Kim was emerging as their de facto commanding officer in Glenn’s absence. Velth had no problem with that as long as Kim continued to defer to the experience of Galen’s actual crew members and to allow everyone present to offer meaningful suggestions as to how best to proceed.
As their mutual survival was the priority, and would likely continue to be for several more days until full power was restored to all systems and repairs were underway, Velth was inclined to accept Kim’s choice to temporarily fill Glenn’s boots as the purview of the officer with the most command experience present rather than a coup. If Glenn recovered, Velth would make damn sure she got her seat back. He doubted Kim would fight that. So far, he seemed reasonable, capable, and determined as hell, all qualities Velth could respect.
Conlon, whom he liked tremendously, and not just because her cold start of the fusion reactor had spared him a slow death by freezing, was in the process of offering a depressing analysis of their propulsion systems. Like everyone else present, she struggled to remain focused and from time to time drifted away into her own thoughts. He’d caught her staring off into the distance a handful of times since the briefing had begun until their engineering issues had become the subject of discussion.
“The warp core is a dead stick,” she advised Kim.
“I know the odds aren’t great, but we might find some dilithium out here,” Kim said.
“Even if we did, we’d still have to figure out a way to create and safely contain antimatter,” she noted.
“You’re not even contemplating that, are you?” Barclay asked, aghast.
Reg Barclay was a puzzle to Velth. They had served together for a year already and undertaken a handful of away missions together. The man was brilliant. Most Starfleet engineers were, but this guy had ridiculous game. Barclay had once confided to Velth that he had served on the Enterprise. Wouldn’t have surprised Velth a bit. The flagship had its pick of Starfleet’s finest.
Barclay had been assigned to the Galen to oversee their holographic personnel, all of whom, along with the ship, he had helped to design. What surprised Velth were Barclay’s ongoing anxiety issues. For someone who could slip seamlessly between eminently practical and mind-numbingly esoteric engineering issues, he lacked all but the most basic of social skills. When interacting with those who knew him well, like the Doctor, Kim, and Velth, he maintained his focus and composure. With Conlon he was no less perspicacious but was often hesitant, borderline embarrassed, and bedeviled by a stammer.
“I admit, I have no idea how we might accomplish it,” Conlon said, “but that doesn’t change the fact that we’re forty-seven thousand light-years from the fleet’s last known location and we’re not going to get anywhere near them or within range of any of our communications buoys on impulse alone.”
“We h-ha-have to find a way to bring the fleet to us,” Barclay insisted. “They h-ha—will bring us the antimatter reserves we need.”
“Which means our communications relay needs to be the next priority,” Kim said.
“What about the slipstream drive?” the Doctor asked. “That doesn’t require antimatter, does it?”
“No,” Conlon replied, looking momentarily dazed. Velth reminded himself that she couldn’t have slept for more than half an hour since this mess had begun. “But it does require benamite crystals, and all that’s left of ours are piles of dust.”
“Can’t they be recrystallized?” Kim asked.
“In theory,” Conlon allowed. “But B’Elanna’s revolutionary matrix wasn’t designed to reconstitute crystals that had been completely pulverized, only ones showing normal wear and minimal microfractures.”
Kim nodded. Velth suspected he had known this, but it seemed important to him that everyone present be on the same page.
“Internal diagnostics show the communications array has alignment problems, likely caused by whatever they used to bring us here,” Kim continued.
They, Velth thought. The Edrehmaia, or so they had apparently been christened by the species that preceded them on DK-1116. Aliens powerful enough to bring a starship halfway across the quadrant weren’t unheard of, but they were extremely rare. Scans showed thousands of anomalous readings within a million kilometers of Galen. Without a lot more information, it was impossible to tell if they were ships or life-forms or advanced and intelligent technology. All Velth knew for sure was that he’d be hard-pressed not to take a shot at one of them should they venture too close to the ship. For now, they had kept their distance, which, in many ways, Velth found more concerning than anything they had done. Why did they bring us here? What do they want? Much like the planet they had found that started them down this path, the Edrehmaia were a question with no ready answer.
“Someone is going to have to get out there and manually adjust the array,” Kim noted.
“That will take hours,” Conlon said.
“Possibly more,” Kim offered.
“I’ll do it,” Conlon said, as if that settled the matter.
Kim shot Conlon a quick look that seemed to say, The hell you will.
“Benoit and two of his three organic engineers were killed during the attack, and the third, Ensign Unhai, is a slipstream specialist,” Conlon reminded him.
“Unhai could certainly handle a routine…” Kim began.
“I’ll do it,” Velth said quickly.
“I’d rather have an actual engineer take point on this, Velth,” Kim said.
“Unhai is a year out of the Academy,” Velth retorted with a grim chuckle. “She’s spent the entirety of her brief career mastering our fantastic new drive system, but the one time Benoit asked her to fix a malfunctioning replicator, everything it produced for the next few days tasted like salmon
