Pantheon - Michael Jan Friedman [161]
“Two million,” the navigator continued.
The barrier loomed in front of them, bigger than anything Picard had ever seen. He could discern vast shadows of light twisting within it, testing the limits of the screen’s illumination dampers.
Gerda Asmund looked up at the screen. “One million…”
As she spoke the words, the phenomenon engulfed them, closing its jaws on the Stargazer as if the ship was a helpless minnow and the barrier was a colossal, writhing serpent.
The deck shuddered again, then slid to the right. Picard tightened his grasp on the captain’s chair.
“Report,” Ruhalter snapped.
“Shields at eighty-eight percent,” the navigator responded.
“Warp drive operating at peak capacity,” her sister added.
The viewscreen was a confusion of ruby-red twisters, a maelstrom of heaving, burning lava. The Stargazer bucked once, twice, and again, and the second officer had to fight to keep his feet.
But it didn’t get any worse than that. Even under immense pressure, the shields held. The control consoles on the bridge managed not to spark or explode. And most importantly, no one was caught in the spasm of light that had signaled the beginning of Gary Mitchell’s transformation.
The Stargazer endured one last buffet from the barrier’s unknown energies, one last surge of hull-shivering fury. Then it burst free of the phenomenon into normal if unfamiliar space.
Picard took a deep breath…and smiled.
Without question, their passage through the barrier had been tense and plagued with uncertainties. It had been a study in faith and humility. But in retrospect, it had also been a thing of wonder.
It was for just such experiences that the second officer had joined Starfleet. Looking around, he saw that he wasn’t the only one who felt that way. Paxton, the Asmunds, Cariello…they all looked pleased.
Even Ruhalter seemed to have relished the experience, if the bright glint in the man’s eyes was any indication. Only Commander Leach looked vaguely disapproving. But then, knowing the man as he did, Picard wouldn’t have expected anything else.
“Shields at seventy-eight percent,” Gerda Asmund observed.
“All systems operational,” said Idun.
The captain nodded. “Excellent.” Then he turned to his first and second officers. “You’re with me, gentlemen.”
Without any explanation, he rose and made his way to the turbolift. Picard saw Leach hurry to fall in behind Ruhalter, as if it made a difference who was behind the captain as he entered the lift. Sighing, the second officer followed Leach into the compartment.
The doors whispered closed behind them. “Ship’s lounge,” said Ruhalter, his voice echoing in the enclosure.
Apparently, the captain meant to conduct a meeting with his two senior officers. However, Picard had no idea what the meeting was about.
The lift’s progress through the ship was imperceptible to its occupants, except for a tiny monitor that showed their location. They were halfway to their destination when Ruhalter did something surprising.
“Computer,” he said, “stop turbolift.”
Picard looked at him. So did Leach.
“It just occurred to me,” said the captain, “that we don’t have to go to the lounge to have this meeting. After all, there’s only the three of us, and this shouldn’t take long.”
“As you wish, sir,” Leach responded.
Ruhalter regarded each of them in turn. “I have one question, gentlemen—and that’s whether Serenity Santana can be trusted.”
The first officer smiled a lopsided smile. “Since you’re asking, sir, I don’t think the woman is even remotely trustworthy—and for the record, I’ve felt that way since we arrived at Starbase Two-oh-nine.”
The captain nodded, then turned to Picard. “What about you, Jean-Luc? What do you think?”
The second officer took some time to consider the question. “As you know,” he said finally, “I’ve had a chance to get to know Ms. Santana. However, I would have to know her a lot better before I could vouch for her with any assurance.”
“Unfortunately,” Ruhalter told him, “we