Despite his unease about what lay ahead, Trip tried his best to match Phuong’s insouciant grin.

“What are we waiting for?”

“Have you come to get me out of here?” Ehrehin asked earnestly.

After pausing to check the charge on the pistol he’d taken from one of the two unconscious guards in the corridor–Phuong had identified the weapon as a “disruptor”–Trip met the elderly scientist’s gaze squarely. “As a matter of fact–yes, we have.”

Ehrehin beamed at him. After helping the old man out of his chair and onto his feet, Trip turned toward Phuong, who displayed a somewhat worried expression.

“What’s wrong?” Trip asked as he carefully walked Ehrehin toward the chamber’s single door.

“I’m afraid my surveillance jammers won’t last much longer,” Phuong said, his head tipped as he listened to electronic inputs from his clothing that only he could hear. “And if somebody opens the storage lockers down the corridor and finds those guards before we can get away…”

Using the palm‑sized electronic key he’d taken from one of the guards, Trip opened the door to the outer corridor while Ehrehin continued to lean on him. “Then let’s get a move on.”

Per Phuong’s clever introduction of several specialized computer viruses into the facility’s systems, the corridor beyond the door suddenly plunged into near‑total darkness, making it difficult for Trip to see Phuong as he led the way through a complex series of bends and turns that he had obviously committed carefully to memory a few hours earlier when he had reconned the building. Trip supported most of Ehrehin’s weight while continuously turning and dodging the various Ejhoi Ormiinpersonnel who hustled past them in all directions; fortunately, they were apparently confused and thus far utterly oblivious to the jailbreak that was occurring right under their noses.

A seeming eternity later, Trip briefly leaned an exhausted Ehrehin against a wall while Phuong manually cranked open a door that led to yet another darkened chamber. Once the trio was inside, Trip inferred from the loud echoes of their footfalls that they had entered a vast, cavernous space.

An underground hangar,he realized.

“This way!” Phuong hissed, and led the way to a nearby shape that became clearly visible only after Phuong manually opened an exterior entry hatch, which automatically activated a set of dim interior lights. Trip saw that they were about to board a sleek yet battered‑looking space vessel, a vaguely cylindrical craft equipped with twin outboard engine nacelles. The ship was positioned horizontally on several landing struts, and Trip estimated her to be about as large as the Branson,or about three times the size of one of Enterprise’s shuttlepods.

Let’s hope those nacelles will make this bucket as fast as she looks,he thought as Phuong helped him walk Ehrehin toward the open gangway. Trip couldn’t help but notice that Phuong seemed imbued with renewed strength, as though he had redeemed himself for whatever mistakes he and Section 31 might have made earlier.

A loud explosion to Trip’s left, accompanied by a bright shower of multicolored sparks and flame, shoved him unceremoniously to his knees. The blast would have sent Ehrehin sprawling had Phuong not caught and steadied him.

“Stay where you are, all of you!” called a stern male voice behind Trip, who guessed it was coming from near the very same entrance that he, Phuong, and Ehrehin had just used. The vast hangar was immediately filled with the staccato reports of many loud, echoing footfalls, and the din swiftly surrounded them.

Aw, crap,Trip thought.

The hangar’s overhead lights came on, triggered by what Trip assumed was an emergency power circuit designed for occasions such as this. Though Trip’s eyes were momentarily dazzled by the brilliance, he could make out the ring of armed, uniformed figures deployed all around them. One of those figures stepped directly toward him, carrying a large black pistol in one hand.

It was Ch’uihv. Or Sopek.

Trip decided it didn’t much matter what the man chose to call himself.

The former Vulcan ship captain came to a stop perhaps two meters away from Trip–close enough for Trip to catch the full brunt of the man’s angry, hostile glare.

“I am very disappointed in you, Cunaehr. Some of my associates counseled me initially not to trust you, but I ignored them because of your relationship to the esteemed Doctor Ehrehin.” Ch’uihv paused to favor the old man with a respectful nod before fixing his angry glare again upon Trip. “But it is clear to me now that you are most likely either a spy for Admiral Valdore and the military, or an operative for one of the Romulan Star Empire’s intelligence services.”

He raised his weapon and leveled it straight at Trip. Think fast, Tucker,he thought, struggling in vain to find the right words to buy at least a little more time before his assailant opened fire.

“Cunaehr had absolutely nothing to do with this,” Phuong said in a loud, confident voice as he stepped directly between Ehrehin and Ch’uihv, his hands raised over his head. “This was entirely mydoing, not his. I merely thought it prudent to bring Cunaehr along to calm Doctor Ehrehin should he become emotionally overwrought.”

What the hell does he think he’s doing?Trip thought.

A thoughtful look crossed Ch’uihv’s face, and he lowered his weapon momentarily. Then he took Trip’s weapon, walked past him, and stopped within a meter or so of Phuong, who had just dropped his own weapon onto the floor. Ch’uihv raised his weapon once again.

And fired it point‑blank at Phuong, who was instantly reduced to a pile of incinerated flesh and clothing. The sickening stench of immolated flesh filled the hangar, and Trip had to work hard to suppress his suddenly buoyant gorge. In the distance, he heard at least one of the armed guards retching. A fleeting hazy memory, now suddenly crystal clear, danced through his mind: the Adigeon surgeon warning him that this voyage into the Romulan Star Empire would probably be a strictly oneway affair.

Ch’uihv stood almost directly over Phuong’s smoldering mortal remains. Strangely, Trip thought the look on his violence‑hardened face strongly resembled pity. “Such a noble soul,” he said. “And such a filthy liar.” He raised his weapon again.

This time, he pointed it directly at Trip’s head.

Twenty‑Nine

Friday, February 21, 2155

Enterprise NX‑01

STANDING ALONGSIDE CAPTAIN ARCHER, Phlox watched anxiously as T’Pol adjusted the power levels on the telepresence helmet yet again. Against his better judgment, the doctor had allowed Shran to be rewired to the device, but only after Shran, Theras, and T’Pol had all had six hours of desperately needed sleep.

He still thought that the machine was likely to cause irreparable damage to Shran’s cerebral cortex, but the Andorian was adamant, and the device did seem to represent their one tangible hope of finding the kidnapped Aenar. However, Phlox’s current concerns were exacerbated by the unpleasant whine of the machine and the ugly burned‑flesh‑and‑ozone smell that once again permeated his sickbay.

Shran ground his teeth, his hands alternately and repeatedly flexing and extending, perhaps because the helmet restricted the unconscious, emotionally driven movements of his antennae. “I think…I sense something,” he said. “The ship that’s carrying Jhamel. It isin Romulan space.”

T’Pol’s expression showed more concern than surprise. “Are you certain?”

Tears rolled down Shran’s face from underneath the helmet, leaving indigo streaks against the backdrop of the Andorian’s sky‑blue skin. “Yes. I…recognize some of the constellations.”

Archer and T’Pol exchanged determined glances.