Synthesis - James Swallow [13]
“But that doesn’t mean there isn’t anyone out there,” Vale noted. “Psionics isn’t an exact science.”
Deanna nodded. “She’s right. There could be survivors, beings with contraempathic brain structures.”
“I want to go out and take a look,” Vale added quickly. “Whatever happened here, whatever it was that kicked us out of warp, I think we’ll find the answers on that alien ship.”
“What ship?” Will replied, shooting a look at the padd. “In case you hadn’t noticed, there’s hardly enough of it left to deserve the name.”
“Ensign Dakal is tracking one of the largest hull fragments. It’s giving off intermittent energy pulses. If we take a shuttle, we can lock onto the hull and survey the wreck close-up. Maybe find a sensor log… maybe a survivor.”
Will’s lips thinned. “And that’s right in the middle of the densest part of the debris field. It’s going to be like steering through a cloud of knives.”
“A cloud of radioactive knives,” added Deanna, reading the padd.
Vale hesitated. “But you’re still going to give the order, aren’t you?”
Will nodded. “If there’s a chance someone might be alive out there? Of course I am. I just wanted to make sure we’re all clear on how horribly dangerous this could be.”
“Yeah,” said the exec. “I got that. Vale out.” She gave a nod and vanished in a swirl of holographic pixels.
Deanna’s husband blew out a breath, and leaned forward to stroke his child under the chin. Tasha chuckled, and her parents shared a smile. “Well,” he said, “at least there’s someone onboard who isn’t fazed by any of this.”
“She is her father’s daughter.”
Will’s smile lengthened. “Her mother’s, too.”
The Shuttlecraft Holiday exited the Titan’s aft landing bay and performed a half-loop, turning in an arc that passed over the starship’s upper sensor pod and primary hull, then out across the bow.
Ensign Olivia Bolaji fixed her complete attention on the morass of shifting fragments that spilled out in front of the shuttle, each spinning and turning on its own axis. The small craft’s navigational computer projected a holographic heads-up display, complete with predictive analysis of trajectories, impact loci, and areas of potential lethality. She chewed her lip as a piece of dark gray metal loomed, easily the size of a ground car.
Ranul Keru placed a hand on her shoulder. “Time to earn your pay, Liv.”
The shuttle banked evenly, smaller fines of wreckage sparkling across the bow where they bounced off the deflector shields. “I’m a leaf on the wind, sir,” she replied without looking away, her focus total and absolute.
Easing the thrusters up to one-quarter power, the Holiday entered the danger zone.
Ranul stepped back into the main compartment, where the rest of the boarding party was going through final safety checks. They all wore heavy Starfleet-issue environment suits and watched one another as they donned gloves and closed atmosphere seals. He threw a nod to Chief Dennisar, and the burly Orion returned it, stepping closer. “Boss,” he said in a low voice. “I took the liberty of bringing a compression rifle along, just in case.” Dennisar didn’t need to say more; until Ranul knew different, he was treating this away mission as a sortie into hostile territory. If the place looked like a war zone, that was probably because it was.
“Better to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it,” said the Trill.
“Aye, sir.”
Across the compartment, Commander Vale patted Ensign Fell on the back. “You’re good to go, Peya.”
The Deltan woman nodded and reached for her helmet. Zurin Dakal handed it to her, and she took it with a weak smile.
“Never really liked these suits,” said the Deltan. “The idea of this much material between you and deep space…” She held her thumb and forefinger very slightly apart. “It doesn