Section 31_ Rogue - Andy Mangels [59]
Picard frowned as he slung the rifle onto his back. “Admiral, I prefer to have Mr. Hawk piloting the shuttle. His reflexes will be put to better use here in case of a Chiarosan attack. I hadn’t intended on leaving the doctor on board alone.”
Crusher gave him a look of mock umbrage. “I’m capable of piloting a shuttle, Captain.”
Batanides took the remaining phaser and tricorder out of Picard’s hands. “She won’t be alone. You’ll be staying aboard with her.”
Picard struggled, not altogether successfully, to control a volcanic surge of anger. “Damn it, Marta, I brought Mr. Hawk along specifically for his piloting skills-“
She interrupted him once again. “Skills that we’ll need more urgently after we’ve rescued the hostages. You’ve certainly got more than enough flying expertise to keep things going until we get to that point. In the meantime, Hawk and I will assemble the prisoners at the prearranged beam-up coordinates.”
“Riker and Troi are my officers. I should be going down there to rescue them.”
“As the captain of the Enterprise, you’re less expendable than Mr. Hawk.” Batanides nodded toward the young officer. “No offense intended, Lieutenant.”
“None taken, sir,” Hawk said, wide-eyed. He was still seated in the cockpit.
“With all due respect, Admiral, you’re beginning to sound like my first officer. You are the most senior officer here. And that makes you the least expendable of any of us.”
Batanides walked to the aftmost section of the cabin and took her place on one of its two transporter pads. “This hellhole has taken too much away from me already. I’m not going to put another old friend at risk unnecessarily. And I’m through discussing it.” She pointed at the pips on her collar for emphasis.
Picard silently bit the inside of his lip as he contemplated just how deep and wide her stubborn streak had grown since their Academy days.
“Then Godspeed,” he said after a long moment.
“Beam-down window opening in thirty seconds,” Hawk said, staring at a readout. The viewscreen still showed nothing but featureless darkness, punctuated by sporadic auroral light-flashes that made the barren land stand out in sharp, shadowed relief.
Hawk suddenly looked up from his console, a puzzled expression on his face.
“What is it?” Picard said.
“It’s strange. I’m picking up tetryon emissions from somewhere. It’s faint, but it’s interfering with the transporter lock.”
“Can you compensate?”
Hawk made several minute adjustments to his console. “There. Lock established. Fifteen seconds to beam-down window.” Hawk then rose from his seat and shot a questioning glance in Picard’s direction.
Picard unslung his rifle and handed it to Hawk, who walked over to the admiral’s side. The captain sat behind the cockpit controls and methodically punched in the transporter commands. Then he turned his chair aftward.
“Marta, I will be very upset with you if you get yourself killed,” Picard said.
She grinned as the pads energized. “Just drive carefully, Johnny. And don’t forget to leave a light on for us.” The beam brightened and the pair shimmered out of existence.
Crusher took the seat beside him. “‘Johnny?’” she said inquiringly.
An alarm klaxon sounded. He said nothing to the doctor; the wavering image on the tactical display now demanded his full attention. At least four small vessels were approaching, coming from all directions.
And they were all closing on the Kepler very, very quickly.
Will Riker paced back and forth in the holding cell for what seemed like days. Asking the guard for the time had been an exercise in futility, akin to soliciting a charitable donation from a Ferengi DaiMon. The total absence of any sort of clock gave time an elastic, unreal quality.
“Will,” Troi said. Though she was sitting on the cell’s single cot in a contemplative-looking lotus position, she appeared to be having trouble concentrating.
Riker stopped in his tracks. “Sorry. I can’t seem to stop pacing. And there’s not much else to do.”
Zweller, who was leaning insouciantly against one of the cell’s stone walls, chuckled.
“Is something