Day of Honor - Michael Jan Friedman [60]
Then something occurred to him. Maybe Sedrek wasn't the only one guilty of thinking too small. He glanced at Grommir again.
"How long would it take to contact the other Caatati?" he asked.
"Which vessel?" the technician inquired.
Lumas grinned. "All of them."
Grommir looked puzzled. "For what purpose?"
Under normal circumstances, Lumas wouldn't have tendered an explanation. After all, it was he who commanded this ship. However, he found himself in an uncommonly generous mood.
"We may have Voyager's core," he pointed out, "but she still has a great many other possessions we could benefit from. Food, for instance. Medical supplies. And other things…"
He thought again of the Borg he had seen in Voyager's corridor. He would never forget how she had looked at him. Coldly. Disdainfully.
Entirely without remorse.
"Yes," he said. "A great many other things."
B'Elanna stared at the part of space where the shuttle had been. "The captain's going to kill us," she said.
"She's got to find us first," Tom reminded her.
"Which she will, of course. I mean, who couldn't find two fully grown people in a place as small as the entire universe?"
Tom quirked a smile. "I'm glad you haven't lost your sparkling sense of humor, Lieutenant."
"No," said B'Elanna, "I guess I haven't. And it's a good thing, because there are few experiences I find more hilarious than watching my warp core ride into the sunset."
He nodded. "Yeah, I kind of enjoyed that myself."
The banter was good, she thought. It helped them adjust to their circumstances-which were grim at best.
Gazing at Tom through her faceplate, B'Elanna reached out and touched his hand. Looking back at her, he closed his fingers over hers.
It made her feel better. Less isolated, less alonefor all the good it did either one of them.
"As entertaining as this is," Tom said, "it'd be selfish to stay here by ourselves." He pressed a comm pad on his suit. "Paris to Voyager. Do you read us?
Respond, please. Paris to Voyager. . .
It's no use," she told him. "The comm system in these suits isn't strong enough to carry that far."
He tried again anyway. "Paris to Voyager. . .
Still nothing.
Tom frowned. "When they get the impulse engines repaired, they'll come looking for us."
"I guess we can't do anything but wait and hope."
He managed a smile. "Heard any good jokes?"
She looked at him, wanting very much not to give into pessimism. But despite herself, she sighed.
"What?" he asked.
"You said it couldn't get any worse," B'Elanna reminded him. "You said that dumping the core was about as low as it could go." She looked around them at the vastness of space. "Never figured on this, did
you?"
Tom's smile faded. "I will admit that this particular possibility didn't loom large in my mind."
"Stidl think it couldn't get worse?" she asked him.
"Actually," he said, "the thought that we might run out of oxygen ... or spring a leak in one of these suits
is looming large. I guess one of those things would be a little worse."
B'Elanna grunted. "Well, I don't plan on just drifting through space, hoping somebody will come along and rescue us. There must be something we can do to help ourselves."
Tom nodded. "Agreed."
He went silent for a moment. She hoped that meant he was thinking. B'Elanna made an effort to do the same.
"You know," Tom said at last, "if we could interplex the comm systems in both suits, we might be able to create a phased carrier wave. Voyager would read the signal and know it's from us."
"Good idea," she told him. In fact, it was a very good idea. "Let me access your controls."
He grinned. "I thought you'd never ask."
The two of them pulled closer together until they could grab each other with both hands. Then, in a somewhat more stable position, B'Elanna began fiddling with the controls on Tom's sleeve.
"This would be a lot easier if I had a hyperspanner," she observed.
"It'd be even easier without these gloves," he remarked.
"Hold still . .
"I'm trying," he assured her. "Careful we don't lose contact and start drifting apart."
B'Elanna looked at him.