Gauntlet - Michael Jan Friedman [72]
And why not? They had already accomplished what no one else could. They had gotten through the debris field and the vortex belt, and now—thanks to Valderrama—they had come up with a way to see in a place where standard sensors were of no use to them.
With a little luck, they would accomplish one more task—the one they had come here for. They would catch the infamous, elusive White Wolf.
“You’re staring out that port again,” Ben Zoma noted.
Picard chuckled grimly. “I find I do my best thinking here.”
“You used to do your best thinking in the shower,” said the first officer. “Or so you told me.”
“That,” said the captain, “was before I had an observation port to stare out of.”
Ben Zoma found himself smiling. “So what’s on your mind at this advanced hour?”
“Our approach to catching the White Wolf. I think we need to reconsider it.”
The first officer pulled up a chair. “I’m all ears.”
Picard made a fist with his right hand and used his left forefinger to describe a circle above it. As he spoke the circle moved down until it described an equatorial orbit.
“Right now,” Picard said, “we are descending toward Beta Barritus in a shallow spiral—the textbook approach to finding something in a solar system under less than optimum sensor conditions. The virtue of that approach is the likelihood that we will eventually come across the White Wolf’s position.”
But there was a downside as well. Picard articulated it.
“Unfortunately, this may take a very long time. And if the White Wolf is hiding on the other side of the star, which he may well be, catching him will take even longer.”
Ben Zoma nodded. “No argument there.”
“What I’m considering,” the captain told him, “is going directly to Beta Barritus—a trip that should take no more than three hours at full impulse. Then, when we’ve come within perhaps a thousand kilometers of the star, we can follow an upward spiral.”
“Because the White Wolf is probably hiding as close to Beta Barritus as he can,” the first officer noted thoughtfully. “I mean, that’s what I would do—make it as difficult as possible for my pursuers to reach me, much less find me.”
“Precisely. And if it happens that his sensor capabilities are superior to our radar and he finds us before we find him, he will probably take flight in an outward direction.”
“Which will eventually flush him out of the system—and make him easy prey for McAteer’s armada.” Ben Zoma grinned appreciatively. “Obviously, you’ve done more than consider this. You’ve thought it through pretty damned thoroughly.”
“I have,” Picard admitted as he took the seat behind his desk. “So what do you think?”
Ben Zoma shrugged. “What I think, Jean-Luc, is we ought to put your strategy into action.”
The captain looked pleased with his friend’s response. “I am glad to hear you say that, Number One.” He tapped his communicator. “Helm, this is Picard . . .”
And he gave the order to head directly for Beta Barritus.
“Aye, sir,” said Idun.
Ben Zoma glanced at the observation port and saw the ruddy glare of the star grow more intense. Idun was bringing them about, putting them on the course Picard had described.
The captain noticed as well. “There,” he said, and turned back to his friend. “That’s done.”
Ben Zoma regarded the man on the other side of the desk. “You know,” he remarked, “I’m glad to see you feeling so enthusiastic. For a while there when we first entered this system, you were frowning so hard I thought your face would crack.”
Picard looked skeptical. “Really.”
“Really,” said the first officer.
“Well,” said the captain, “I do feel more in control of the situation. Though, to be honest, I’m anything but in control. I still don’t know what tricks our adversary may be holding in reserve.”
He had a point, Ben Zoma conceded. It was hard to know how to fight someone when you knew so little about him.
“Funny,” Picard went on. “I thought our battle against the Nuyyad was our baptism of fire—a fight to the death against a ruthless and