Orphans - Kevin Killiany [11]
“We had four matched sections of PTC in stores,” Conlon went on after a slight pause, “but only three constrictor segments, which was a problem because at least four assemblies are needed to make the system work.”
“Three plus the existing drive…” Gomez began.
“I didn’t want to use ship’s primary systems any more than absolutely necessary.”
“Of course.”
Again, Conlon smiled. “Lieutenant Commander Tev solved this by putting the constrictor segments and PTCs on separate rotations.”
“So we’ll be strobing in three/four time?” Gold said.
“Exactly.”
“How long until you’re ready?”
“Thirty minutes,” Tev said. “The conn officer will need to be briefed on navigation under these conditions.”
“We’ll need to drop out of warp for eighteen of those minutes,” Conlon added, “to switch from the primary plasma transfer assembly to the strobe device.”
“Let’s get to it,” Gold said. “Everyone else get your ducks in a row. We meet the Klingons in forty minutes.”
* * *
“Steady, Wong.”
On the screen the colony ship and its Klingon escort bore down on the da Vinci at three-fourths the speed of light. Intellectually Gold knew the image was enhanced, altered to suit human eyes. At this range the dark-gray-on-black vessels would have been invisible. Even visible, their velocity would have distorted their shape to human eyes. But to Gold the sight of the mismatched pair was real enough.
They’d jumped five hundred and forty million kilometers, half a light-hour, ahead of the colony vessel to prepare for this rendezvous.
“Conlon, everything still go?”
“Spindizzy’s running hot and true, Captain,”came the instant reply over the intercom. “Ready when you are.”
The corner of Gold’s mouth quirked at the chief engineer’s nickname for the…well, what was a proper name after all? He envisioned the rapidly rotating lengths of plasma conduit interlocking sixty-some times a second, with constrictor units spinning independently at some ungodly speed of their own. “Spindizzy” seemed as good a name as any.
“Then bring Spindizzy online at your discretion, Conlon.”
“Engaged.”A pause, then:“All readings nominal. We’re good to go.”
“Come about,” Gold said to the conn officer. “Match speed and take up position on the opposite beam. Show them what we can do, but don’t make a challenge out of it.”
“Matching course and speed, mirroring position, aye,” Wong said.
The da Vinci arced gracefully into its new heading. Gold saw the stars streak briefly as Wong held the warp field stable, interrupting the flicker for a fraction of a second to accelerate into position. A moment later they took up station on the colony vessel’s port beam, or port beam relative to its course, Gold amended mentally: neither ahead of nor behind the Klingon ship.
“We are being hailed,” Shabalala said almost immediately. “They say prepare to be boarded.”
Gold didn’t need to consult his granddaughter’s Klingon fiancé to know that was imperious even for Klingons.
He did not for a moment think their coming to him was meant as a courtesy. They wanted to see his ship without showing him theirs. He considered refusing, but keeping them out would require him to raise shields, something that could only devolve into a confrontation. Though some military historians might be interested in how a modern Saber -class starship would fare against a heavily modified, but still ancient Klingon ship of the line, he couldn’t imagine how that would help the colonists they’d come to save.
“Haznedl, have all personnel directly involved in the mission report to the observation lounge,” Gold said, heading toward the turbolift. “Shabalala, transmit the coordinates of our transporter room and tell them they will be welcome in five minutes. Then tell Corsi to send some people to transporter room one and warn Poynter that we’re about to have guests.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Oh, and tell Corsi to have Blue’s chair