Miracle Workers (SCE Books 5-8) - Keith R. A. DeCandido_. [et al.] [22]
“Let’s do this, Commander,” Gold said. “Throw the switch.”
“Aye, sir,” Gomez replied. “Brace yourselves up there. This might get a bit bumpy.”
No sooner had Gold moved to the Defiant’s command chair than he was thrown bodily into it as the mighty starship suddenly surged forward. There was only the briefest of rumblings from the deck plates as the ship’s massive warp engines received the single concentrated burst of power from the away team’s portable generators.
In his mind’s eye, the da Vinci captain pictured the spike of energy instantaneously traveling the conduits that connected the generators to the ship’s warp drive, improvising an intermix reaction in the absence of dilithium. Gold didn’t pretend to understand the mind-numbing complexity that enshrouded the concept of warp propulsion, but he was content in the knowledge that he commanded people who did. He knew he could best serve the specialists comprising the rest of the away team by staying out of their way and allowing them to do what they did best.
The main viewer registered the Defiant’s sudden explosive acceleration as crackling, multihued energy playing across the screen. It was felt in the ship’s hull as well, as deck plates and bulkheads groaned in protest at the vessel’s abrupt movements.
“Look at that,” Gold said. “The rift is reacting to the warp pulse.”
Just as quickly as it had begun, the sounds of the ship’s struggling warp engines died out. Their effects on the peculiar interspatial pocket surrounding the Defiant were still being felt, however. The frenzied collision of energy continued on the main viewer, its intensity increasing as the ship hurtled closer to the edge of the rift.
Gold moved to the science station and activated the sensor controls. “It’s working,” he said after consulting the viewfinder. “The rift is beginning to open. Hold us on course, Soloman, steady as she goes.”
At the helm, Soloman said, “Guiding the ship is . . . proving much easier than anticipated. It seems that . . . our theory about the rift’s resistance was correct.”
The relative quiet of the bridge was abruptly shattered as the engineering station erupted in a shower of sparks and flame. A deafening explosion echoed in the confines of the ship’s nerve center, throwing metal shrapnel and shards of plastic composites across the bridge. Both Soloman and Gold instinctively ducked, throwing their arms up and turning away from the explosion to protect their helmet faceplates. Gold felt the outside of his suit peppered by debris and prayed its rugged construction would withstand the bombardment.
“Soloman! Are you all right?” Gold called out as another console near the front of the bridge blew apart, sending both officers scrambling for cover yet again.
“Captain Gold!” Gomez’s voice called out over his communicator. “We’re getting massive feedback from the warp pulse. It’s overloading our circuits.”
Gold’s reply was cut off as sparks burst from the helm, causing the lights and indicators on the panel to flicker wildly as the systems contained within the console fought to retain control.
“Get away from there!” he yelled to Soloman, but the Bynar needed no such prodding as he bolted from his seat and jumped out of the command well. An instant later the helm console was enveloped in a vicious ball of flame and exploding circuitry.
“We’ve lost helm control up here,” Gold said into his communicator. “We can’t steer the ship.”
“Captain,” Soloman called out, drawing Gold’s attention. “Look!”
Gold turned in the indicated direction, and his mouth fell open. Beyond the bulkheads flanking the main viewer, the hull was losing its solidity and he could see stars and the roiling energy streams comprising the rift.
“We’re shifting out of interphase,” he said. Without thinking, he looked to the deck at his feet and saw that the plating had begun to lose its