“For whatever it’s worth, Trip, I think your analysis of the Aenar kidnapping is spot on, T’Pol notwithstanding. Are you going to keep trying to persuade the brass that the Romulans are the ones behind it?”
“What choice do I have?” Trip said, sounding almost belligerent. “You’ve done the math the same way I have, Malcolm. What the hell would youdo in my place?”
Reed held up a placating hand. “I’m on your side, Trip. Remember?”
Trip slumped back into his chair and released a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry, Malcolm. I know you are. It’s just that we’ve shown Gardner that the Romulans pose what could be the biggest threat that Earth or any of our new allies have ever faced–and he just doesn’t want to hear it because it’s inconvenientfor him.”
Reed completely agreed with the commander’s assessment, and he shared his friend’s frustration, if not his present level of inebriation. “Do you suppose there’s any chance of changing his mind?”
“Not very damned likely. The captain says the only thing that’s likely to persuade Gardner is the kind of evidence that swoops in from space and blows up whole cities.”
Reed nodded quietly. “What about contacting other admirals in Starfleet Command? Like maybe Douglas or Black? Or even Clark or Palmieri?”
“You mean make an end run around Gardner?” Trip didn’t sound very happy at that prospect either. “Well, I suppose career suicide is oneoption, Malcolm. Maybe it’ll turn out to be the onlyone.” He leaned forward morosely and very deliberately grabbed both the bottle and his shot glass, dragging them toward him across the beads of alcohol he had left on the otherwise spotless tabletop.
Gardner is a blind man,Reed thought as he watched his friend pour himself another drink. Thank goodness Captain Archer is at least conducting a low‑profile investigation. But what if next time it’s someone who isn’t willing to buck the system? It looks like other players will have to become involved in this game if Starfleet Command is going to wake up in time.
Reed decided the time had come to play what might turn out to be Earth’s hole card. Speaking quietly, he said, “Before you seriously contemplate charging into Starfleet Headquarters and wrecking your career, I think you’d be wise to call somebody else I know.”
Trip paused in mid‑swallow, setting his drink down half intact. “Who?”
Reed spared a moment to glance around the dimly lit mess hall, confirming again that no one else was present. When he turned his gaze back upon Trip, he spoke in a voice that was scarcely louder than a whisper.
“Someone who’ll probably listen to your warnings very attentively. And might even be able to act on them.”
Even though itis somebody I swore I’d never deal with again if I could help it,Reed thought. But desperate times need desperate deeds.
Trip pushed both the bottle and his half‑consumed drink away again. “I’m listening, Malcolm.”
Reed nodded, drew a deep breath, settled back into his chair, and told him.
And hoped all the while that he hadn’t just made the biggest mistake of his entire life.
Taking a seat behind the desk in his quarters, Trip looked blearily up at the wall chronometer over the door to his quarters. His shift was to start in just under three hours.
He adjusted the angle of the data terminal before him so that he faced it directly, activated it, and inserted the data card Malcolm had given him. Time stretched for several seconds as the black screen briefly turned sky blue while the ship’s com system followed the data card’s protocols for establishing a secure connection with the particular subspace frequency the tactical officer had provided.
A dark‑haired, middle‑aged man appeared on the screen, apparently seated in a perfectly ordinary office. Trip could see the man clearly only from the chest up, noting that he wore a tailored deep brown jacket made of a leatherlike fabric. The man appeared far too rested to be completely believable, prompting Trip to wonder which Earth time zone the other man called home.
The face on the screen displayed a look of mildly surprised recognition upon seeing Trip’s face. “Commander Tucker.”
Trip nodded. “Harris, I presume?”
“The very same, Commander. What can I do for you? And why areyou contacting me?”
“As opposed to Malcolm, you mean.”
“Lieutenant Reed and I have had a long relationship. Since you’re on this frequency, I’m assuming he’s taken you into his confidence about me.”
“According to Malcolm, that ‘relationship’ is strictly past tense, Harris.”
Harris’s lips curved upward slightly in an ironic smile. “I’ve heard that from him on more than one occasion. It’s become quite a familiar refrain by now.”Then his dark eyes narrowed and focused on Trip as though he could see him directly, without the intermediary of a subspace transceiver. “But I’m sure you aren’t contacting me in the middle of your ship’s night just to talk about the past. In fact, I happen to know that you’re a great deal more concerned about the future.”
“Concerned” is a nice understatement,Trip thought. Aloud, he said, “It’s about the Romulans.”
Harris’s expression turned grave as Trip struggled to organize his thoughts. “Go on, Commander.”
Here goes,Trip thought, taking a deep breath. “Earth and all the other Coalition planets are in serious danger. The Romulans are planning to move against us in a big way. And soon.”
Harris displayed a degree of emotional control that T’Pol probably would have admired. “Do your colleagues aboardEnterprise concur with your opinion?”
“Malcolm is with me on this. And so’s Captain Archer.”
“But not Starfleet Command, I gather.”
“You must have been eavesdropping on us, Harris.”
Harris smiled benignly. “You’re quite the flatterer, Commander. But it isn’t all that hard to guess that the brass hats might not want to look too closely at any inconvenient truths for the next few weeks. At least not until the Coalition Compact is finalized and signed. I’m sure Admiral Gardner doesn’t want to be responsible for spooking the various Coalition delegations.”
“That’s my take on things, too,” Trip said, nodding. It hadn’t escaped his notice that Harris had never explicitly denied his charge of eavesdropping–and the idea was making all the small hairs on the back of his neck slowly rise to attention even as he continued speaking. “Are you aware of the mass kidnapping of Aenar telepaths from Andoria last week?”
“We are, Commander. And we clearly see a Romulan hand in that action, even though they tried very hard to cover their tracks by going through intermediaries. We have no doubt that the Romulans plan to use those telepaths to revive their telepresence drone warship program, and on a considerable scale.
“But that isn’t the end of it. Our intelligence sources show strong indications that the Romulans are on the verge of perfecting a new generation of starships, vessels capable of reaching speeds of at least warp seven.”
Trip couldn’t keep his jaw from falling open. “Warp seven,” he said quietly. Five years after the launch of Enterprise, Earth was still working the remaining kinks out of Henry Archer’s warp fiveengine. “That puts them even with the Coridan shipyards.”
Harris nodded. “Even Coridan will be hard‑pressed to counter a Romulan invasion of Coalition territory, which we believe is coming soon.”
“A warp‑seven drive would use one hell of a lot of power,” Trip said, running power‑curve calculations in his head.
“Agreed. And that means that the Romulans will need to get their hands on huge quantities of dilithium–which the Coridan system planets have in far greater abundance thanany of the other Coalition worlds do.”