Three - Michael Jan Friedman [75]
“Impossible,” Wutor spat.
The human shrugged. “The commander of the larger vessel will be pleased to hear that.”
Wutor’s tongue slid over his flat-teeth. This Picard was cleverer than he would have imagined.
The commander couldn’t allow victory to elude him. But if the human surrendered to Ujawekwit, Wutor would emerge from the battle empty-handed—and perhaps remain in the brace of a Middle Order vessel the rest of his life.
On the other hand, he couldn’t simply give a Federation vessel an open field in which to squat. He was a Balduk commander. He had a responsibility to guard and defend.
Not to mention a crew who might be inclined to tell tales if he dealt too mercifully with an enemy.
Wutor eyed Picard. “You have fifty heartbeats,” he said, “to do what you need to do.”
Then, hoping that fifty heartbeats would be enough to resolve all their problems, he broke the line of communication.
Fifty heartbeats will have to do, Picard thought.
“Idun,” he said, “get us as close to the anomaly as you can.”
[227] “Aye, sir,” came the helm officer’s reply.
“Captain,” said a voice at Picard’s shoulder, “I just wanted to take this opportunity to remind you of my availability should the need arise.”
Recognizing the tone, the captain darted a glance at its source and said, “Not now, Mr. Kastiigan!”
The science officer nodded. “Very well,” he replied, and retreated to his station.
Picard looked up at the intercom grid concealed in the ceiling. “Transporter Room One, this is the captain. We’re approaching the anomaly. Get ready to—”
“The intercom,” said the Stargazer’s computer, “is no longer functioning in Transporter Room One.”
Picard frowned. “Mr. Refsland, this is the captain.”
There was no response.
“Mr. Simenon,” said Picard.
Still no answer.
“Mr. Joseph?”
Nothing.
The captain glanced at Ben Zoma, who had moved up from one of the aft stations to join him. “Something’s wrong,” Picard said, though he couldn’t say what it might be.
The first officer seemed to think so too. “Security,” he said, “this is Ben Zoma. Get a team over to Transporter Room One on the double.”
The captain eyed the Independent, hanging in space with her weapons still trained on the Stargazer. Fifty heartbeats, he reflected, might not be enough after all.
* * *
[228] Gerda hated the idea of retreating to sickbay. It was true that her hands had been burned and her console had been rendered useless, but she couldn’t help feeling there might be something she could do to help.
She was still thinking that when she came across Pierzynski, his long, lean form lying along the left-hand wall of the corridor between the turbolift and sickbay.
The security officer looked up at her, his face badly bruised and one of his legs lying at an awkward angle. Then Gerda saw the reason for it—a still-smoking EPS junction that had exploded a little farther down the corridor.
“I’m all right,” Pierzynski gasped.
Judging by the size of his pupils, he had sustained a pretty bad concussion, and his leg was probably broken. But at least he hadn’t suffered anything life-threatening.
“Did you call security?” Gerda asked him.
He nodded. “Yes. They’re ... on their way. But ... there are casualties ... all over the ship.”
The navigator had already decided to stay with Pierzynski until help came when she heard Ben Zoma’s voice issue from the security officer’s badge.
“Security,” the first officer said, “this is Ben Zoma. Get a team over to Transporter Room One on the double.”
Transporter Room One was where Gerda Idun would be, along with Simenon, Joseph, and Refsland. It was unlikely that anyone there had been hurt—all the transporter rooms had been overbuilt in order to minimize the possibility of damage.
[229] So why would the captain have dispatched security there? Gerda had a feeling she knew.
“I’ve got to go,” she told Pierzynski.
Trusting that the security officer would be all right, she made her way back to the turbolift. But this time, she didn’t walk.
She ran.
Picard could only guess the duration of a Balduk heartbeat, but he didn’t think it