Flashback - Diane Carey [21]
Captain Sulu never got his damage report, and after a moment gave up and took over two of the consoles himself. There was still someone at the helm, so Sulu stayed on the upper bridge, trying to hold the ship together. Thrum after thrum of firing impact sounded against the vessel's shields, sending
the orientation grids spinning-which meant the ship was spinning.
"Hull breach on deck twelve," a female lieutenant commander reported finally from a console. "Section forty-seven . . . we've lost power on decks five, six, and ten . . . casualty reports are coming in ... nineteen wounded . . ."
"Helm, drop out of warp," Captain Sulu interrupted. "Evasive pattern Delta Six."
What a voice! Janeway had studied about the legendary captain of the first Excelsior-class vessel, but had never heard a recording of his voice. He didn't seem excited, and in fact was only speaking loudly enough to be heard above the crackle and boom of battle. He didn't have to speak very loudly to be heard, with that heavy voice to throw around.
Now, where was Tuvok?
She took a step forward on the upper deck, since these people didn't seem to see her anyway.
She was overwhelmed with a desire to plunge in and help, to give orders. That crewman over there should be on the other side of the bridge, stabilizing the shield grid. What was he waiting for?
Didn't they have backup compensators?
No, maybe back then-back now-they didn't.
And there was Hikaru Sulu, a living history lesson. If only she could pin herself to his sleeve and question his every decision.
No-there was something to be accomplished here, and it didn't involve a captain from eighty years ago. It involved Tuvok. Where was he?
She looked around.
Knee-high smoke curled toward the deck vents, gradually clearing the navigation area on the lower deck. There, in the hub of the bridge, normally the most precious place on the ship, Tuvok sat on the deck, dressed in the same kind of old-style uniform as everyone else here, with an ensign's insignia and the designation of a science officer. In his arms was a human shipmate, a young man wearing the same kind of uniform, with lieutenant's insignia. The young officer was badly burned, blood oozing through gory wounds on his face and hands.
Janeway recognized the type of injury. Close-ignition electrical burns from an exploded circuit board. The small gray-blue dots of hot console insulation pocking the young man's burned face were the giveaway. They'd been fused right into his skin, then incinerated into place.
All around them battle dialogue shot back and forth across the bridge. She knew what was going on, but not why. They were firing phasers, and the ship continued to shake and rock and bolt. Captain Sulu was snapping off orders one after another, and answering questions while also handling a couple of consoles. It took all Janeway's self-control to ignore the situation and concentrate on her purpose for being here.
"Tuvok," she began, flinching at the sound of her own voice, "can you hear me?"
Tuvok looked up, startled at first, then eased his crewmate's body to the ground. He stood up, and seemed confused.
"Yes," he said. "It would seem that the meld was successful."
Janeway let out a breath she'd been holding. She was relieved-he did see her.
He didn't really look younger, but of course he didn't look a hundred years old, either. For a moment she was jealous of Vulcan longevity. Imagine what humans could accomplish if they lived a lifetime and a half the way Vulcans did. What any human wouldn't give to age so gracefully!
"We are not in a childhood memory," Tuvok said.
"Where are we?" she asked. She knew the place and time, but wanted to hear him say it, to keep his mind concentrating on the reason they were here, the reason he had to feel a crewmate die in his arms all over again.
"This event is a memory of mine," he said. "But it is my first deep-space assignment