Ghost of a Chance - Mark Garland [61]
Although this new wrinkle, moving the moons around to alleviate the tectonic pressures within the planet, had the potential to pose some nasty complications. Still, though, he doubted the visitors had the time or the resources to make any real difference. They would be finished as soon as he said so. All he had to do was keep things from getting any more convoluted, keep the risk factors from escalating, until the rest of the plan could be"We have the first director on our extended scans," Triness said, her voice nearly as melodic as the strains of a Vanolen windwhyle to his ears. And indeed she spoke mostly welcome words. He wasn't looking forward to First Director Shaale's arrival, but unless something went incredibly wrong--something he had resolved not to think about, at least not constantly--the rest of the week promised to turn out very well indeed.
Gantel drew a second glass of juice with a sigh of imposed satisfaction. He marveled at the color and the tantalizing aroma; then he set the glass back down. He wasn't thirsty anymore. And his stomach didn't feel quite well.
"Very good," he said, gathering up his director's dress coat, shrugging the weight of it onto his shoulders. "I'll be up in a moment."
***
Chakotay watched the viewscreen fill up with moon. The first phase of their efforts had gone well indeed. Though the process was akin to watching water evaporate, the first moon's trajectory had been measurably altered. The second moon's movement would be much less impressive, and the strain on the warp engines as the deflector was again activated was sure to worsen.
But B'Elanna insisted that what little Voyager was beginning to accomplish was within the desired parameters, and she hadn't advised calling the mission off--not yet, anyway. Chakotay took her word on all of it. Nearly impossible feats of precise engineering under extreme duress were the sort of thing she was good at; he'd staked his life on that more than once.
He rose from the captain's chair, then returned once more to the ops station where he had been standing for much of the past few hours, peering over Ensign Stephens's shoulder. The whole thing was theory.
They couldn't be sure that their effort would have a large enough effect to ease the violent turbulence within the planet, or whether the benefits, even if they succeeded, would come in time. But it made sense to try, if only to help ease the sense of helplessness that Chakotay knew the crew felt.
"Commander," Paris said, "extreme long-range sensors are picking up several vessels. They appear to be on a direct course toward the Drenar system."
"Those are certainly the Televek transport and supply ships we told you about," Jonal said, drawing up beside the Commander at Ops. The Drosary glanced at the panel where the sensor information was displayed and smiled, first at the ensign, then at Chakotay. "Just as promised, help is on the way."
"You will all be quite pleased when the Televek vessels arrive," Tassay said as she and Mila joined the others. "They will help bring our problems, and those of the people below, to an acceptable solution.
And when all of that is finished, before we go our separate ways, there will be time for some of us to get to know some of you a little bit... better, perhaps."
Chakotay found her looking only at him as she spoke this last.
Looking into him, it seemed. And he felt for a moment as if he were staring deeply into some part of her as well.
"I certainly hope so," Mila said, strolling back toward Paris's station, running one fingertip lightly across the back of his neck. He seemed to weather the assault well enough.
"You are a wonderfully skilled pilot," she told him. "I'll bet you're the best your Starfleet has to offer."
"You don't have to tell him that," Chakotay remarked. "Just ask him, and he'll be glad to tell you."
"I was a good pilot, too," Mila