The Good That Men Do - Andy Mangels [109]
Oh, God. It doesn’t even use dilithium, Trip thought, fighting down his incipient panic but failing utterly. He suddenly felt light-headed, and hoped nobody in the room had noticed, especially the guards. The Coalition worlds will have to change their entire approach to defending themselves against this thing now. If they have the time, that is.
Though he was securely planted in his chair as Ehrehin droned on before the increasingly fidgety Ch’uihv, Trip felt as though he was about to pitch forward, rolling right over a precipice of utter despair.
Because once he was dead, there would be no one left alive to warn Coridan Prime’s billions of inhabitants of the horrors that awaited them.
Thirty-Three
Friday, February 21, 2155
Enterprise Nx-01
THE BRIDGE ROCKED VIOLENTLY, and Archer clutched the arms of his chair to avoid sprawling onto the deck. Shran, Theras, and McCammon, standing beside a science station console, were all thrown into the railings, as was Reed at his tactical station. Fortunately, no one appeared seriously hurt.
“Hull plating at eighty-three percent,” Mayweather said, urgency in his voice. “We managed to reinforce hull plate power by the time they hit us.”
“They’re charging weapons for a second salvo,” T’Pol said.
“Head right for them, full speed, and reinforce all forward hull plating,” Archer ordered, then turned toward the tactical station. “Malcolm, target their engines.”
Back on his feet, Reed studied his console, his hands trembling slightly from battle-generated adrenaline. Archer studied the viewscreen and watched the image of the two ships grow ever larger as the enemy vessels continued their approach. He could see that the ventral hulls of the warships were adorned with a garish design that resembled a predatory bird.
“Targets locked and… firing at full power!” Reed exclaimed.
The viewscreen image tracked their progress as Enterprise flew past the two ships, her phase cannons blasting away in rapid bursts. Archer was happy to see that several of the blasts were having demonstrable effects on the nacelles supported by struts on either side of the Romulan ships’ horseshoe crab-shaped central hulls.
“Bring us back about,” Archer said. “Divert power to our aft starboard plating.”
Even as Enterprise looped back toward the crippled transport ship, Mayweather yelled “Incoming fire!”
This time the volley of shots rocked the ship harder, but a quick look around the bridge showed Archer that nearly everyone had secured themselves into chairs this time, including Shran and Theras. Only Reed remained untethered, standing at the firing controls, his knuckles white as he gripped his console for support.
“Plating at sixty-two percent,” Mayweather said.
“We’ve partially crippled their propulsion,” Reed said, a touch of triumph in his voice. “They can’t go to warp, but they still have impulse capability. And weapons.”
“Charge our weapons again, but don’t fire just yet,” Archer said. “If we can get out of here with the Aenar without destroying any of the Romulans’ vessels, maybe we can keep the political fallout down to a minimum. And if they can’t follow us once we’re at warp, all the better.”
He spoke into the intercom unit on his chair. “Ensign Moulton, have you been able to beam over any Aenar?”
“I got five of them,” Moulton said. “All males, apparently, and they all seem to have been sedated. But I can’t seem to get a lock on any of the others.”
Archer scowled and looked toward T’Pol. “What’s the problem?”
“It would appear that the Romulans have employed some kind of sensor shroud aboard their vessel,” T’Pol said, frowning slightly at her scanner. “It is preventing our maintaining a transporter lock. We cannot beam anyone else out unless they’re carrying a signal enhancer of some kind.”
“Can we take out the shroud?” Archer asked.
“The transport has deployed