Flashback - Diane Carey [57]
"Was it the shuttlecraft?" he asked. "Did they self-destruct?"
Lieutenant Carey bent over his sensors and said, "Detecting some debris . . . bits and pieces of hard material in the nebula-but, sir, it doesn't read like enough mass for a whole shuttlecraft."
"Check your readings. Make sure of that."
"Checking, sir."
"Mr. Kim, have you got anything?"
"I think," Kim began, peering unhappily into his readouts, "I'm picking up a single detonation of severe power. But it's not ignited fuel. It's a surge of ignited sirillium."
Chakotay came to the edge of the lower bridge and quietly asked, "The sirillium tanks?"
Kim looked down mournfully. "I think I have to conclude that, sir."
Saddened, baffled, and angry, Chakotay gazed at
the deck for a moment. He felt the eyes of the bridge
crew after a pause, and realized what he had to do.
"Prepare to bring the ship about," he said, his
voice rough. "Mr. Carey, take the helm."
The lieutenant looked at him for a moment, then dully answered, "Yes, sir."
The passive twitter of bridge mechanicals gave Chakotay and the others no comfort, as the ship shifted from forward thrusters to reverse thrusters. They wouldn't bother to turn around, but just rumble backward against the hostile nebula until they were out of it.
After this, they wouldn't even have any sirillium to collect. Not even that. Not the smallest profit.
A complete waste of time and lives, all because of one ill-timed phaser shot.
Chakotay dumped himself into the command seat and felt as if he were sinking deeper and deeper into the leather, falling endlessly through the decks.
He'd lost them.
A simple, not particularly important mission had cost the ship its chief engineer and its primary pilot, not to mention two people the rest of the crew had learned to trust.
What would the captain say?
"Back us out of here, Mr. Carey," he said after enough time had passed to shift the necessary systems. "After I've informed the captain, I'll address the crew."
Carey didn't respond, though he should have.
In fact, no one said anything. The silence was biting.
The bridge sounds bleeped and whirred as if to whistle back their lost shipmates.
"Mr. Kim," he said soggily, "advise the crew to stabilize all stations after we leave the nebula, and all department heads report back to Mr. Carey on the ship's condition and damage, if any."
In his periphery he saw Kim nod, but the ensign also made no verbal response.
Suddenly Carey bent over his sensor grid and then bent a little farther. "Sir . . ."
"Something, Lieutenant?"
"I..."
Chakotay shot out of his chair and never even touched the deck as he rushed to the helm. "Something?"
"I'm picking up a ... solid . . ." Carey paused and fine-tuned his controls, unsatisfied. "It's acting like a ... meteor."
"Mr. Kim! Analyze mass and content of Mr. Carey's projectile. Is it natural?"
Kim worked his board. "Size is roughly ten meters . . . mass . . . sir, the mass is only four metric tons! It's hollow! Can't be a natural object! It's got to be the shuttle with a blown cargo bay!"
"Engage tractor beam! Bring it alongside!"
The bridge crew took a collective breath and held it.
Chakotay swung back to the helm. "Mr. Carey, continue confirmation procedure."
"Yes, sir. Sir, it's not a natural object. It's trailing traces of chemical eruption. They must've blown the sirillium tanks and struck a match. They're coming toward us at an angle of point-five degrees."
"Use the tractors to adjust that. Don't let them slip past us, or we'll lose them."
Harry Kim swallowed hard. "That detonation was extremely concentrated, sir. The concussion must've punched right through the forward cabin. I don't think ... I don't think there's going to be much to retrieve."
"They got themselves this far," Chakotay said. "We'll bring them in the rest of the way and take what we get."
Carey turned. "If I were Torres, I'd have