String Theory_ Fusion (Book 2) - Kirsten Beyer [97]
Tom was daring, not suicidal.
The first several probe tests were disastrous. He programmed a series of coordinates into the probe’s navigational array that should have transported it to a stable position several hundred kilometers beyond the array, and each time the probe remained stationary within the transport mechanism. It went absolutely nowhere. The same held true for any inorganic substance he placed within the transporter’s beam.
He had all but given up when Harry entered, flushed with excitement, to tell him they had successfully made contact with the Monorhan presence they had detected aboard the Betasis. Though Tom was obviously pleased for Harry-any success at this point brought all of them one step closer to getting off the array-he couldn’t hide from Harry his frustration with his own project.
“So…” Harry began, after Tom had halfheartedly congratulated him on his work, “how’s it coming down here?”
Tom shrugged, dejected. “Don’t ask,” he replied.
Harry looked about the shuttlebay and soon saw the fully functional tetryon transport station that had been set up. “Tom, this is amazing,” he said, crossing to examine its operational parameters, adding, “I didn’t think you’d be able to get this far.”
“I did,” Tom replied. “But thanks anyway for your vote of confidence.”
“So what’s the problem?” Harry asked.
“You want them in alphabetical order, or order of importance?” Tom answered.
Harry returned to Tom’s side and placed a conciliatory hand on his best friend’s shoulder.
“Look,” he said, “I don’t know about you, but I haven’t had anything but a couple of stale nutrient bars in the last twenty-four hours. Why don’t we head up to the mess hall, grab a quick bite, and see if we can put our heads together on this?”
Tom accepted the offer with a nod. He wasn’t giving up, but he doubted that once Harry had seen his results, the by-the-book ensign wouldn’t waste any time in telling him to scrap it.
They entered the mess hall engaged in a mild disagreement they had every time they ate together and either one or both of them had replicator rations to spare. On days like this, more than anything, Tom would have preferred to replicate a meal. Though he appreciated Neelix’s efforts in the mess hall, there were times he simply couldn’t face the Talaxian’s cooking, and this was one of them. Harry still felt, even after almost four years in the Delta Quadrant, that as senior officers they were required to constantly set a good example for the rest of the crew, and that included eating, heartily and without complaint, anything Neelix chose to put in front of them.
Tom saw a good omen in the fact that once they arrived, they found several of their fellow crewmen eating replicated dinners. Given the enormous power transfer they had received the day before and the fact that Neelix was otherwise occupied, Chakotay had left a standing order that until further notice, the kitchen was to be closed and the replicators made available to all personnel, regardless of the number of replicator rations they had at their disposal.
As Harry, carrying a tray of grilled salmon over a bed of sliced leola-root slaw, joined Tom and his double serving of macaroni and cheese, Tom stopped in midbite to ask, “Harry, what are you thinking? Leola slaw?!?”
“I like it,” Harry replied defensively. “Now shut up and tell me what the problem is.”
Tom continued shoveling food into his mouth. He hadn’t realized until he started eating just how famished he was, and macaroni and cheese was the ultimate in comfort food.
“The problem is I understand the mechanics of how the tetryon transporter works, but what I can’t figure out is why.”
Harry thumbed through a padd filled with the preliminary test results. He paused, a forkful of salmon halfway to his mouth, when he reached the equations