Ghost Ship - Diane Carey [77]
He wished the captain was here. This business of isolation, sensory deprivation, sounded risky. Never mind time-consuming when time was one thing they might not have. Then again, I’m the one pacing around with nothing to do. The captain’s probably getting something accomplished while I wear a rut in the rug.
He found he’d worked his way up to Worf’s station. Riker leaned over the muted display, keeping his voice low. “No clues about some way to fight that thing off, Worf?”
“As a matter of fact, sir,” Worf’s deep voice returned clearly, “we’ve brought it down to a question of its tolerance level.”
“Tolerance?”
“Yes, sir. How much energy it can take in at a given time. We think that’s why it backed off us before.” Worf’s big brown fingers poked in a few commands, and the faint jade image of the Enterprise was enhanced. Specific areas on the display then quietly flashed. “These were the areas most affected by the drain. We’re trying to narrow down its power consumption at the moment it backed off. If we can calculate the amount of energy drained from the ship up to the point when the entity backed off, we may be able to calculate its breaking point.”
Riker straightened. “Boy, that sounds shaky. You’re proposing we overfeed it to overload it”
“That’s the conclusion so far, sir. We’re keeping our minds open for alternatives, but it likes the taste of energy and the phasers-“
“I know. All right, keep going. I’d like a couple of choices to present to the captain when he comes out of his experiment, and exhausting all the ship’s power trying to stuff that thing till it pops isn’t my favorite. That leaves us with no second chance.”
“Understood, sir.” Worf made no ceremony about turning his fierce countenance back to his console once again, his dogged perseverance taking over completely. Riker watched him for a moment, taking refuge in the fact that Worf was ignoring him. He wished all his crew could be so unaffected by the presence of an officer at his shoulder. Even Data wasn’t this imperturbable. Not with me, anyway. But I guess I make him nervous.
All at once he turned. “Where is Data? Still down in AR?”
Worf looked puzzled as he said, “Now that you mention it, sir, we haven’t heard from either him or LaForge since they cleared us to refill the mains. They were monitoring from the source.”
“Doesn’t take this long. Get them back up here.”
“Right away, sir.”
“Worf, how do you feel about all this? What are your instincts telling you?”
“My instincts, sir?” The big man came to his full height and frowned in thought. “The captain never asks me about tactics, sir.”
“Well, I’m asking.”
“Klingons are warriors, sir. Our goal is to die in battle. Some Klingons have even made wars and feuds begin so they and their clans could go out and die right. But this thing,” he said contemptuously, casting a glare at the wide viewscreen and its glitter, “this thing is a coward and a bully. There is no honor in fighting it.”
“You wouldn’t feel obliged to fight it if you could find a way to escape it?”
“No more than I would feel obliged to fight a thunderstorm, sir.”
“I see,” Riker murmured. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure, sir.”
His pleasure sounded like a threat. What a voice. Glad it’s on our side, Riker thought as he strode away, trying to think like a Klingon. Coward and a bully. Yes, that was true. A big stupid phenomenon with more power than it knew how to handle and a propensity for stealing more. It probably thought preserving the life essences of its victims was the decent thing to do. If it thought at all, which it probably didn’t. Or did it? Data had been in contact with something, and evidently not the same something Deanna was sensing. Maybe there was more intelligence at work than was apparent-It didn’t matter. Getting away mattered. Not falling into the trap mattered.