Enigma Ship - J. Steven York [35]
“There’ll be a security team at the transporter room of course,” said Duffy, looking to make sure there was nobody else within earshot, “but Lieutenant Roth is leading it, and he’s handpicked the team.”
Omthon didn’t seem to be listening. “She’s a beautiful woman.”
Duffy managed not to trip over his own feet. He kept looking straight ahead. “Who?”
“Sonya Gomez.”
“I hadn’t noticed,” Duffy said glumly.
“It’s a good thing Sonya has been dealing with Captain Newport, Mr. Duffy. You are a very poor liar.”
Duffy considered for a moment. “That smell thing, it doesn’t come in a bottle, does it?”
* * *
Commander Gomez loitered off to one side of the Lincoln‘s bridge, pretending to examine the vacant engineering station. A few of the bridge crew gave her the occasional curious glance, but largely, she went unnoticed.
She glanced back at Captain Newport, who sat in the big chair like Zeus on his throne. He rubbed his chin, and stared intently at the main viewer. They’d be dropping out of warp in a few minutes.
She wondered how Pattie was doing. It was impossible to know precisely how much thermal shock the solenoid cores could take, or exactly when they would be ready. At least we’ll save the Chinook people.
But then she had an ugly thought. They were only assuming the simulation would bring back the real Chinook away team in response to Newport’s perceptions.
But what if they were somewhere else, lost in their own simulation? What if, instead of the real away team, Enigma gave them back only holographic duplicates? Then they might not be able to save anybody at all.
* * *
Stevens stepped out of the turbolift and onto the da Vinci‘s bridge.
Gold looked at him curiously.
“Nothing more I could do down there, Captain. I figured this would be the place to watch the show. In fact”—he glanced at the tactical station—“I was wondering if I could push the button?”
Gold nodded. “Be my guest.”
McAllan moved out of the way to allow Stevens access.
“Just one thing, Stevens.”
“Sir?”
“Don’t miss.”
* * *
Duffy and Omthon stopped just outside the transporter room, and Duffy groaned. “Not now!”
The ball of light hovered just outside the door, then shaped itself back into the form of the Bolian officer.
“Listen to me,” said Duffy, “your ship is in danger. You have to listen to me.”
The Bolian looked annoyed. “You disrupt the simulation. You must be isolated.”
* * *
“Captain,” said Lincoln‘s conn officer, “we’re being hailed. A ship is matching course with us.”
“On screen.”
Gomez looked up and gasped. She’d seen the ship before, but only as a drawing on a padd. It was Duffy’s S.C.E. ship.
“They’re the U.S.S. Roebling,” reported the ops officer. “Sir, they’re asking us to beam over a Commander Gomez, a Lt. Commander Duffy, and Crewperson P8 Blue.”
Gomez blinked. Roebling.
She remembered the name from her engineering history class. A nineteenth-century engineering family back on Earth. If memory served, they designed and built the Brooklyn Bridge. Duffy had mentioned visiting the Brooklyn Bridge to her once.
Enigma had to be plucking things from Duffy’s mind, only they didn’t realize this ship was real only to him.
“Captain,” said Gomez firmly, “that is not a Federation ship; it’s an alien imposter.”
“Captain,” said the ops officer, “all their Federation identity codes verify.”
“Check your database. You’ll find no U.S.S. Roebling listed, nor will you find any ship matching that configuration. Look at it! It’s a poor copy of a Norway-class vessel,” she added with a mental apology to Duffy.
Newport looked at her. He nodded. “What should we do?”
“I recommend evasive action. Fire on it if you have to, but don’t let it delay us getting to Starbase 12.”
* * *
As abruptly as he’d appeared, the false Bolian was gone. Duffy was surprised he hadn’t been transported elsewhere, but he somehow didn’t think it was over.
As they entered the transporter room, the deck shuddered slightly. Duffy immediately know what had happened.
“That was a torpedo launch! What is blazes is going