Immortal Coil - Jeffrey Lang [102]
“Professor—” Maddox began.
Vaslovik didn’t appear to hear. “Honestly, what’s to understand? Rhea and Commander Data are out there somewhere and we have to get them back.”
Maddox tried again. “Emil, please—”
“I ask you,” he said, pointing at the starscape on the monitor, “what other considerations are there? Two of his officers are out there, facing who knows—”
Picard saw Maddox’s expression change just before the inevitable erupted out of him: “Flint! Enough!”
Vaslovik, still turned toward the monitor, stopped in mid-sentence. He let out a breath, then slowly lowered his arm. Picard thought he would be hard-pressed to accurately describe the change that suddenly came over the man who stood before him. He had known some professional actors in his time, some of them very fine, and it had never ceased to amaze him that a man could be one person while standing on a stage and another sitting in a bar after the show. But nothing could have prepared him for this transformation. Nothing about Vaslovik changed and everything seemed to change. Some muscles relaxed, others flexed. Some of the wrinkles on his face seemed to disappear, while planes appeared where there had been none only moments ago. The kindly, somewhat eccentric professor disappeared and was replaced by a warrior, a diplomat, a thief …
… And then, like a conjurer realizing he had just let his manner slip, Vaslovik reappeared.
He looked up at Maddox and said simply, “Ah. Well.” He nodded appreciatively and continued, “Wouldn’t do much good to deny it, would it? How … how did you find out?”
Another voice said, “I told them,” and Picard saw Sam standing near the turbolift door. He must have come out at the same time as Maddox and Barclay, but, somehow, eluded Picard’s awareness. Neat trick, that, the captain decided. And no doubt useful given his circumstances.
“I’m afraid, sir,” Vaslovik said, exuding charm, “that you have me at a disadvantage.”
“Yes, I do, Professor. And I’d like to keep it that way.”
Suddenly La Forge was on com again. “Engineering to bridge. We’re ready, sir. Let me say this just one more time: it’s highly improbable that this will work more than once. The deflector dish wasn’t built to focus this kind of energy. We’re probably going to lose some of the EPS conduits in the lower decks.”
“Your comments are noted and logged, Mr. La Forge. Just make it work.”
“Aye, Captain. On your word.”
Picard turned to Riker. “Distance to the ship that transported Data and Rhea?”
“Fifteen hundred kilometers, sir. Closing fast.”
He wanted them all in range. The discharge they were planning was a field effect, not a beam. Picard fought down the urge to fire and silently counted to five.
Riker, unbidden, continued to count down their range: “Fourteen hundred, twelve hundred, one thousand …”
“Fire, Mr. La Forge.”
There was no obvious effect on the Exo III ships except for a brief white flare, but the sensors told the true tale. Five of the ships that were still moving did so only on momentum. The pulse from the deflector dish had cut through their inadequate shielding and forced their impulse fusion reactors to go offline or risk overload. Picard knew that the androids would eventually discern the problem and devise a solution, but it would take time. He wished there was a way to permanently disable all the vessels, but his goal was to retrieve the hostages and retreat. It was the best they could expect under the circumstances.
“Well done, Mr. La Forge,” he said. “What’s our status?”
“The deflector dish held, sir. But one of the shield generators is offline, though I think we’ll have that back up in a few minutes.”
Picard studied the tactical readout on his armrest. The remaining ships were regrouping and closing on the Enterprise.
Our odds have improved, at least temporarily, but we’re still badly outnumbered. “Number One, can we get a transporter lock on Mr. Data or Ms. McAdams?”
Riker checked his console and shook his head.
Suddenly Picard found himself facing Vaslovik. “Captain, if