Gauntlet - Michael Jan Friedman [75]
And like Idun, the vessel’s helm officer wasn’t flinching. The pirate was on a course that threatened to ram the Stargazer into oblivion.
“Fire!” Picard barked.
But the White Wolf had already foiled him by veering off to starboard. And as he darted past the Stargazer, he unleashed a series of phaser blasts at close range.
The captain was sent sprawling by the fury of the attack. Somewhere behind him a console exploded, spewing sparks and billows of smoke, and he could hear groans of pain.
But Ben Zoma would see to the console and the injured, Picard thought as he dragged himself to his feet. It was the captain’s job to see to it they didn’t absorb such punishment a second time.
“Report!” he commanded.
“Shields down thirty-eight percent!” Gerda growled.
“Casualties on decks seven, ten, and eleven!” Paxton reported. “Hull breaches on twelve and thirteen!”
Picard cursed under his breath. They had taken a beating. And to that point, they hadn’t even dealt the enemy a glancing blow.
The problem was that the pirate was more maneuverable than the larger and more powerful Stargazer. The White Wolf might not have been able to match their firepower or their defenses, but he could certainly fly rings around them.
Clearly, they needed a new tactic. Gritting his teeth, Picard tried to come up with one.
But all he could think about was Daithan Ruhalter—not the heroic and inspirational human being under whom he had served, but the strangely wistful Daithan Ruhalter of his nightmare. The latter’s words came to the captain anew, surging from the depths of his memory . . .
Instinct, the nightmare Ruhalter had said. Either you’ve got it or you don’t. And if you don’t, no collection of sensors and shields and phaser banks is going to help you.
Picard could feel a bead of sweat meandering down the side of his face. He felt as if all eyes were upon him, waiting for him to say the words that would turn the battle around.
But he had no such words at his disposal.
It was too soon, the nightmare Ruhalter had said of Picard. He was too damned young.
No, thought the captain. He glared defiantly at the viewscreen, which showed him nothing more than billowing scarlet gas clouds. I am not too young, he insisted. I will beat the White Wolf.
And suddenly, it came to him how he would do it.
Turning to Idun, Picard said, “Retreat! Full impulse!”
His helm officer looked at him with an expression of horror on her face. It seemed to him that she was about to protest, right there in the middle of their encounter with the enemy.
But in the end, she kept from commenting on his choice of tactic. She simply worked her helm controls and carried out her captain’s command.
A moment later, he saw the gas clouds ahead of them swing to port. Idun was bringing them about, moving them away from the enemy as fast as their impulse drive would take them.
Joining Gerda at her navigation console, Picard inspected her radar monitor. It showed him that the pirate wasn’t content to let them go—not after they had smoked him from his lair. He was following the Stargazer, pursuing her as quickly as she was running away.
And why not? The White Wolf had already proven his tactical superiority. He wanted to end this hunt and end it quickly, just as Picard would have done if their roles were reversed.
The captain gauged the distance between the two ships—a bit too far for effective phaser fire, he judged. But that could change—and with a grim smile, he demonstrated just how quickly it could happen.
“All stop!” he bellowed. Then, to Vigo: “Fire phasers!”
Everything happened so quickly, Picard couldn’t be certain at first whether his gambit had worked or failed. The White Wolf’s ship seemed to surge out of nowhere, looming impossibly large on the viewscreen, even as the Stargazer stabbed it with two seething red phaser bolts at appallingly close range.
The twin energy lances sent