Enigma - Michael Jan Friedman [55]
Picard regarded the com officer. “How are you holding up, Lieutenant?”
Paxton smiled in his full, dark beard. “Well enough. I just can’t help thinking…” He shrugged.
“What?” said the captain.
“That I could possibly have prevented this. If I’d caught Ulelo before he sent out those specs, the invaders wouldn’t have gained an advantage over us.”
“None of us noticed what Ulelo was up to,” said Picard. “You, at least, have an excuse—you were absent from the bridge when he was transmitting his data. I was here almost all the time, just a few meters away from him.” He looked around. “So were Idun and Gerda, and Commander Ben Zoma, and Commander Wu.”
Paxton sighed. “Yes, but if I’d checked the com logs a little sooner, I would have seen that something was wrong.”
Picard dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. “It is to your credit that you checked them at all. As you know, most com officers do not bother—and if I had had one of them instead of you, Ulelo would still be sending out his messages undetected and unimpeded.”
That seemed to make Paxton feel better about himself. “Well,” he said, “when you put it that way…”
Picard clapped him on the shoulder. “Forget about Ulelo. Just keep the lines of communication open during the battle, and you will have done all I can possibly expect of you.”
Paxton nodded. “Thanks, sir.”
“For what?” Picard asked with a wink. Then he moved aft to see to Urajel, who had been chosen to man the engineering station in the event of a battle.
He would ask her how she was doing, and try to answer any concerns she might have, and let her know that he had faith in her—just as he had done with Paxton. It wouldn’t accomplish much—the captain knew that. But it would be better than nothing.
As Horombo had predicted, it didn’t take long for Ben Zoma’s team to devise a way to relock the container lid.
In the end, they opted to phaser holes in the wall of the container from the inside. By continuing through the back of each lock, they obtained access to its insides and were able to reconfigure it to accept a tricorder signal.
After that, it was a matter of climbing inside. That was accomplished with the help of a couple of strong backs, Ben Zoma’s being one of them.
Garner was the last to clear the wall of the container. Having been a gymnast of some note, she was able to take a running jump and vault over it, though her form was hampered considerably by the bulkiness of her containment suit.
The next step was to drag the lid across the top of the container until it slipped into place, and then to reactivate the locks. They were already depending on their palmlights for illumination, so it didn’t get any darker when they pulled the lid over. But somehow, it seemed like it did.
And their lights had limited power sources. In a little while they would have to be turned off, so the team could make use of them again when they really needed them.
It wouldn’t be a bad idea to conserve air as well. They didn’t know what conditions they might face in transit from the supply drone to a warship. In fact, the sooner they made the move, the better.
“Remove your helmets,” Ben Zoma ordered his companions, “and shut down your air intake.”
No one hesitated—except McAteer. The admiral tossed him a look that said he would have liked to give that order.
The first officer had agreed to defer to McAteer, but he wasn’t going to ask permission every time he saw a need to say something. And if the admiral didn’t like it, he could convene a competency hearing for Ben Zoma as well.
He was still thinking that when something unpleasant reached his nostrils. Something very unpleasant. And he didn’t have to look far to realize what it was.
McAteer uttered a sound of disgust. “It stinks in here!”
“So it does,” said Ben Zoma. He pointed to the foodstuff with which they had lined the container. “And here’s the culprit.”
Ramirez took a whiff of it close up, then made a face. “The commander’s right.”
The admiral turned to Ben Zoma as if the first officer had created the smell himself. “What are we going