Collective Hindsight (Book 1) - Aaron Rosenberg [13]
But Salek was not convinced. Duffy had noticed before that once his commander had settled on a hypothesis, he followed it until he was absolutely sure it was wrong. Often that meant he found something they might have overlooked otherwise but that proved the theory correct. Like now.
“You are partially correct,” the Vulcan finally stated. “The outpost would not have been damaged by the energy’s release. But that was not the true danger.” He tapped a command onto the control console, and the viewscreen’s image changed to show the area behind the ship instead—more rocks of various sizes, overshadowed by the system’s massive sun. “That was the real concern.” Salek typed in more commands, and beneath the sun an energy output graph appeared—even as they watched, the levels fluctuated wildly. “Captain Gold described the sun as ‘bloated’ earlier. He was correct. This sun is unstable, and most likely in the first stages of collapse. A release of energy such as this ship possesses could easily have hastened that process and caused the sun to go nova. Everything in this system would have been destroyed, including both the ship and the outpost. The crew knew this, and recognized that they would be dead either way. By internalizing the energy, they minimized the destruction, killing themselves but protecting their surroundings and sparing the people on the outpost.”
Duffy considered that. It made sense. Once the ship had stopped here, the crew was as good as dead, and it was just a question of going out alone or taking the rest of the Randall system with them. They’d opted for the former, just as a Starfleet vessel would. Whoever they’d been, the people on this ship had shown a comparable respect for other life.
“We have more information now,” 111 mentioned—she and 110 had continued speaking with the computer while the others had conversed, though Duffy knew they were also paying attention to the conversation. “The systems are rebooting as we speak. Apparently the—”
“—energy discharge knocked the computers offline, but—”
“—did no lasting damage. We have located—”
“—the command log, and can verify that—”
“—the captain disengaged the safety mechanisms and—”
“—vented the energy internally on purpose.”
Stevens nodded. “So they saw the outpost, recognized what it was, realized the danger, and acted accordingly.”
Salek looked pleased, almost a little smug, and Duffy didn’t blame him. He’d been right about the ship’s crew being killed by their own power supply.
“Now that we have solved that question,” the commander announced, “we may proceed to the next matter. Duffy, Blue, examine the engine room more carefully. This ship is far too large for the da Vinci to tow, and it must be moved under its own power. I will expect a report on the engine’s current condition, and on estimated time to restore it to operation. Stevens”—Salek seemed to straighten up slightly, if that was possible—“you and I will dispose of the crew.”
“Dispose of them?”
“Correct.” Salek glanced down at the figure in the command chair. “These people gave their lives to protect others. Despite the fact that we do not recognize their race, and thus cannot thank them properly, we will respect their integrity and courage. It is unfitting to leave them in such a condition. You and I will use our phasers to reduce the bodies to ash, which can then be released into space. It is a fitting end for noble starfarers.”
Duffy was a bit surprised to hear his commander express such sentiments, but then reminded himself that Salek was not as rigid as most Vulcans. Sometimes he seemed almost human—though Duffy would never presume to mention that. Instead he sighed and levered himself off his perch. “Okay, Pattie,” he told his Nasat teammate, “let’s get to work.”
“This material has me stumped,” Duffy admitted an hour later. He and Pattie were in the engine