Текст книги "Declassified "

Автор книги: David Mack

Соавторы: Marco Palmieri,Dayton Ward
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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 26 страниц)

9

Jetanien always had fancied himself rather accomplished when it came to studying and deciphering the nuances of facial expressions and body language. In particular, having lived and worked in proximity to many representatives of Earth during his long diplomatic career, he considered himself more than capable of discerning much from the way humans emoted and carried themselves.

Such proficiency was not required on this evening as he stood before Diego Reyes in the commodore’s office, looking across the station commander’s desk as the human rubbed his temples and offered the latest in a series of fervent wishes that he were anywhere but here on Starbase 47.

“They told me this job would be hard when they offered it to me,” Reyes said, shaking his head as he reached for the cup of coffee sitting on the desk near his right hand. “But I had to be stupid and call their bluff.”

Amused by his friend’s penchant for self-deprecating humor, Jetanien laughed. “On the contrary, Diego, I can think of no one offhand who I believe is as suited to this assignment. You have the perfect blend of healthy skepticism and objectivity as well as the consummate leadership skills which will be required in order to guide this mission no matter what course it ends up charting.”

“Remind me to hire you if I ever need a publicist,” Reyes said, pausing to sip from his coffee. “You can write all the press releases to go with the book I’ll write when this is all over, assuming it ends up being a story worth telling.” He reached for the computer terminal positioned at one corner of his desk and swiveled the unit so Jetanien could see its display monitor. “Take a look at this. It’s a report from Starfleet Intelligence on the latest Klingon ship movements in the Taurus Reach. It seems our friends from the Empire have taken an interest in several systems besides Traelus where we’ve been poking around.”

Studying the report displayed on the monitor, Jetanien noted that it had been coded and stamped with a top-secret Starfleet Intelligence classification, no doubt sent to Reyes under heavy encryption and intended only for his eyes as well as the small number of people who were aware of Starbase 47’s true purpose in the Taurus Reach. A perusal of the systems cited in the report gave the ambassador pause.

“Typerias,” he said, reading from the screen, “along with Korinar, Borzha, and Dorala.” He paused before reading the last two names. “Palgrenax, and Gamma Tauri, as well?”

Reyes nodded. “I thought you’d like those.”

Though the commodore had no reason to suspect as much, Jetanien in fact was not surprised to see such a list. While the first four systems were interesting with respect to their relative locations within the Taurus Reach and the possible strategic value to whoever claimed them or—in the case of the Federation—allied with any indigenous populations, the last two entries on the list were troubling for different reasons. Both the Palgrenax and Gamma Tauri systems had been surveyed first by automated reconnaissance drones, followed by more detailed examinations by the U.S.S. Sagittarius.Both systems harbored worlds where evidence of the Taurus Meta-Genome had been found, moving them to the top of the list for further research and exploration. However, while the planets in the Gamma Tauri system were uninhabited, one of the Palgrenax worlds was home to a preindustrial civilization. The Federation’s Prime Directive was of course in full effect with respect to any Starfleet expedition to examine the planet and pursue any leads pertaining to the meta-genome. Such considerations would not be of paramount importance to the Klingon Empire should it decide to occupy the planet and press its native population into servitude.

“Do we have any reason to believe the Klingons are aware of the . . . special nature . . . of planets in the Palgrenax and Gamma Tauri systems?” Jetanien asked.

“Not yet,” Reyes said, rising from his desk and taking his coffee cup with him as he made his way to the food slot at the rear of his office. He held up the empty mug for Jetanien’s benefit and asked, “Care for a bowl of mud, or whatever?”

“Thank you, no,” Jetanien replied, his attention still focused on the intelligence report. “Does Starfleet have any idea why the Klingons are so interested in these particular systems?”

The food slot’s hatch rose to reveal the commodore’s fresh cup of coffee, and Reyes retrieved it before turning back toward his desk. “So far, they seem motivated by the fact that we’ve shown interest in them. The problem with that theory is that no one can figure out how the Klingons even knew we were giving some of those systems a once-over. Palgrenax is pretty far off the beaten path, for example. Likewise Typerias and Korinar. Even though we think a few of those might make good anchor points as we expand colonization efforts into the region, the Klingons shouldn’t know that; at least, not yet.” Returning to the chair behind his desk, Reyes sipped from his coffee. “If I were a more cynical person, I’d say we’ve got a spy somewhere in the works.” He then directed his gaze back to Jetanien. “But we all know how cheery and upbeat I am. Right?”

