Taking Wing - Michael A. Martin [117]
“Where is the fun in that?” Khegh asked, grinning again. He turned and barked an order in Klingon, addressing his crew. “Besides, I thought you wanted to keep us from fighting these treacherous Romulan petaQ .”
“Believe me, asking you to fire on Romulan ships isn’t my first choice,” Riker said. “But we need to stop this war before it gets completely out of hand.”
He wasn’t surprised when Khegh signed off without acknowledging him.
“The Klingons are breaking away from us,” Vale said, looking up from her console. “Our shields are still at less than half-strength, Captain. Staying out of harm’s way would be as good an idea for us as for our convoy ships.”
Riker slapped the combadge on his chest. “Riker to engineering. We need to get our shields back to full power, Ledrah. Now.”
“We’re already working on it, sir,” the chief engineer’s calm voice replied.
Riker strode back down toward his chair, aware that the eyes of his wife had been on him for the last several minutes. He could feel her calming influence, even though she wasn’t speaking aloud.
He turned toward Keru. “Mr. Keru, you may fire when ready, but I do not want any of those ships destroyed. Just make sure they can’t take any more potshots at anyone else.”
“Yes, sir,” Keru said.
Tuvok stepped toward the captain’s chair. “Captain Riker, if you require additional help, I was the tactical officer aboard Voyager for seven years. I can assist Mr. Keru if you have a targeting console to spare.”
Riker nodded curtly. “Glad to have your help, Commander. Two good marksmen are better than one.” He turned to see the forward viewscreen flicker to life for a moment, then wink out again. In that instant, Riker caught a glimpse of one of Khegh’s Klingon battle cruisers swooping in toward one of the newer Romulan warbirds, while a phaser burst from Titan lanced out toward an older, Reman-crewed ship.
“Sorry, sir,” the engineer said, holding up a pointed spanner. “We’ll have it back up in just a moment.”
Riker noted that the pair working on the viewscreen were the Polynesian twin ensigns. He could never tell them apart, so he was glad in this instance that he could just use their mutual surname. “As quickly as you can, Ensign Rossini.”
“I’ve tried hailing Praetor Tal’Aura, but our signal apparently isn’t getting through,” Deanna said, looking up from the console she had snapped down from the side of her chair. Her dark eyes grew wider, and he felt her speaking directly into his mind.
This is not your fault, Will. I’m not even sure that Ambassador Spock could have prevented this, regardless of what he believes. He might only have delayed the Reman attack.
Small comfort, Imzadi , he thought in response. It feels as if we’re trying to keep a boat from sinking with a bucket brigade.
She frowned slightly at his boat reference, and he was certain she was remembering their honeymoon. Suddenly, an urgent voice pulled his full attention back to the crisis at hand.
“Captain, one of the Remans is closing on our port bow! Collision course!” Rager’s voice was high-pitched, though not panicked.
“Evasive maneuvers!” Riker roared.
The viewscreen flickered back on just in time to display an obsolete D-7 cruiser barreling toward Titan, filling almost the entire image area.
Then the incoming vessel appeared to pull away. Riker felt intense relief.
Until the other ship was hit by some other vessel’s disruptor fusillade, breaking her hull into burning, atmosphere-venting fragments that careened in every direction.
One rather large, jagged piece was headed straight for Titan’s new evasive heading.
“All decks, brace for impact!” he shouted into his combadge. He saw Lavena and Rager frantically entering commands, but he knew that even their considerable skills wouldn’t be enough.
A cacophonous sound rent the air, and Riker felt himself thrown violently backward. The lighting dimmed to near-darkness, lit only by a shower of sparks. Amid the blare of klaxons and the tortured moans of strained structural integrity