Relics - Michael Jan Friedman [55]
“I did, sir,” came the reply. “Twenty degrees…”
There was a silent “if” hanging on the end of that phrase. As in if I can do it. Even a twenty-degree variation would be a prodigious task under these conditions. And if they managed only nineteen degrees? There would be nothing left of them but cinders.
“Port thrusters ahead full, starboard back full.”
“Aye, sir,” called the first officer, following Picard’s orders.
As Riker bent to his task, the captain glanced at the viewscreen. The star was terribly close; he could almost feel its fury on his face. If his plan didn’t work, they were goners. It was as simple as that.
“Our flight path is changing,” Data announced.
“Right ten point seven degrees … insufficient to clear the photosphere.”
Riker looked up at the intercom grid. “Bridge to engineering. Lieutenant Bartel-divert all power from auxiliary relay systems to the maneuvering thrusters.”
“Our angular deflection is increasing,” observed the android. “Now at fifteen degrees … eighteen degrees … turn now at twenty point one degrees.”
Picard looked at the viewscreen. Would it be enough? Could Data have miscalculated? The sun at the center of the sphere was looming larger and larger…
And then, as the captain held his breath, the giant viewscreen image of the star finally shifted to the left… then more … and still more … as the ship managed to turn away from it. Finally, they passed the outer edges of the photosphere to starboard-if only just.
There was a collective sigh of relief, almost as if the bridge itself were exhaling. Picard realized his hands had become fists; he relaxed them.
In front of him, Rager’s shoulders unclenched. “We’re in orbit, Captain. Holding at one hundred fifty thousand kilometers above the photosphere.”
“I’ll see about getting main power back on-line,” Riker volunteered.
“Very well,” said Picard. As Riker exited the bridge, he took his seat and leaned back into it. That had been, as they say, a close one. “Mr. Data, begin a scan of the interior surface for life-forms. I want to know who brought us here … and why.”
“Aye, sir,” said Data, already complying with the captain’s command.
The captain wished he could get word to the Jenolen somehow. But Geordi and Scott would be all right-at least for the time being.
Chapter Eleven
IT HAD BEEN a long time since anyone had attempted to use the sensor controls in the Ops center of the transport vessel Jenolen. All things considered, they were in remarkably good shape.
Working alongside Scott, Geordi pushed the ship’s scanners to their limits. But try as he might, he couldn’t turn up so much as a blip.
“I can’t find them anywhere in orbit,” he said out loud.
“No luck here either,” replied his companion.
“They wouldn’t have just upped and left,” Geordi insisted.
“Nae even fer an emergency?” asked Scott.
The younger man shook his head. “They would’ve beamed us back aboard first. Or at least let us know what they were going.”
Scott nodded his head. “Aye. I guess they would’ve at that.” Suddenly, his brow furrowed. “Ye dinnae suppose they crashed into the sphere … just as the Jenolen did?”
Geordi rejected the idea. “No. We’d be picking up background radiation and debris if they’d gone down like that.” He bit his lip. “But then, where are they? They couldn’t have just vanished into the void.”
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then Scott’s eyes narrowed with thought. “There’s another possibility,” he ventured. “They could be inside the sphere.”
Geordi looked at him. At first blush, it sounded preposterous. Ridiculous. But the more he considered it… “Maybe,” he said. “Yeah. Maybe.”
“Nae just maybe,” his companion countered. “They’re in there. It’s the only place they could be, lad.”
The younger man took a breath and let it out. “Whatever’s happened, we’ve got to find them. If we can get these engines back on-line, we could track the Enterprise by its impulse ion trail.”
Suddenly, Scott turned livid. He held out his hands palms-up to show his helplessness. “Are ye daft?” he