Ghost Ship - Diane Carey [43]
“If we can figure out that programming,” Picard followed, “we can thwart it much as we would draw a moth into a trap with a bright light.”
Geordi chose this moment to step past him and take his post at Conn, muttering, “We’re gonna need one sucker of a butterfly net.”
“There is a danger, sir,” Data went on, “in attracting its attention. We might inadvertently get its Irish up and lay an egg.”
Picard had already started to comment, but instead he glowered at the android for a moment. “Yes, I’d already surmised that. Thank you. Mr. Riker-“
“Sir?”
“Prepare to separate the modules.”
Riker jolted around. “Sir?”
“You heard me, didn’t you?”
“Yes, sir, but … “
“Do you have a question?”
Riker straightened and changed his tone. “Yes, I do, sir. Saucer separation is ideally only for situations when we’ll be going into battle and can leave the saucer far behind, well out of the danger zone. If we separate in this situation, they’ll be completely helpless!”
“Interesting way to put a question.” Picard eyed him foxily. “This isn’t the time to get cold feet about this ship’s capabilities. Lieutenant Yar, recount your statistics for the first officer.”
Yar stood straight behind tactical, her cheeks flushed. “Aye, sir. We calculate only a fifty-fifty chance for the whole ship to escape, but if we separate and the battle hull distracts the thing, the saucer section may have as high as ninety percent chance of escape.”
“And the battle hull?”
She fidgeted. “About seventeen percent.”
A vertical crease appeared over the bridge of Riker’s nose; he felt the tightness of his expression as he glared at her, saw a film of sweat break out on her face, though she withstood the force of his glare. He felt the tickle of a single lock of his dark brown hair, like an irritating thread over his left eye. His mind echoed Yar’s words, the spectacle they would bring. With them, he felt again all the implications, all the reasoning, all the trouble of having a ship that could do what this ship could do. All the problems of a battle-ready vessel that was also supposed to serve as home and hearth for families, and how awkwardly the two really went together. A battleship is supposed to plunge forward into adversity, a colony vessel to run from it. Both were honorable answers, but what happens when both are the same ship? And when one of them isn’t fast enough to run away?
This Enterprise had only been separated once before, and that wasn’t even a shakedown test. And he himself hadn’t even been on board when it happened. He’d heard about it. An insane move, at full warp speed, only the captain’s prerogative. Not one Riker felt he would have chosen, but he wasn’t Jean-Luc Picard, either. In his mind he suddenly envisioned the starship breaking into two parts at lightspeed, imagined the stardrive section shooting on by as the saucer section abruptly fell out of the warp envelope and crammed down to sublight, an effect that must have thrown every one of its passengers to the deck.
Passengers … damn this straddling.
The captain’s words rang out. “All hands, prepare to transfer command to the battle bridge.”
Picard evidently wasn’t interested in opinions on the subject. There would be no group decision this time, Riker saw. If he were captain, there never would be. Not even about whether or not the captain should participate in dangerous away missions. Not even that. But, as he told himself again, again, again-he wasn’t Jean-Luc Picard, wasn’t the man who now scanned the bridge crew and diplomatically said, “I’ll need a volunteer to command the saucer section in this crisis.”
Riker wasn’t about to speak up. He clamped his lips and waited for someone else to volunteer. Tasha opened her mouth, then closed it, and seemed to hope the captain didn’t see. Worf never so much as considered the offer, that much was clear on his swarthy face. Data started to turn from his position at Ops, but thought again and swallowed