Intellivore - Diane Duane [31]
“Not a whisper,” came Ileen’s voice from Marignano. “The ion trail of the larger vessel leads away. Accelerating again. Heading for warp nine, by the looks of it.”
“Blast!” Picard said. “The two ships can’t have been in conjunction for very long.”
“No more than two hours, I would estimate,” said Data. “Approaching now.”
“Do so with caution, Mr. Data,” said Picard.
“At point-zero-one light-years,” said Data. “Dropping out of warp.”
“We’re with you, Enterprise,” said Clif from Oraidhe, and the rainbow of deceleration sheened around her. Picard glanced over at the big, overengined shape and was glad of the sight. Marignano popped out of warp as well, and the three of them moved in together at the apexes of a triangle, running on impulse now but still decelerating.
Ahead of them Boreal drifted, moving on no more than inertia left over from whatever had grabbed it. The ship swelled in the viewscreen, the same cylinder they had seen not too long before, yawing very slightly and apparently unhurt. There were no burn marks, no decompression exits, no trace of anything that might be battle damage.
Not another Marie Celeste, Picard thought. “Life signs?” he said.
Worf studied his panel, checked it again, then shook his head and glanced at the captain with bemusement. “Showing better than four hundred humanoid life signs,” he said. “That would closely match the predicted crew and passenger complement.”
“Yes, it would. Hail them.”
“Yes, sir.” Worf worked at his console for a moment, frowning. “No answers to hail, Captain.”
“They were a little resistant before,” Ileen said.
“That is true,” said Worf. “But at least last time there was active carrier. Now I hear nothing at all.”
“Go to yellow alert,” said Picard. The ship’s sirens began hooting behind him. “Marignano and Oraidhe, assume defensive positions as briefed. We must assume that this may be a trap.”
“Affirmative, Enterprise.”
The three ships gathered around Boreal and matched course with it, dumping acceleration until they had matched its drift.
“Scans, please,” said Picard. “Take your time.”
There were a couple of minutes of silence, then Ileen’s exec said, “Captain, we read what appear to be four hundred and twenty-eight life signs, all overtly normal, all within normal humanoid parameters.”
Picard nodded slowly. This is what I was afraid of. Much worse than a Marie Celeste … if I’m right. I much hope I’m dead wrong.
“This is a little on the creepy side,” Maisel said, almost too quietly for anyone else to hear. Then she turned to her exec. “Prepare two away teams—no, make it three. Enterprise, Oraidhe, I suggest you hold position. We’ll take point on this one.”
“Ileen,” Picard said, “if I didn’t know better, I would think that you were trying to hog all the excitement for yourself.”
“Jean-Luc,” the reply came at once, “fortunately you do know me better. And you know that what I want is you boys—and your big guns—at my back. If it came to the pinch, then of our three ships you know which one Starfleet would consider most expendable.” She chuckled, a dry little sound. “That’s why we’re out here.”
“Nonetheless,” Picard said, “I’d like to send at least one team with yours.”
“No argument there,” she said.
“Let’s have a schematic of Boreal,” Picard said to Data. It came up on the screen at once, alongside the image of the quietly drifting vessel.
“Got it,” said Ileen. “I’ll put my teams here—here—and here.” Highlighted spots came up on the diagram. “Jean-Luc, how many teams? Clif?”
“Two for us,” said Picard, hoping there were no surprises waiting for them on board Boreal that would make two teams insufficient.
In the transporter room, Riker looked over his team: Dr. Crusher and several security personnel. He touched his communicator. “Bridge, Riker. Anything new on scan?”
“Nothing, Commander,” said Data’s voice. “All is as before.”
“Then let’s get on with it. Energize.”
The transporter room shimmered away from around them, replaced in an eye blink by the open, parklike space in which Picard’s team had walked. Phasers