Kobayashi Maru - Michael A. Martin [104]
Reeds own subspace field monitor confirmed TPols observation a moment later. “That must mean we have company here, he said. Though he had yet to locate any other vessel, either by eye or by sensors, his readings had revealed that the already fading subspace concussion fit a particular profile: that of a ship that had suddenly collapsed its warp field bubble, thereby dropping almost instantaneously from high warp speed back to the Einstein-mandated sublight velocities of normal space.
Whoevers behind the wheel on that ship has got to be barking mad, Reed thought, to perform a maneuver like that so close to a planet.
“I still cannot pinpoint the other ships precise location or heading using only passive scans, TPol said.
“Maybe the planets gravity well tore her apart as she decelerated, Reed ventured.
She shook her head. “If that had occurred, then I should be able to detect solid and gaseous debris and hard radiation. Switching to active sensor mode and scanning.
Reed looked up from his console, and he was immediately transfixed by what he saw crossing the half-sunlit world below. “Wait, he said, jabbing an index finger toward the forward transparent aluminum window. “Have a look at that first.
A bright orange line of fire was inscribing itself across the dark side of the planets terminator, extending at supersonic speeds a rapidly collapsing and steeply descending column of ionized atmosphere. The glowing, meteoric mass at the growing lines forefront hurtled toward the side of the planet that presently stood exposed to the pitiless blue-white glare of this solar systems primary star.
Reed turned toward TPol, watching her in silence as she scrutinized the enigmatic trail of fire that bisected the planets skies. After a moment she checked a scanner readout on her console, and then swiftly rose from her seat to check a secondary monitor located on the port side of the cockpit compartment.
As though responding to some inner will of their own, Reeds eyes dropped toward the portion of TPols anatomy that was, for the moment, in closest proximity.
He thought, She really does have quite a nice bum, doesnt she?
She turned toward him, abruptly scattering his already errant train of thought. His cheeks flushed with a heat born of something other than atmospheric friction.
“The object is on a precise heading for the coordinates that my intel sources have provided, she said, showing no sign of having noticed his discomfiture as she retook her seat.
Reed wondered again about TPols intel sources, upon which they had both staked so much. How much did they know about Trips current mission, or that of Trips adversaries on this planet? Had the VShar allowed them to come here to aid Trip because the Vulcan spy bureau shared Trips goals, or were they motivated by something else entirely? Were they counting on TPol to remove a troublesome game piece from their chessboard?
Or were they banking on the opposite outcome?
Instead of raising any of those doubtless sensitive points, or launching into an infinitely recursive volley of questions, Reed merely nodded and began entering a series of commands into his console. “Plotting an intercept course, Commander. Passive sensors only. There was no point, after all, in shouting their arrival from the proverbial rooftops, as it were, regardless of whether the new arrival proved to be friend, foe, or merely a large meteor or asteroid fragment that had chosen this particular time and place to cross the planets path.
Judging from both the instruments and the evidence of his own eyes, Reed concluded that whatever was creating the pyrotechnics in the planets atmosphere was making an extremely bumpy descent. He braced himself to follow it down as TPol engaged the impulse drive.
As the shuttlepod lurched into a motion that was almost but not quite in phase with that of his stomach, Reed couldnt help but recall a recent, similarly harrowing