Star Trek_ A Choice of Catastrophes - Michael Schuster [77]
“I hope luck is on our side,” said Jaeger, manning the navigation console. “We’ll need it.” With his right hand he worked the scanner controls, and with his left he kept a tight grip on the bottom of the console. The geophysicist had never been in a firefight before.
“We do not require luck, Lieutenant,” replied Spock, “only efficiency and aptitude.” He swerved the Hofstadter to avoid weapons fire from a Farrezzi fighter. The fighters were more agile in the wind.
“All the same, I’m going to cross my fingers.” Spock noted that Jaeger did not actually do so.
“All done, Commander,” the voice of Seven Deers came through Scott’s communicator. “Ready when you are.”
“Good to go, sir,” Scott said.
“Acknowledged.” Spock’s attention was devoted to the controls, as he worked to keep the Hofstadter from suffering any more hits. The shields were nearly depleted. It appeared that the fighters knew, because they were becoming bolder. The Farrezzi pilots had also realized the Columbus had no weapons, as they crossed in front of the other shuttle.
Spock activated the shuttle’s comm to contact Kologwe on the Columbus. “Lieutenant, prepare to match my course.”
“Aye, sir.”
Spock looked at the scans of the cloud layer. There was a gap in the storm, being blocked by one of the Farrezzi ships. This was exactly what they needed. “Now.”
As the Hofstadter began to climb toward the hovering fighter, Columbus slipped underneath it, bringing the shuttles as close as was safe. “Engage on three,” Spock ordered. “One. Two. Three.”
Spock flicked off the Hofstadter’s shields. The gap in coverage was less than a second. Columbus’s shields extended out to cover the beleaguered shuttle. Spock turned the Hofstadter’s shield power back on, its power reinforcing the Columbus’s shields.
The other two fighters came up from below, firing at the two shuttles, but their weapons had little effect on the combined power of both shuttles’ shields.
The Vulcan returned his attention to the third fighter. It was still hovering in position, apparently unconcerned. Its pilot knew one shuttle did not have phaser power.
“Fire,” Spock ordered. He activated the weapons system. A bright blue beam lit up the darkened sky, striking the Farrezzi fighter, which shuddered under the impact.
He waited for a second phaser beam to join it from below, but nothing happened. Under Scott’s direction, Seven Deers had replaced the Columbus’s damaged emitter crystal with one from a phaser rifle. It should now be capable of firing. “Lieutenant?” Spock asked.
“Something’s wrong, sir.” Kologwe’s voice evidenced a nearly imperceptible rise.
As Scott began barking orders into his communicator, Spock glanced at the navigational plot. They were twenty-one seconds from reaching the hovering fighter, which showed no signs of damage.
“Mister Jaeger,” said Spock as he considered their options, “it appears we have a situation which calls for your crossed fingers.”
McCoy was at his wits’ end. Specialist Huber was yet another mystery. Would Huber also be experiencing pain like Haines’s, pain that didn’t go away? Would others be affected before long? Would he?
The thought made his knees tremble. Death had never been an issue. Dying was an essential part of life.
Since his father died, McCoy had feared pain. In the final weeks of his father’s illness the agony had overwhelmed the painkillers.
“Doctor? What’s wrong?” Chapel asked.
Glad for the interruption, McCoy looked her in the eyes. “Nothing, Christine, except that I’m getting older. I can’t see what’s in front of me.” Something was eluding him, a link between Huber’s state and everything else that was going on.
“We need to get Huber’s brain to calm down. Right now, there are fireworks going off in there. I need a neural suppressant.”
Chapel had the hypospray ready for him in the blink of an eye, and he injected it in Huber’s neck. The effect