Enigma Ship - J. Steven York [11]
They stepped through the pressure doors into an interior corridor, and headed toward the workroom where they had set up shop for their part of the mission.
“Thank you.” Soloman still felt uncertain.
“How did it feel?”
“Feel? Do you mean in the tactile, or the emotional sense?”
“In the less tangible sense. Operating a spacecraft, even one this small and limited, is a profound experience, from both a sensory and emotional standpoint. Sometimes the best way to evaluate it is on a nontechnical level. How does the pod feel to you?”
Soloman hesitated. There had been fear, excitement, and exhilaration, but something else nagged at him, some aspect that colored all the rest. “It felt—lonely.”
P8 dropped down to scuttle on all eight legs. “That’s not what I would have expected.”
“Nor I. I thought that since—losing my bond-mate, I thought I had become somewhat immune, or at least numbed, to the feeling of being alone. Yet I have spent most of my time on this ship, surrounded by my crewmates, interfacing with its computers. I’ve not been truly as alone as I imagined. In the pod, immersed in the simulation, hearing only your voice, without even the pod’s pathetically limited computer for company, I was more alone than I think I have ever been, and I know that in a real mission, it would be even more extreme.”
P8 stopped, then scuttled around in a semicircle to look up at Soloman. “I am sorry. I didn’t see what a personal challenge this could be for you, and I’m sure Commander Gomez didn’t either. I will talk with her. I’m sure we can get someone else to go out in the pod.”
“No,” said Soloman, surprised at his own resolve, “that will not be necessary. I look forward to the mission not with dread, but with anticipation. Flying the mission, operating the manual controls, that feeling of being alone. I felt—empowered.”
P8 stood on her hind legs, antennae waving excitedly. “Good for you, my friend! It is amazing what this Enigma can teach us about ourselves. I have heard it said, that when one looks into the abyss, they see only themselves.” She turned and walked through the door of their workroom.
Feeling just a little dizzy, not from fatigue, but from amazement, Soloman followed.
Chapter
4
To Captain Gold, the da Vinci‘s shuttlebay seemed like a giant’s closet: crowded, and badly in need of being cleaned out. There were two shuttlecraft wedged into the compact space, plus a Work Bee and several EVA pods. Along every wall and in various alcoves, all manner of large equipment was stowed: phaser drills, portable tractor beam emitters, cargo-sized pattern enhancers, magnetic grapples, spools of carbon nanotube cable, color-coded drums of lubricants and plasma coolant, and other tools of the S.C.E. trade.
On most Federation starships, the shuttlebay was a neat and spacious hangar, kept clear of all but a few shuttles and perhaps a visiting ship or two.
Well, Gold smiled to himself as he threaded his way through the clutter, most shuttlebays don’t have to work for a living.
He stood before the closed bay doors, and glanced over his shoulder at the observation windows. As he expected, the station was not staffed, and he was alone. Good. “Computer, active force field, open shuttlebay doors.”
“Command authorization required.”
“Authorization Gold, ten-forty-five.”
With a whir, the doors parted. There were many unusual aspects of the Saber-class design: the warp nacelles connected to the outside edges of the saucer, the deep-keeled engineering section trailing aft with the warp-core in the rear, and the shuttlebay doors that opened forward, just under the main bridge.
The doors stood open, and Gold watched the warp-streaked stars passing by, the vastness of space separated from him by no more than a few inches and a force field.
One more thing about this command that he wouldn’t trade for anything. The sailing captains of old could stand on the bow of their ship, lean over the rail, and look out