“Tell me about the cloaking‑generator buoys, Data. How do they maintain such a perfect spherical formation? You’d think that the singularity’s periodic releases of gravitational energy would disturb that pattern.”

Data did not reply, leaving Hawk to assume that he was accessing information, either from the ship’s computer or from elsewhere in the Romulan array. A moment later, Data broke the anxious silence.

“The cloaking buoys maintain their relative positions by means of a system of onboard station‑keeping thrusters. Each thruster pack carries a large fuel supply, so that the buoys can hold their positions for years without requiring maintenance.”

“And what would happen,” Picard said, “if each and every one of those buoys were suddenly to point their main thrusters away from the singularity, and fire them all at full throttle?”

“In that scenario, Captain, there would be an equal and opposite reaction. The entire cloaking‑buoy network would quickly collapse inward, simulating an attack on the singularity.”

“Bringing about an automatic abort,” Picard said.

Data sounded intrigued. “Perhaps I can gain access to the buoys’ thruster command pathways through one of the multiple backup channels in the array’s maintenance grid–”

Picard interrupted him. “Do whatever it takes, Data. And hurry.”

Data once again lapsed into silence as Hawk fought with the sluggish controls, bringing the scoutship tumbling past an active Romulan gunport just in time to avoid a direct hit. Hawk ardently hoped that Data’s silence meant that the android had already begun moving those buoys.

A moment later, the scoutship shook as though something extremely heavy had struck it. An overhead conduit ruptured, fogging the crew cabin with gray, foul‑smelling vapors. The collision alarm hadn’t sounded, so Hawk assumed that the scout had taken a glancing blow from one of the warbird’s secondary disruptor banks. A glance at the tactical display showed that the scout’s engine core had taken a high‑angle disruptor hit as well.

Before Hawk could relay this information to Picard, the captain cried out in pain and went sprawling from his seat onto the deck. He lay there, groaning and clutching at his chest.

Hawk understood the problem immediately. The damaged engine core must have emitted an acute radiation burst–the tetryons Dr. Crusher had been concerned about–causing some sort of malfunction in the captain’s artificial heart. But Hawk couldn’t afford to be distracted from his duties at the helm, not if any of them were to survive this mission. He had to hope that Data could tend to the captain’s urgent medical needs.

A split‑second later, a flash of light issued from behind the cockpit, filling the scoutship’s interior with the acrid smell of ozone, burnt circuitry, and scorched artificial flesh. Glancing behind him, Hawk saw patterns of blue incandescence shooting through the cable that connected Data to the scout vessel’s computer core. Saint Elmo’s fire briefly crackled around the android’s head. He convulsed briefly, then became as motionless as a statue, frozen in the act of rising to render aid to the captain.

Not good,Hawk thought as he returned his attention to the viewer. There, the coruscating inferno of the subspace singularity still burned, as brightly and defiantly as ever.

And the warbird Gal Gath’thongwas coming about, like a hungry shark closing in for the kill.

Chapter Sixteen

In the central control room of the warbird Gal Gath’thong,Commander T’Veren kept a dispassionate eye on the scoutship that rolled and tumbled across his screen. Though his directive to destroy the small vessel had been authorized by no less a personage than Tal Shiar Chairman Koval himself, T’Veren remained curious about the motives of whoever was inside. By flying evasive patterns at close quarters with the Gal Gath’thong,the scout had so far managed to avoid being severely hit by the warbird’s weapons.

The heavy brows of the young decurion behind the weapons console were knit together in frustration. It was apparent that she knew that the other vessel should have been dispatched minutes ago.

That pilot deserves credit for his courage and audacity,T’Veren thought, smiling at his gunner’s obvious pique. But even the most skilled flyer will eventually make a mistake.

Suddenly, the weapons officer grinned triumphantly. On the screen, one of the scoutship’s warp nacelles had taken a savage blow, and was spewing superheated plasma in every direction. A moment later, one of the secondary guns hit the scoutship yet again, pummeling it squarely amidships. The smaller vessel began to spin in an uncontrolled manner, the glow of its shields dimming steadily, then finally guttering out completely. Without having to be told, the helm officer minimized the danger of a collision by increasing the distance between the two ships.

T’Veren smiled. It wouldn’t be long now. “Bring us about, helmsman,” he said quietly. “Then finish them.”

This can’t be happening,Hawk thought as he watched the warbird make its slow, stately approach.

Peering across the darkened cockpit, he saw the captain’s insensate form sprawled on the scoutship’s deck. Behind the cockpit, Data appeared to be in much the same condition, though the android had remained eerily frozen in a half‑standing position, his golden eyes wide but vacant, his positronic network still cabled to the ship’s computer core. Deciding that there was nothing he could do for Data at the moment, Hawk returned his attentions to the flight console. From the dozens of flashing readouts and alarms vying for his attention, Hawk gathered that a warp‑powered retreat was out of the question. At least,he thought, the main controls seem to be working.

Hawk spared a moment to kneel beside the captain, and felt for a pulse in his neck. He found one, though it was weak and thready. He wondered what would happen to the captain’s artificial heart if he were to remain exposed to the damaged engine’s tetryon emissions for much longer.

But that’ll be moot in a couple of seconds,he thought, if I don’t do something about that warbirdnow.

Seating himself in the pilot’s chair, Hawk shut down the visual and audio alarms to help himself concentrate. One indicator, attached to the computer’s memory buffer, continued flashing in an irregular pattern, and Hawk didn’t want to waste any more time trying to shut it down; it was easy enough to ignore.

Almost at once, he thought of a way to address two of his most immediate problems. Recalling a command sequence that Admiral Batanides had shown him once offhandedly just before the raid on the rebel compound, Hawk armed the warp‑core jettison system. Firing a thruster to reorient the ship, he engaged the core launcher.

The scoutship lurched as it loosed the core into space. Hawk watched the screen, which showed the scoutship’s cylindrical, green warp core arcing quickly toward the approaching warbird. But moments before impact, the warbird’s forward disruptor banks vaporized it. The small singularity that powered the core abruptly spent its energies in subspace. The warbird’s paint didn’t even appear to have been scratched.

Too bad. But at least the tetryon problem is solved.

Hawk watched as the warbird’s forward guns began glowing a dull red as they began powering up for another salvo. Absurdly, Hawk found his attention wandering to the computer memory‑buffer light, which persisted in its mindless, rhythmic flashing.

So this is it. I’ll never see Ranul again.

Captain Picard groaned and began trying to sit up. Hawk went to his side. “Try not to move, sir.”

“I’ll take your medical opinion under advisement, Lieutenant,” Picard said, pulling himself into the copilot’s seat. Hawk offered him a steadying hand.