Synthesis - James Swallow [88]
“Go on,” Vale prompted.
“Tricobalt devices. We’ve got eight of them in the torpedo bay, two ready to launch right now.”
“Those weapons are designed for use against static planetary targets,” noted Panyarachun. “They’re little more than dumb-fire missiles.”
Keru nodded. “And we don’t have time to retrofit the warheads to a torpedo-guidance chassis, which means we’d need to get in very close before release.”
“Tricobalt weapons are a Class Three device,” said the avatar, crossing the bridge toward Riker and the others. “They are offensive subspace munitions monitored under the auspices of the Second Khitomer Accords.” Her tone was insistent.
“Which is why I need a consensus to order the use of them,” said Riker. He looked to Melora. “Will it work?”
She thought it through. “There’s a good chance. A tricobalt blast will weaken the barrier between subspace and normal space. It might be enough to dissolve that mass.”
The captain looked at Commander Vale, and the first officer nodded without hesitation. He turned to Deanna. “With Tuvok absent, the last word’s yours. It needs to be unanimous.”
Troi took a deep breath. “We don’t have much choice, do we?”
“If you possess a weapon that can kill a Null composite, you must use it!” grated White-Blue, coming forward.
Deanna Troi glanced up at Keru. “I agree. You have authorization.”
“No,” said the avatar.
Riker was out of his chair in an instant. “What did you say?”
“I said no.” The hologram’s voice exhibited a slight tremor. “I won’t allow it.”
A sour tone issued from the tactical console. “Torpedoloading mechanism does not answer commands,” reported the Trill. “The firing-tube doors won’t open.”
“I will not have my orders challenged.” Riker’s voice had a dangerous edge to it that Melora had never heard before.
“It’s too risky!” the avatar cried out. “I will need to approach to point-blank range to ensure a solid hit. The probability of critical damage to this vessel is too high. There will be deaths! The ship could be destroyed!”
“You don’t get to make that call,” Riker replied. “I am the captain. The decision is mine. Do you understand that?”
“I—”
“Do you understand?” Riker boomed.
After a long moment, the avatar’s stiff poise fell away, and she looked at the deck.
The tactical console chimed. “Warheads now showing active,” said Keru. “Loaded. Ready to launch.”
Riker never looked away from the hologram. “Lavena, take us in to optimum firing distance. Keru, when you have your target window, take it.”
On the viewscreen, the swirling shape of the Null agglomeration moved to eclipse the dark shape of the icy planetoid behind it.
Lavena’s commands brought the starship up to sixty percent of full impulse speed, the engines still operating below maximum capacity after the attack in deep space. She took the vessel in through shifting slaloms of wreckage, dodging around the great bergs of steel and brass that were now all that remained of the Sentry refinery station. Swaths of vented, unprocessed deuterium slush sheared away in planes of glittering snow as the Titan vectored in, passing the braver AI cruisers that had closed to engage the thicker nest of tendrils exuded from the main bulk of the alien form.
The starship’s deflectors flashed hot as small Null fragments transformed into hard darts of plasmatic metamaterial and flung themselves at the speeding vessel. They spiraled apart where they made glancing hits, one of them opening like a spider to push through the shield envelope and claw at the naked hull beneath. Tritanium shredded, and atmosphere screamed into the darkness, but the ship powered on into the terminal phase of the attack run.
At the last possible second, the Titan executed a sweeping arc that became a rough banking climb, narrowly avoiding a forest of tendrils that exploded upward, reaching for the vessel to crush it. At the nadir of the arc, two dark cylinders ejected from the vessel’s aft torpedo launcher, and now they bored in, pressed on microimpulse drives. Shining like tiny bolts