The Children of Hamlin - Carmen Carter [38]
“We’re only four hours away from the rendezvous,” said Riker. He was slumped in place, too weary to maintain his usual upright bearing. The bridge officers had worked several shifts without a break. “That doesn’t leave us with many options.”
“We shall have to rely on Andrew Deelor’s diplomacy. Presumably, the ambassador possesses a store of tact that he doesn’t waste on subordinates.” The captain took a closer look at his first officer. “Our remaining time can best be spent in getting some rest. That includes you, Number One.”
Riker sat up, quickly correcting the slouch that had betrayed him. “On one condition, Captain, that you also leave the bridge.” And he was prepared for resistance. “If asked, I’m sure your chief medical officer would insist.”
A faint smile crossed Picard’s face. Apparently, he had not hidden his own fatigue any better than Riker. “There’s no need to disturb Dr. Crusher. I’ll go to bed like a good little boy.” Pushing himself up from his chair, the captain addressed the one officer on the bridge who did not need relief. “Commander Data, you have the conn.”
However, once Picard had reached his cabin he simply could not fall asleep. He lay unmoving on his bed, eyes closed, thinking. Andrew Deelor would demand control of the Enterprise soon. Admiral Zagrath had made it very clear that the captain must give Deelor that control.
Don’t waste your luck on us, Captain Picard. You’ll need it more than we will.
D’Amelio’s warning whispered in Picard’s ear. He felt the weight of Phil Manin dying in his arms. The captain of the Ferrel had followed the ambassador’s orders and lived long enough to regret it. At what point did obedience to authority become unquestioning stupidity?
Hours passed.
Picard had not yet answered those questions when Data called him back to the bridge. He rose from the bed feeling more tired than when he had first lain down.
Lieutenant Worf had stoically withstood the insult of Captain Picard’s insistence that he rest, then marched dutifully to his cabin. As a Klingon, Worf followed orders to the letter. As a Klingon, he also felt free to violate the spirit of those orders if they did not suit him. He remained inside the room for some two minutes, then promptly returned to the bridge.
Humans sleep too much,” Worf told Data by way of explanation. “It dulls the reflexes.”
Since Data did not require such periods of inactivity, he was unable to judge the validity of this statement. However, he had an observation of his own to add. “They seem to find sleep an enjoyable process.”
“That’s another reason to avoid it.”
Worf set to work on the problem that had taunted him for days: the B Flat’s ability to overload a tractor lock. The Choraii spheres were slippery, they could still move inside the holding beam even if they could not escape it. By shifting into a long strand, they had put an increasing drain on the Enterprise’s power supply, and computer simulations indicated that a ring shape would have the same effect. Each configuration expanded the tractor beam beyond its assigned portion of ship’s power.
“They never broke out of the tractor beam,” said Worf when he showed Data the results. “They made us turn it off because the cost was too high.”
“Perhaps the Ferrel tried to hold them for too long,” theorized Data. “That could explain why the starship was so vulnerable to the energy matrix.”
“According to the computers, we need more power.”
“That is certainly the most direct solution,” said Data. “Perhaps more power to the phasers would have stopped them as well.”
Worf frowned at the unspoken portion of Data’s argument. “But Commander Riker found a way to damage the B Flat with less power, by narrowing the phaser beam. In other words, ordinary solutions won’t work with the Choraii.”
He returned to the science station with a new perspective. Computers searched for answers based on established parameters, but if the parameters of the tractor beam were altered,