Pantheon - Michael Jan Friedman [174]
“I agree,” said Jomar, albeit without emotion. “Who knows? There may never have been any Valiant survivors in the first place. And even if this colony exists, Santana might not have divulged its true coordinates.”
Werber looked at him. “Hang on a second. You mean to say you’ve never heard of this colony?”
“Never,” the Kelvan confirmed.
The weapons chief seemed confused. “But aren’t you from this side of the galactic barrier?”
“I am,” Jomar told him. “However, space is as enormous here as it is in your galaxy, and I only became familiar with a small portion of it before I emigrated to Nalogen Four.”
It was Paxton who dragged the discussion back on track. “Even if Santana’s colony exists,” he said, “and even if she gave us the right coordinates, her people may not be all that glad to see us.”
“True,” Jomar remarked without inflection. “Especially if we’re right in our assumption that Santana led us into a trap.”
“Plus,” Simenon hissed, “our technologies may be incompatible—in which case their parts would be useless to us, even assuming they’re generous enough to give them away.”
“Then you’re in favor of trying to reach the barrier instead,” said Picard. “Is that correct?”
“It is,” the engineer agreed.
“Unfortunately,” Ben Zoma said, “heading for the barrier may put us in an even worse bind.”
“How so?” asked Cariello.
“For one thing,” the acting executive officer noted, “it’s just what the Nuyyad would expect us to do—retreat and regroup. For another thing, our shields are in no shape to protect us from the barrier’s energies. We would only be creating the kind of supermen that nearly destroyed the Enterprise and the Valiant.”
They were good points, Picard reflected—especially the one about crossing the barrier without shields. Judging from their expressions, his officers agreed with him. Even Werber seemed a trifle less certain of himself than he had been before.
But in the final analysis, it was Picard’s decision. He took a moment to mull what he had heard to that point.
“Well?” Jomar asked of him, making no effort to disguise his impatience. “What do you plan to do, Commander?”
The second officer frowned. “Like some of you, I prefer the idea of returning to the galactic barrier.”
Werber nodded. “Now you’re talking.”
“However,” Picard added, “I do not wish to create any additional threats to the Federation—nor do I relish the prospect of destroying my vessel in order to negate such threats. And as Commander Ben Zoma points out, retreating through the barrier without sufficient shielding could create some prodigious threats indeed.”
Werber paled as he realized where Picard’s comments were leading him. “Oh no. You’re not—”
“I am,” Picard insisted, his posture unyielding. “I am going to try to find the colony Ms. Santana described, in the hope that it will equip us to eventually make it through the barrier unscathed.”
He eyed each of his companions in turn, gauging their reactions. They didn’t all look happy about his decision.
“If we’re to come through this crisis intact,” Picard said, “and warn the Federation about the Nuyyad, I will need the help and cooperation of everyone aboard this vessel.” He glanced at Werber. “Without exception.”
The lounge fell silent. It wasn’t exactly the vote of confidence he had been hoping for.
“I respectfully request that you reconsider,” Werber said, his tone anything but respectful.
“So do I,” Simenon rasped.
“You are leading us into disaster,” Jomar added bluntly, undeterred by any need to observe Starfleet protocol.
Picard smiled a grim smile. Clearly, his stint as commanding officer would not be an easy one. “My decision stands. You are dismissed.” He looked around the room. “All of you.”
One by one, his officers and the Kelvan left the room. Ben Zoma was the last to depart. Finally, the second officer was alone.
“Navigation,” he said out loud, activating the intercom system. “This is Commander Picard.”
“Asmund here,” came the response.
Picard licked his lips. “Chart a course for Ms. Santana’s colony. I believe you have