systems ready.”
At Archer’s side, T’Pol appeared. But she didn’t repeat any orders, as would a practiced Starfleet officer. She didn’t interfere at all. Perhaps she felt as out of place as they thought she was. She took the science station with reserved grace, but seemed out of place and unhappy.
Frozen vapor swarmed through the Spacedock, as if a dragon had breathed across dry ice. Archer leaned forward in the command chair. Around him, the crew was tense and expectant. On the engineering tie-in screen to his left, he saw Trip Tucker standing before the throbbing warp core, looking like an eaglet about to fledge.
In Archer’s mind, his father’s hand worked the control unit of a model ship, smiling warmly at a little boy who believed in him completely. Every man could do much worse in life than to have a little boy believe completely in him. The father’s hand came down, and passed the control unit to a boy’s tiny palm. The boy inserted the unit into the model ship.
“Take her out,” Archer said finally. “Straight and steady, Mr. Mayweather.”
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Admiral Forrest’s voice overlaid Archer’s words. “Starfleet proudly presents to the galaxy ... the faster-than-light long-range cruiser, Enterprise!”
Applause rang and rang in Archer’s ears. A shiver went down both arms.
The lean and masculine ship, rugged in construction and blatantly field-ready, undecorated and proud of it, began to move slowly forward, throbbing with power to her innermost bones. Spacedock peeled back from his view and disappeared behind him, like so many memories. Everyone else expected her to be back in eight days, but Archer had other ideas. If the ship stressed out well and he could play his cards right, she wouldn’t see a Spacedock for the next six months.
They’d made it. They were out, and with two hours to spare. Now all those dignitaries could go back to bed. Archer forgot them immediately. His eyes were on the forward screen. Open space.
He found his voice again and tapped the chair com. “How’re we doing, Trip?”
Behind Trip Tucker’s voice, the warp engines pulsed at full power. “Ready when you are,” he responded. Sounded both excited and nervous.
“Prepare for warp. Mayweather, lay in a course,” Archer said, and glanced at T’Pol. “Plot with the Vulcan starcharts ... direct course to the planet Qo’noS.”
Mayweather’s eyes flicked toward T’Pol, but he studiously managed not to look at her. He worked his navigational controls, which only now, as they cleared the solar system, received clearance from the access-classified starcharts brought by their new executive officer.
“Course laid in, sir.”
That was it. Never again would the Vulcans be able to hide the location of the Klingon planet from Earth. Sounded like a prime tourist destination, didn’t it? Yes, folks, spend your next holiday spitting and howling in the galaxy’s newest