Pantheon - Michael Jan Friedman [164]
“It is,” the second officer assured him.
“Good,” said Ruhalter. “I—”
Abruptly, the lounge filled with the voice of the very man they were talking about. “Captain,” said Leach, his tone taut with concern, “we’ve got a situation up here.”
Ruhalter’s brow knit. “Elaborate.”
“There’s a vessel approaching on an intercept course,” Leach reported. “Bearing two-four-four-mark two. I have to tell you, sir, it doesn’t look like anything we’ve encountered before.”
The captain frowned and got to his feet. “Go to red alert, Commander. I’m on my way.”
Picard was right behind him as he headed for the doors. His stomach muscles clenched as he wondered what they were up against. And then, all of a sudden, it came to him.
The Nuyyad.
Seven
As Picard pelted along the corridor in pursuit of Captain Ruhalter, he turned the idea over in his mind. The Nuyyad.
It was just a hunch, of course. He had no proof to back it up, no information on which to build a case. For all he knew, they hadn’t been detected by the Nuyyad at all, but rather by some other species—one that only meant to investigate the Stargazer’s unfamiliar presence here.
But his instincts—the kind his commanding officer always spoke about—were working overtime, and they had come to a conclusion on their own.
Ruhalter might have been thinking along the same lines, but he needed some corroboration. Slightly more than halfway to the turbolift, he tapped his communicator badge. “Jomar,” he said, “this is the captain. I need you on the bridge immediately.”
The Kelvan replied just as the lift compartment arrived. “Coming,” he said over the intercom system, his voice as empty of inflection as ever.
Then Picard and his commanding officer were inside the lift, the doors closed, moving silently toward the Stargazer’s bridge. Ruhalter scowled, but he didn’t say anything. There was no point in doing so, Picard recognized, until they could see the problem for themselves.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the turbolift doors opened and they emerged onto the bridge. The place was bathed in the crimson light of a red alert. As the captain replaced Leach in the center seat, Picard took in the sight depicted on the viewscreen.
“You see?” Leach asked Ruhalter.
The captain saw, all right. And so did Picard.
He saw an almost flat, silver diamond—one so large that it seemed to dominate the dark spaces around it. The similarly diamond-shaped appendages on either side of it were probably its warp nacelles, or whatever analogous equipment the vessel’s occupants used for propulsion.
A cold and efficient-looking ship, Picard reflected. No doubt, it had been built by a cold and efficient people.
Ruhalter turned to Gerda Asmund. “How much time do we have before our paths converge, Lieutenant?”
“At the alien vessel’s current rate of speed,” said the navigator, “she’ll reach us in less than six minutes.”
The muscles in the captain’s jaw rippled uncomfortably. “Keep me posted,” he told Gerda.
Just then, the lift doors hissed open again. Glancing over his shoulder, Picard saw Jomar come out onto the bridge. The Kelvan’s pale-blue eyes were immediately drawn to the viewscreen.
He uttered a single, colorless word: “Nuyyad.”
Ruhalter grunted. “I had a feeling you were going to say that.”
Jomar turned to him. “Captain,” he said, “we did not expect to encounter the enemy so quickly. The modifications to the deflector grid have not yet been completed.”
Ruhalter swore under his breath. “How far along are we?”
“We have finished perhaps eighty percent of the job,” said the Kelvan. “But it would take several hours to do the rest.”
“And we don’t have several hours,” Leach reminded them.
Picard looked at the first officer. Leach’s expression seemed to say “I told you so.” He had predicted that they would run into trouble if they followed Santana’s instructions