Crossover - Michael Jan Friedman [62]
Data looked at him. “That is correct, sir.”
“In other words,” Geordi interjected, “if we’re careful, we may be able to use the planetoid itself for cover, and get close to the outpost without the warbird’s knowing about it.”
Riker turned in his chair. “Exactly,” he confirmed.
“But getting in is only half the problem,” the engineer pointed out. “Even if we can do that—and sneak Scott out—they’re eventually going to realize he’s gone. And when they do, they’ll have a warbird to sic on us.”
“And a shuttle can’t outrun a warbird,” the first officer conceded.
“Not as far as I can tell,” Geordi agreed.
Riker eyed him. “In that case, we’ll have to find another way to elude it. Or hope that one presents itself.”
“Then we will proceed with the rescue attempt?” the android inquired.
“We will indeed,” the first officer assured him.
Neither Data nor the engineer gave Riker an argument. Despite their apparent misgivings, they wanted to retrieve Captain Scott as much as he did. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be here.
Riker made the course adjustment. It took them out of their way and delayed their arrival at the planetoid, but it was necessary if they were going to keep the warbird in the dark.
Then they made their way through the planetoid’s star system. By the time they’d crept within forty thousand kilometers, the maximum rated range of the transporter unit, the first officer could see the planetoid through the observation port in front of him.
It was a dead gray rock, devoid of even an atmosphere. The place was basically featureless, except for the Romulan installation that clung to it like some kind of artificial octopus.
“There it is,” said Riker. “Fortunately, a place that old isn’t likely to have the sensor capacity to detect us at this range—even if we were expected. Scan it for human life signs, Data.”
The android complied. Unfortunately, it seemed, they’d hit another snag.
“What now?” asked the first officer.
“There appears to be some sort of magnetic shield around the central portion of the installation,” Data told him. “No doubt, a measure designed to prevent just the sort of rescue attempt we had in mind.”
“You can say that again,” Geordi chimed in, from the rear of the shuttle. He shook his head. “Of course, we’ve still got a card to play. We can use the remote control bands to beam down and penetrate the shield on foot— since the outer limits of the place are unshielded.”
Riker nodded. “That’s what we’ll do, then.”
Fixing the controls on autopilot, he got up from his pilot’s seat and headed for the compartment where the phaser pistols were stored. Touching his hand to the padd beside the compartment door, he opened it.
There were four racks full of phasers inside, a dozen in all. They would only need three of them. Taking one out, he handed it to his chief engineer.
“This limb we’re out on is getting narrower and narrower,” Geordi remarked. “Pretty soon, there won’t be enough left of it to support a decent leaf.”
“Could be worse,” the first officer observed as he offered Data another of the phasers. The android, who had also gotten up from his seat, accepted it dutifully.
“How do you figure that?” asked the engineer, responding to Riker’s comment.
“We may have underestimated the sensor range on that warbird,” The first officer made sure the weapon was set for a nonlethal intensity. “In that case, there’d be no limb left at all.”
CHAPTER 15
Alone in his quarters, Picard stared out the observation port at a vista of Romulan stars. Somewhere out there, across the imaginary border of the Neutral Zone, three of his people were risking their lives to rescue one of the most inspirational figures in the history of the Federation.
Captain Scott was more than just a brilliant engineer, of course. He was a member of a legendary crew that symbolized all that was good about the Federation, a standard for others to aspire to.
But men like Riker, Geordi,