Chapter Eleven
Standing at the observation port in the spine of the connecting neck, Lense could clearly see that container two had already broken loose. The assembly between cargo containers was nowhere near as strong as that between container and ship. It seemed clear that the violent lurch had been enough to separate the magnetic rings and manual bolts.
As he stared at the slowly turning container, he was sure that he also spotted surface damage at the rear of it, though what might have caused it he didn’t know. Not that he was overly concerned either. It was free of the ship which just left container one to contend with.
“Turner, Roberts, start lifting the manual separation hatches. If I can’t access separation through the computer, that’s our next priority.”
The two engineers quickly descended the ladder one deck into the mating assembly room. On
Ptolemy class vessels, this was better known as the plate room. The plate itself resembled a half cylinder which mated perfectly with the fore, topside of the lead container. Strong electro-magnetic couplers backed up by large manual latches secured the container to the ship and subsequent containers would then be attached to the rear of that one to form a train of sorts.
In the event of an emergency where the container needed to be separated manually, these mechanical latches could be activated with small explosive bolts, but each one of the twelve needed to be primed by hand and detonated simultaneously.
Knowing the contents of container one and its destructive potential, Lense was naturally reticent to use the explosive bolts unless it was a last resort.
Sitting down at the lower Loadmaster’s console, he tapped gently at the keys and prayed that the manual separation would be unnecessary.
Aster was concerned but, in her current comatose state, had no way to either express it or affect it. The creature had disappeared from her mind and despite her calling to it at regular intervals, had not reappeared.
She still inhabited the dream-like world but to her unease the pastel shades had begun to take on a muddy, darker hue.
Hello? Please, I need to talk to you!
Again there was no response and, with despair nibbling at her consciousness, she wondered how much of her message - if any - DeVille had received and understood. Because Aster had required the creature to act as a ‘bridge’ in order to reach out to DeVille’s mind, she had tried the Morse code illustration knowing that if he got the context then he could decode the message.
It had been just as she was finishing her plea for him to separate the containers and leave the area that the creature had broken its contact and silently left. Was it beginning to lose control of its own volition? If that was the case, then she had no idea how much time they had left; only that it was very little.
DeVille had been pacing Marriott’s office continuously since Kennedy had departed. All he’d said to Marriott in that time was that his next action would require sanctioning by both the participant and Marriott and that he would abide by the wishes and decisions of both parties.
Until the sickbay doors parted, he had maintained his silence, but as the wounded began to arrive in sickbay he scanned their faces. Each one cradled an arm or staunched blood from cuts and burns and were immediately taken into cubicles lining the fore and starboard bulkheads.
Though the faces of the injured were uniformly showing signs of pain and distress, the last person to enter displayed no emotion whatsoever. DeVille could only hope that it wasn’t a harbinger of his failure to acquire the Vulcan’s consent.
It seemed that Marriott immediately intuited DeVille’s intent when she saw Skell approaching her office, yet she too remained silent as he entered.
“You wished for my presence Commander.” Skell was calm and seemingly unperturbed by the events of the past few hours as he stood coolly with his hands folded behind his back.
“I did Lieutenant, thank you for attending so promptly.”
Until he had Skell before him, DeVille had wondered just how he would broach the subject knowing how sensitive an issue it was. Under the circumstances, he realised, there simply wasn’t the time to be anything other than direct.
“Lieutenant, I want you to understand that the request I am about to make of you is one that you are entirely at liberty to refuse without condition. All I can say is that I have run out of both time and options in the matter at hand.”
Skell inclined his head slightly before nodding once.
DeVille took one deep, cleansing breath and began to explain his unusual mental communion with Aster. He espoused his belief that Aster was still actively conscious despite inhabiting a coma stricken shell and further, that he believed she was aware of what was happening here in the Delta Triangle.
“The bottom line, Skell, is that I need to contact her. For that…”
“You wish to propose a mind meld.”
DeVille merely nodded and looked briefly to Marriott whose poker face gave away nothing.
