Relics - Michael Jan Friedman [66]
“My God,” whispered Krause. “What happened here?”
But fortunately for Kane, there was no time to answer that question. They had to focus all their efforts on lifting the alien machinery.
“Ready,” said Riker. “Heave!”
With an effort, they lifted the wedge-and as gently as she could, Troi pulled Sousa out from under it. Then they lowered the section to the ground again.
But Sousa looked terrible. His face was waxy, his hairline matted with sweat. Kane knelt at his friend’s side as Troi scanned his leg with her tricorder. After all, she was the closest thing they had to a doctor on this away team.
“Is he … going to be all right?” asked Kane.
The counselor looked up at him … and her brows knit over her dark, soul-piercing eyes. She knows I’m responsible, thought the ensign. She can see the guilt twisting in my gut.
But she answered him anyway. “The bones in his leg have been crushed and there is some neurological damage. But nothing Dr. Crusher cannot fix.”
Thank God, thought Kane. He’s going to make it.
“That is,” Riker added, “if we can get him back to the ship. Unfortunately, we can’t just beam him back. We’ve got to bring him back by shuttle.”
“But we cannot communicate with the shuttle through the shield,” the Betazoid reminded him.
The first officer scowled. “And it’s a long way back to where we started-especially since we don’t have a stretcher.”
Troi shook her head. “Stretcher or no stretcher … I would prefer not to move him if there is another way. We must get the shuttle and pilot it here ourselves.” Kane cursed inwardly. That would take a long time and Sousa was looking paler by the moment.
The first officer nodded. “Let’s get started.” He turned to Bartel. “Lieutenant, you’re with-“
“Commander?” Kane had spoken before he knew it
Riker looked at him. “Yes, Ensign?”
Kane swallowed. “Sir, I want to go with you. I want to…” What he meant to say was to make up for what I did. But his voice just trailed off.
The first officer. misinterpreted the situation. “I understand. He’s your friend.” Turning to Bartel, he said, “Never mind.”
Then, without even waiting to see if Kane was following him, Riker headed for the ramp. The ensign fell in right behind him.
This was going to be tricky, Geordi told himself. Very tricky.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t as if they had a whole lot of choice in the matter. It was either try Scott’s plan or let the Enterprise languish in its Dyson Sphere prison.
Moving on half-impulse power, the Jenolen crept nearer and nearer to the place where the hatch was supposed to be. If it was a hatch.
No, Geordi thought. No doubts. Not now.
He consulted his monitor. “We’re at five hundred thousand kilometers,” he told Scott.
At the next console over, his companion nodded. “Aye, lad.” Playing the controls like a virtuoso, he brought the ship to a dead stop.
Geordi took a deep breath. Then, with the utmost concentration, he made the necessary preparations for their gamble. “How are the engines?” he asked.
“Engines are ready,” Scott announced.
The younger man looked at him. Cool as a walk in the ether. Either Scott believed in his strategy, a lot more strongly than Geordi did … or he was out of his mind. Or maybe a little bit of both.
“Okay,” said La Forge. “Keep your fingers crossed. Here we go.” Gritting his teeth, he sent them plunging toward the hatch.
Geordi’s monitor showed the surface of the sphere. For a moment, nothing happened. Then slowly, miraculously, a crack opened. And kept opening.
He pumped his fist in the air. “All right!”
Scott harrumphed. “Ye dinnae have to sound so surprised,” he remarked.
From around the circumference of the widening doorway, six spidery tractor beams reached up into space and searched for a ship. But they found nothing to latch onto, nothing to draw into their web.
“Come on,” said Geordi. “There’s nothing out there. Give it up.” He held his fingers ready over his control panel.