The Red King - Michael A. Martin [102]
Only a few years prior, ten ships had performed a similar towing job, ferrying the Cardassian space station Empok Nor across a distance of three light-years. Now, they had to pull a much larger habitat across about twice that distance, though with far more ships and power to apply to the task. Jaza had argued that the Vanguard habitat’s simple, blunt shape made it a far better candidate for warp-speed towing than Empok Nor, whose rococo Cardassian design had made it far more vulnerable to being sheared apart, either by tractor beam stresses or warp-field variances.
Though the science and engineering specialists had debated for some time, they had emerged from their meetings convinced that it could be accomplished.
Besides, this won’t be the first time the old girl has been dragged across the universe at high warp, Riker kept telling himself. The asteroid colony had once served as an Earth-orbiting laboratory, and it had been ejected into deep space as a consequence of a failed twenty-first century warp-field experiment.
Riker had pointed out to Donatra that once the towing convoy was back on the Romulan side of the rift, her fleet wouldn’t need to tow the Vanguard colony any further. At that point, other Starfleet or even Klingon vessels could be called in to take up the slack in towing Vanguard back to Federation space.
He resumed studying the padd that contained the Vanguard towing data for the next several minutes.
From his combadge, the voice of Ensign Aili Lavena interrupted him.
“Captain, your skiff has just docked onto Vanguard, apparently with minor damage. They managed to recover another twenty-two refugees, most of them children.”
“Outstanding, Ensign.”
Good for Akaar, Riker thought with a grim smile. He’d been wary of the Admiral’s plan to use the skiff—which then constituted Titan’s only lifeboat, other than the emergency escape pods—to conduct a perilous rescue mission for which it wasn’t designed. But the old man had apparently succeeded anyway. Guess that’s why he’s still alive—and vital—after so many decades in Starfleet.
Riker rose from behind his desk, exited his ready room, and stepped out onto the bridge. He stopped as he reached his command chair and faced the main viewscreen. It displayed the half-daylit planet Oghen. But instead of a pleasant, blue-green-brown M-Class world, it looked like one of Hieronymus Bosch’s visions of Hell.
“How many ships are still down—”
Lavena turned toward him, interrupting. “Sir, we’ve just received word that the Ellington has been badly damaged.” Her aquamarine eyes were wide behind her close-fitting, transparent hydration mask.
Riker frowned, feeling his pulse jump. “How badly?”
“She’s accelerating from the surface toward orbit now, but she’s losing power fast. I don’t think she’s going to be able to make Vanguard.”
Riker considered his options. Within the next several minutes, they’d be towing the Vanguard habitat away from Oghen orbit. None of the Romulan ships in the towing fleet could be spared as the delicate preparations continued. That left rescuing the Ellington either up to Titan or one of her other auxiliary craft, all of which were now safely back aboard.
“Ensign Lavena, plot an intercept course toward the Ellington. Inform the Romulans that we will be ready to lead the convoy forward just as soon as we recover the last of our shuttlecraft.”
“Aye, Captain,” Lavena and Dakal chorused as they both went to work.
Riker’s combadge chirped. “Cethente to Captain Riker. I have news for you, sir.”
He touched the badge. “Go ahead.”
“The latest simulations were successful, Captain. We can indeed seal the rift, as hypothesized. With Commander Donatra’s cooperation, of course.”
“Well done, Doctor.”
“I trust that you will now, as you humans say, ‘pop the question’?”
Cethente signed off, leaving Riker chuckling despite his mood. On the main viewscreen, the Ellington hove into view, struggling its way clear of Oghen’s gravity well.
“Mr. Dakal, open a channel to Commander Donatra.”
As he waited for Donatra’s