Gateways 07_ What Lay Beyond - Diane Carey [132]
“I don’t know much about Commander Vaughn,” Davison said.
“What’s he like?”
Troi smiled. She’d known Vaughn since she was a child the “Ian” he had referred to was Troi’s father. Enigmatically, she said, “He’s an interesting fellow.”
The planet was barren and desolate, so small and unimportant the stellar cartographers never bothered to give it a name. It was catalogued as PI-33 over a hundred years earlier and Starfleet’s records indicated that no one had ever been there. Far from the trading lanes, it was strategically unimportant, and barely Class M, so not worth the effort to colonize.
Picard stared at the viewscreen and was unimpressed. Yet, down below was a gateway, the farthest from the Petraw fleet and their ultimate goal. Data was already conducting a survey to make certain nothing threatening awaited them. La Forge was busy studying output from the gateway and Vale was already arming a detachment for the away team.
“It is devoid of life-forms,” Data reported. “Plenty of flora but I cannot find even a bird or a fish.”
“The gateway is functioning like all the others, but seems to have huge energy reserves,” La Forge added.
“Sounds fairly safe,” Picard said, looking over at his first officer. They shared a familiar look, the one that told Riker that his captain was going to the planet and there would be no discussion over the matter. After all, Picard went in search of the Resonators, had met the Iconians, and deserved to be involved in this, the final act.
“Captain, I think you should not go down alone,” Vale said.
“I agree,” the captain said. “Just because we don’t detect life doesn’t mean there’s nothing threatening. Geordi, come with me as well, in case there’s something unusual with the technology.”
“Just come back this time,” Riker said.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Picard said with a smile. With that, he stood and strode off the bridge, heading straight down to the planet.
The Excalibu r was bucking as the edge of an ion storm threatened their schedule. Burgoyne was gripping on to hir command chair as crew scurried back and forth. They detected the problem minutes earlier as the night crew struggled to avoid contact with the disruptive energy. S/he was awoken from a sound sleep by the alarm klaxon. Quickly, leaving Selar to check on Xyon, their infant son, s/he headed straight to the bridge.
“Helm is sluggish,” reported Keefer, a beefy crewman who seemed to dwarf the console. He stabbed at controls but Burgoyne felt the ship continue to buck.
Burgoyne had no problem with crew of lesser experience handling things under normal conditions, but this was far from normal even for the Excalibur. “Burogyne to senior staff,” s/he barked. “All hands to the bridge.”
In less than two minutes, Robin and Morgan Lefler and Soleta arrived on the bridge. The Vulcan went straight to the science station and began checking readings on the storm. Robin went to ops and performed similar checks, looking to her side to watch Keefer struggle with the helm. To her surprise, Morgan, her stately mother, strode over to the younger man and leaned over his right shoulder.
“You need to ignore the sensor readings and use more manual control to steer clear of a storm like this,” Morgan advised.
“Morgan, relieve Mr. Keefer, please,” Burgoyne said. “No offense, Ensign, but we have little time for lessons.”
As the woman slid into the chair, Robin exclaimed, “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Steering the ship,” Morgan replied, her hands dancing across the controls. She paused briefly to intertwine her fingers, loosening them up as if she were going to play the piano. Then she expertly began easing the starship from the edge of the storm without losing speed.
Robin spun in her chair, looking at the first officer. “How can you do that?”
“Simple,” Burgoyne replied. “If Captain Calhoun trusted her skill at science, then I can trust her at the helm. Sounds like she knows what she’s doing. Look,