The Sky's the Limit - Marco Palmieri [109]
“How did you get him to obey your orders?” asked Deanna.
“I am afraid I had to resort to a rather…emotional tactic.”
“What do you mean?”
“I raised my voice.”
Deanna laughed. “Data! You mean you yelled at him?”
“It was effective, Counselor. Mister Hobson seemed to believe that I was merely an automaton, offering dispassionate advice that he could choose to follow or not. When I raised my voice, however, he seemed to understand that I expected to be obeyed and that there would be consequences if he did not comply. After the crisis was over, he apologized for his behavior.”
“You made a good decision, Data. You showed good judgment of human nature.”
“Thank you, Counselor. If I may inquire, did you ask because you are apprehensive about leading tomorrow’s away mission?”
“A little, Data, although I would appreciate it if you would keep that between us.”
“Ah,” he said. “Counselor-patient confidentiality. Only this time, I am the counselor.”
She smiled again. “Exactly.”
“If it is any comfort, Counselor, I have full confidence in your ability to command.”
“Thank you, Data. That means a lot to me.”
Unable to move, Data could do nothing but examine the disconnected thoughts that seemed to flit in and out of his consciousness of their own accord. Images appeared in his mind’s eye, superimposed on the unchanging scene before him.
His head felt heavier than it should, an anomaly in the low gravity. He gradually became aware that he was wearing a helmet, but it was not supplying oxygen. Though he did not need to breathe, his respiratory system served to regulate his body temperature.
Perhaps he was also wearing a space suit. But no—his head had fallen forward when he was being dragged, and he had seen no space suit encasing his own body.
He wondered what would happen to him in a vacuum. He thought perhaps he had been in one before, but he could not recall specifics, so he did not know what to expect. Freezing or overheating, hot or cold—the contingencies were too much to process.
He thought again of the face. He felt certain that the mouth had formed words, and he replayed the image over and over, striving to understand what she had said.
“Have you ever been this close to a ring system, Commander Troi?” asked Doctor Aaron. He had come up to look through the forward viewport as they approached the moonlet. Currently Beta was about halfway between its original position and that of Ennis.
“Not quite,” she said, smiling. Even from this distance, the rings were incredible.
“Why don’t we go to Beta’s original position and retrace her tracks from there?” suggested Aaron. “We might find something on the sensors that will give us an idea of what went wrong. And I think you’ll enjoy the view.”
“That sounds wonderful,” Deanna said. It wasn’t entirely necessary, but the mapping would take only a day, and the Enterprise would be gone for the better part of two. “Ensign, lay in a course at half impulse, keeping us at this altitude above the ring plane.”
“Aye, Commander,” said Taurik. “I recommend activating the navigational deflector array. It’s not required at low impulse speeds, but it may be prudent since we’ll be encountering relatively dense concentrations of microparticles.”
Deanna fought off a flash of annoyance and told Taurik to proceed. She always felt particular pressure not to show irritation, as though her position as ship’s counselor should preclude her from that emotion. Besides, she was more annoyed at herself than at Taurik. She should have thought of the deflector array.
Fortunately, the vista opening up in front of the runabout soon distracted her. Ring E, the outermost of the well-defined rings, spread in a tawny plain in front of and slightly below them. Smooth at first, it quickly began to display topography that made