The Valiant - Michael Jan Friedman [103]
Werber shrugged. You didnt have to come here to tell me that.
I also didnt have to put in a word on your behalf with the judge advocate general, said Picard. Nonetheless, I did. Perhaps hell take it into account when he tries your case.
The weapons officer couldnt believe it. You did that for me? Youve got to be kidding.
I am not, his visitor assured him. I wanted the court to have all the facts in front of it.
Werber didnt say anything. He couldnt.
Well see each other again, Picard told him. Then he turned and started down the corridor.
Hey, Picard! the prisoner called, getting to his feet and approaching the energy barrier.
The other man stopped and looked back. Yes?
You know what? said Werber. I was wrong. Youre going to make a hell of a captain someday.
Picard nodded. I hope youre right.
Book Three
Valiant
CHAPTER
tennis Gardenhire checked his instruments. Hold on, he said. It could be a rough ride.
Activating the reverse thrusters, the navigator felt them slow the escape pods descent. Then he made adjustments in the shape of their shields to minimize the stress of entry.
Gardenhke had piloted a pod prototype a dozen times before the Valiant left Earth orbit, and gone through escape simulations a hundred times more. But penetrating the atmosphere of an alien world with shield generators that hadnt been dependable for weeks and an inertia! damper that hadnt worked correctly from the beginning
That was a different story entirely.
Still, Gardenhire asked himself, what choice did they have? Their pod was low on fuel and even lower on nutritional packets and potable water, and this was the only habitable world they had come across.
Through the pods observation portal, he could see the ragged
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white of dense clouds ripping past them. But they were high cloudssixty-five thousand kilometers high. The pod still had a long way to go before it reached the planets surface.
Gardenhire looked around at the other faces in the escape vehicle. They looked back at him with trust if not complete confidence, knowing he would do his best to land them safely despite the pods limitations.
There was Coquillette, the little medic who had seen them through everything from seasickness to bedsores. And OShaugnessy, the craggy-faced assistant engineer who had nursed their engines as deftly as Coquillette had nursed the crew.
There was Santana, the stoic and uncomplaining security officer, and Daniels, the astrophysicist with the wicked sense of humor. And finally, Williamson, the balding supply officer who had bullied them into surviving one day after another, regardless of whether they wanted to or not.
By getting this far, they had already set themselves apart as the lucky ones, the ones on whom Fortune had smiled. Only twelve of the Valiants fourteen escape pods had cleared the explosion that destroyed the ship, and one of those twelve had fallen victim to a plasma breach days later.
The units that remained intact were packed with six or seven people each, with so little living space that only one person could move around at a time. But then, the pods hadnt been designed with an eye to creature comfort. They were survival tools, and survival was a grim business at best.
Gardenhire had always prided himself on his ability to stay cool, to perform calmly under pressure. But after just a month of such close confinement, his nerves had frayed to the breaking point. He was tense, irritable, ready to lash out at anyone who looked at him sideways.
Then came the change.
It was subtle at first, so subtle that the navigator had to wonder if he was losing his mind. But as it turned out, he wasnt losing anything. He was gaining something remarkable.
He could hear the thoughts of his fellow crewmen.
Not all of them, of coursejust a stray reflection or two. But