Dark Matters_ Cloak and Dagger (Book 1) - Christie Golden [53]
"We have lights and life-support," grunted Telek as he edged out from beneath the console. "How are communications?"
"I haven't quite got it," replied Chakotay.
"I am not surprised. The dark matter is pervasive. I should have been able to get life-support back on in seconds. Try cross-connecting it with another system."
From where he lay beneath the" console, Chakotay glimpsed Telek's long, booted legs when he craned his neck. He was in an utterly vulnerable situation. He smiled a little. Had it been six whole years since he had been someone the Federation distrusted? Above him, he could hear the tap-tapping of Telek's skilled fingers, then a sudden, sharp intake of breath.
"Commander Chakotay. The dark matter within this ship is making replicas of itself at an exponential rate. We have approximately eight minutes to get
this ship as far away from Voyager as possible be-fore it becomes pure dark matter."
For a second, Chakotay's heart seemed to stop. He recalled the "burst" of dark matter that had so debilitated Seven, Tuvok, Kirby, and Johnson. And he also realized that his life and that of Telek R'Mor were about to come to an untimely, but hopefully heroic, end.
"Take us out of here, Telek," he said, scooting out from under the console.
Telek tapped in the commands. Nothing. He let out an unexpected roar of frustration and pounded the console. "The engines are gone. They're not responding!"
"Then we'll have to reach Voyager somehow," Chakotay said firmly, hoping with all his heart that the dark matter interference would not prove such a thing impossible. Their combadges were dead, prevented from working by the dark matter that enveloped them like an invisible cloud. Their only hope was to get the ship's communications systems back on-line.
They exchanged glances and, as one, returned to a supine position beneath the console. They were in such close proximity that Chakotay could smell the Romulan's scent-not the same odor as humans, more coppery and metallic. Chakotay felt his own uniform clinging to his skin and knew that he, too, was sweating with apprehension.
"Mirror my movements," Telek said, and Chakotay did, connecting one beam of light with another, adjusting a coupling, tightening something here, removing a panel there.
The minutes ticked by. How much time had Telek given them? Eight minutes? How long ago had that been?
A sharp crack, and a harsh bark of surprised pleasure from Telek. "Done!" he cried, hastening out from under the console. He pounced on the controls. "R'Mor to Voyager!" "Janeway here. Status report." "Captain," said Chakotay, "we've got-" He looked at Telek.
"Three point seven minutes," said R'Mor. "Three point seven minutes before this ship becomes a pure mass of mutated dark matter. It's got no power of its own. You've got to use a reverse tractor beam and get it as far away from the ship as you can. There's no telling what being that close to it will do to Voyager."
"Understood. But I'm beaming you three over first" "Captain, no! There's no-" Chakotay had been about to say "time for mat now," but he dematerialized before the words left his lips.
He, Vorik, and Telek materialized on the bridge. Chakotay guided Vorik's hands to a railing and then immediately headed for tactical.
"Do it!" Janeway cried. At once, the massive tractor beam went into action. Steadily, but far too slowly for Chakotay's comfort, the beam pushed the green, now shimmering ship away from Voyager. "More power," ordered Janeway. "We're at maximum now," said Kim. For a long, agonizing moment, they all watched in silence as the
tractor beam did its work. What would the scoutship do once it became pure dark matter? Explode? Would they survive?
The ship seemed to grow smaller and smaller. Chakotay glanced down at his controls.
"Fifteen seconds...