“Lieutenant, I hope to hell you’re going somewhere with this.”
Me, too.“Yes, sir, I am.” He stole a glance at Garrett, who looked half a step away from an out-and-out giggle, which wasn’t making Troi feel any better. “My point is, it’s better that we chase a wild goose than find ourselves attacked by one. It may go after more than our thigh, sir.”
Haden continued to stare. Garrett continued to struggle mightily to keep a straight face. Vaughn had no trouble keeping his. Troi fidgeted.
Vaughn then spoke up. “Sir, I’ve had some suspicions from the beginning of this mission, and Lieutenant Troi’s readings are in line with those suspicions.”
“All right, fine,” Haden said, leaning back in his chair. “I’ll figure out what to tell Qaolin and Monor. I’ll wait until I have an hour blocked out, so I can let Monor carry on.” Looking at Garrett, he said, “Take the Hoplite,but maintain radio discretion.”
“Sir?” Troi said.
“Radio silence would draw attention, Lieutenant,” Garrett said as she got up. “Radio discretion means we’re just on a scientific survey of the nebula, and all our comm traffic should reflect that.”
“You’re going too, Mr. Vaughn,” Haden added. “I know better than to think that you’re going to actually tell me your suspicions until they become something stronger, but I want you on-site in case they’re confirmed.”
“Understood, Captain,” Vaughn said with a nod.
As Troi got up, Haden said, “And Mr. Troi?”
“Yes, sir?”
“Good catch. Even if it turns out to be nothing—you showed initiative. I appreciate that.”
Troi smiled. “Thank you, sir.”
“Besides,” and here Haden actually smiled, a facial expression Troi had heretofore never seen on his captain’s face, “I liked the goose story.”
Chapter 10
Shuttlecraft Hoplite
“Approaching Betreka Nebula,” Ian Troi said as he piloted the shuttlecraft Hoplitetoward the phenomenon in question. With each kilometer closer they came to the nebula’s perimeter, the image on the viewscreen started to get fuzzier, as the image translator found itself incapable of processing the data, scrambled as it was by the nebula’s particulate matter: gases, dust, metals, silicates, carbon monoxide and carbon dioxide “ice,” and so much more. As they grew nearer, Troi muttered, “‘We are star stuff.’”
“I beg your pardon?” Garrett asked from the copilot’s seat.
“Uh, sorry, sir. Just quoting a human scientist from a few hundred years back.”
“‘We are star stuff,’” Garrett repeated. “I’m familiar with Carl Sagan’s work.” She grinned. “Hard to do this for a living and not be, what with him being required reading at the Academy and all.”
“Yes, sir,” Troi said ruefully. “Sorry. Lwaxana doesn’t know much about Earth history and culture, so I keep having to explain my likes and hobbies and things.” He grinned, remembering his numerous failed attempts to convey his love for Western stories from Earth’s nineteenth century. “I guess I’ve grown accustomed to getting all pedantic.”
“Like your colloquy on geese?”
Troi closed his eyes and let out a long breath. “I suppose so, yes.”
From one of the passenger seats behind Troi, Vaughn said, “It’s an odd thing, Ian. I recall, when I read over your service record, there was a mention of a leg injury in your medical file. But, if I’m remembering the record properly, you listed it as a boating accident when you provided your medical history upon enrolling at the Academy.”
“Yes,” Garrett said, her grin growing ever wider. “Come to think of it, I recall that as well, Lieutenant. You have a fine memory. I have to question yours, though, Mr. Troi.”
Troi sighed. “I was young, and I didn’t think it was very—I didn’t—oh, hell.” He sighed again. “I didn’t want to put ‘menaced by a goose’ in my medical history.”
Vaughn smirked. “I can’t believe that—Starfleet cadets are, after all, the epitome of tact and good manners. For the upper classes to ridicule a plebe just because he has an amusing anecdote from his past—why, that would be unheard of.”
Laughing, Troi said, “Of course, what wasI thinking?”
“Sarcasm aside,” Garrett said, “you probably made the right choice. I know I would’ve done the same in your place. Same with the lieutenant here, I’ll wager.”
“I’d rather not say,” Vaughn said with mock gravity.
An alarm went off on the console. “We’ve lost long-range sensors and about ninety percent of visual. Short-range sensors are—dodgy,” Troi said, not finding a better word for it.
“Shields inoperative,” Garrett added, looking at her own console.
Then the shuttle shook rather violently. Troi instinctively glanced down to make sure he was securely strapped into his seat, a precaution he had suggested when they first disembarked from the Carthage,and which Garrett had wholeheartedly endorsed.
“That shouldn’t have happened so fast.” Troi started scanning the region. “Damn—the concentration of charged particles is through the roof.”
“More than expected?”
“Much more.” Troi examined the scan results. “Based on all the previous scans of the nebula, the concentration should be about a quarter of—”
He was cut off by the Hopliteshaking once again.
“The hull can’t take too much of this,” Garrett said. “We may have to abort.”
“No,” Vaughn said sharply. “We need to investigate this further.”
Garrett turned to look sharply at the lieutenant. “Ifwe do abort this mission, it will be on my order, Lieutenant, is that clear?”
With a conciliatory nod, Vaughn said, “Of course, Commander, but there’s only one reason why there’d be a concentration of charged particles of this magnitude. If there—”
“—are ships in the nebula, yes, I’m aware of that, Mr. Vaughn,” Garrett finished.
“Well, actually,” Troi said, “it only really indicates the presence of large electrically conductive objects—a ship, or several ships, is simply the most likely such object to move into the nebula.”
“You’re being pedantic again, Mr. Troi.” Garrett looked back at Vaughn. “Besides, there was a fleet of nine ships in this very nebula three weeks ago. It’s possible that that’s what stirred up this hornet’s nest of electrons.”
The Hopliteshook again. “Structural integrity field holding at ninety percent,” Troi said, then turned to his first officer. “The concentration wouldn’t still be this high after three weeks, Commander. I think we need to investigate further.”
Garrett thought for several seconds. Please trust my judgment,Troi found himself thinking, wishing he were telepathic like Lwaxana so he could convey with his mind what words were obviously failing to do: that he knewthere were ships in the nebula, knew it from the moment he saw the odd reading. From the sounds of it, Vaughn felt the same—or, perhaps more accurately, Vaughn was worriedthat it was true. Either way, they needed to verify it.
Finally, Garrett came to a decision, just as more particles slammed into the shuttle. “All right. But I’m going to keep a close eye on the rate at which the SIF is deteriorating, how far we go into the nebula, what our maximum safe speed is, and how they all compare to each other. The minute those numbers add up to something approaching our inability to make it out in one piece, I’m turning this thing around and heading home no matter what we’ve found, understood?”