Ghost Ship - Diane Carey [54]
At the last moment a shock wave from the antimatter explosions in the asteroid belt washed across the two ships and pushed between them like a wedge.
“Reverse!” Picard sharply ordered, and beneath him the ship moved to comply. “Stabilize. Smartly now. We may not get another chance. Approach on tight-frequency tractor beams. Get us in there.”
“Aye, sir,” LaForge mumbled, sweating.
“Worf, assist.”
“Yes, sir,” the Klingon acknowledged. He left Data sitting on the deck steps and slid in behind Ops.
Data blinked and watched, but made no attempt to regain his position; in fact, Riker noticed a thick preoccupation on the android’s part.
Now what? he thought. Look at him. He looks as though a straight answer would do him as much good as it’d do me. Maybe he tried too hard. Maybe he took me too seriously and let that thing get inside and poach him. Next time I’ll keep my mouth shut.
Maybe.
The deck rocked beneath him. He grabbed for the bridge rail and looked at the viewscreen barely in time to see an artificially lighted view of the saucer section’s docking sleeve. Then the viewer went black and disengaged automatically.
“Docking complete, Captain,” LaForge reported. “All sections, all junctions show green. Docking chief reports all secure.”
“Signal acknowledgment. All stop. Well,” Picard said with a sigh, “that was a blasted fiasco if ever I saw one. Evidently there’s not going to be an easy way out of this one.”
“Orders, sir?” Riker asked.
“Captain!” Yar blurted. “It’s gone!”
The bridge might as well have whirled under them like a giant lazy Susan, they all turned so fast.
“Gone?” Picard repeated. “Just like that?”
“Even faster.” Yar glowered over her equipment as though angrier at the phenomenon’s disappearance than she had been about its attacks. It was allowed to go away, but not without checking with the security chief first. “No trail, no residual energy, nothing. Popped out of existence.”
“Charming. It’s playing some bloody game with us. Well, I’d say this confirms Data’s hypothesis about interdimensionality with rather alarming panache.”
“Maybe we should get out of the area while we can, sir,” Riker suggested.
“Oh, no, not on your life, Number One,” the captain responded, “and I mean that quite literally.”
“But if-“
“Can’t you see? It’s demonstrated quite clearly that it’s no insect and it’s no shark. It’s a trapdoor spider. We move-it springs. All it has to do is wait. Wait until we make a move. And we’re not going to.” He turned to the waiting faces of the tactical bridge crew and authoritatively said, “All stop. Shut down all systems including internal with the exception of basic life support. Turn off everything that can conceivably be turned off. Suspend experimentation and testing of any kind unless I specifically order it, all food processors, all extraneous utensils, terminals, holographs, intraship communication, generators, plumbing, everything. Reduce ship’s heating and lighting to bare minimum. Keep sound levels down. Tell people to get where they’re going, then stay there. We’re going to shut down the turbolifts within ten minutes and use only maintenance ladders. Have you got that?”
Riker tilted his head dubiously. “I don’t know how long we can hold out like that.”
Picard’s dark eyes thinned. “Cities have endured blackouts before, Mr. Riker,” he said, “and so shall we. Ever since submarine warfare and the blitz, groups of people have had to endure periods of excruciating silence.”
“Those were trained military personnel, sir. It’s going to be harder on-“
The captain silenced him with a toss of his head and unexpectedly lowered his voice. “Don’t be insulting.”
“Right. Sorry, sir.” Riker cast an appropriate gesture at Worf and said, “Shipwide systems comply. I’ll check everything personally.”
The captain nodded. “As soon as we get back to the main bridge, I want a complete systems check in preparation to feed antimatter from the reserves into the main tank to make up