Crossover - Michael Jan Friedman [98]
After all, his friends were on that ship. Both Spock and Scotty. And also the brave young men who had risked their lives to bring them back.
It occurred to McCoy that they could still beam the Yorktown’s people aboard. But only if they dropped their own shields or tried to extend them around the smaller vessel. And right now that just didn’t seem practical.
“Ensign Middleton,” the captain commanded, “position us between the Yorktown and the warbirds.”
“Aye, sir,” replied the brunette at the conn station.
A moment later, the Enterprise swung into the space in front of the wounded starship, offering her some measure of protection. But at the same time, it made the larger vessel an easier target.
Nor did it take the Romulans long to figure that out. In a heartbeat they were twisting and looping into a new configuration—one meant to take advantage of the Enterprise’s necessarily defensive posture.
Picard turned to Worf. “Program a standard torpedo spread,” he directed. “Fire on my mark.”
“Aye, sir,” replied the Klingon, his fingers crawling over his control padds like some deadly quick variety of insect.
“Admiral McCoy,” said the captain, “I’d find a seat if I were you. We’re liable to be jostled a bit.”
The admiral didn’t have to be told twice. Heeding Picard’s warning, he made a beeline for an empty seat at one of the aft stations.
“Sir,” said Middleton, “two of the Romulans have already sustained damage to their weapons banks. If we could—”
“Noted,” the captain answered. “Mister Worf, belay the standard program. Focus all your attention on the alternative weapons capabilities of those two vessels. And prepare the way with surgical phaser strikes.”
“Aye, sir,” the Klingon barked again.
McCoy was familiar with the strategy. First, create a weak spot in the enemy’s shields with concentrated phaser fire—and then follow up with a swarm of photon torpedoes. If even one got through, it hit paydirt.
The problem was, it took pinpoint accuracy and incredible coordination. If either phase of the maneuver was a little off, they’d fail to penetrate the Romulans’ deflectors.
And Picard was calling for two targets, not one. That raised the difficulty factor another notch.
On the viewscreen, meanwhile, the warbirds had completed their preparations. They looked thirsty for blood as they dove headlong for the Enterprise.
Picard raised his chin as if in defiance of the odds. No matter what, the admiral thought, he was going to hold his ground.
This wasn’t at all the same man McCoy had tongue-lashed for his lack of initiative. This was a seasoned warrior, unhesitating in the heat of battle.
“Fire!” Picard called out.
As the Romulans shot past them, the exchange of fire was fast and furious. It filled the screen with a blinding white light and made the deck jerk beneath their feet, forcing McCoy to grab hold of the control panel behind him.
He hadn’t put his old bones through the wringer like this in some time. And now he remembered why. It hurt, damn it.
But when it was over they were still in one piece. And judging from Worf’s exclamation, they might even have gotten the best of the encounter.
The captain glanced at his tactical officer. “Damage, Lieutenant?”
“Shields are down seventy-five percent,” the Klingon told him soberly. “But all systems are still functional.”
“Casualties?” Picard inquired.
“None,” Worf responded.
They’d been lucky, McCoy mused. At this range, under that kind of firepower, he’d known entire crews to be destroyed.
But then, this was a Galaxy-class ship. If anything could stand up to a bunch of warbirds, it’d be the Enterprise.
The captain absorbed the information. “And the Romulans?”
“Direct hits on the two previously damaged vessels,” the Klingon declared proudly. “We have all but destroyed their weapons capabilities.”
“Excellent,” said Picard.
But the third vessel had gone unscathed. That was the tradeoff they’d made by focusing all their firepower on the first two.
“The Romulans are coming back for another pass,” Middleton announced.
Picard considered the viewscreen. His