Maker - Michael Jan Friedman [25]
By the time the Stargazer tracked the Nuyyad down, his power might well have grown beyond Mitchell’s. It might have become something to which Mitchell could only aspire.
Would Brakmaktin have any weaknesses at all, by then? Say, the petty emotions Mitchell had displayed? Perhaps not.
But Picard had to grasp at the straws available to him. After all, knowledge was a kind of power as well, and if he was to even hope to succeed in his mission, he needed all the power he could get.
He closed his eyes and massaged the bridge of his nose. And, he added, I need to stop thinking about Serenity.
She had been hovering at the edge of his consciousness since he woke that morning. It was difficult for him knowing she was on the ship, yet having to maintain his distance from her.
No doubt, she felt the same way. However, she knew the magnitude of what they were up against as well as he did. Better, perhaps, in that she had powers of her own, and therefore a better sense of the damage Brakmaktin could inflict on an adversary.
Just then, the intercom system came alive. “Captain Picard?” said a familiar voice—that of Gerda Asmund.
He sat forward. “Yes?”
“Lieutenant Kastiigan and I have come up with a set of coordinates, sir. They’re just under twenty light-years from our current position.”
Only four days away, the captain thought. “Plot a course, Lieutenant.”
“I already have,” said Gerda.
He smiled. “I will advise our helm officer to pursue it. Good work, both of you.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Gerda. Kastiigan, who had remained silent to that point, echoed the sentiment.
Picard felt his jaw muscles ripple. They were getting closer to Brakmaktin. He could only hope they found him in time.
Chapter Six
PICARD COULDN’T HELP FEELING a wave of disappointment as he scrutinized his forward viewscreen. “These are the coordinates?” he asked.
“They are,” Gerda told him.
He frowned. “You’re certain?”
“Aye, sir,” she said, a tinge of resentment in her voice.
And it was justified, the captain was forced to concede. After all, Gerda had never given him reason to doubt the accuracy of her reports.
But he had expected something more here, at the end of their light-years–long journey. Some debris perhaps, some lingering traces of radiation. But there wasn’t any. In fact, there was no evidence whatsoever of a violent encounter between a Nuyyad scout and some other vessel.
Nothing but a scattering of stars on the void. And they weren’t giving up anything Picard wanted to know.
He turned to Gerda. “See if you can find an ion trail.”
“Aye, sir,” said the navigation officer, and proceeded as the captain had asked.
Picard drummed his fingers on his armrest. Questions came to mind, the answers to which made him uneasy.
What if Gerda and Kastiigan had settled on the wrong set of coordinates? What if, in fact, the place they were looking for was light-years away—and they had wasted the last four days speeding here at warp nine point two?
No, Picard insisted. Have a little faith. There was no better navigator in the fleet than Gerda. If she believed this was the spot, then more than likely it was.
He watched his navigator initiate scan after scan, using one sensor modality after another. And when none of them turned anything up, she expanded her range.
Her scan radius grew from ten kilometers to twenty. To thirty. To forty. And still no sign of what they were looking for.
The captain resisted the urge to get up and pace. We cannot have come all this way for nothing…
Suddenly, Gerda straightened in her seat. “I’ve got something,” she said.
“A trail?” Picard asked hopefully.
She confirmed it. “It’s faint, but it’s there. And there’s no question it was made by a warp engine.”
“What kind?” he pressed, wanting to get some idea of what they were up against.
That took a little longer. Finally, Gerda looked up from her console and said, “I’d say Yridian.”
It was a common enough drive, at least in the construction of cargo haulers. Good news, the captain thought. Had the trail been left