Miracle Workers (SCE Books 5-8) - Keith R. A. DeCandido_. [et al.] [5]
He had to be ready to say good-bye to his captain, his friends, and his . . . his . . .
Oh, Sonnie.
But Corsi did not appear content to keep her views to herself. “What, we’re going to abandon the away team? The Tholians fired first! We didn’t start this fight, but we damn well better finish it.” Duffy watched as Corsi narrowed her eyes and scanned the others seated at the table for a sign of support before adding, “Let them say what they want back on Earth. Regardless of whether we bring the Defiant home, we’re getting our away team back.”
“It is a bold stand you hope to take,” Abramowitz replied, “but I don’t think you’re being realistic.” Her tone was clipped and polite, and Duffy knew it was a signal that she was already beginning to lose patience with the security chief. The women’s dueling edginess would quickly become as volatile as a mix of matter and antimatter.
“Realistic is a quantum torpedo,” Corsi snapped. “You think sweet-talking a Tholian at this point is—”
“ People!”
Duffy was as surprised as everyone else when the word exploded from his mouth with such force and volume. All eyes turned to him, and no one said anything for several seconds, the only sounds audible in the room being that of the ventilation system and the omnipresent hum of the ship’s engines.
Taking a moment to clear his throat, he began again in a more reserved tone. “People, don’t think for a minute that Captain Scott isn’t doing everything he can on his end to keep us here. Don’t stop believing that Captain Gold isn’t working to get the Defiant to our side of the rift.”
He paused, focusing on Corsi as she sat cross-armed in her chair. “But we’re not disobeying any order that comes from Starfleet. For now, though, we’ll focus on doing everything we can until that order comes down.”
Silence hung in the briefing room as Duffy asserted his command over his fellow officers and friends. He racked his mind for some words of support and confidence, the kind of statements that seemed to roll off Captain Gold’s tongue in tough situations. Now was the time to be a captain, but all he felt like was a babysitter trying to quell a squabble between sisters while Mom and Dad were at the holotheater.
I can’t very well send them to their rooms.
A flash of amber light caught Duffy’s eye as it glowed on the tabletop near Faulwell’s hand. The linguist tapped a control on the keypad near his arm, then looked up at Duffy with sympathetic eyes.
“It’s an incoming message from Starfleet Command. Do you want to take it in private?”
Duffy shook his head. “No. Put it on the viewer.”
As Captain Scott’s wizened face filled the screen on the briefing room’s wall, Duffy felt some of the group’s tension seep away. The engineer’s creased visage, his friendly eyes, and the hint of a smile were just what everyone needed at that very moment.
“It’s not the worst news I’ll be bringin’ ye, Mr. Duffy,” the face on the viewer began, “but the situation isn’t good.”
Steeling himself for the report, Duffy nodded. “We’re ready.”
Scott drew a breath before continuing. “Our ambassador to the Tholians is recommending that we scrap the mission. He wants the Federation to formally apologize to the commander of the ship ye fired on, and to the Magistrates of the Assembly. He says we’re on the brink of losin’ it all as far as relations are concerned, and that the Defiant isn’t worth it.”
Duffy’s mind was numbed by Scott’s words, which echoed those of Abramowitz moments before. Rather than lose his focus, though, Duffy fell back on his ready wit. “And exactly how is this not the worst news, Captain?”
Scott allowed a small smile before replying. “We’ve got the support of Admiral Ross, and that carries a lot of weight with the Federation Council. The admiral is arguing for the da Vinci to hold its position, saying that it was poor frame of mind and the effects of interspace, not a botched cooperative effort, that led us to