Ghost of a Chance - Mark Garland [66]
The Federation ship had broken contact. He uttered the obscenities under his breath for his own benefit. Then he turned to his crew.
"I've never seen anything like that!" Triness said, an unfamiliar touch of nervousness in her voice. "It is as if my own eyes--" "That's why I want to see it again," Gantel said. "Run the last few minutes of transmission back. We need another look. Have the computer analyze the images:" They watched again as Jonal, Mila, and Tassay vanished from sight and the screen went black. The computer was of no immediate help.
"It looks as though they were vaporized somehow," Triness said as the cruiser began to come about. Her eyes narrowed as she and Gantel stared at the blank screen. "Yet no weapon was used, at least not by anyone on their bridge."
"None we know of," Gantel said. His gaze drifted, until he sat looking at his feet, staring at as fine a pair of K'Heplian leather boots as had ever walked a deck. This was the kind of situation that could go either way. Boon or bust. With the fleet due to arrive in no time, whatever he did next would make the difference between risk and ruin.
The problem was, no hint of a solution seemed willing to present itself.
But he couldn't just stay here, doing nothing.
"Range to target?" Gantel shouted.
"Four hundred thousand kilometers," the helmsman said.
"Close to one hundred thousand immediately."
The screen lit up again with a view of near space. The planet's smallest moon filled most of the field, but a minute spot could be seen crossing its equinox, moving into the light. The moon began to grow as the cruiser drew forward.
"Whatever they did, they must have done it from a remote location," the navigation officer said, taking her chances by speaking out of turn.
"So the technology may have control limitations." Her comment was met with nods all around.
"Still, imagine the power such a device would give an aggressor," Triness said.
"Imagine the price it would command!" Gantel exclaimed.
"More than enough to make up for the loss of the envoys," Triness suggested.
Gantel nodded agreement. "And a hundred like them."
Then Triness seemed to come to some fresh perspective. She looked at Gantel as if he had changed color.
"What is it?" he asked.
"At the moment," she said, her eyes drifting back toward the main viewer, "I am most concerned about... the range of the weapon."
Gantel considered this briefly. He had to agree. They were already getting very close to the Federation ship. "It's range must be limited, or they would have used it against us by now.
What is our present distance?"
"One hundred fifty and closing."
"All stop."
"Agreed, the device must have a short range," Triness said.
"Or," Gantel suggested, "they were saving it. Keeping it a secret until they needed to use it."
"Indeed," Triness said, her lips pursed in speculation.
Gantel leaned forward to peer at the Federation ship. "This must be done right. Whatever this device is, it must be ours. I want to present it to Shaale myself."
That was the key, of course. The kind of bold maneuver that would put him in very good stead with the first director, perhaps even earn him a special commission. But more importantly, he would, if he handled the deal correctly, retain the distribution rights to the device. And if the stars were on his side, the distribution profits would be in addition to whatever windfall came from the recovery of the defensive system on Drenar Four.
Overall, this would be the most successful, most profitable mission in memory--anyone's memory, so far as Gantel knew!
Surely that possibility was worth the risk, a thousand times over.
The Federation ship was apparently a treasure trove of technological wonders. Even if nothing of value proved recoverable from the planet itself, the capture of Voyager, intact, meant Gantel would succeed.
The hard part, of course,