Double Helix 03_ Red Sector - Diane Carey [66]
“Copy that,” Jeremy called from two hatches back. “Pretty weird, Eric. You want me to suit up?”
“Talk to the destroyer’s CE first. Have him tell you what that thing is and turn it off if he can. I don’t want a hole burned in somebody’s EVS.”
“Closing the breach now… two more centimeters… one more… hold! ” “Hold the crane! ” “Holding.” “What’s all that they’re talking about?” Hashley asked.
Annoyed, Stiles quickly said, “Just shortcuts we take, Mr. Hashley. We have to get the Lafayette back into action so they can press the Romulans back.” “Are they going to kill the Romulans?” “Not if they can avoid it.” “Isn’t this a battle?”
“No, it’s just a commercial blockade. Some hothead venting off at us.”
“But the Romulans attacked your patrols, didn’t they? Isn’t that an act of war?” “It’s more complicated than that.”
“I thought we were having a war and that’s why they wanted me.”
“No war yet.” With his demeanor Stiles did his best to communicate that he was preoccupied.
“Rig a gantline over here. We’ll just horse the strut with brute force and tribolt it.” “I love brute force. Gives me a sense of superiority.” “-the magnetic coupling ?” “No, the spreader. I’ll hand it-” “-the only way you’ll ever get any respect.”
“What kind of a ship is this?” Ansue Hashley looked all around. “It’s not a starship-“
Stiles watched the screens, told himself that he should ignore the man, then decided he would enjoy showing off a little. “No, not a starship.” “Cruiser?” “No.” “Battleship.”
“Hardly. Jason, Stiles. Pull that spreader all the way out of the bridle and discard it. Don’t be tidy. Six minutes.” “Six, aye.” “What kind of ship are you, then?” Hashley asked again. “We’re a combat support tender. Some people call us a ‘floating starbase.’ We’re a heavy-laden, multipurpose vessel made to support more specialized Starfleet vessels. We carry structural and weapons-repair specialists, materiel, fuel, ammunition and dry stores. We can resupply a ship on the fly or right in the middle of active engagement, like we’re doing now. One of our jobs is to quickly make operational any ready-reserve ships on standby. We did that to Lafayette last week.”
“And now she needs you again!” Hashley’s eyes flew wide. “Right in the middle of a fight! How do you do something like that!”
“With step-by-step processes. Being fast is a matter of survival, not just success.”
“You must’ve been busy lately, with all the trouble that’s been erupting.”
“We’ve been nonstop for months,” Stiles agreed. “Wish we knew why all these skirmishes were erupting-“
“I know why! Do you want me to tell you? I know all about it !”
Stiles leered briefly at the man, sure he didn’t actually know more than Starfleet frontliners, but disturbed by Hashley’s confident claim.
“Crossfire! Incoming!” Ensign Ashikaga shouted from the tactical sensors.
“Detonate!” Stiles authorized, and the shots lanced out before the sound his words had died.
At the weapons console, Matt Girvan fell on his controls instantly, obviously expecting the authorization to fire while there were extravehicular crew out there. He’d been ready to defend the CST, despite the attempts by Lafayette and Majestic to protect the wounded destroyer and her rafted repair ship. Phaser fire blew from the Saskatoon, cutting across the paths of two streams of disruptor fire that actually were meant to hit the Majestic but had missed. The shots detonated in midspace-good work, though the power wash and the stress of opening fire rocked the CST and caused the umbilicals to sing through their hull mounts. The inside of the ship whined freakishly, buffeted by the power wash.
“Oh, what happened?” Ansue Hashley’s arms flew wide as the deck rocked. “Did we get shot?”
Not a direct hit, but the wash did enough damage to fritz several of the monitors. Two went completely dark, and a half dozen flashed and became garbled, losing the view of the rivet team on the destroyer’s nacelle strut.
His ears aching, Stiles crossed