String Theory_ Fusion (Book 2) - Kirsten Beyer [8]
Ensign Brooks was speaking. Reluctantly she forced herself to focus on his question.
“But if the housing of the coil is reinforced with a static forcefield, won’t that limit the distribution of the reaction and reduce capacity?” he asked.
Resisting the urge to extend her assimilation tubules and simply spoon-feed him the data he required, she began again, in the most patient voice she could muster.
“The forcefield is a necessary defensive measure. The limited vulnerability is weighted higher than the .0075 capacity reduction that you refer to, and would result in an insignificant reaction increase.”
“In your opinion,” he continued.
Seven paused.
“In the opinion of a collective of millions of beings who assimilated and then perfected quantum slipstream technology before finding transwarp travel more efficient.” She made a mental note to review Starfleet Academy entrance requirements, and determine, if possible, who had felt it was prudent to make Ensign Brooks an engineer.
“Right. The Borg are obsessed with efficiency. But no matter how you look at it, the static field is not the most efficient option,” Brooks observed.
“Ensign, if you were to engage the slipstream coil and begin flying at that speed, should the coil be transported from its station by a hostile party, it would result in the immediate disintegration of your vessel. Insignificantly decreased reaction potential is a small price to pay for the safety the static field provides. I can assure you that in the unlikely event you should ever fly that fast, finding a way to move at a higher velocity will not be a primary or even secondary concern.”
“I was just saying…” he began, but her level gaze told him he might be taking his life in his hands if he chose to continue.
The next sound that Seven heard was the chirping of her combadge.
“Torres to Seven of Nine.”
“Go ahead,” she replied.
“Meet me in astrometrics.”
“I’m on my way.” She toyed with the idea of asking Brooks to realign the coil-locking dampers, but opted to complete the procedure herself when she returned. “Ensign Brooks, please review the coil distribution parameters using the following three antineutrino variances. I will expect your report when I return.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he stammered, obviously still unsure how one addressed a former Borg, now human, who had spent more time aboard a starship than he had, if you counted the various Borg cubes she had served on, but had never officially accepted a rank aboard Voyager.
Seven had almost reached the door when she remembered to turn and say, “Thank you, Ensign.” It was an unnecessary nicety as far as she was concerned, but she had realized in the last eleven months how much more efficient working conditions could be when one observed these simple pleasantries.
“When was the last time you slept, Chakotay?” Janeway began, as soon as the door was closed.
“I could ask you the same question,” he replied simply. Chakotay was not at all surprised to see that in the space of a breath, the jovial woman who had just lingered lovingly over a child’s drawing was gone and in her place stood the most determined leader ever to ride point on a Federation vessel. Sometimes he thought they had survived this long in the Delta Quadrant only through the sheer force of her will. And now she had her game face on.
“You left the bridge less than two hours ago. It’s not as if standing over the conn will get us to Tuvok any faster. As long as we’re in Monorhan space…” he began.
“I know. Impulse engines only,” she finished bitterly. “And he’s got a good head start. At this rate he’ll probably reach the singularity at least a few hours ahead of us.”
“I am pleased to report that we’re becoming much more proficient at navigating the unusual space and subspace curvatures of the Monorhan system. It should cut some time off our pursuit course,” Chakotay said.
“And we shouldn’t have to worry about any more ships suddenly popping up right in front of us?” Janeway asked.
“Seven has assured me that we should not,” he replied.
“Well, that’s something,