The ambassador laughed once again at the commodore’s attempt at dry humor. “That would seem a logical deduction. Does Starfleet concur?”

“They say the same thing you just did,” Reyes replied, “and they also say that while it’s a nice theory, without proof that’s all it is.”

Unfortunately, it seems your superiors are mistaken, my friend.

Jetanien had entered Reyes’s office armed with the knowledge that not only was there a spy feeding information to the Klingons about Starfleet operations and ship movements within the Taurus Reach, but that this covert agent also was working right here on the station. The ambassador’s surprise at this discovery was surpassed only by shock, embarrassment, and a sensation of utter betrayal upon learning that the operative was his own assistant, Anna Sandesjo. If not for the attentiveness of one of his other trusted assistants, Jetanien knew he might still be ignorant of the woman’s activities. The alert aide had, while working late one evening, become aware of an unauthorized message being transmitted from the embassy offices as part of several other communiqués being dispatched from the station. Though he had no idea what he had found, the aide had brought this to Jetanien’s attention, and the ambassador himself had investigated the anomaly until he found the message’s creator. That the message had contained information on the movements of Starfleet vessels in the Taurus Reach, in particular those assigned to Starbase 47, was itself disturbing. Even more appalling was its apparent recipient: someone within, or at least working for, the Klingon Empire.

How could Sandesjo work alongside him for the past several months without his having the slightest inkling as to her true nature? That she was remarkably skilled in her chosen profession went without saying, but it was small comfort for Jetanien. What had he allowed to happen from within his own offices? Had he enabled Sandesjo’s efforts to pass on sensitive information to her handlers, whoever they might be? The very notion infuriated him.

And yet, you’ve elected to keep this information to yourself.

“So,” he said, eyeing Reyes, “what do we do now?”

The commodore leaned back in his chair, holding his coffee cup in both hands as his gaze shifted to the viewscreen on his wall that displayed a series of updated status reports on the station’s progress toward completed construction and full operational capability. He said nothing for a moment as he studied the schematics and the scrolls of accompanying text. Finally, Reyes said, “It’s obvious the Klingons are going to be an even bigger problem than we thought going into this thing. If they’ve got spies running around the station or even one of the other starbases, how long before they stumble across information about why we’re really out here?” Shaking his head, he placed his mug on the desk. “I’m going to have T’Prynn and Lieutenant Jackson conduct another sweep of background checks on everyone on the station, and anyone who’s been here since we started accepting civilians and visitors.”

Jetanien nodded. “A sound strategy. I understand Mister Jackson is a capable officer.” Haniff Jackson, Starbase 47’s chief of security, by all accounts was well suited to the task Reyes would soon assign him. “And there can be no doubting Commander T’Prynn’s investigative abilities.” If anyone could learn the truth about Anna Sandesjo without the benefit of fortunate happenstance, as the ambassador had enjoyed, it would be the station’s shrewd Vulcan intelligence officer. Indeed, he had seen her and Sandesjo together in the officers’ club the previous evening. Armed with the knowledge he now possessed regarding his aide, Jetanien had to wonder if T’Prynn either suspected Sandesjo’s identity or else had already discovered it on her own. If it was the former, then the ambassador was certain T’Prynn would find the truth in short order, but if it was the latter, then Jetanien had to wonder why she had not yet seen fit to inform Reyes about what she had learned. Might she be hiding some agenda of her own?

Interesting, that,Jetanien conceded.

“Finding a spy, if there is one, is just one of our big problems,” Reyes said. “The bigger one is what, if anything, the Klingons plan to do with the information they’re getting. Do they just want to screw with us, or try to claim resource-rich or strategically valuable planets before we can get to them?”

Jetanien said, “There is another aspect to this new development which also bears consideration. Should the Klingons elect to seize worlds which already are inhabited, one could argue that the Federation holds some measure of responsibility for the affected people’s fates.”

