The Brave and the Bold Book Two - Keith R. A. DeCandido [71]
But that was for later. “I take it,” she said, “that you figured stunning him was better than his getting in the way?”
Worf nodded. “Something like that.”
“Good plan,” G’joth said. “Davok is not a true warrior. He is simply a boor. Shall we continue working? I believe we should start by realigning these circuits.”
“I like that plan,” Falce said, sitting up and moving over to the workstation they had set up. Looking at Worf, the lieutenant asked, “By the way, Mr. Ambassador—how many weapons you have on you?”
Again, the not-really-a-smile. “Enough.”
While the quartet worked, B’Oraq picked Davok up—not making any effort to be gentle—and laid him down on the QongDaq in the rear. With the power out, she couldn’t seal the room, but at least he’d be out of the way there.
“Doctor,” McKenna said when she came back to the fore, “this thing is set to give off a level-four nelaron pulse. Will that have any negative impact on us?”
B’Oraq thought a moment. “For how long?”
Falce said, “As long as it takes to bring the forcefield down.”
Closing her eyes, B’Oraq juggled figures in her head. Then she opened them. “At level four, we should be fine as long as you don’t go over five minutes.”
G’joth laughed a hearty laugh. “That is hardly an issue. This thing will burn out after three minutes.”
“In that case, Ensign, I’d say no negative impact whatsoever.” B’Oraq smiled.
A few minutes later, Worf announced that they were ready. B’Oraq noticed that the phaser Worf had used on Davok was now part of the device, as well.
McKenna placed the device—which looked like nothing else to B’Oraq but a piece of surrealist sculpture she’d seen on Earth—next to one of the bulkheads. The forcefield went all around the ship, so the device could apparently be placed anywhere.
“Activating nelaron pulse—now.”
On now, McKenna touched a control. A lowlevel hum started to build in intensity.
Forcefields were generally only visible when they were interfered with: when they turned on, when they were turned off, and when someone or something touched them. So when B’Oraq saw a flicker in the field, she felt a similar flicker of hope.
Then the forcefield crackled and went offline.
Half a second later, the device that they had constructed exploded in a shower of sparks and a small fire.
G’joth immediately reached for the fire extinguisher that sat under the copilot’s seat and used it to put the small fire out. The chemicals probably weren’t good for the device, but an explosion was far worse.
“Well, the good news,” Falce said, “is that we got the field down. The bad news is that there’s no way in hell we’ll be able to reconstruct this thing—and we lost some of our most potentially useful equipment—including all our weapons.”
B’Oraq smiled grimly. “Isn’t there some kind of human expression about lemons and lemonade?”
“What is a lemon aid?” G’joth asked. “For that matter, what is a lemon?”
“A foul drink made from a foul fruit.” With a more playful smile at McKenna and Falce, B’Oraq added, “No surprise from a race that can’t even handle bloodwine.”
“Hey, I like bloodwine just fine, thanks,” Falce said, returning the smile. “It makes a dandy lubricant when I have engine trouble.”
“Enough,” Worf said, though in a gentle voice. “Let us see what we can find outside.” He turned to B’Oraq. “Doctor, it might be best if you remained behind.”
“I can take care of myself, Ambassador. And I want to know what is going on here, and I can’t very well learn that sitting here.”
“You are just a doctor,” G’joth said dismissively.
“I can use my d’k tahg just as well as you can, G’joth. Better, probably, since I’m trained in, shall we say, surgical strikes?”
McKenna snorted. Falce tried to hide a grin.
G’joth stared at her for a second, then burst into laughter. “Very well, Doctor. We shall face—whatever it is that has taken us together.”
Nodding, Worf said, “Let us proceed.”
B’Oraq was glad no one had argued. On top of everything else, she