Synthesis - James Swallow [34]
Bits of ship dislodged by the blast tore into the secondary hull, and the Titan rolled over, listing wildly.
“They punched right through the shields!” said Rager. “How can they do that?”
The bridge’s lighting flickered and dimmed, the rusty glow of emergency illumination filling the room. Smoke wreathed the air, and someone lay on the deck, coughing and struggling to get up from where the impact had thrown them.
“The attackers were able to compute our shield modulations,” Tuvok replied flatly.
“Out of a billion possible combinations?” Y’lira shot back. “That’s unlikely.”
“But not impossible,” said the Vulcan as he stabbed at the tactical console. “I am initiating a rotating shield-frequency sequence to prevent another strike.”
“Status?” Vale heard a groan in her own voice. She had rocked forward and banged her head against the chair with the whiplash. “Tylith?”
The Kasheetan dragged herself off the deck, one arm dangling limply. Her face was dark with thick blood. “Warp drive is off-line. Power systems are struggling to… to compensate.” She staggered, unsteady on her large clawed feet. “I… I’m sorry, I’m having trouble focusing…”
“Someone get her down to sickbay,” Vale ordered. “Are we still in the fight, Tuvok?”
“It would seem we have few other options,” he replied.
“The alien ships are recombining,” said Y’lira. On the forward screen, the smaller unit was turning to slot back into a vacant space at the stern of the larger craft. It began to change shape again, this time shifting into a vague crescent form.
Vale’s jaw set hard. “Arm photon torpedoes, and prepare to fire,” she ordered. “Maximum yield.”
Belowdecks, the aftershock of the hit was echoing through the vessel, as Titan’s power systems went into emergency mode. Critical pathways and conduits were automatically sealed, electroplasma channels were locked and rerouted, and the ship’s central computer erected forcefields around sections of the ship that had vented to space. The crew recoiled from the enemy attack, their training taking over as they raced to their crisis stations. Down in the cargo bay, a different kind of crisis was reaching its criticality.
The bay’s lights came back up at half-power. Deanna felt for her husband’s arm and grabbed it, just for the certainty of him, allowing herself a brief second to be sure he was still there, by her side.
She felt his fear mesh with hers, all of it forming into a single word: Tasha? Their daughter was two decks up, in the ship’s crèche with T’Pel, and Deanna felt a flash of ice-cold dread shoot through her; but in the same moment, there was the heat of relief as she sensed the knot of thought life that was her daughter, still alive, unharmed—but very much afraid.
Immediately, she was torn between the task at hand and her child. Deanna knew that if she asked the question of her husband, he would let her go, let her race away to the crèche. But could she do it? Put her daughter before the mission, before the lives of everyone aboard the ship? Her duty was to stay here, and even as part of her railed at the thought, hated herself for the choice she made, she drew herself up.
“What is the reason for this attack?” she demanded, facing the AI. In the low dimness of the emergency lights, the lab was a mess of flickering displays and wary, shadowed figures.
“The Titan has been computed as a threat vector,” replied the machine-mind. “The attack will continue until this vessel is neutralized. I must take steps to ensure that this goes no further.”
The words had an ominous ring to them. “What does that mean?” said Will.
“The interface must be made.”
“Captain?” Keru raised his phaser, sensing the same threat in the air.
Dakal had a tricorder in his hand, and his eyes widened, showing white. “Power surge from within the nexus core!”
The Cardassian did not finish his sentence; instead, the air was