“Don’t think I haven’t thought of that,” Reyes replied, shaking his head. “But you could also argue that much is true even with respect to normal exploration efforts. We’ve been crossing paths and butting heads with the Klingons for more than a century. How many worlds have they conquered or claimed that they might otherwise have bypassed if not for trying to counter some move on our part?” He paused, and Jetanien saw the look of resignation in the commodore’s eyes as he waved a hand as though to sweep aside the question. “Those are problems for somebody way above my pay grade. I’ve got enough to worry about just keeping what we’re doing here secret while trying not to start a war at the same time.”

Nodding in agreement, Jetanien decided a change of subject was in order. “Have you heard anything more from the Sagittarius?” According to the last report Reyes had shared with him, Captain Nassir and his crew had sought refuge on the surface of Traelus II while effecting repairs to their damaged propulsion systems.

Reyes said, “Nothing since their last report. They went quiet when their sensors detected Klingon ships heading their way.” He released a long, slow breath, his expression turning to one of concern. “I figure if we don’t hear from them by the end of the day, that’s the ballgame.”

10

Captain Kutal was not pleased.

“Helm,” he snapped. “Assume standard orbit.” Sitting in his command chair at the center of the bridge aboard the Imperial Klingon cruiser Zin’za,he watched and listened in silence as his crew went about their various tasks, all of them doing their part to hunt for their supposed adversary. He overheard fragments of the discussion taking place in hushed tones between his first officer, Commander BelHoQ, and the Zin’za’s weapons officer, Lieutenant Tonar. While he could not discern everything, what Kutal could hear he did not like.

“Where is the Starfleet ship?” he asked, the words laced with mounting irritation. Though he did not turn his chair to face the tactical station, Kutal watched in his peripheral vision as Tonar stepped away from the console and stood at attention to make his report.

“Our sensors do not detect it, Captain,” the lieutenant said. “I am unable to explain it.”

“We’re certain it did not leave the system?” Kutal asked, reaching up to stroke his beard.

“If it did,” replied BelHoQ, “then they would have had to leave before we entered sensor range. We detected no such activity, though there was that momentary reading during the previous duty shift.”

Kutal nodded, remembering the fleeting sensor contact that had been visible above the surface of Traelus II for mere moments before disappearing. Could that have been the Starfleet ship? It had been nearly a day since the Klingon scout vessel assigned to survey this system had encountered the Starfleet ship. Despite its gnatlike size and the significant damage it had absorbed, the vessel had managed to hold its own during the brief skirmish that ensued. While Kutal credited that to the tenacity of the ship’s captain, whoever that might be, his admiration would grant the Earther or his crew no leniency. Kutal’s orders on this point were explicit, in that he was to prevent the Starfleet ship from escaping the system, capture it, and retrieve any and all useful information from its computer systems. As for the ship’s crew, they were expendable.

Can it be that the Council is finally ready to face our enemies in battle?The question burned in Kutal’s mind, even though he knew the answer. Though Chancellor Sturka and the Klingon High Council seemed ready and eager to engage the Federation, they also appeared concerned that the Klingon fleet was not yet ready for extended offensive action against its Starfleet adversaries. Intelligence reports indicated that Starfleet vessels, in particular the armada of heavy cruisers that were the Federation’s most advanced starships, were a near match in offensive capabilities for the Empire’s premier battle cruisers, the D7’s. That claim had been tested in battle to varying degrees, though Kutal had yet to enjoy such an occasion. He hoped that would change now that the Federation and the Empire seemed on a collision course as each power worked to increase its influence in the Gonmog Sector. Sooner or later, he predicted, a Starfleet ship would overstep its bounds and dare to challenge the Empire’s efforts in this region of space, and for that, Kutal could only hope the Federation would dearly pay.

For now, however, he would have to be content with hunting lesser prey. He did not know why the High Council held so much interest as to what the Starfleet vessel and its crew might have found here, but that was not his concern. Someone else could worry about such things. Kutal preferred the straightforward mission he had been given.

“According to the reports, they suffered damage to their warp drive,” he said, rising from his chair. “They would need to effect repairs before they could leave the system with any hope of evading pursuit. So, it stands to reason that they’re here, somewhere.” He recalled what he knew of the compact Starfleet vessel’s design. “Their ship is capable of making planetfall. Perhaps they went to the surface to make repairs.”

Tonar nodded. “I had considered that, sir, and have subjected the entire planet to an intensive sensor scan. I found no trace of a vessel. However, it must be reported that we detected large deposits of minerals possessing qualities that interfere with our scanners.”

