Reunion - Michael Jan Friedman [48]
was blank, the ship’s visual sensors having apparently overloaded. Picard took a deep breath, let it out.
He looked around. “Is everyone all right?” Everyone was, though some of the bridge officers seemed to have lost their footing in that last violent moment. Geordi was one of them.
“Mr. Crusher,” said Picard, rising and approaching the Conn station. En route, he gave his tunic a short, effective tug. “What is our situation?”
When Wesley turned around, he looked disappointed. “The warp engines are down, sir. And we’re still moving at warp nine point nine five.”
A bitter thing to swallow. But the captain accepted it with equanimity. “I see” was all he said. “Life-support nodes have switched to impulse pow-er,” Data reported: “However, lighting and ventilation systems are experiencing widespread failures, though none that suggests imminent danger to the crew.” Picard nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Data.” It occurred to him to pose another question. Turning to Geordi, he asked: “Did we achieve warp nine point nine six, Commander?”
La Forge shook his head. “I’m not sure, sir. We had some instrument malfunctions.”
Picard accepted that too. “See what data you can collect,” he advised. “Perhaps we can learn something from this.”
“Aye, sir,” said the chief engineer. “Just as soon as I get the engines up and running again.”
The captain turned back to the viewscreen. Despite its emptiness, he could see imagined stars streaming by all too quickly. Picard sighed. They had given it their best shot-and failed..
In the lounge on deck seventeen, the only illumination was supplied by the starlight that came through the observation port-and that wasn’t much at all. However, Crusher’s eyes were adjusting to the darkness, She could now discern her companions from the shadowy silhouettes of the furniture.
“Whatever our captain did,” said Cadwallader, “it destroyed more than a few circuits. Even the emergency lighting’s not working.” “Other parts of the ship may be in better shape,” Morgen offered. “We should try to reach them.” “Seems like a good idea,” said the doctor.
“The doorway is over there, “the Daa’Vit announced. Beverly felt him take her by the arm and usher her toward the exit. “Careful of that chair.” That came from Cadwallader, apparently guided by Morgen as well.
“I see it,” said the Daa’Vit. “Thanks.”
And a moment later they emerged into the corridor. Windowless, it was even blacker than the lounge. Crusher pointed to the left-a pretty useless gesture, she realized. If she couldn’t see her hand, how could her companions?
“Turn to the left,” she told them. “There’s a turbolift a few meters from here. On the right just past the curve.”
“It’s a good thing you’re with us,” said Cadwallader, “or we’d have a devil of a time trying to-was
Suddenly, the darkness ahead of them exploded in a burst of fiery red light. Instinctively, the doctor brought her arm up to protect her eyes-but before she could do even that much, she was wrenched off her feet by a pair of hands and sent flying backward. A second blast followed the first; this time there was no doubt. Someone was firing a phaser at them. And
judging from the odor of burning duranium in the air, that someone was out for blood.
Morgen cried out, then Cadwallader. Through the prism of her hot, burning tears, Crusher tried to see who it was that had attacked them, and where he was aiming his weapon. But it was no use. There was too much happening and it was happening too quickly; all she could do was press herself against the bulkhead and call for help, and hope that the intercom was working better than the lighting system.
A third blast-a shriek and a curse, and the muffled thump of a body hitting the deck. Putting aside her fear, the doctor crawled in the direction of the sound, bracing herself for what she might find. After all, the beam had pierced the bulkhead. There was no limit to the havoc it could have worked on a human body-or a Daa’Vit, for that matter.
But if she got there in time, she might be able to help. To stabilize