Ghost of a Chance - Mark Garland [74]
"I don't need this," he said out loud, to the planet itself, and to the filthy skies above, as he pushed off and headed back into the cruiser.
"And I certainly don't deserve it." He headed straight for the bridge.
"Still no word from Tolif?" he asked, though he was quite sure he would have been told.
"None," said Tatel, the young female associate on duty. She had only joined the crew on this trip. Daket hardly knew a thing about her, and that suited him just fine.
"Try to raise them again. What was their status at last contact?"
"Progress was being made. I have a report."
Daket looked at the screen at his command station. Tolif's notes were thorough, but they offered nothing promising. Nothing at all. The shuttle systems were badly damaged, and getting them back on line was proving to be a difficult task. An update had been promised, but it hadn't come. Worst case, they had all died in the recent round of quakes. Daket shook his head; it would be difficult to put a positive spin on that.
"Very well," Daket said gravely, shrugging his shoulders. "Did Gantel say what he wanted?"
"There have been some developments in orbit, I believe."
Which meant nothing good, certainly, Daket decided. Any developments in orbit would have little effect on his end of operations, unless time or circumstances had necessitated a change in plans.
Unless--could he dare hope?--they were finally going to leave this broken-up, boiling pit of a planet. Daket couldn't imagine what grim task Gantel might have in mind, but anything would be better than sitting here. Almost anything, surely. He ordered Tatel to make contact.
"Wait," Tatel said, leaning forward, working at her controls. "I have a response from Tolif and his team."
Daket looked up, his eyes wide. "Yes?"
After a pause that seemed endless, the associate sat back and made a decidedly sour face. "It..." she began, "I'm afraid it isn't good news."
***
Janeway felt a surge of relief as Voyager's transporter room appeared before her eyes. She felt a second, smaller comfort as Chakotay and a pair of security officers lowered their weapons and grinned at her like so many children. She turned and found Tuvok standing beside her.
"Take Ensign Kim to sickbay," Chakotay said, signaling the security officers to help Kim as Janeway stepped off the transporter pad. "Did we interrupt something?" he asked, glancing at the weapons in the others' hands.
"A most welcome interruption," Janeway assured the commander.
"I would agree," Tuvok added.
"Next time," Chakotay told the captain, retaining his grin, "don't stay away so long."
"I'll try not to. And by the way, the next time the spirits move you, remind me to pay closer attention."
"Yes, sir. And may I say, you look terrible?"
Janeway glanced down at herself. She was still covered with dirt and ash, much of it now caked with sweat, and her uniform was torn on both sleeves and at one knee. Tuvok looked only slightly better. She nodded. "Thank you," she said. She moved toward the door, waited for it to slide away, then headed out at a brisk pace. Chakotay fell into step along side her.
"What's our status?" she asked.
"Where do you want me to start?" Chakotay said, though it was not a question. "We figured out what you meant in the message you sent, then we did some calculations. The lunar alignment will spell catastrophe for the planet. And a lot sooner than anyone expected."
"I'm not surprised," Janeway said, letting go of any last hope that she might be wrong. "Go on."
"Torres worked out a plan to move the moons a little at a time, one by one, using a projected warp field and Voyager's impulse engines. We estimate the collective effect will be enough to prevent precise alignment from occurring. We've already begun the effort. We've completed the work on the first moon, and we're ready to move on to the second."
"Your statement would