Pantheon - Michael Jan Friedman [105]
Getting up from his command chair, Picard turned to look at the chief engineer. “You may proceed, Commander.”
“Aye, sir,” Geordi answered. Focusing his attention on his monitor, where the shields were depicted as a series of blue lines surrounding the ship, he took a last look at such items as environmental resistance, energy consumption, and field integrity. Satisfied, he tapped in the first set of alterations. Immediately, the blue-line configuration began to writhe and change.
“Forward shields flattening,” Data reported. “Forming a surface perpendicular to the axis of our passage.”
For Geordi, the information was redundant. His monitor showed him the effect in some detail.
“Obverse stress increasing,” Wesley announced.
The ship quivered momentarily—just as it had when they’d tried reversing engines. It was a good sign, La Forge told himself.
Unable to keep the excitement out of his voice, Wesley said: “We’re slowing down, Captain. Warp nine point nine four five…warp nine point nine four zero.” He leaned back. “Stabilizing at nine point nine four zero.”
“Hull integrity?” Picard snapped.
“Stresses are well within acceptable limits,” Worf replied from tactical.
A very good sign, Geordi noted.
Simenon had been right—shield structure had an effect on their progress through the slipstream. But would it have enough of an effect to dump them out of it?
There was only one way to find out. A second time, his fingers skipped nimbly over the console.
“Rear shields flattening,” Data informed them.
A shiver ran through the deck, through the bulkheads. It was more strident, more noticeable than the one before it.
“Obverse stress de creasing,” Wesley declared. “Accelerating…” He shook his head. “Back up to warp nine point nine five now.”
Worf raised his gaze from his monitor board. “Stress has intensified considerably, sir. It is as if we were being sandwiched between two forces.”
Picard looked over his shoulder at his security chief. “Any danger, Lieutenant?”
“No immediate danger,” the Klingon advised him.
In his seat at the captain’s side, Riker consulted the readouts built into his armrest and frowned. “So far, so good.”
Yes, Geordi mused. So far, so good. But the easy part was over. From here on in, the going would get a lot rougher.
With careful precision, he instructed the computer to tilt both shield surfaces—forward and rear. Not a lot—just ten degrees.
This time, the deck didn’t just shudder—it jerked. So badly, in fact, that La Forge had to grab on to the edges of his console to keep from falling.
Through it all, Data’s voice was as calm and matter-of-fact as ever. “Shield surfaces pitched ten degrees,” he said.
Picard let go of his chair, which he’d used to steady himself. Straightening to his full height, he looked around. “Mister Worf?”
The Klingon’s answer was a second or two in coming. “Minimal damage, sir.” Another pause. “No serious injuries.”
The captain nodded. “Good.” He turned to Wesley. “Velocity? Bearing?”
“No change,” the ensign told him.
Picard cast a glance in Geordi’s direction. The chief engineer looked back, and a wordless communication passed between them.
Continue?
Continue.
Adjusting the blue lines on his monitor another ten degrees, La Forge input the change. And hung on.
It didn’t help. The ship bucked so badly that he found himself on the floor anyway. And it didn’t stop bucking—not completely—though the echoes weren’t nearly as vicious as the original jolt.
“Shield surfaces—” Data began.
But Worf’s cry drowned him out. “Structural damage to Decks Twenty-two and Twenty-three. Evacuating affected areas and sealing off!”
Could have been worse, Geordi mused, lifting himself up off the carpet. Twenty-two and twenty-three were engineering decks which were less than crucial at the moment. And since they were sparsely populated, it would only take a few moments