Pantheon - Michael Jan Friedman [166]
“Shields down forty-eight percent, sir! Damage to decks six, seven, eight, and eleven!”
“Dispatch repair crews!” the captain told her.
It was a setback, Picard told himself, but no more than that. If anything, the enemy had only evened the odds.
“Pattern Epsilon!” Ruhalter called out.
This time, Idun sent the ship veering to starboard—just as the Nuyyad hurled another barrage at them. For a heartbeat, the second officer thought the maneuver would do the trick.
Then he found out otherwise. The deck slipped out from under him, pitching him forcibly into an aft console.
“Shields down eighty-two percent!” Gerda thundered. “Damage to decks five, nine, and ten!”
She had just gotten the words out when the viewscreen flooded with bright green fury. Picard barely had time to brace himself before the ship staggered hard to starboard, jerking his fellow officers half out of their seats.
Ruhalter thrust himself to his feet and came forward to glare at the screen, as if he could stop the Nuyyad by force of will alone. “Pattern Omega!” he snarled.
Idun sent them plummeting in a tight spiral, vidrion bundles bursting savagely all around them. Somehow, they emerged unscathed—but the enemy didn’t let them go far. The Nuyyad ship banked and dogged their trail, like a predator that had smelled its victim’s blood.
“Pattern Omicron!” the captain cried out, trying desperately to give them some breathing room.
Idun coerced the ship into a sudden, excruciatingly tight loop, causing the hull to groan and shiver under the strain. But the maneuver worked. Unable to stop in time, the Nuyyad vessel shot past them.
“Maximum warp!” Ruhalter commanded.
The Stargazer tore through the void at a thousand times the speed of light, putting a hundred million kilometers between herself and the enemy with each passing second. Picard eyed the viewscreen, but he saw no sign of the Nuyyad. All he could see were the stars streaming by.
The tension on the bridge eased a notch. Commander Leach, who had lost all the color in his face, sighed and eased himself into a vacant seat by the forward engineering console.
“Report,” breathed the captain.
Gerda consulted her monitor. “Hull breaches on decks twelve, thirteen, and fourteen. Repair teams have been deployed to all damaged areas. Sickbay reports nine injured.”
“Dead?” asked Ruhalter.
“No one,” the navigator replied.
The captain seemed relieved. “Well,” he said, “that’s something to be thankful for. What about our shields?”
Gerda glanced at him and shook her head. “There aren’t any, sir. That last volley took out the last of them.”
No shields, thought Picard. It was a good thing they had escaped when they did. Another barrage like the last one, and—
“Captain!” exclaimed Werber, his face caught in the ruddy glare of his control panel. “They’re on our tail again!”
“Give me a visual,” said Ruhalter.
Once again, the viewscreen showed them the Nuyyad ship. Picard felt his jaw clench. Though they were pushing the Stargazer’s warp drive as hard as they dared, the enemy was slowly catching up to them.
“Weapons range,” Werber told them.
“Stand by, helm,” the captain told Idun. “If we can’t outrun them, we’ll have to outfight them.”
Picard stared at him, wondering about the wisdom of Ruhalter’s strategy. As if he sensed the younger man’s scrutiny, Ruhalter looked back.
I know, Jean-Luc, his expression seemed to say. Without shields, we don’t stand much of a chance. But what choice do I have?
Picard wished he had a good answer. None, he conceded silently.
“Target photon torpedoes,” said the captain.
“Aye, sir,” came Werber’s response.
Ruhalter’s eyes narrowed with resolve. “Pattern Alpha.”
All at once, Idun swung them hard to port. The Stargazer wheeled more quickly and gracefully than she had a right to, coming about a full one hundred and eighty degrees. Before the second officer knew it, he found himself face-to-face with the Nuyyad.