Broken Bow - Diane Carey [55]
Another low boom shook the vessel under them, followed by a startling jolt that rocked them back to the moment.
To T’Pol he said, almost with delight, “The ship is yours! Trip, let’s go!”
CHAPTER 14
CRAMPED, TREMBLING, COLD, and admittedly out of their element, Jonathan Archer and Trip Tucker hunkered elbow to elbow inside the little Suliban cell ship as it blew free of the Enterprise and shot out into the swirling atmospheric sea. Visibility was almost nil—just a wall of blue gas.
Tucker gripped the controls with passionate terror and forced himself to concentrate almost yard by yard as the ship raced forward, fighting its own power and the turbulence at the same time.
Archer flinched when a light came on. “What’s that?”
“Travis said not to worry about that panel.”
“That’s reassuring ...”
They were thrown against each other when the cell hit an atmospheric pocket. Tucker held the steering mechanism with both hands and battled to compensate. He was dripping sweat despite the cold.
Queasy and bloodless, Archer fought to keep steady himself. “They sure didn’t build these things for comfort.”
“Wait till we get the Klingon in here with us. If I’m reading this right, we should be about twenty kilometers from Enterprise.”
“Drop the pitch thirty degrees.”
“Look! The Enterprise!”
For just an instant, the visibility cleared, just enough to show a portion of the starship above them taking a hard whack from a luminous weapon stream.
“They’re taking a lot of bad fire,” Archer mentioned. “I should’ve given her permission for evasive maneuvers. If they change position, the Suliban’ll have to look for them all over again.”
“If they move, we might never find them again,” Tucker reminded. “She’ll probably just ride it out.”
Archer gazed at the vision of the ship just as it disappeared again in a curtain of blue muck. He saw T’Pol’s face, determined to hold position and give them their best shot, and he silently apologized to her for his snotty remarks. “That’s what I’m counting on.”
Tucker shouldered into a maneuver, his lips tight and his eyes squinting. “You’ve changed your tune about her. ...”
“I think it’s changing some,” Archer agreed. “After a whole lifetime of watching Vulcans generalize about humans, seems I was doing the same thing about them. I just took it out on her.” He found a sheepish little grin and bounced it off Tucker. “I think I’ll stop now.”
Tucker’s expression was dubious, but accepting of the redesigned attitude. Even hopeful?
“Look at this,” he said then, pointing at the adjusting screens. “I think we’re there.”
“Bring the docking interface on-line.”
Tucker went for a button—then stopped. He chose a completely different button. The interface hummed to life. The cell ship rattled around them.
“Coaxial ports,” Archer ordered.
Another control twanged. A quick, hissing sound blew some kind of ballast or docking mechanisms somewhere on the skin of the cell ship. Tucker embraced the steering mechanism and began to ease the ship downward. Through the ports, they could see blue phosphorous clouds begin to thin out. A moment later, they broke into clear space.
“Where is it?” Tucker gulped. “It was right there!”
Squinting through a sheet of sweat, Archer studied the graphic. “Bank starboard ninety degrees.”
Tucker heaved the controller over. The ship banked sharply, taking their stomachs with it.
A dizzying view of the Suliban complex rose directly below them.
“There you are!” Tucker howled.
“That’s the upper support radius,” Archer said, proud that he could recognize anything in that mass. “Drop down right below it. Start a counterclockwise sweep.”
The cell ship descended further, down past numerous levels of the aggregate. Other cell ships, most larger, engaged and disengaged from the huge structure for reasons of their own. Tucker slowed their descent just in time. He was getting the hang of maneuvering this contraption. Archer didn’t make any distracting comments, but did help judge distances.
“A little more ... little more ... almost