Star Trek_ A Choice of Catastrophes - Michael Schuster [46]
“Aye.” Scotty grimaced as the data came in. The storm kept on growing larger; it now covered half the southern continent. They had to go to ground now—the interference to the shields was increasing.
A shock of white light filled the cockpit of the Hofstadter. A second later, the entire shuttle jolted to starboard, nearly knocking Scotty out of his seat. “Mister Scott,” Spock said, unflappable as ever, “a safe location, if you please.”
“I’m working on it!” The Vulcan might be ineffably calm, but it was almost impossible for Scotty to concentrate. He hadn’t had to do his own navigation in conditions like this since he was a young lieutenant. Finally, he located a nearby metropolis with a number of low buildings that would shield them from the wind, worked out a course, and submitted it to Spock’s console.
Spock nodded in acknowledgment as the data flooded in. “Thank you—”
The world exploded then, and Scotty was flung forward. His eyes and ears were overwhelmed, leaving him in a light daze. It took him precious seconds to react; his hands flew out barely in time to stop his face from smashing into the console. The controls hurt his palms, even as his mind wondered why the inertial dampers weren’t working. He struggled to move back into his seat, but the shuttle was careening out of control in the wind and the rain. The g forces were pulling him down, whirling him out of his chair and onto the floor.
On all fours, he barely managed to turn his head to look for Spock. Like himself, the commander had been knocked to the floor of the shuttle, but he managed to pull himself up slightly against the overwhelming force. However, even with his Vulcan strength he was only able to peer at his readouts. “Lightning strike!” he shouted, barely loud enough to be heard over the roar of the storm and the straining of the engines. “Main controls have shorted out.”
Scotty reasoned fixing that problem was more important than reaching the navigation console, so he stopped trying to get to his feet, and instead began crawling aft. Most of the shuttle’s crew had also been knocked out of their seats, and as Scotty passed Lieutenant Kologwe, he tapped the security officer on the shoulder. “Take navigation!” he shouted above the din.
“I can’t get up there!”
“Do it! Spock needs your help!” Thankfully she was professional enough to shut up and go, inching forward by gripping the bases of the seats as she passed them. He did the same in the other direction.
M’Benga and Jaeger had been fortunate enough to remain in their seats, but they had a hard time holding on to them, looking as though they might get thrown off any moment. Onward—no time to gawp. The engineer was making progress, but he had to use up his last reserves of determination and strength. Eventually, he reached the aft wall of the compartment, where he’d be able to gain access to most of the shuttle’s controls. The access panel he wanted was near deck level, easy to reach from his position. It opened without a hitch, revealing a twisted mass of cables and circuits that let off a whiff of burnt connections.
Behind him, Scotty was aware of more shouting from Kologwe as she and Spock attempted to get the shuttle under control. Saloniemi yelled something indiscernible.
The transtators beneath the access plate were burnt out, leaving Scotty no choice but to yank them all out as fast as he could. They went flying over his shoulder, now useless. There was no time to replace them all; he needed to bypass them in order to get the signals to the correct junction.
Where could he get a spare transtator now? Yes! Grinning, he yanked his communicator from his belt and pushed the release that opened the back of the device. Its innards were arranged around a transtator. Carefully, he unhooked it and slotted it into one of the empty spots.
“You should have engine control now!” he yelled. Well, some control, anyway. Enough for the moment. Scott briefly wondered