The Children of Hamlin - Carmen Carter [8]
“We’ve got them, Captain,” said Worf when the moving bubble cluster halted abruptly. “But they’re draining power at an incredible rate.”
Picard tried once more to establish radio contact. “I order you to surrender your vessel.” He did not really expect an answer. There was none. But as before, the alien ship began to change. Its spheres contracted in size; the clumped mass shifted, rearranging its connections. A single bubble was extruded out from the cluster. Another followed directly behind the first. Then another.
The angle of the starship’s tractor beam widened to cover the changing shape. Bridge lights flickered as more power was diverted to Worf’s console. Overload indicators rippled across instrument panels as the bubbles stretched into one long strand.
Riker rejoined the captain on the command deck. His brow was furrowed with anger and frustration. “At this rate, we’ll be forced to tap into our emergency power reserves. Even then I don’t think we can hold them for long.”
“This enemy is certainly full of tricks.” Picard couldn’t keep the admiration out of his voice. His praise raised a surprised double take from Riker. “There’s no shame in recognizing a worthy opponent, Number One.” The shame lay in losing. Picard considered what effect another phaser attack would have on the alien ship’s struggle for escape.
“Captain,” called out Data. “Sensors show that the Ferrel’s primary hull is badly damaged and the atmosphere-containment liner shows signs of rapid weakening at stress points. It could rupture at any moment.”
A wave of the captain’s hand signaled Worf to cut loose the tractor beam. Picard’s voice hoarsened with urgency. “Yar, all power to the transporter stations. Commence immediate transport of the Ferrel’s crew with wide beam coordinates. Bring over anything that moves. Hurry.”
Turning back to the viewscreen, Picard watched the alien ship glide away with increasing speed, like a beaded necklace slipping from the grasp of its owner.
Old Ziedorf was deaf and slept through the commotion, but the other Farmers awakened in their strange beds amid the lights and noise of a nightmare. The shouts and cries of mothers and uncles clutching on to their sleep-dazed children drowned out the calm instructions given by the ship’s computer. The Farmers would not have listened to the disembodied voice anyway, especially since it asked them to stay in their cabins.
Men and women poured out of the passenger suites into the connecting corridor, crying out in their confusion. One man among them, who had learned something of the ship’s operation, turned down the volume of the nearby intercom speaker, the better to hear his neighbor. Nobody answered the entreaties of the security officer’s voice, which was now reduced to a faint whisper.
Children who absorbed the undercurrent of excitement in the crowd struggled free of any constraining grip and darted away, eager to play at this unaccustomed hour. Others who were less hardy of temperament responded to the words of fear and added their own wails to the clamor.
Dnnys threaded his way among the adults with difficulty. One after another they grabbed him by the elbow or the shoulder and demanded an explanation for the ship’s strange behavior: to them, his notorious familiarity with the Enterprise made the situation his responsibility. Still, he was only a child, so there was no sense in listening to his answers, especially when he urged them to return to their cabins.
Again a hand caught hold of him, and Dnnys threw it off. Then he saw who had reached out and he wriggled over to his cousin’s side. Her light brown hair was too curly to show signs of an abrupt awakening but the tails of her blue workshirt were hanging loose outside her jeans.
“I can’t get into your mother’s room,” said Mry. “She, of course, stayed put just as she should. But when she didn’t come out, everyone else went in after her.” Of the