Section 31_ Rogue - Andy Mangels [112]
That pilot deserves credit for his courage and audacity, T’Veren thought, smiling at his gunner’s obvious pique. But even the most skilled flyer will eventually make a mistake.
Suddenly, the weapons officer grinned triumphantly. On the screen, one of the scoutship’s warp nacelles had taken a savage blow, and was spewing superheated plasma in every direction. A moment later, one of the secondary guns hit the scoutship yet again, pummeling it squarely amidships. The smaller vessel began to spin in an uncontrolled manner, the glow of its shields dimming steadily, then finally guttering out completely. Without having to be told, the helm officer minimized the danger of a collision by increasing the distance between the two ships.
T’Veren smiled. It wouldn’t be long now. “Bring us about, helmsman,” he said quietly. “Then finish them.”
This can’t be happening, Hawk thought as he watched the warbird make its slow, stately approach.
Peering across the darkened cockpit, he saw the captain’s insensate form sprawled on the scoutship’s deck. Behind the cockpit, Data appeared to be in much the same condition, though the android had remained eerily frozen in a half-standing position, his golden eyes wide but vacant, his positronic network still cabled to the ship’s computer core. Deciding that there was nothing he could do for Data at the moment, Hawk returned his attentions to the flight console. From the dozens of flashing readouts and alarms vying for his attention, Hawk gathered that a warp-powered retreat was out of the question. At least, he thought, the main controls seem to be working.
Hawk spared a moment to kneel beside the captain, and felt for a pulse in his neck. He found one, though it was weak and thready. He wondered what would happen to the captain’s artificial heart if he were to remain exposed to the damaged engine’s tetryon emissions for much longer.
But that’ll be moot in a couple of seconds, he thought, if I don’t do something about that warbird now.
Seating himself in the pilot’s chair, Hawk shut down the visual and audio alarms to help himself concentrate. One indicator, attached to the computer’s memory buffer, continued flashing in an irregular pattern, and Hawk didn’t want to waste any more time trying to shut it down; it was easy enough to ignore.
Almost at once, he thought of a way to address two of his most immediate problems. Recalling a command sequence that Admiral Batanides had shown him once off-handedly just before the raid on the rebel compound, Hawk armed the warp-core jettison system. Firing a thruster to reorient the ship, he engaged the core launcher.
The scoutship lurched as it loosed the core into space. Hawk watched the screen, which showed the scoutship’s cylindrical, green warp core arcing quickly toward the approaching warbird. But moments before impact, the warbird’s forward disruptor banks vaporized it. The small singularity that powered the core abruptly spent its energies in subspace. The warbird’s paint didn’t even appear to have been scratched.
Too bad. But at least the tetryon problem is solved.
Hawk watched as the warbird’s forward guns began glowing a dull red as they began powering up for another salvo. Absurdly, Hawk found his attention wandering to the computer memory-buffer light, which persisted in its mindless, rhythmic flashing.
So this is it. I’ll never see Ranul again.
Captain Picard groaned and began trying to sit up. Hawk went to his side. “Try not to move, sir.”
“I’ll take your medical opinion under advisement, Lieutenant,” Picard said, pulling himself into the copilot’s seat. Hawk offered him a steadying hand.
“Ship’s status?” Picard said, looking Hawk in the eye.
“The warp drive is… gone. Completely,” Hawk said, with a touch of embarrassment. But now wasn’t the time for overly detailed explanations; what’s done is done. “We have only minimal impulse power and life-support. Shields are down as well.”
“Then I gather that Data’s attempt to move the cloaking buoys hasn’t worked.” The screen showed that in the depths of space