“He’s alive,” Theras said from behind T’Pol, his voice sounding very small and fearful. A moment later, the readouts above the bed confirmed Theras’s blind observation while Phlox busied himself injecting various neurological agents into Shran’s neck.
T’Pol was surprised a moment later when Shran’s eyes fluttered open and focused upon her. Amazingly, he now seemed none the worse for wear, other than some prominent singe marks on his clothing and a few white hairs that were curled and scorched.
As Phlox continued working over him, Shran began speaking to T’Pol in a weak voice. “You…shut down the telepresence unit, Commander. Why?”
“She was attempting to save your life,” Phlox said acidly, running a scanner over Shran’s chest. The doctor paused long enough to turn and cast a critical eye in T’Pol’s direction. “Though not quite as quickly as I would have liked.”
“I nearly had Jhamel’s location,” Shran snarled before T’Pol could respond to Phlox’s barb.
“Perhaps we can make another attempt soon,” T’Pol said, addressing Shran. “Once Doctor Phlox confirms that you are medically fit to do so, of course.” She gestured toward the various seared electronic components that now lay strewn about the sickbay deck. “And once Lieutenant Burch and I effect whatever repairs the telepresence unit now requires.” If that’s even possible now,she thought, her nostrils recoiling from the pungent ozone smell that now filled the room.
Shran simply glowered at her in hostile silence, and she met his stare with a wall of Vulcan impassivity. His passions may get him killed,she thought. As well as Jhamel.
Phlox intervened a moment later, ending the nonverbal showdown by stepping between T’Pol and the bed on which Shran lay. “If you don’t mind, Commander, I’d like my patient to have an opportunity to rest for a while.”
T’Pol nodded, picking up immediately on the Denobulan’s none‑too‑subtle hint, and gestured toward the wreckage of the telepresence apparatus. “Very well, Doctor. I will send Lieutenant Burch down shortly to collect our equipment.”
Phlox smiled solicitously, as though trying to make amends for his earlier display of brusqueness, however justified it might have been. “Thank you, T’Pol. I would very much appreciate that.”
With that, T’Pol turned and exited the sickbay. A moment after entering the corridor, she realized that she wasn’t alone when a shaky voice spoke from directly behind her.
“Why do you suppose the device failed?”
She turned to face Theras, somewhat surprised that the faint‑hearted Aenar had the presence of mind to ask such a probing question. “It is difficult to say,” she said. “There could be some unforeseeable difficulty on Jhamel’s end of the mind‑link. Or perhaps the problem is that Shran possesses no innate telepathic abilities of his own, in spite of the psionic link that Jhamel established with him.”
Perhaps,she thought, we could adjust the device so that it can be used in tandem by both Shran and Theras–
“T’Pol.” It was another familiar voice. She turned again and saw a somber Captain Archer standing behind her, evidently having just exited a nearby turbolift.
“Captain.”
“I was on my way to sickbay to check on your telepresence experiment,” he said.
She shook her head. “The results of the first attempt left much to be desired. However, I am confident that we will be able to try again soon, perhaps as early as tomorrow. Once Phlox declares Shran medically fit, and after our equipment undergoes some repairs.”
Archer nodded sadly. “I see. Well, I suppose that means you can afford to put it aside for a while.”
T’Pol found that she was having difficulty suppressing a scowl. “I would prefer not to do that, Captain. It is vitally important that we prevent the Romulans from gaining access to any more Aenar pilots.”
“Of course it is, T’Pol. I’m only asking you to set it aside an hour so.” The captain paused momentarily before continuing in a quiet, strained voice. “It’s almost time for Commander Tucker’s memorial service.”
Twenty‑Four
Thursday, February 20, 2155
Romulan space
“IT’S LIKE I ALWAYS SAY, COMMANDER,” Phuong said, “nothing says ‘my ship was completely destroyed’ better than a cargo module blown to tiny pieces across an asteroid field.”
Trip watched the cloud of metallic debris slowly expand as its millions of constituent parts–all of which had been essentially a single piece bolted to the Branson’s belly only minutes earlier–drifted and tumbled through space, occasionally colliding anew with each other and the multitudes of irregularly shaped rocky bodies that called this region of space home.
“Let’s just hope that those Romulan bird‑of‑prey captains are in the mood to buy what you’re selling,” Trip said, his throat dry with apprehension. Otherwise, pretty soon we won’t need a ship to fly through space.
“Don’t worry,” Phuong said in a voice that brimmed with so much confidence that Trip wondered if his associate wasn’t a better actor than a tactician. “This is the same tactic we used to cover the escape of your ‘assas‑sins’ from Enterprise.”
Trip could only shake his head at that, since he preferred to believe that the mainreason that the maneuver had worked when employed against Enterprise’s crew was the fact that Captain Archer and Malcolm Reed were both in on Section 31’s plot to fake his death in the first place.
An hour passed with agonizing sluggishness while the Bransoncontinued to cling to the deep shadows of one of the larger bodies in the system’s extensive asteroid field. While Phuong effected repairs to the ship’s various damaged systems–he’d insisted that he knew the ship better than anyone, including its many one‑off modifications, and therefore declined Trip’s offer of assistance–Trip continuously checked the passive scanning devices, only to find no evidence that any Romulans were still present. But he knew that there was no guarantee that a bird‑of‑prey wasn’t simply hanging out there somewhere, using yet another asteroid for cover as it patiently waited for its prey to reappear….
It was Phuong’s patience that wore out first. “Well, we can’t stay here forever, Commander,” he said, breaking the near total silence that had engulfed the cramped cockpit for more than an hour. “Let’s move out.”
Trip nodded, and the two men began silently entering commands into their respective sections of the conn and navigational consoles, quickly powering up the little Rutan‑class ship and getting her back under way through the asteroid field and into the emptier spaces that lay beyond its orbit.
Trip was tempted to use the Branson’s active sensors to determine whether or not the Romulan patrol vessel was still lingering nearby, but decided against it. Such a move might risk giving away their position, even if the other vessel had already moved on but was still near enough to detect the Branson’s presence.
“See any sign of sensor contact?” Phuong asked.
Trip studied his console readouts yet again and shook his head. “Nobody seems to be scanning us.”
“Then it’s Rator II or bust,” Phuong said, laying a new heading into the navigational computer with quick, practiced motions.
It occurred to Trip that Phuong was once again taking him to a destination that he knew next to nothing about. I hope I don’t start getting used to this,he thought as the little ship shuddered and lurched into warp.
Fortunately, Rator II wasn’t far away from where the Bransonhad been waylaid by the Romulan patrol; it took only the better part of a day to reach at the Branson’s maximum speed of warp 4.5.
On the other hand, the fact that this obscure Romulan colony world was so easy to get to filled Trip with worry that the very patrols they thought they’d eluded were quietly following, just waiting to pounce on them as well as on Phuong’s local Ejhoi Ormiincontacts, whom he assumed would be harboring the much sought‑after Doctor Ehrehin.