A silence that seemed to stretch beyond its temporal reality ended when Skell looked directly at DeVille.
“Commander, the mind-meld is perhaps one of the most intimate and personal acts that a Vulcan may accede to. Under normal conditions, it is a practice that would only be undertaken with the express mutual consent of both parties.” He turned his back and began pacing the small office slowly as he continued. “In this case, you want me to act as a bridge between two non-Vulcans, one of whom may or may not be mentally diminished.”
It was a simple statement of fact delivered in an uninflected tone of voice. DeVille was entirely uncertain as to whether he had offended the science officer or not although it was a chance he was willing to take if it meant saving the ship and the lives of all those aboard her.
“Mr Skell, I…”
The Vulcan raised a hand, his index finger extended, effectively silencing DeVille before he could proceed.
“Furthermore, the mind-meld is a cultural symbol of Vulcan and its people. It is an activity that I never would have believed that my commanding officer would request or require of me no matter how dire the circumstances.” He let out a deep sigh and DeVille felt that his options had just diminished by one. He would need to get back to the bridge immediately and…
“I’m sure, however, that you were at least peripherally aware of all this before you made your request Commander. The fact that you made that request anyway is an indication of how deeply serious the circumstances are that prompted it.” Skell turned to face DeVille and Marriott once more, his demeanour inexplicably altered in some small way. “You should be aware, Commander, that having served in Starfleet for twelve years I have yet to meet a Captain and First Officer who have engendered such respect in their crew as Captain Aster and yourself have. Whilst acting within your orders and mission parameters from Starfleet, you have both treated the crew with respect and compassion at all times.”
DeVille looked with mild surprise at the tall, dark haired Vulcan and barely recognised himself in the description he’d just heard. It was the person he had always striven to be of course, but far too often he felt he had fallen short in some way.
For his part, Skell took a step back into the centre of the small office and inclined his head.
“There is a Vulcan tenet,” continued the Vulcan, “which states that the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. If ever that precept were true, this is such a time.”
Turning his attention to Marriott, he became all business once again and, perhaps, even more Vulcan-like.
“I am aware, as I’m sure you are Doctor, of the inherent risks involved in this undertaking. However, I assure you that the risks of
not performing this mind-meld are equally dire.” He lowered his voice but it was no less intense. “The Commander has said that he would not proceed without both our consents, and I appreciate his concern. I would, however, feel much more sanguine in this endeavour if you were also to support it Doctor.”
To that point, Marriott had been unsure which way she might respond to whatever DeVille’s plan would turn out to be. Initially, when she had heard him explain it to Skell, her immediate concern had naturally tended toward the safety of the Vulcan. Were he to attempt to meld with a mind that was unprepared to accept the contact, the risk to his own mind was perilous. If that mind were not even present…
“Doctor?” Skell had not raised his voice in any way but it was evident that he wished to deal with this matter as soon as possible. With the briefest of glances at DeVille, she smiled.
“It would seem that the decision is made but if it helps, I wouldn’t have vetoed the idea out of hand.” Skell was about to turn away but she stopped him with a single word. “But…”
DeVille held his breath, unsure even at this late moment as to whether Marriott would find a reason to backtrack and prevent the mind-meld.
“…if I see even the slightest problem rearing its ugly head, I
will intervene make no mistake.”
Skell seemed to consider this for a moment before finally nodding his acceptance of Marriott’s coda.
“Very well Doctor that will be acceptable. Perhaps, however, we should briefly discuss what
exactly it is you should be looking for during the meld?”
Marriott’s slight blush made DeVille smile and with the mind-meld now a go, his thoughts returned to the ship and its current predicament. He hadn’t yet received an update from the bridge and with a few minutes to spare before the meld could begin he excused himself to check in with Schmitt upstairs.
“Skell, I just want to say thank you, on behalf of the entire crew.”
Before turning and accompanying Marriott to the sideward, he hiked one eyebrow and said, “Thanks are not necessary Commander; it was the…logical decision.”
Always looked yummy in UFO
