Hard Crash - Christie Golden [6]
Gomez shook her dark head, recovering her composure quickly. "I don't know. And we shouldn't make assumptions without all the data," she said. "Captain, I think we should transport this pilot to sickbay and have Dr. Lense perform a complete examination." Her eyes flickered to 110. "And 110 seems to be having a tough time figuring out this computer."
"What?" Gold's voice was incredulous. "And Earth is having a tough time spinning."
"He's doing the best he can," said Bart, almost as if in defense. "It's hard for him by himself."
"I'll send over Pattie and Ina to lend him a hand. Or leg, as the case may be. The rest of you, keep examining that ship. I'll have the pilot beamed over and I'll let you know when Lense learns anything."
"Aye, sir." La Forge Gomez, Duffy and Abramowitz stepped back from the chair. The figure shimmered, then dematerialized.
A terrible sound rent the air, a high-pitched scream of agony mixed with an ear-splitting mechanical hum. As one, they whirled to behold little 110, his tiny body arched in agony, screaming as his body shuddered and writhed. Blue Light crackled around his small frame, enveloping the Bynar and the console on which his delicate fingers were placed. He was caught, writhing, unable to break free. Unable to do anything but cry out.
His crewmembers rushed forward. Before they could get to him, a final burst of energy lifted 110 up into the air and hurled him across the room. He slammed into a bulkhead, and Duffy heard an audible crack as the Bynar tumbled, limp, to the deck. The buffer lay beside him, blinking wildly.
Faulwell was the first to reach him, but by then Gomez was already saying, "Medical emergency! Lock onto 110 and get him to sickbay now!"
Even as 110 shimmered and vanished, Duffy felt the ship shudder. The light changed from murky red to bright yellow.
"It's powering up!" Duffy cried, yelling to be heard above the sudden rumbling that filled the control room.
Gomez raced back to the chair and began searching for a control panel. "There's nothing here!" she yelled.
The ship lurched violently. All of them lost their balance and fell heavily to the metal deck. The vessel heaved and bucked, then appeared to move forward.
There was no screen, no way to see what was happening outside this womb-like single room. How had the pilot been able to navigate?
"Gold to away team. I'm getting you and Pattie the hell out of there."
"What's happening?" demanded La Forge.
"That ship just woke up and is trampling all over downtown. Prepare to beam aboard."
They all appeared on the bridge. Duffy materialized directly in front of a furious Corsi. She towered over him, her face red with anger, and hissed, "I told you I should have come with you! Look!"
She pointed angrily at the screen. Duffy stared. His captain hadn't exaggerated. The ship filled the screen. Earlier, they had wondered what function the four protrusions on the otherwise sleek ship might have performed. Now, they saw those strange spikes, seemingly so awkward, in action. They served the vessel for legs, moving clumsily but effectively across the wreckage that had once been a thriving, peaceful city. Thank God there had been time for an evacuation, or by now thousands would probably be dead.
"It looks like it's...walking," said Bart with faint disgust.
"It is," said Gold grimly. "And I think there's an Intarian ordinance against unleashed ships walking around downtown. Try to make contact one more time Mr. Wong, then McAllan, it's your turn."
Wong shook his head. "No response, sir. I don't think it even heard us."
Gold sighed. "I hate having to do this. God knows what we lose. Lieutenant McAllan, target weapons systems and fire at will."
"Sir, I'm unable to detect any weapons systems, at all," replied McAllan in his deep, rich voice, taut now with tension.
"Let me see that," snapped Corsi, shoving McAllan out of the way. Her fingers flew over the console,