“Madness,” Qat Zaldana whispered, so low that possibly only Spock’s ears could hear. “Sheer madness.”
Spock considered his options. If necessary, he could order the Enterprise to warp away from Klondike VI, but that would wreak havoc on the many small vessels surrounding the ship and would also mean abandoning Columbus and its passengers. He was not yet ready to employ such drastic measures.
“Keep hailing them,” Spock instructed Uhura. “Remind them that they are endangering the children already aboard.”
“It’s no good,” she said, shaking her head. “Nobody is listening. They’re all shouting, screaming, begging over one another.” Wincing at the tumult, she fiddled with her earpiece to reduce the volume. “They’re demanding that we let them board. They say they’re not going to let us leave without them.” She grimaced. “It’s getting pretty ugly, Mr. Spock, and heartbreaking at the same time.”
He was inclined to take her word for it. “Please disregard them, Lieutenant. Maintain an open frequency to Columbus instead.” He recalled that Lieutenant Schneider was piloting the shuttle; she was an able pilot who had logged many hours in flight drills. “Tell them to stand by and be prepared for an immediate landing or beam-out.”
He considered the probability that they could lower the Enterprise’s shields long enough to beam the shuttle’s crew and passengers aboard. Was it worth exposing the entire ship to danger to rescue one last party of refugees? He did not dare dispatch Galileo to Skagway for another run. That would be foolhardy in the extreme.
“My apologies,” he said to Qat Zaldana. “It appears that we will not be able to return you to the colony as you requested. Circumstances have changed.”
“I could pilot my own shuttle,” she reminded him.
“But we cannot risk opening the space doors to let you leave.” Spock wondered if a human would see Qat Zaldana’s inability to sacrifice herself as a “silver lining.” Dr. McCoy might think so, as would Captain Kirk, were he not lost in time. “In any event, the fact that we can no longer dispatch Galileo to retrieve more evacuees means that your presence will not cost anyone else a place aboard the Enterprise. You might as well survive.”
She tilted her head. “Was that a joke, Mr. Spock?”
“Merely an observation,” he replied. “The matter is out of our hands.”
“We’ll see,” she said cryptically.
Before he could inquire what she meant, a more urgent dilemma presented itself.
“Hold on, everyone,” Sulu warned. “We’ve got some bumpy weather coming up.”
A thick patch of ring matter pelted the Enterprise and the swarm of flyers surrounding it. Repeated impacts rattled the bridge, but Spock was more concerned with Columbus and the other smaller spacecraft. He watched tensely as craggy chunks of ice, some nearly as large as the shuttle, invaded the already-crowded space outside the Enterprise. Lieutenant Schneider had her work cut out for her if she was going to avoid being struck by one or more frozen particles.
“Mr. Chekov,” Spock said. “Can you clear a path for Columbus?”
“Negative, Mr. Spock.” His fingers hovered over the firing controls. “There are too many other vessels in the way! I can’t target the debris!”
Without phaser cover, Columbus was on its own. The shuttle rolled out of the way of an oncoming iceball that flew past its upside-down landing gear to barrel into a compact prospector ship on the other side of the shuttle. The unlucky prospector was smashed to pieces in a soundless collision that killed at least two colonists. Flying wreckage added to the hazards threatening the flotilla. A hijacked lunar transport received a severe gash along its stern. Vapor jetted from the breach before someone inside sealed the wound. The transport lost speed and maneuverability, falling away from the rest of the pack. Spock wondered if it would attempt to return to Skagway.
Unlikely, he decided. Nothing waited for them on the moon but certain annihilation.
“This is just the warm-up act,” Sulu warned. “Sensors indicate that the main event is coming up any minute now.”
The refugees were not going to turn back, Spock realized. Circling the Enterprise, pleading for sanctuary, they could not possibly withstand the hazardous environment they had rashly thrown themselves into. So far, fatalities had been minimal, but that had been more happenstance than anything else. The vulnerable flyers were at the mercy of the storm.
Unless…
“Mr. Chekov, expand our shields outward by one hundred sixty percent.”
Startled, Chekov looked back at him. A baffled expression indicated that he was confused by his orders. “Excuse me, sir. Did I hear you correctly? Extending the deflectors that far out will severely diminish their strength and integrity.”
“That is correct, Ensign.” Spock knew that the shields had been designed to conform to the profile of the ship, adding a layer of protection akin to a secondary hull. Ordinarily, their protection seldom extended more than fifty meters beyond the ship’s exterior plating. But these were not ordinary circumstances. “You have your orders.”
“Aye, sir.” Chekov resigned himself to his task. “Extending shields.”
Spock moved to notify Engineering of his plan, but Mr. Scott responded even more quickly to the drastic change in the shields. An agitated brogue erupted from the intercom. “Mr. Spock, what sort of games are ye playing up there? I canna believe what my readouts are telling me.”
Spock took the engineer’s reaction in stride. It was to be expected. “No games, Mr. Scott. It has become necessary to expand our shields to encompass the space surrounding the ship.”
“But that’s not what they were built to do!” the engineer sputtered. “As Dr. McCoy might say, are you out of your Vulcan mind?”
Possibly, Spock thought. “Emulating the good doctor is unworthy of you, Mr. Scott. Please see to it that sufficient power is diverted to the task and that the deflector grid remains operational.”
“I’ll do my best, Mr. Spock, but that’s going to put a considerable strain on our resources. I’m not sure how long we’re going to be able to manage this daft stunt of yours… sir.”
“Your caveats are noted, Mr. Scott. Spock out.”
On-screen, the results of his tactic were already visible. A force-field bubble, roughly following the contours of the Enterprise, now extended for approximately four hundred meters around the ship in every direction. The bubble was invisible except where the ubiquitous debris struck it, which was almost everywhere. Brilliant flashes of Cherenkov energy lit up the screen, making Spock grateful for his protective inner eyelids.
“Dim luminosity,” he instructed. “Thirty-point-two percent.”
For the moment, the refugee ships were safe within the Enterprise’s shields, but Spock knew that this was only a temporary solution. He needed to take advantage of the opportunity while he could.
“Shield status?”
“Thirty percent and holding,” Chekov reported. “For now.”
That will have to be enough, Spock judged. He activated the intercom. “Transporter rooms. Lock onto shuttle crew and passengers.”