“It would be like a cowardly Federation petaQto seek refuge in a place such as that,” BelHoQ said. The burly executive officer folded his muscled arms across his broad chest. “They run and hide like pathetic animals.”

Ignoring the comment, Kutal instead asked, “But that was at long range, was it not? Now that we’re closer to the planet, can you not manipulate our sensors to account for the interference? I don’t need a complete target lock, Lieutenant; just proof of where they are.”

“I am endeavoring to do just that, Captain,” Tonar replied.

“Then endeavor with greater zeal, or I shall find a new weapons officer.” Turning from his subordinate, Kutal was making his way back to his seat when his helm officer, Lieutenant Qlar, looked over his shoulder, his heavy brow creased with concern.

“Captain, our navigational sensors are detecting an odd reading.”

Moving to stand behind the helm officer, Kutal glowered at the array of status readings and gauges filling Qlar’s console, all of them highlighted in shades of crimson. “What kind of odd reading?”

Qlar shook his head. “I don’t know, sir. It’s not like anything I’ve seen before.” His massive hands drifted across the console, calling up new status reports to the workstation’s bank of display screens before he pointed to one monitor. “Do you see it? There?”

“I don’t understand,” Kutal said, at first perplexed by the strange sensor return. “What is this thing trying to tell us?”

“According to this,” Qlar replied, “there is a very small area that is immune to our sensors. No feedback whatsoever.” He shook his head. “It’s like a hole in space, Captain.”

“Is it a threat to the ship?” BelHoQ asked.

The helm officer said, “I am unable to determine that, Commander. I’m able to confirm that there is no gravitic pull, and I cannot detect anything that might hint at an artificial power source.”

“Could it be a mine?” Kutal wondered aloud. “Like the ones the Romulans used to employ in orbit around their planets, equipped with sensor-scattering field generators.”

Pausing to consider the question, Qlar finally answered, “It’s possible, sir.”

“Let me see it,” Kutal ordered, directing his attention to the viewscreen. He waited as Qlar entered the necessary commands, and the image on the screen soon shifted from empty space to a view of Traelus II. The planet was visible in the screen’s upper right corner, but that was not what drew Kutal’s attention. Instead, he studied what looked like a large chunk of rock drifting free in space.

“What is that?” he asked. “It looks like an asteroid.”

BelHoQ said, “Our scout vessel’s survey reports indicated no asteroids present in the system, Captain.”

Grunting in annoyance, Kutal waved toward the screen. “Do your eyes not work, Commander? What would you call that?” The screen showed an oblong body of jagged rock, tumbling slowly as it rolled past the edge of the viewer. Qlar adjusted the picture so that the asteroid remained centered. “What’s its range?”

“Seventy thousand qelI’qams,Captain,” Tonar replied. A moment later, he added, “We are close enough now that I’m detecting an energy reading from it. It’s faint, but it is unmistakable.” Then he turned from his console, his eyes wide with realization. “Captain!”

Kutal had already made the same deduction. “All power to weapons and shields!”

Despite the best efforts of the ship’s environmental control systems to provide a comfortable room temperature—even at their current rate of reduced power—Clark Terrell felt sweat forming beneath his tunic on his chest, between his shoulder blades, and at the small of his back. Around him, the bridge of the Sagittariuswas cloaked in almost total darkness, the only illumination being whatever was cast off by the few workstations that remained active. On the main viewscreen, which, like every other active system, was operating at less than half efficiency, lines of static crossed the image of the Klingon D5 battle cruiser that was closing to what Terrell considered a disturbingly small distance.

Anything less than a light-year is pretty damned disturbing right about now.

“Captain,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. He knew there was no logical reason to keep his voice low, as sounds would not travel across the vacuum of space separating the Sagittariusfrom the Klingon vessel, but he could not help himself. “I don’t think they’re buying it.”

From where he sat in his command chair, Captain Nassir also spoke in a low voice when he replied, “If they suspected anything, they’d have fired by now.”

