Gauntlet - Michael Jan Friedman [57]
Chapter Seventeen
AGAIN PICARD FOUND himself at the head of the long black table in the Stargazer’s briefing room, regarding six attentive officers.
“You are all aware of the problem, I trust.”
Ben Zoma, Wu, Simenon, Valderrama, and the Asmund twins responded with nods and murmurs of confirmation.
The captain turned to the hologram hovering over the center of the table. It was different from the one he had called for last time in that the debris field and the outer precincts of the solar system had been stripped away, leaving the system’s core and the vortex belt clearly visible.
“As you’ve learned in your readings,” he said, “these magnetic vortices are what stopped the most enterprising of our colleagues. But they will not stop us. The question is: How can we get past them and continue to pursue our mission?”
Ben Zoma iterated his remark that a warp-speed jump was not an option. Then he called for suggestions.
Valderrama was the first to speak. “Magnetic forces of that intensity are going to tear up any shield they touch.”
“But there’s no way for us to avoid them,” Wu noted.
“They’re insubstantial,” Gerda observed, “so we can neither punch a hole in them with weapons fire nor clear a path through them with a tractor beam.”
“What about a competing force?” Idun asked.
Picard leaned forward. “What do you mean?”
“A magnetic emission of some kind,” the helm officer expanded. “Something that will fight the vortices and reduce the threat they pose to our shields.”
The captain looked around the table. Like him, everyone seemed intrigued by the nature of Idun’s suggestion. However, no one seemed able to translate it into a workable strategy.
“It’s beyond us,” Ben Zoma said finally.
Picard nodded. “Let’s move on.”
That’s when he saw the expression on his chief engineer’s face. It was a surly look, a look of discontent.
The captain had seen it before. It meant Simenon was thinking about something. Thinking hard.
“Mr. Simenon?” he said.
The Gnalish turned to him and his ruby eyes blinked. But he didn’t offer any other response.
“Mr. Sim—” Wu began.
But Ben Zoma stopped her by putting his hand on her arm. He too knew better than to interrupt Simenon when he was cogitating.
Finally, the engineer’s eyes became animated again, an indication that he was finished thinking. “I’ve got an idea,” he rasped.
Picard frowned. “And . . . ?”
Simenon frowned back at him. “What if we were to change the polarity of our shields?”
For a moment, the idea hung in the air like a second hologram, inviting everyone’s scrutiny. Then the group’s reactions began to manifest themselves.
“Can you do that?” asked Ben Zoma.
Simenon nodded. “I think so.”
“If you can,” said Valderrama, “it should make the shields a lot less vulnerable to the action of the vortices.”
Picard hadn’t trained as an engineer. However, he had a rudimentary understanding of the principles involved, and Simenon’s suggestion seemed to make sense.
“Even if Mr. Simenon’s approach works,” said Wu, “it will still be a dangerous passage.”
“Yes,” Ben Zoma agreed. “But not as dangerous.”
“I would like to see a computer model,” he said.
“No problem,” the engineer assured him. “I can whip one up as soon as I get back to engineering.”
Taking that as his cue, the captain nodded. “By all means, Mr. Simenon.” He took in his assembled officers at a glance. “You’re dismissed, all of you.”
He looked forward to seeing what the Gnalish came up with. If luck was still on their side, Simenon’s strategy would keep alive their hope of finding the White Wolf.
If not . . .
Picard caught himself. There is no alternative, he reflected. At least, not one he could live with.
* * *
Greyhorse was deep in reverie when he heard the captain’s voice over the intercom system.
“What is it, sir?” he asked Picard.
“I’ve gone over Mr. Simenon’s computer models and approved his plan for getting us through the vortex belt. Mind you, I believe we will come through with minimal damage. However, I want you to be on