Vale was a little surprised to see the twinkles and black of normal space peeking in through the widening aperture. From all the trouble caused by these pulses and their aftereffect, she’d expected something more dramatic.
“Shuttlebay doors open,”said the computer. “Force shield protections offline. Atmosphere venting. Twenty-four seconds to shuttle launch. Twenty-two.”
As if anyone needed to be told. The outgassing was like a raging torrent outside the Ellington, the noise and violence of the air flow eliciting a nervous hiss from Y’lira Modan and a few words of comfort in her ear from Troi.
“This is the worst part, Ensign,” she said in what Vale guessed was the voice she usually reserved for agitated patients. “In a few seconds it’ll all be over.”
“I’m not sure that’s the best choice of words, Commander,” said Modan, but she smiled. Keru and Jaza both managed chuckles before they were given another update, this time from the Ellingtonitself.
“Initializing warp core,”said the second voice, in tones identical to that of Titan’s own. “Safety protocols LII through QI, disabled. Modified flight control program initiating. Away team, secure for warp three in six seconds. Five seconds. Four seconds. Three seconds. Two seconds. One-”
The final syllables were lost in the shattering of reality all around the little vessel. While the shuttle itself only shuddered a bit, for a portion of a moment that was nearly too brief to perceive, the shuttlebay around it and the field of stars outside fused into a single kaleidoscopic whole.
It was nothing like going to warp under normal circumstances. There was no streaming of stars, no sense of nondirectional acceleration. There was, for some of the team, only the momentary feeling of having neither weight nor mass, but it too was gone almost too quickly for their minds to process.
There was the fraction of a blinding flash, an instant of the warp drive whining under the strain of initialization and then, as abruptly as it had come, the moment was gone and so was the shuttlebay.
It took a second for Vale to realize the odd, high-pitched keening sound was coming from one of her teammates rather than the ship’s warning system.
When the Ellingtonslammed back into normal space, it did so almost as violently as Titanhad when it entered the Elysia Incendae system. Though pretty much everything was secured, including the team, several items-a loose padd, an unaccounted-for bag of clothing, and what looked like a forgotten sonic screwdriver-bounced around the shuttle like ball bearings fired into a zero-g omnasium.
The keening came from Y’lira Modan: some form of scream or other expression of distress, Vale surmised. She was the rookie here, and the surprise of reentry had shaken her spindly resolve. One of the flying objects had smacked into her golden metallic face.
Before Vale could do it herself, Jaza reached out a hand to Modan, quietly comforting her, reminding her that she and the rest of them were still alive, things were proceeding as they should.
“Take a breath, Modan,” he said softly, watching as she pulled herself together. She glanced around at the rest of the team, all sitting stoic in the face of the jolt. Even Ra-Havreii seemed totally unflapped. “See? We’re okay.”
“Warning,”said the computer. “Warp core offline. Artificial gravity and inertial dampers fatally compromised.”
“We expected that,” said Jaza, noting Modan’s renewed distress. It was odd seeing someone who looked like a gold statue bend and twist like ordinary flesh. He made a mental note to study up on Selenean physiology when they got back to Titan.
“Artificial gravity and inertial dampers online,”said the computer just as the team were feeling their stomachs again. “Firing breaking thrusters.”
As the gravity took hold, Modan relaxed by degrees until she was apparently her old self again. With the exception of Ra-Havreii, who continued to softly hum away, the team sat in silence for the few moments it took the deceleration sequences to play out.
When the computer announced that they would drift for a few minutes before repositioning for their approach to Orisha, Jaza was unbuckled and up almost instantly. It was as if he were a sprinter and had been waiting for the sound of the starter pistol.
“Jaza,” said Vale. “What the hell?”
“Come up and see,” he said, disappearing from view as he slid down into the forward pilot’s cradle.
Shooting Keru a quizzical look and getting the expected shrug in response, Vale unbuckled quickly and joined Jaza, dropping down beside him in the navigator’s cradle. Unlike the smaller-type 1’s, the Ellingtonwas built for short-distance system hops. In a pinch it could function like a very small runabout. Vale had hoped for a more peaceful situation in which to shake the shuttles down, but she knew she could play only those cards she’d been dealt.
She looked over at the brown-skinned Bajoran in the pilot’s seat, watching his hands tapping commands into the computer.
He’s taking readings, she thought. How optimistic can someone be? We’ve got a thirty-seventy chance of pulling this off, at best, and he’s got to know it.
Yet, despite the danger and the ongoing potential for complete ruin, Jaza was excited. You didn’t have to know him well to see it. His eyes had that familiar wide intensity; just above the ridges of his nose his brow was furrowed ever so slightly; his mouth was just on the verge of a smile. More than excited, he was actually happy.
“I love this,” he said quietly. When she raised an eyebrow, he pointed. “Take a look.”
Ahead of them, beyond the plexi observation window, a smallish vermillion and white orb hung against the black: the planet Orisha.
“We’ve been in space for centuries, you know,” he said, looking out at it. It did seem to Vale like a large and beautiful gemstone now that she could see it up close. Pretty. “Bajorans made it all the way to Cardassia Prime in ships as small as sailboats.”
“Amazing,” she said, crediting the words as the product of local folklore. She didn’t know much about Bajor’s history, but that seemed far-fetched.
“But I never got offworld until after the occupation was over,” he said. “Now, every time I get the chance to see a new planet this way, hanging in the dark, glowing like one of the Orbs, I take it. Makes me feel closer to the Prophets somehow.”
Behind them in the cabin the others had fallen into conversation related to what would be expected of them once the shuttle touched down. Troi and Keru switched off taking Modan through quick refreshers on emergency med protocols, diplomatic procedures during First Contacts and what not to do if being chased by a pack of angry twelve-meter-long crustaceans. Vale knew they were doing it mostly to keep the ensign calm and it seemed to be working.
Ra-Havreii, damn him, continued to hum that irritating tune.
It wasn’t that the song itself was unpleasant-quite the contrary, in fact. The melody hovered somewhere between a human symphony and the musical language of primitives on Liuvani Prime. The engineer’s low tenor wasn’t objectionable. It was just the relentlessness of the thing. Whenever he wasn’t engaged in necessary conversation, within minutes Ra-Havreii was back to his tune, playing with it in his mouth the way a kitten might with a ball of string. It was maddening.
She was just about to tell him to belay the noise when Jaza said, “Ra-Havreii, I need you.”
His tone snapped her gaze away from the slowly rotating planet far ahead and back to him. He wasn’t smiling, and his brow was now deeply creased with concern. Deep vertical furrows were leading to the horizontal ones on his nose.