That was not enough to convince Terrell, who also had been the last one to buy into the crazy scheme concocted by Vanessa Theriault to provide cover for the Sagittariusas it lifted away from Traelus II. Once it had become obvious that Master Chief Ilucci and his engineers would not complete repairs to the warp drive systems before the Klingon cruiser’s arrival at the planet, Theriault had devised a scheme to continue using the large deposit of thallium on top of which the ship had rested while on the surface. Employing the ship’s phasers, Bridget McLellan had excavated a large section of the ore from where it rested in the ground beneath the Sagittarius,carving away pieces and fragments until what remained was a somewhat oblong, lopsided sphere. When the time came for the ship to lift off, McLellan utilized the tractor beam to haul the oversized fragment to orbit with the Sagittarius,holding the hunk of ore before the ship like a makeshift shield. Dealing with the fragment’s mass had posed some challenges, which Theriault had overcome by reconfiguring the tractor beam emitters. The result was a haphazard thallium shell that—according to Theriault’s theory—would act to conceal the scout vessel from all but the most intensive sensor scans. Terrell had been skeptical throughout the preparation process, his doubts lingering even as the ship ascended from the surface and made its way into space.

“I don’t know if this is the craziest damned thing I’ve ever heard of, or if you’re just a genius,” he said, placing a reassuring hand on Theriault’s shoulder.

“I’m only a genius if it works,” the science officer countered. “If it doesn’t, then it’s going to be a long walk home.”

Terrell shrugged. “Look on the bright side. We probably won’t have to worry about that.”

For this ruse to work, Theriault had explained, and for the ship to appear as nothing more than a barren asteroid trapped in orbit around Traelus II, the Sagittarius’s power levels had been reduced to the bare minimum. All nonessential systems had been deactivated, and several other key systems also had been taken off line or else were operating in low-energy mode. The tractor beam emitters were generating just enough power to hold the thallium shell in place. Nassir had even taken the extra risk of ordering Master Chief Ilucci to power down the impulse drive, lest its telltale energy signature be detected by a sharp-eyed Klingon sensor officer. While the warp drive also posed a similar threat, there had been no choice but to leave it on line if the Sagittariuswas to have any hope of escape. Theriault and McLellan had tried to compensate for that by positioning additional, smaller fragments of thallium in the ship’s cargo bay. It was improvisational camouflage at best, though everyone aboard knew it would not have to work for very long.

It only needs to work long enough,Terrell mused.

Tapping a control on the arm of his chair, Nassir said, “Bridge to engineering. Master Chief, what’s your status?”

Michael Ilucci replied, “I can give you warp five from the jump, Skipper, but no more than that. If somebody’s planning on chasing us, it’s going to be a pretty short run.”

“I should’ve gone to law school like my mother wanted,” Terrell said, affecting a grim smile as he shared knowing looks with Nassir. Warp five had been an optimistic estimate from the chief engineer at the start of his repair efforts, and even though he had met that goal, it would not be enough if they were forced to flee the Klingon ship. The only option was a daring, perhaps even foolhardy plan to smack the enemy vessel across the nose before trying to make a run for it.

“Klingon ship closing to two hundred thousand kilometers,” McLellan reported, studying the sensor readouts on her console. “Their posture so far doesn’t seem to be aggressive. No more than normal, anyway, at least so far as I can tell. They look to be on a course for standard orbit.” She frowned. “The thallium’s affecting our sensors, too.”

“That’s the trade-off,” Nassir said, his voice calm and composed. Terrell nodded in agreement, as Theriault had warned them of the mineral’s effects on their own scanning systems. Anything more than short-range sensors would be all but useless, which at present did not matter, given the Klingon cruiser’s proximity. “Where are we in relation to them?”

Examining a readout on her console, Theriault replied, “We’re just crossing the terminator, and their orbital attitude suggests they’re not changing heading to come our way.”

“What do we look like to their sensors?” Nassir asked.

Theriault shook her head. “Hard to say, sir. Maybe a sensor void or dead spot. The thallium will affect their sensor returns enough to distort whatever visuals are created by their imaging processors. If they get close enough, they’ll be able to cut through the interference and maybe even pick up our power emissions.”

“They’ve got to be thinking something doesn’t add up,” Terrell said, shaking his head. “The question is whether they come closer to investigate, or just blow us to hell from a comfortable distance.”

McLellan called out, “One hundred twenty thousand kilometers. So far as I can tell, they haven’t raised their shields.” Terrell saw that her left hand hovered over the controls that would activate the Sagittarius’s deflector shields. Doing so now would all but ensure that the Klingon ship would fire on them, but if they raised their own shields before Nassir decided to act, then this entire crazy scheme would have been for nothing.

