Enigma - Michael Jan Friedman [21]
Just as Greenbriar thought that, he saw Cangelosi—his navigation officer—tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. He knew what that meant. She did it whenever she had come across something unexpected.
The captain leaned forward. “What is it?”
“I’ve got something on sensors,” said Cangelosi, a slender, dark-haired woman. She manipulated her controls. “It’s a vessel, sir.”
“On screen,” said Greenbriar.
A moment later, he got a chance to see the ship in question. It was a short, thick cylinder with two wide, flat pieces projecting from either side of it. The captain had never seen anything even remotely like it.
“Any idea whose that is?” he asked Hohauser.
“There’s no match in our files, sir.”
Greenbriar considered the vessel. Then he turned to Moy, his com officer. “Hail her, Lieutenant.”
“Aye, sir,” said Moy, bending to the task with characteristic alacrity. But a moment later, he looked up. “No response.”
“She just changed course,” Cangelosi reported. She glanced at the captain. “She’s heading right for us, sir.”
Greenbriar absorbed the information. Now, he asked himself, why would an unidentified vessel in Federation space refuse to answer hails and then adopt an intercept course? Why indeed…unless she was spoiling for a fight?
His instincts told him that he would be trading torpedo volleys before he knew it—even if he didn’t have the slightest idea why. Then again, not every species in the universe adhered to the idea that violence required an explanation. Some of them just showed up with their weapon ports firing.
Of course, there was always the possibility that Greenbriar would find a way to defuse the situation. That was his preference, as always. But in case he couldn’t handle the encounter peacefully, he wanted to be prepared for the alternative.
“Red alert,” he said, and watched his bridge take on a crimson hue. “Shields up. Power weapons.” He turned to Moy again. “Keep trying to establish contact.”
“Aye, sir,” said the com officer.
“Distance?” Greenbriar asked.
“Ten billion kilometers and closing,” said Cangelosi.
A minute and a half, the captain thought. That was all the time they had to figure this out. Then the mystery vessel would be in range of the Starfleet ship’s photon torpedoes—and more than likely, vice versa.
“Still no response,” said Moy.
The strange vessel was looming larger and larger on the viewscreen. Greenbriar frowned. His first officer had gone to sleep only a couple of hours earlier, but he would want to know what was going on.
Looking up at the intercom grid, the captain said, “Commander Dolgin, wake up. You there, Alex?”
A moment passed. “Dolgin here,” came a tired voice.
Greenbriar described the situation as concisely as possible. “I thought you’d like to know.”
“On my way,” snapped the first officer.
“Five billion kilometers,” said Cangelosi.
Next, Greenbriar interrupted the ambassador’s meditation. Diplomatic types often got in the way at times like these, but all Surat did was acknowledge the captain’s warning.
Vulcans, Greenbriar mused. You’ve got to love them.
Just then, the turbolift doors hissed open and his first officer emerged. Alexander Dolgin was a short, wiry man with a receding hairline and a head for starship operations. As he advanced to the captain’s chair, Greenbriar said, “That was record time.”
“Imagine if I hadn’t stopped to take a shower,” said the first officer.
“Two billion kilometers,” said Cangelosi.
Moy sighed with frustration. “Still nothing, sir.”
That was it, then. Those in the mystery vessel were determined to start a fight, and Greenbriar and his crew had no choice but to defend themselves.
Fortunately, they had gone toe-to-toe with marauders many times before, and they had always come out on top. The captain had every confidence that they would do so this time as well.
“Range,” said Bolaris, his Andorian tactical officer.
“Their weapons are charged,” Cangelosi noted.
“Stand by,” said Greenbriar.
Despite appearances, there was a chance the mystery vessel was