Ishtar Rising (Book 2) - Michael A. Martin [11]
“A pity we couldn’t keep station in the clear-air zone around twenty kilometers closer to the surface,” said Pattie, her vaguely crystalline voice sounding like the peal of a bell. “The temperature and pressure are greater down there, but the wind problem would be negligible.”
“Fantasizing about the impossible is no help,” Tev said, his porcine countenance sour. “If we were down that deep, we would be too far from the force-field network to do it any good.”
“We’d also be on the wrong side of those fields,” Corsi said. “Not a very good place to be if the whole thing really does come crashing down.”
The Kwolek rumbled, its various overtaxed systems shrieking in a chorus of technological agony. Gomez could only hope that the procedure they were about to undertake would be finished before even Starfleet science’s best gave in.
A burst of static issued from the comm system, followed by the voice of Soloman, evidently still doing his best to help Team Ishtar keep everything together down at Ground Station Vesper.
“Soloman to Kwolek. Have you received the new data?”
“Yup,” Stevens said. “Along with the targeting coordinates. We’re ready to tie our deflectors into the equatorial nodes you specified. Assuming we can spare the power, anyhow.”
Doing her own quick mental calculation, Gomez looked significantly at P8 Blue and Tev for their input.
“It will be close,” Pattie said, looking up from her console. “But I believe we can spare the required shield power with enough of a safety margin to avoid destroying the shuttle. At least until the da Vinci arrives to take over for us.”
It would have been nice to have the luxury of waiting until the da Vinci arrived before beginning the process of propping up the force-field network from the outside. But given the larger ship’s current position in its orbit, that simply wasn’t an option.
“What’s the da Vinci’s ETA?” Gomez asked Stevens.
“About one minute and thirty-eight seconds. With maximum output to the network and minimal shielding for us, our shield generators and thrusters ought to hold out for nearly twice that long.”
Tev snorted. “Shuttlecraft shield generators were not designed to take this sort of punishment. I don’t like this one bit.”
“Neither do I,” Corsi echoed, though she remained intent on her flying. “Any more than I like placing the da Vinci’s first and second officers both into harm’s way at the same time.”
“Not your call to make, Domenica,” Gomez said gently. “Especially when so many other people are still in danger.” I just hope you learned the true meaning of stubbornness when you tried to make Tev and me stay behind.
Soloman’s static-laden voice came over the comm channel once again. “There’s so much pressure. So much pressure. Kwolek, da Vinci, please help….” Soloman trailed off again into the ionized hash of subspace background noise.
Gomez recognized the fear and desperation in the Bynar’s voice. And though she wasn’t happy about having had no opportunity to check his figures before acting on them, she knew she could afford to deliberate no longer.
“Fabian,” she said, “hook our shield-generator output into the network grid, and give it every erg Soloman asked for.”
There. I’ve rolled the dice. If chance smiled upon their efforts here, the prize would be the lives of the dozens of people still trapped on the planet’s broiling surface.
If not…
Gomez watched as Stevens nodded, deliberately entered a brief command sequence into his console, then tapped the EXECUTE button.
Then the Kwolek lurched again, as though drop-kicked by a giant. Gomez heard the sickening sounds of rending metal competing against the noxious Venusian wind’s renewed fury.