“Beam Theras over, now!” Shran barked, unwilling to let the Aenar sacrifice his life merely for having defended himself and his teammates.

And for defending Jhamel, whose telepathic bond with Shran seemed to be growing stronger from moment to moment. Sickbay,Shran thought, listening to her presence as best he could along the subtle, diaphanous channel that connected them. She’s been taken to sickbay.

“I’m trying to establish a lock,” Moulton said, scowling alternatively at Shran and the console before her. She began toggling switches that Shran couldn’t recall ever having seen before, apparently trying to divert still more power to the already overtaxed system.

Then a small explosion sounded behind him, making his ears pop and his antennae retreat as though seeking cover. He turned to see a cloud of acrid‑smelling black smoke slowly rising and spreading over the transporter stage.

“Dammit!” Moulton shouted, still examining the readouts before her. “The Heisenberg compensators are completely fused.” She focused a hard stare upon Shran as she snapped open an intercom switch. “Ensign Moulton here, Captain. I’m afraid I have some bad news about the transporter….”

As he made his way toward the bridge, escorted by the female MACO, Shran couldn’t help but wonder whether the machine had failed all on its own–or if Theras’s telepathic influence had had something to do with it.

They quickly reached the turbolift that Shran presumed ran directly through the primary hull’s midpoint, and therefore connected to Archer’s bridge along the most direct route. Shran felt his bond to Jhamel increase greatly in intensity as the lift doors slid obediently open before him.

A haggard but determined‑looking Jhamel was inside the lift, leaning unsteadily against one of the walls.

“We can’t let the Romulans have Theras,” she said.

Then her eyes rolled shut and she collapsed into Shran’s arms.

“Captain, I’m afraid the transporter won’t be beaming anybody anywhere for at least a week,”Moulton said, frustration coloring her normally phlegmatic manner. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“It’s not your fault, Ensign. I’m sure you did everything you could.” Archer now could no longer see any choice other than to withdraw immediately. He rose from his chair and stared at the pair of raptorlike Romulan spacecraft that loomed ahead like an augury of death, grimly aware that T’Pol, Malcolm, Hoshi, and Travis were all looking in his direction, anxiously awaiting his next order. Once again, he had no real choice, though it pained him to admit it.

“Travis, get us out of here. Maximum warp.”

“With pleasure, Captain,” the helmsman said with an unconcealed sigh of relief. He immediately began entering commands into his console. “Course laid in. Executing.”

Archer felt the subtle shift of vibration in the deck beneath his boots, which told him that Enterprisehad just gone to warp. Even as the image of the two semicrippled warships vanished from the viewer, the turbolift doors at the bridge’s aft port side whisked open. Archer turned toward the sound.

He watched a gaunt, careworn Aenar woman whom he recognized as Jhamel step unsteadily onto the bridge, with Shran–still partially clad in a Starfleet‑issue environmental suit–gently guiding her arm, balancing her. A MACO exited the lift behind them, then took up a vigilant posture by the turbolift doors.

“ Enterprisemustn’t leave yet, Captain!” Jhamel said breathlessly, her gray eyes focusing directly upon his, despite her inability to see. Archer found the effect disconcerting.

Striding out of the command well toward the Aenar woman, Archer took her other arm and glared at Shran. “Why did you bring Jhamel up here? She belongs in sickbay, or in one of the emergency wards down in the launch bays.”

“I told her the same thing, Captain,” Shran said mildly, displaying a somewhat grim smile. “But she insisted on speaking to you immediately. I know better than to stand in her way when she’s being insistent.”

T’Pol rose from the seat in front of her science station, allowing Archer and Shran to guide Jhamel gently into it.

“Theras is still aboard that transport vessel, Captain,” said the Aenar woman, her skin as white as scrimshaw, her antennae flailing in slow motion like a pair of anemones.

Archer nodded sadly. In measured, sympathetic tones, he said, “I know he is, Jhamel. But I’m afraid we have no way of rescuing him.”

“I am not asking you to rescue him, Captain. And neither is Theras.”

“You’re in telepathic contact with him now?”

A single fat tear rolled down her ice‑hued cheek. “Yes. Please, Captain. Do notallow the Romulans to take him. Theras is beggingme to help him prevent this. He wants you to kill him.”

“Kill him?” Archer was appalled by the suggestion, although he had to admit that he could see no good alternative. He was beginning to feel sick to his stomach.

Jhamel nodded. “He wants you to destroy the transport ship, Captain.”

Archer shook his head in disbelief. “There are still Romulan personnel alive on that ship, Jhamel, and they’ll die if I do that. And the Romulan government won’t be very happy about it either. They might even use it as a pretext to justify war. Frankly, I’m surprised that an Aenar would want me to do such a thing.”

But I can’t let the Romulans use Theras as a weapon,Archer thought. The way they used her brother Gareb.

“Theras will give the Romulan crew some warning, Captain. They will escape their ship’s destruction. Theras has pledged to see to it.”

“If the Romulans can get to their ship’s escape pods, then so can Theras,” said T’Pol.

“He’s not going to do that,” Shran said, shaking his head, an incredulous expression on his azure face. His antennae lay flat against his scalp, which Archer interpreted as a sign of grief. “And we can’t force him.”

“For God’s sake, why?” Archer wanted to know.

“Because he killed a number of Romulan guards during the rescue mission, Captain,” Jhamel said. “He believes he must atone for this.”

“And what do youbelieve?” Archer said, chafing at Jhamel’s apparent willingness to abet a photonic torpedo–assisted suicide. “Let me fill you in on an ugly truth, Jhamel: Sometimes it’s necessaryto kill in order to defend the lives of others. Sometimes there’s no choice other than to deal death in the name of peace. How can you just… abandonhim for recognizing that fact, and acting accordingly?”

Jhamel’s brow crumpled in anger, her antennae thrusting forward almost belligerently. This was the first such emotion Archer could recall ever having seen on Jhamel’s ordinarily smooth, unlined face.

“Captain, you may not believe this, but pacifists can be very pragmatic people–just as you humans believe yourselves to be, particularly when you are ‘dealing death in the name of peace.’ So far, you’ve prevented the Romulans from turning the rest of us into weapons of war, and I sincerely thank you for that. But now you must do the same for Theras–or else they willmake a weapon of him, just as they did with Gareb.”

If the Romulans have even a single Aenar telepath in their possession,Archer thought, they’ll force him to operate another one of their telepresence ships. Or maybe they’ll use him for something even worse.Recalling how Gareb had been used, and how he had bravely sacrificed himself in order to bring his involuntary servitude to an end, Archer realized that Jhamel’s thinking was every bit as pragmatic as his own.

Still, he didn’t much like where that realization would inevitably lead him. Regardless, he came to a decision, quickly if not easily.

“Travis, belay my last order. Dead stop.” Enterpriseshuddered slightly as she responded to her helmsman’s deft touch on the helm console.