String Theory_ Cohesion (Book 1) - Jeffrey Lang [8]
Flattered, Carey became expansive. “Here’s how I see it: We’re producing as much energy as we usually do to move at warp six and barely managing to keep up the bubble. What does that mean? That we’re not producing energy?”
Mildly exasperated by the pedantic tone, but willing to play along if the lesson would end in a concrete point, B’Elanna held up the padd. “Not according to this.”
“Right. So we’re pushing as hard as we can. But what if we’re not pushing at the right thing? Or, put another way, what if the thing we’re trying to push against isn’t what we think it is?”
The idea made B’Elanna’s head hurt. “We’re pushing against space, Joe. That’s all there is out here….” But as soon as she said the words, she knew she was wrong. Space wasn’t empty. Different kinds of space had different properties, especially when you started dealing with the special composition of subspace…“Scratch that. I get you.” She looked at the padd one more time. “But whatever else is happening, we have to get out of here. The engines won’t hold up against this effect much longer….”
Speak the devil’s name and he will come. Her father used to say that. Say the words and they will have power over you. Tell the engines what they cannot do and, naturally, they decide you’re right.
Alarms blared. Lights flashed. Vents whooshed as automatic systems dumped coolant into the core. Engineers and technicians scurried like ants under the glare of a magnifying glass. And B’Elanna, queen of the hive, could do nothing but find the biggest problem and start to work.
To say that the warp field had collapsed without warning would be a mistake. Voyager’s crew had received plenty of warning; what they lacked was an explanation. The streaks of blue-shifted light on the main monitor dilated into pinpoints, and Tom experienced the familiar shift as the impulse engines kicked in, deck plates vibrating under his feet.
The captain, predictably, was on the comm to B’Elanna within seconds: “What’s happened to my ship?”
Voice rough-edged with resentment, B’Elanna said, “It’s not the engines, Captain. I’m not an astrophysicist, so I’m not going to pretend I understand the readings we’re getting, but engines have to have something to push against. Is there something about the region of space we just entered?”
“We’re trying to determine that now, B’Elanna, but in the meantime try to get me something more definitive than ‘There’s nothing to push against.’ ”
“Understood, Captain. Torres out.”
Tom looked around at the crowded bridge. The ship was still on red alert, but there did not seem to be any immediate threat for the first-shift crew to respond to. Protocol dictated that the crew on deck when the alert was called should stay at their stations unless otherwise ordered. Unfortunately, for them as for the engines, there didn’t seem anything to push against. Chakotay, sensing everyone’s discomfort, stood and announced, “First shift, stand down. Second shift, assume your stations.”
Grateful crew members logged out of their stations, then slid out of their seats. As they always did, Tom and his relief, Ensign Clarice Knowles, spent two minutes reviewing their status and exchanging information that was not available on the status board, such as the general mood on the bridge.
“Keep your head down, Knowles,” Tom muttered. “The captain hasn’t had a cup of coffee in more than four hours and I don’t see her leaving the bridge any time soon.”
“Maybe someone should mention this to Neelix,” Knowles replied under her breath.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Tom turned to find Chakotay standing less than six inches behind him. How does he do that? Tom thought.
“Double cream in mine,” the first officer said. “Bring it to the ready room. And bring a cup for yourself. We need to figure out what’s going on here.”
Tom sighed. “Yes, sir,” he said. “Should I swing by the engine room and get B’Elanna?”
Chakotay shook his head. “No. Let her do her job. She’ll report in when she has something. We