Broken Bow - Diane Carey [56]
Scrrape.
Again they were thrown against each other. Archer shot him a look as they both got a touch of nostalgia about their inspection tour—how many days ago now?
“Right here,” Archer said. “All stop.”
The cell bonked to a halt. Through the port, they could see a circular airlock protruding from the Suliban complex. Tucker looked at him. Archer nodded. Why not?
They both began manipulating the controls. The ship began moving horizontally now, through the airlock.
Chhhh-UNK.
Contact. The cell jolted slightly. A series of whirring mechanical sounds signaled that the docking ports were locking into place. They knew those sounds. Everybody who flew knew those sounds.
Abruptly, the hatch opened—on its own!
Archer flinched and put his hand on Tucker’s arm. Before them was a long, dimly lit corridor, completely unoccupied. Their own private entrance.
Tucker looked at him. “Well?”
Archer pulled out his phase pistol. “Why not?”
With their weapons drawn, they moved quickly through the corridor. Tucker carried the silver case with the magnetic disruption device inside. Archer kept eyeing the sensor scanner he held in his other hand. They rounded a corner, and came face to face with a—a face!
Caught by surprise, the Suliban soldier clutched for his own side arm, but Archer fired first.
The soldier dropped like a bag of sand.
For a moment, Archer and Tucker stood over him and looked at the weapon in Archer’s hand. Nice little unit.
“Stun seems to work ...” he commented.
And they kept moving.
Enterprise
“Anything?”
T’Pol’s question provided mostly irritation to the crew around her.
Lieutenant Reed had nothing to report, but simply gripped his console as they rode out the nasty bit of weather and artillery fire. Beside him, Hoshi Sato had her earpiece tightly wedged in.
“The phosphorous is distorting all the EM bands,” she said dubiously—then she yanked her earpiece out and called, “Grab onto something!”
Two rapid booms throbbed through the skin of the ship, followed immediately by two sharp jolts powerful enough to send the whole ship on a dive. Reed flinched as the console before him blew out, lathering his face with sparks. Streams of gas and showers of debris doused the bridge.
Reed pulled himself back to the console as the sparking reduced itself automatically. Was anyone hurt? He glanced around—no, Mayweather seemed all right. So did Hoshi, though shaken. T’Pol still held the command chair, and gave no orders to break off their course or altitude.
“This is ridiculous!” Reed complained. “If we don’t move the ship, Captain Archer won’t have anything to look for when he gets back!”
T’Pol had a stubborn streak, but she wasn’t foolish. After a moment of consideration, she turned to Hoshi. “We’re going to need that ear of yours.”
Hoshi pulled herself back to her position and pressed the listening device to her ear again.
“Mr. Mayweather,” T’Pol addressed, “move us away, five kilometers.”
“In what direction?”
“Any direction.”
The ship trembled with effort, and began to rise. Malcolm Reed held his breath, knew this was his suggestion, and although he also knew everyone else was thinking the same thing, he began now a whole new worry.
Though they would now survive to be found, how would the captain and Tucker find them?
Klingon life-signs. A whole new quiver for an Earth sensor system.
However, being a machine, the sensor didn’t care one way or the other and led them dutifully to the source.
Archer went through the door first, with Tucker right behind him, weapons drawn. And there was their big buddy, restrained in an elaborate chair-like thing, with tubes and devices attached to his body. He was alive, but semiconscious. Through a window, steel-blue light flowed from the phosphorous layer, lending a weird cast to the Klingon’s skin, and Archer’s and Tucker’s, too.
Archer gestured. Tucker immediately went to the Klingon and started unstrapping him. The Klingon stared, but didn’t fight or make any noise.
“This is gonna be easier than I thought,” Tucker said winningly. “It’s okay,” he added