Come on.Terrell almost shouted the words. Just a few minutes more.

A red indicator flared to life on McLellan’s board, and the tactical officer looked over her shoulder at Terrell and Nassir. “They’re changing course and heading this way.”

“Damn,” Terrell muttered. “I knew it was too good to last.”

“Look sharp, people,” Nassir said, leaning forward in his chair. “We’re only going to get one shot at this, if that. Stand by.”

On the viewscreen, the image of the Klingon D5 cruiser solidified and took on sharper resolution, an effect of drawing closer to the Sagittariusand its compromised sensors. McLellan called out, “Ninety thousand kilometers and closing. Their shields are down.”

“Once they cross seventy-five thousand kilometers,” Theriault said, “they might be able to spot us.”

Nassir nodded. “Helm, on my mark, disengage the tractor beam and maneuver us away from that rock. Bridy Mac, fire as soon as you get a clear shot. You’ve got your targets picked out?”

“Forward disruptor array and starboard nacelle,” McLellan replied. “That’s probably all we’ll have time for before they raise their shields.”

“Always the optimist,” Nassir said.

On the screen, the Klingon ship drew ever closer, its image growing so large that it seemed ready to punch through the forward bulkhead. How much longer would deception hold out?

“Eighty thousand kilometers,” McLellan said.

Nassir slapped the arm of his chair. “Now!”

At the helm, Lieutenant zh’Firro tapped a sequence of controls. “Disengaging tractor beam.” The image on the viewscreen began to clear within seconds as the Sagittariusbacked away from the massive chunk of thallium ore.

“Targeting!” McLellan called out, her own fingers a blur as they worked her console. “Firing!”

“They’re raising shields!” Theriault shouted.

McLellan punched the air with her left first. “Direct hits. I missed the disruptor array, but it still tore a chunk out of the primary hull. The starboard nacelle has massive damage. I don’t think they can go to warp, but they’re still maneuverable at impulse speeds.”

“Raise shields,” Nassir ordered, his tone sharp and direct. “Sayna, initiate evasive. Keep us out of their gun sights, and stand by to go to warp.”

“They’re coming about,” McLellan said, her fingers continuing to work. “Phasers standing by.”

Nassir replied, “Let’s hold off unless they don’t give us another choice.” Engaging the intercom once more, he said, “Engineering, are we ready?”

“Almost there, Skipper!”

Zh’Firro said, “Captain, I’m having trouble evading them. They’re still pretty maneuverable.”

“Not to mention three kinds of pissed,” Terrell said, realizing as he spoke that his grip on the back of Theriault’s chair was so tight that he was very near tearing away the upholstered material.

“They’re locking weapons!” McLellan shouted.

“Fire!” Nassir snapped, and the response was immediate as the Sagittariusreleased another barrage of phaser fire. On the tactical display at McLellan’s station, Terrell could see two white streaks representing the phaser beams as they crossed space to the larger crimson circle depicting the Klingon ship. The vessel’s movements, along with those of the Sagittarius,were such that both salvos missed their mark.

“Damn it!” McLellan hissed through gritted teeth. “They’re firing!”

Even before Nassir could order evasive action, zh’Firro was reacting, guiding the ship away from danger as she used the Sagittarius’s smaller stature to her advantage. Terrell, his attention divided between the main viewer and McLellan’s tactical display, could only watch as zh’Firro maneuvered the ship back toward its Klingon adversary.

“Whatever Ilucci’s going to do,” Terrell said, “he’d better do it now.”

“Engineering!” Nassir snapped.

“Go!”shouted Ilucci through the intercom.

Her fingers moving in frantic fashion across her console, zh’Firro executed a final evasive maneuver, dropping the Sagittariusbeneath the Klingon cruiser. Terrell was certain he could count rivets securing hull plates on the enemy vessel before it vanished from view an instant before those stars that were visible stretched, contorted, and extended into infinity as the ship leaped to warp.

“No sign of pursuit,” McLellan said after a moment. “Looks like we’re in the clear.”

Feeling the tension leave his body, Terrell uttered an audible sigh of relief. “A lawyer, my mother said. Or a doctor. I could’ve been a doctor.”

The comment had its intended effect, with everyone on the bridge laughing, smiling, or shaking their heads in disbelief.

“Hello?”Ilucci said over the still-open intercom frequency. “Is it over?”