Unworthy - Kirsten Beyer [13]
“Eden to the fleet, prepare to return to full impulse on Voyager’s mark. Ensign Gwyn …”
But before Eden could complete her sentence, Voyager was struck by a surge so fierce it almost threw Tom from his seat.
“Slipstream corridor destabilizing,” Gwyn reported calmly.
“Prepare for emergency shutdown,” Eden began.
“I wouldn’t do that,” Gwyn shot back.
“It’s not your call, Ensign,” Eden quickly reminded her.
“Due respect, Captain,” Gwyn replied as her hands moved deftly across her panel, “I can compensate for the variances manually and bring the fleet out in synch. Otherwise we’re going to scatter.”
Eden threw Conlon a questioning look to which the lieutenant responded with a nod that clearly gave Gwyn the go-ahead.
“Lieutenant Patel, route Ensign Gwyn’s calculations automatically to the fleet,” Eden ordered.
“Everybody, hang on,” Gwyn advised.
That’s exactly what I want to hear at a time like this, Tom thought bitterly as he clutched his armrests tightly.
Over the next few seconds, Gwyn proved as good as her word. The ship continued to shudder mercilessly, yet Gwyn’s manual modifications showed that she was reconfiguring the phase variances on the fly, feeling her way through the task in a way no computer could.
Grudgingly, Paris’s respect for the pilot went up by several degrees.
Finally, the tumbling white tunnel dispersed and Paris heard everyone on the bridge simultaneously sigh with relief as the viewscreen once again displayed a vast field of stars.
Eden rose from her seat and placing a gentle hand on Gwyn’s shoulder said, “Good work, Ensign.” Turning to Conlon she asked, “What happened, Lieutenant?”
“As best I can tell, the coefficient for maintaining synchronization is off. Each individual drive is functioning properly, but there’s a drag created by utilizing the same corridor that throws off the calculations enough to make the last few vessels vulnerable to stabilization errors,” Conlon replied.
“How fast can you fix it?” Eden asked.
“I need an hour with the other chiefs to verify the readings we got and revise the algorithms,” Conlon replied.
“Do it.” Eden nodded. “Stand down yellow alert.” Turning to Tom she added, “The bridge is yours. I’ll be in my ready room. Please ask Admiral Batiste to meet me there.”
“Aye, Captain,” Tom replied, rising to his feet.
As Eden moved toward the ready room doors, Tom took the measure of the rest of the bridge crew. Once Eden was out of earshot he said, “This is just the universe’s way of telling us we can do better, right, everybody?”
He was rewarded by a chorus of grins and a “Yes, sir,” from Ensign Lasren, which suggested he had taken the remark too seriously, as was the young Betazoid’s wont. After giving Conlon a reassuring smile he moved to Gwyn.
Lowering his voice he said, “That was grace under pressure, Ensign.”
“Thank you, sir,” she replied, a little too pleased with herself.
“How were you able to adjust so quickly to the phase variances?”
Gwen shrugged. “I did what felt right.”
“Felt?” Tom repeated.
“It’s what I always do when I fly, though I have to admit, I’ve never felt anything quite like Voyager. ”
“You’re talking about instincts, right?” Tom asked dubiously.
“I guess,” Gwyn replied. “I’m half Kriosian. My mom was a pretty strong empath, which sucked for me growing up. I think I got a little of it, but I don’t use it—I mean on purpose, if that makes any sense.”
Paris nodded, thoughtfully. In a way it did. Voyager used bioneural gelpacks, which, while technically not alive, might facilitate a connection like the one Gwyn described. He made a mental note to ask Counselor Cambridge about it. “The thing is flying the way you did is only part of the job. Don’t ever be late for your shift again. Understood?”
“Understood, sir.” Mumbling under her breath, she added, “If you’d ever had sex with a Deltan, you’d have been late for your fair share of shifts too, sir.”
“Something you’d like to share?” Paris snapped.
“No, sir.”
Tom was instantly aware that she reminded him of someone