Distant Shores - Marco Palmieri [9]
Three minutes passed before he once more looked up, and he was not at all surprised to see half the bridge complement looking his way. “Captain, the link is a frequency we normally do not scan for, high on the subspace frequency chart. I’ve mapped out what is essentially a minefield. Mr. Kim was correct: our warp bubble did trigger a proximity alarm, and a subspace signal activated these mines.”
“Why can’t we see them?” Paris asked.
“Unknown. We’d have to actually find one and bring it aboard for further study,” Tuvok replied.
“I don’t think bringing a live mine aboard the ship is… the logical course of action,” Janeway said with a smile.
“Nor do I,” Tuvok said, refusing to rise to her joke. He recognized the human need for humor to help cut through the moment’s tension but chose not to participate.
“We could go up and over, but that would take time I’d rather not waste. Is there a path we can maneuver through?”
“I believe so. The spacing implies that they are intended to stop vessels larger than Voyager. As a result, we can, with caution, make our way through.”
“Transfer data to the helm. Tom, study the optimal course and let’s make sure we can get through safely.”
“Aye,” Paris replied, and swiveled back to the helm, hands rubbing together in anticipation. Tuvok had noted that Paris preferred challenges and that routine work practically bored him. He suspected that Paris might enjoy the unknowns between here and the Alpha Quadrant more than anyone else aboard.
After a short but acceptable interval, Paris looked over his shoulder at the command chair. With a grin he said, “Course plotted. It’ll be narrow in spots but should be a fun ride. I have to warn you, the engines are a bit sluggish, so don’t expect quick reactions.”
Janeway nodded.
“Tuvok, secure from red alert. Keep everyone on yellow alert, inform department heads what we’re doing, and let’s get started.” Tuvok acknowledged the order, and as he complied, Janeway walked to the rear and stood by Seska’s auxiliary engineering post.
“Seska, right?”
“Yes, Captain,” the Bajoran woman replied.
“Please keep an eye on engine efficiency. If it falls any lower, let me know immediately. Coordinate with Lieutenant Carey to make sure we have maximum thrust and maneuverability.”
“Of course, Captain,” Seska replied. Once more she stole a look at Chakotay.
“Are we ready, Mr. Paris?”
“Aye, Captain.”
“Let’s get started. Full impulse for now.”
Everyone on the bridge, save Tuvok, seemed to shift their position, settling in for more anticipated jolts. Tuvok merely looked at his board, and then at the main screen. He watched the stars seemingly veer out of the ship’s way when the reality was that Paris was moving the ship above, then around, and again above the nearest mines.
For several minutes, the ship performed without flaw. Tuvok watched as people settled into more relaxed poses, except for Paris, who was working at a steady pace. Janeway was leaning forward, her body anticipating the next move, occasionally moving a bit to the left or right as if she were rocking with a boat on a choppy sea.
Tuvok saw a sudden change in readouts, and as he opened his mouth in warning, the ship rocked hard to starboard, dumping everyone once more from their seats. Even the Vulcan lost his footing as the ship continued to list to starboard, sending the crew across the deck and into rails, consoles, or bulkheads. He heard the red-alert klaxon, and once again the lighting shifted. Reaching with one hand, he righted himself, but not without some struggle. And if he had to rely on his stronger muscles, then he imagined how difficult it was going to be for the others.
Although he was concerned about his crewmates, Tuvok forced himself to focus on the tactical board. The ship was continuing to move, veering off course and nearing another mine. Engines, he noted, were down four percent in efficiency, and the hull seemed