Double Helix 03_ Red Sector - Diane Carey [63]
“Them y’go. Two sugars, Tray. Told y’I wouldn’t f’get. Eric, sir, no caffeine for you, double cream, honey, and ye olde ginger snaps.”
“You always know what calms me down, Alan. And don’t call me ‘honey.’” “Aye aye, dear”
“Put the tray down and take over Jason’s driver coil balance, Battle Cook.” “You got it.”
They were completely vulnerable now. Both the CST and the destroyer were shields down. These were the crucial minutes during which any enemy shot could cut all the way through any bulkhead or hull plate and take out anything inside, man or machine.
He glanced around at the bridge crew, peeked back through the infinity mirror of hatchways leading into the depths of the Saskatoon and its work areas, saw the unit leaders looking back at him from their various places, and satisfied himself that all segments were ready to work. He turned now to watch the two main screens, one always viewing forward, one always aft, and the sixteen auxiliary screens around the horseshoe. On the screens, shown from a dozen different angles, there was a hot battle going on at this edge of a small solar system. He stood beside the command chair, so seldom used that it held parts and charts and anything else they needed handy at any given time. He almost never sat in it. Should have it removed altogether.
“Watch your aft swing;’ he told the helmsman. “There’s a solar current here.”
“! can do it manually, I think” the helmsman boldly claimed.
“You think, sir.” Travis turned at the brash helmsman’s statement, reached across the auxiliary board on the upper controls, and tapped one of the pads. “I’ve got it. Stabilizers on.” The young helmsman fumed, but said nothing. Stiles glanced at Travis and shrugged. Kids.
He stepped a little closer to the helm, just to intimidate at the right level. ff only he could remember the kid’s name.
“Okay, junior” he decided, “this is your first battle rafting. Let’s do it fight.” The midshipman glued his tail. “Aye, sir.”
“Adjust to starboard on the transverse axis… watch your amplitude of pitch… not bad. Don’t let the roll go… quarter reverse on the port lateral. More thrust to port… less underthrust… never mind the bumpers, don’t try to be graceful….”
On the starboard deck, Travis clamped his lips to keep from laughing at the helmsman’s obvious annoyance with help he clearly needed. Stiles saw the effort, but any possibility of amusement for himself was lost in the sheer danger of what they were about to do. An action rafting was never routine, no matter how well-drilled the crew could possibly become.
When the CST and the destroyer were snugged up beam-tobeam and in line, and the CST had been raised to near touching level with the Lafayette’s starboard nacelle, Stiles called, “Pass line two.” “Pass two!” the response came from amidships.
On one of the small monitors, umbilical number two snaked out and grappled the attraction bracket on the high side of the destroyer. “Capture two!” the line handler called.
Suddenly the destroyer heaved up on its port nacelle as a Romulan fighter veered in too close and opened fire. Bright light washed Stiles and everyone around him from all the starboard screens, a fierce shining glitter of destruction and raw heat. “Whoa,” Stiles murmured, shielding his eyes. “Close one.”
Travis flinched at the proximity of death. “Lafayette. steady your position, can you?”
“We’re attempting to hold as steady as possible, Saskatoon,” the other commanding officer responded. “That current came up under us just as that Romulan fired on us. Double whammy.”
“I know you’re taking fire!” Stiles interrupted, “but we only need thirty seconds to finish this. Hold still that long.” “Understood.”
“Spring in closer now” he said to the helm trainee. “Keep us trim. Work a little faster. Don’t overcompensate. Let the gravitational umbilicals do the heavy lifting.