The Expanse - J.M. Dillard [31]
“Not very helpful,” Trip commented dryly.
Mayweather’s tone held a note of concern—with good cause, since he was the one who would have to navigate his way through this mess. “It’s not that dense all the way through, is it?”
“The Vulcans said the Expanse is surrounded by thick layers of thermobaric clouds,” Archer replied, with a calm he did not feel. “When their last ship went in, it took them almost six hours to get through it.”
Mayweather nodded, his expression doubtful.
The Captain addressed T’Pol. “Anything on long-range scanners?”
“Nothing beyond the perimeter.”
Archer eyed the viewscreen a long moment. There was no way to know what lay beyond, nothing to do save draw in a deep breath and trust Silik’s time-traveling master, who had already proven himself capable of deceit. Yet Archer’s instincts told him he had no other choice. “Point-two impulse, Travis. Let’s head in.”
Hours passed. Once it was clear that Enterprise could hold her own inside the treacherous-looking clouds, Archer retreated to his ready room and busied himself with the more mundane tasks required of the captaincy. He was impressed at how solid and steady the ship seemed, despite the apparent turbulence outside her.
Problem was, there weren’t enough things to occupy his attention. Systems were operating smoothly; Travis had nothing new to report. After a long personal log entry, Archer found himself restless, a victim of what his dad used to refer to as the “hurry up and wait” syndrome.
He finally checked his chronometer: Time to be past the clouds, but a glance at the window revealed nothing but claustrophia-inducing, muddy opacity.
Archer rose and stepped out onto the bridge, where T’Pol was bent with elegant, infinite stoicism over her viewer.
“Anything?” the Captain asked her.
She turned toward him slightly, just enough to reveal the high angle of her cheekbone. “Not yet.”
Hoshi spoke, her tone faintly irritable, anxious. “We’ve been in here more than six hours.”
“Let’s be patient,” Archer said. It occurred to him that perhaps the Vulcans were capable of greater warp speed than they were letting on, which is why the Vaankara had made it through in six hours. It might take Enterprise longer; at any rate, there was no point in getting rattled about it. He suspected they’d have enough things to worry about once they made it into the Expanse itself.
He glanced up as Trip entered the bridge from the turbolift.
“We launched the communications buoy, sir,” the engineer reported, his manner one of businesslike satisfaction. Trip’s dark mood seemed to have lifted, now that they were finally getting somewhere. “We got a test signal through to Starfleet.”
Archer nodded, pleased, and addressed Hoshi. “Keep them apprised of our position.”
“Aye, sir.” She seemed grateful to have something to do.
T’Pol’s console beeped; she frowned slightly into her viewer. Archer stepped up and stood shoulder-to-shoulder with her, concerned.
“Got something?” he asked. He had not forgotten the fact that Duras was probably still in pursuit.
“Yes.” She remained bent over her scanner, clearly trying to determine precisely what it was she was looking at.
“Probably the buoy,” Trip offered.
“Not unless you launched three of them,” T’Pol replied. She straightened and gave Archer a sharp look.
Even before it came, the captain tensed for the first blast; when it arrived, the deck rocked beneath his feet. He stumbled forward, caught hold of the nearest console, while beside him, T’Pol held fast to her viewer.
The instant he regained his balance, he scrambled to his chair over the sound of the Tactical Alert klaxon.
On the viewscreen, three Klingon birds-of-prey sailed out of the thermobaric clouds; Archer watched as their dazzling weapons fire illuminated the murkiness with an eerie glow.
Aboard the Klingon vessel, Duras watched as two of three disrupter blasts missed the Enterprise.
Patience, he told himself, patience ...
But the word had a hollow