Phuong didn’t respond to Trip’s comment, either because he was ignoring it or because he was intent on the data spooling onto the console at his left. “I’ll take us to warp for approximately zero point seven one seconds,” Phuong said. “And then you’ll get us lost among the rocks and asteroids.”

Phuong’s finger hovered over the controls for a moment, as if he were having second thoughts. Then he pushed the button.

Trip felt the familiar slight tug of warp acceleration, visually exacerbated by the brief streaking elongation of the stars and debris visible through the forward window. He felt a cold trickle of sweat running down his neck and wondered for an instant if his sweat had changed color the way his blood had.

In a fraction of a second, the Bransonhad traversed some four million kilometers. Both men were thrown forward as the ship abruptly returned to low impulse, their restraining straps taut until the inertial dampers caught up with the abrupt velocity change.

“ Shit!” Trip exclaimed, wiping sweat from his brow. “We’re still in one piece.” They also appeared to have dropped out of warp only a few hundred kilometers from the densest region of the debris field.

Suddenly, the ship rocked violently, and an alarm klaxon filled the cockpit with a shrill wail.

“There’s anotherone of the Romulan ships!” Phuong shouted excitedly as he frantically tapped his controls. The viewscreen beneath the forward window responded by revealing the presence of a second birdlike vessel, this one apparently larger and better armed than the first.

“Get into the debris field, now!” Phuong said.

Trip ignored his instincts and pushed the lever to the left, sending the Bransondirectly into the most debriscluttered portion of the space ahead that he could find. Almost immediately, a proximity alarm began sounding, adding to the general din in the cockpit. With the help of the sensors and the viewer, he attempted to dodge a large chunk of rock, but evidently not quite quickly enough. He saw a boulder‑sized meteoroid flash across the top of the viewscreen before it vanished, and the Branson’s hull transmitted the reverberating sound of the glancing impact into the cockpit, which seemed almost to ring like a bell for several seconds afterward.

“Between that hit and the Romulan blast, the hull plating is down to forty percent,” Phuong said, concern evident in his voice.

“I don’t suppose it would do any good to try talking with them, would it?” Trip asked, twisting the controls to avoid the debris field’s profusion of tumbling chunks of rock, metal, and ice. “We do looklike them now, and these translator gadgets in our ears will let us speak their language.”

“We’re too suspicious all alone out here. If they didn’t kill us outright, they’d question us for weeks, and thenkill us,” Phuong said. “No, we have to get integrated into their social structure before we start trying to bargain with Romulan military officers, and we need to reach our friendly contacts inside the Empire to do that. Which means our top priority right now is to avoid these two ships.”

One of the viewscreens showed a brilliant explosion behind them, as a large portion of a small asteroid suddenly became superheated vapor, evidently because of Romulan weapons fire.

“They’re shooting into the field!” Trip said. He wondered again, for perhaps the six‑hundredth time in the past minute or so, exactly what had made him decide to take on this assignment.

“Then we’ve got to go in deeper,” Phuong said. The Bransonrattled and shook. “And try not to get ourselves killed in the process.”

Commander Nveih i’Ihhliae t’Jaihen roared in anger and stabbed his kalehinto the neck of the controller. Centurion S’Eliahn clutched his neck, crying out in terror and pain as his emerald blood pulsed out in jets. He crumpled leadenly to the deck.

“Get over here and find them,” Nveih yelled to Tanekh, the female decurion who presently cowered at the communications station.

He stepped over the dying S’Eliahn and moved back to his command chair. He’d always found the young officer incompetent, but his attractiveness had made up for it. But last khaidoa,when the centurion had refused Nveih’s overtures to engage in carnal pursuits with him and Nveih’s wife, S’Eliahn’s fate had been sealed. All the Romulan commander had needed was any small excuse to rid himself of the party who had so insulted him.

The pursuit of the unidentified vessel into the asteroid field near the Galorndon sector had provided just that excuse, though S’Eliahn might well have been spared had he not bungled so badly in carrying out his orders to either cripple or destroy the fleeing vessel.

How did they get this far into Romulan territory without being caught?They were clearly vaehkh,aliens from beyond the Empire’s farthest‑flung Avrrhinul,or Out‑marches; Nveih could tell thatfrom the configuration of their ship alone. He wondered if the small vessel had received help penetrating this far into imperial territory, possibly from dissidents. Or perhaps they’re just smugglers who’ve ventured too far from the customary lanes of galactic commerce for their own good.He didn’t really care. Either way, it was his duty to see to it that they neither escaped nor got any closer to Romulus than they already had.

“Commander, I’m showing that their ship is losing power,” Subcommander Vosleht reported from his post on the bridge’s port side. “Unfortunately, they’ve entered the densest part of–”

The bridge viewscreen of the Lha Aehallhsuddenly flared brightly, and Vosleht paused in making his report to look. The explosion could really only mean one thing.

“They collided with an asteroid,” Decurion Tanekh said from her new station. “Initial scans show that they’ve been destroyed.” She had apparently gotten her nerves under control, and now sat above the pooled blood of her predecessor, whose body she appeared to have rolled just out of her way.

“Make sureof it,” Nveih snarled. “Find their wreckage and learn who or what they were.” He stalked toward the exit, then turned back to his crew and pointed toward the barely twitching S’Eliahn. “And have that piece of hnaevcleaned up.”

He wasn’t looking forward to telling Commander T’Ihlaah about losing the vessel. The only positive thing about it was that T’Ihlaah’s ship, the Qiuu Nnuihs,had bungled the capture first.

Perhaps he would be able to persuade T’Ihlaah that it was in their better interests to keep the incident out of both of their reports.

Twenty‑Three

Thursday, February 20, 2155

Enterprise NX‑01

“I BELIEVE THE ADJUSTMENTS are now complete,” T’Pol said, setting the dynospanner down on the console beside her. She turned the chair–and the jury‑rigged titanium helmet that sat atop the chair’s backrest–toward the three men who stood near her in the small alcove in sickbay.

“It doesn’t look much different than it did the last time we used it,” Shran said as he stepped in front of Doctor Phlox and Theras, then gingerly touched the device’s headpiece, obviously taking care to avoid touching the heavy cables that led from the helmet’s crown to the new power coupling the engineers had hurriedly installed in the bulkhead. “This appears to be the very same telepresence unit Commander Tucker built.”

T’Pol wasn’t eager to waste time giving Shran a detailed technical report–reassembling the device with Lieutenant Burch was difficult. A competent engineer, who kept repeating, “Call me Mike.” His very presence was a painful reminder of Trip’s death.

“It isthe same device,” she said. “At least in essence. With some assistance from Lieutenant Burch, however, I have given it a considerable boost in both power and sensitivity, particularly at the most relevant brainwave frequencies.”