The Children of Hamlin - Carmen Carter [2]
“Maybe, but this is all pretty exciting to me,” countered Dnnys. He pointed to one panel, “What’s that do?” Dutifully, Wesley began to describe the panel’s function, his words underscored by the constant basso hum of the nearby matter/antimatter blender. Dnnys nodded, his eyes glazing over as he struggled to absorb a whole new world of information, as alien to him as farming would have been to Wesley.
Dnnys started at an unfamiliar sound and his eyes skipped from one end of the room to another. “What was that?”
“We’ve increased warp speed,” exclaimed Wesley, startled by the sudden shift in tempo and strength of the vibrations of the quivering deck. He turned away from the circuit monitor to ask why, but the duty technician had slipped away into another area.
He would have to figure it out for himself.
The main bridge of the Enterprise was its nerve center, a spacious room with a vaulted ceiling and curving walls that added an aesthetic dimension to its functional structure. The chairs of the duty stations were cushioned, the deck carpeted: warm pastels predominated, but a diffuse light revealed flat black control panels with displays of bright, flowing colors.
William Riker, first officer of the USS Enterprise, stood at attention on the bridge, his tall muscular frame tensed beneath his uniform, eyes fixed on the viewscreen that filled the front wall of the circular room.
“Steady as she goes,” Riker told the helm crew. He heard Lieutenant Worf’s heavy tread on the elevated deck behind him, and almost asked for another report from the long-range sensor scans, but stopped himself; the request would be redundant. He’d already done what he could for now.
Riker’s response to the distress call had been automatic: a quick assessment of the message, a rapid spate of orders that brought the starship onto a new course and increased its speed. His next action should have been to contact the captain, but even as his hand moved to issue the call, Picard’s voice had rung out demanding an explanation. Riker did not doubt the appropriateness of the orders he had issued, or the pressing need to act instantly, but he did regret not having reached Picard first. A first officer who usurped a captain’s authority, even when that captain was supposedly sound asleep, should account for his actions without being asked.
The hiss of the opening turbolift doors was immediately followed by the distinctive voice of Captain Picard. “Status report, Number One,” he ordered in clipped, sharply enunciated words as he strode down the ramp to the command level of the bridge.
Riker quickly recited the speech he had prepared while waiting for Picard’s arrival. “The USS Ferrel, a Constitution-class starship, is broadcasting an automatic distress signal.” He took a deep breath and continued. “I ordered an immediate course diversion to their source coordinates and increased our speed to warp six.”
“Yes, so I noticed,” said Picard dryly.
Riker met Picard’s steely gaze without flinching. The first officer towered a half head above his captain, yet somehow Picard always seemed to be at eye level.
“Quite right, Number One.”
The rise and fall of Riker’s chest was the only sign of the relief that echoed in his own mind. He was still feeling his way with this new captain, but Picard consistently kept his ego divorced from the concerns of command. Riker relaxed his ramrod posture and finished his report. “Estimated time of rendezvous with the Ferrel is twenty-two minutes.”
“Security, go to Yellow Alert,” ordered Picard.
“And notify Starbase Ten of our diversion.” The steady pulse of alert lights sprang into life across the bridge. The captain dropped down onto his command chair. He tugged sharply at the waistline of his uniform, snapping the fabric into place. “Sit down, Will. There’s nothing we can do now but wait.”
Riker envied the captain’s composure and wondered if his relaxed attitude was genuine or merely a pose. Perhaps the difference