But could this battered little ship produce enough speed to evade Valdore successfully? Trip knew that he needed to do everything possible to make certain that she could– beforehe got her off the ground, and onto any of Admiral Valdore’s sensors.

Or weapons locks.With that alarming thought, Trip rose from the pilot’s seat, his hope and fear confronting each other like opposing armies. The vessel shuddered and rocked slightly, as though something had just exploded violently elsewhere inside the Ejhoi Ormiincomplex, perhaps not far from the hangar. If I’m going to get Ehrehin out of here and keep him away from Valdore, I’ll have to be ready to divert every last millicochrane of power this tub can produce.

And some of that just might have to come from life support,Trip thought, experiencing a chill at that moment that reminded him uncomfortably of the icy cold of space.

“Where are you going?” Ehrehin called to Cunaehr’s retreating back. He hadn’t expected his assistant to leap up at the precise moment the ship needed to get under way. They hadn’t even opened the main hangar bay yet in preparation for launch.

“I thought I passed some equipment lockers on the way to the cockpit,” Cunaehr said over his shoulder just before disappearing into an accessway located near the middle of the vessel. The ship rocked yet again, and an ominous rumble was faintly audible through the hull plates. Ehrehin wondered if Cunaehr hadn’t been far too correct earlier in voicing his worries that Valdore’s forces might kill them both entirely by accident.

How very strange,Ehrehin thought, feeling his apprehension slowly increase the longer Cunaehr was out of his sight.

After a seeming eternity passed, Cunaehr returned, awkwardly carrying a helmet and chestplate in each hand. What appeared to be a pair of heavy, rust‑and‑silver‑colored garments, each of which had clumsylooking boots and gloves attached, were draped over each of his broad shoulders.

“Pressure suits?” Ehrehin said, frowning. “Cunaehr, why are you wasting our time with those?”

Cunaehr appeared more uncomfortable than he had since he’d been one of Ehrehin’s callow young graduate students taking his final exams back at the Bardat Academy on Romulus. “I didn’t like the look of the life‑support system readings, Doctor. We need to suit up as a precaution before we launch.”

Ehrehin felt his frown deepening involuntarily. “I didn’t notice anything wrong with the environmental systems.” On the other hand, the old man knew that his vision was no longer what it used to be….

“Please trust me, Doctor. This is for yoursafety more than mine. I’ll help you get suited up quickly.” Cunaehr had begun donning his own suit, getting into it with surprising ease and grace, as though he’d had a good deal of practice. That, too, struck Ehrehin as very strange.

“We’ll check each other’s seals and connections to make sure everything is working properly,” said Cunaehr. “Then we’ll strap in and take off.”

Ehrehin reluctantly accepted the main tunic piece of one of the two suits. He reflected that Cunaehr had never given him any cause to seriously doubt his judgment before–not even when the younger man actually hadbeen a callow young graduate student nervously taking his exams at Bardat. Besides, hadn’t he always taught the lad that a good, cautious engineer alwayswore both a good, stout daefvsash and heavy fvalo‑straps if he wanted to make certain that his trousers stayed up?

“Very well, Cunaehr,” the old man said at length, then began slowly donning the oddly alien‑looking pressure suit the younger man had handed him. As he worked his way into the suit with Cunaehr’s gentle assistance, Ehrehin noticed that a gauge on the copilot’s console was announcing with a cool, blinking orange light that the ship was now ready to fly.

Ehrehin only hoped the entire hangar wouldn’t come down around their ears before they finally got themselves strapped in and headed for orbit–and for the safety of Valdore’s fleet.

Thirty‑Seven

Friday, February 21, 2155

Romulan Transport Vessel T’Lluadh

THERAS COWERED ON THE DECK as blast after blast slammed into the metal surfaces all around him. He imagined he could feel the fierce heat of the disruptor beams singeing his back through his heavy environmental suit. He hadn’t felt such terror since the day the raiders had invaded the Aenar enclave nestled beneath Andoria’s northern wastes.

Recollections of how those freebooters had mercilessly ripped his beloved Shenar, Vishri, and Jhamel from his life–and during their sacred shelthrethceremony, of all the days they could have chosen–helped him to focus his thoughts and steel his courage against the ongoing fusillade that was keeping him pinned to the floor.

I must not let fear sunder ourshelthreth, Theras told himself, his smoldering outrage fanning itself into an incandescence that he hoped would consume his all but debilitating dread. Icannot allow it.

Not wishing to fumble for the external controls of his suit’s com system, Theras spread his mind out across the wide interior spaces of the transport ship, his telepathic senses once again “feeling” the locations of his colleagues and protectors. Shran and Lieutenant Reed were positioned closest to him, both hunched behind a dense metal pillar to Theras’s left as they returned their assailants’ fire. Commander T’Pol and both of the Earth soldiers were slightly farther away in the other direction, all three lying on their bellies and returning fire despite the much scantier cover they had at their disposal. He could feel the pain of the wounded human soldier as though it were a dull ache of his own.

Theras also searched about telepathically for each of the armed Romulan troopers, noting with some sadness that two of them had been hit by the Earth soldiers, their bodies now lying just inside the chamber’s doors. He couldn’t be certain from their pained, disordered thoughts whether their injuries would prove fatal.

But he knew with visceral certainty that someone–or perhaps severalsomeones–in the boarding party would soon be very dead unless the situation rapidly changed for the better. They’ll kill us all if they can,he thought, tapping into the keenly honed martial savagery of the Romulans’ thoughts; the painful intensity of that contact allowed him only a thankfully brief glimpse.

How can anyone harbor such ugliness in his soul?Theras’s ingrained Aenar sensibilities barely allowed him to frame the question. He couldn’t help but hope that such monstrous violence didn’t loom quite so large in the psyches of the Earth soldiers, or anyone else in the boarding party, including Shran, whose anger and impatience Theras could often feel palpably.

Another blast came disconcertingly close as the firefight continued inconclusively. I have to dosomething, Theras thought. Yet I cannot fight. I am Aenar.

He felt Shran’s rage, which was no doubt being intensified by the fact that Jhamel remained trapped aboard this cursed slave ship.

An inspiration seized him.

I am Aenar. I cannot fight.

But neither am I helpless.

Theras smiled grimly to himself and carefully reached out once again with his mind….

Centurion Rhai had unexpectedly ceased firing, making Decurion Taith fear that one of the interlopers shooting at them from out of the darkness had scored a lucky shot and killed him.

Taith paused for a moment to ascertain his superior’s condition, creeping toward him cautiously on knees and elbows. Reaching the centurion’s supine form, he placed a hand on his shoulder, preparing to turn the body over in order to check for injuries.