Trip seriously doubted that he had completely convinced Ehrehin to throw in his lot with him. But the thoughtful look in the old man’s dark eyes made it clear that he had upset the scientist’s earlier pretense of equanimity about going back to work for the Romulan military machine.
Ehrehin reeled his gaze back in from the middle distance where he seemed to do his deepest thinking, then stared at Trip with large, soulful eyes. “Cunaehr or not, you have been kind to me, whoeveryou are.”
“You can call me Trip.” He started to extend a gloved hand, but stopped himself, remembering that Vulcans, being touch telepaths, disliked being touched. He decided to assume that their cousins, the Romulans, might have similar habits.
The old man nodded, an awkward maneuver in the bulky pressure suit. “Very well, Trip. I will see what I can do about assisting you in getting this vessel up and running again.”
For the very first time, Trip began holding out a real hope that Ehrehin would voluntarily offer to protect the billions of innocents who lived on Coridan Prime, as well as Earth and the rest of the Coalition worlds. The notion buoyed Trip’s spirits greatly, because he knew it meant that he might soon have the opportunity to return from the dead to see his parents, his brother, T’Pol, and the rest of his Enterprisefamily again.
Trip glanced again at the pilot’s console, where the blip that represented Valdore’s doggedly pursuing ship was growing dangerously close to its quarry.
“We’d better get busy, then,” he said, then rose from his seat and headed for one of the tool kits he’d seen earlier in the aft section, moving as quickly as his bulky environmental suit would permit.
Forty‑One
Friday, February 21, 2155
Enterprise NX‑01
SHRAN STOOD AT THE FOOT of the biobed, feeling an overwhelming sense of familiarity as he watched Jhamel sleep. Other Aenar were resting throughout sickbay, while some recuperated in the makeshift medical facilities in Enterprise’s two shuttlepod launch bays, or in hastily rearranged crew quarters; the ship’s guest cabins were still uninhabitable because of the hull breach sustained during the recent battle.
Enterprisewas currently hurtling toward Earth at top speed, so repairs, and a return to Andoria for the Aenar, would have to wait. Archer had apparently already jeopardized his command by undertaking the mission to rescue the Aenar, but Shran felt sure that the compassionate human leaders would forgive him.
He studied the face of the beautiful zhenwho lay on the biobed, heartened to see her condition had visibly improved, even in the last six hours. With the nutrients and medications Jhamel and the other Aenar had taken in since their rescue by Enterprise,they were beginning to lose their color once again. Excepting the bluish highlights she normally had, the only rose‑colored portions visible on Jhamel’s skin were the fatigue‑generated wrinkles and pouches around her eyes.
He looked over to the neighboring beds, where Shenar and Vishri both slumbered, thanks to some sedatives and dream suppressants provided by Doctor Phlox. He wondered idly how the three surviving bondmates of Jhamel’s shelthrethgroup would get along in life now. Without Theras, the thaanof the group, they would be unable to reproduce. Given the declining population on Andoria, and the even sharper decline of the Aenar people’s numbers, the loss of any member of a potentially fertile shelthrethquad was unutterably horrible and tragic.
Because of that tragedy, he took small comfort in the fact that nearly every one of the other Aenar had been rescued, with the exception of the one who had run afoul of a transporter malfunction…and, of course, Theras.
He realized only now how completely he had misjudged Theras. I was as blind as he was,Shran thought, but in a completely different way.The gentle Theras, who had seemed to be such a melting icicle throughout the entire abduction ordeal, had instead shown himself to be the furthest thing from a coward that Shran had encountered among the Aenar. He had overcome his very nature,the pacifistic ideals by which he had always lived, in order to help free his fellow Aenar.
Shran had never enjoyed apologizing, but he sincerely wished for a chance to do so to Theras. He’d treated Theras abominably; he’d acted like a bully, intimidating a mild, gentle being every chance he’d gotten. He was trained to be a warrior, and was therefore used to putting himself into harm’s way. There was no heroism to much of what he did; it was mostly done out of duty, or a love of the accompanying adrenaline rush, or perhaps just plain orneriness.
“You’re wrong, Shran.”
Jhamel’s voice was speaking inside his mind. He turned to see her looking toward him, her sightless eyes now open, but as blind as always. “Youcan be a hero when you want to be. It wasn’t that long ago that you helped me defeat the Romulans that first time. As well as my grief over Gareb’s death.”
“Just as you helped me lay the ghost of Talas to rest,”Shran thought back to her.
But he wasn’t interested at the moment in rehashing the past; he was already far too focused on the future. He moved closer to the bed, and took her pale hand in his. “How are you feeling?” he asked aloud.
She smiled weakly, and spoke aloud as well in a voice that was hoarse from disuse. “Tired. Hungry. Relieved. Sad.” She turned her face toward his. “We have to stop meeting when one or the other of us is confined to a bed.”
Shran allowed a short laugh to escape his lips. Their attraction to each other had first sparked when she’d visited him while he’d been recovering from being impaled on an icicle and was troubled by the death of his beloved Talas, and she was still hoping beyond hope for the rescue of her doomed brother, Gareb. He had been lying in bed, and awakened to see her then. Later, when Jhamel was recuperating after having used the telepresence helmet in an effort to help her brother, he had watched over her as she slumbered in a different biobed, and had held her hand, just as he was doing now.
“I’m glad you’re well,” Shran said.
A troubled look crossed her face. “And Vishri and Shenar? How are they?”
“Resting comfortably,” Shran said, casting another glance in the direction of Jhamel’s bondmates.
“ They’re only resting because their minds aren’t linked with yours,” Jhamel said inside his mind. “Lucky for them: the agitated state ofyour mind could wake a hibernating frost boar!”
“I’m sorry,” Shran said, even though he saw her smile, and felt her affectionate, unvocalized laughter. “I can leave if it will help you rest.” He started to pull his hand away.
“No, stay!” Jhamel said aloud, pulling his hand back to hers, though weakly. “I was only teasing.”
“I liked what you were thinking about Theras a few moments ago,”she told him with her mind. “Please forgive me for eavesdropping.”
He smiled gently. “I have no secrets from you, Jhamel,”he thought in reply. At least, he didn’t wantto keep any secrets from her. How she felt, of course, would have to remain to be seen.
“ The path Theras chose was agony for him,” Jhamel thought. “But he did it to save us, and ultimately, to preserve the essence of himself.”
“I think I understand that now,” Shran said aloud, his voice soft.
“ I’m not certain you do,” Jhamel thought. “Even I don’t think I understood it until the very end. He provided a future for me…for us.”
“ What do you mean?” Shran thought back to her.
“We spoke aboard the transport ship, Theras and I, mind to mind. He said that during the entire time of our…captivity, he studied you quite closely. Mentally, physically, emotionally.”