Shran was alarmed, and lapsed back into speaking aloud. “Why? For what purpose?”

“It is possible that he had some inkling of what was to come,” Jhamel said, opting to use her voice again, perhaps in an effort to calm Shran. “He sometimes had premonitions. Perhaps he even saw his own death coming.”

Shran shuddered. He’d certainly stared death in the face many times, and had come away stronger each time. But he didn’t know the hourof his death, and would never want to.

“ In his last moments, he told me,” Jhamel said, moving very gently back inside his mind.

He looked down at her, aware that his antennae had been unconsciously mimicking the movements of hers. “ Told you what?” he asked.

“You are athaan. Your genetics are compatible with those of ourshelthreth . He gave us his blessing.”

Shran felt the wind rush out of his lungs in one great whoosh, and he sat down quickly at the edge of the biobed.

“Are you…are you asking me to join with the three of you? To bond?”

He couldn’t believe he was allowing himself to thinkthese words in Jhamel’s presence, much less say them out loud. In all his years, he had never entered a shelthrethquad, having devoted himself instead to his homeworld’s defense. His relationship with Talas, a similarly isolated soul, had been the most intimate one of his life, even though they both had known that without another pair of compatible bondmates, procreation–as well as social acceptance on Andoria–would forever be denied them.

“Yes. If you will have us,” Jhamel said, a hint of apprehension in her voice.

Shran bent over and nuzzled his forehead to hers, their antennae wrapping around each other.

He whispered in her ear.

“Yes. If the three of youcan stand me.”

Forty‑Two

Friday, February 21, 2155

Romulan space

“ALL FLOW REGULATORS are finally showing orange,” Ehrehin said, his breath slightly fogging up his faceplate as he pulled the hydrospanner out of the open relay‑circuitry drawer located near his booted feet. “Try it again now.”

Orange is good,Trip thought, reminding himself yet again that the instrumentation on Romulan ships differed from that of Earth vessels in sometimes unsettling ways.

“It’s now or never,” Trip said, glancing nervously down at the console’s tactical display, which showed that what they’d both assumed was Valdore’s lead ship was almost right on top of them, with a trio of other pursuers–the first vessel had evidently summoned rein‑forcements–trailing very close behind. The closest of these ships could drop out of warp at any moment, perhaps with Trip’s vessel already within range of its weapons.

Trip held his breath and engaged the throttle lever, pulling it slowly and deliberately toward him so as not to overload it.

The starfield ahead of the ship immediately smeared and turned slightly blue. The deck plates vibrated and shuddered violently before quickly settling down to a familiar subaural frequency that Trip supposed reassured warp engineers all across the galaxy.

Once the velocity gauge had finished climbing back to where it was before the engines had failed, Trip turned toward Ehrehin and said, “Think maybe you can spare a moment to help me with our subspace transmitter?”

The elderly scientist stared at him inscrutably, and Trip thought he saw the slightest of smiles flicker across his face. He hoped it wasn’t just a trick of the starlight he saw reflected in the man’s helmet.

Although the gap between pursuer and pursued remained too narrow for comfort, Trip was relieved to note that Valdore’s ships–there were still four in all–were no longer gaining on them. If we don’t have any more engine trouble between here and home,he thought with no small amount of trepidation, we both might actually get out of this alive.

Trip was also thankful for another uncanny stroke of luck: the damage the subspace transceiver had sustained hadn’t been nearly as serious as he had feared. Nevertheless, getting the thing back into operational condition–with audio only, at that–had involved more than a little jury‑rigging and swearing, as well as the diversion of precious power reserves that he was loath to divert from the drive systems while Admiral Valdore’s forces were still nipping at their heels.

But there was no alternative. He had to send a warning about the specifics of the coming attack on Coridan Prime, even if doing so landed both him and Ehrehin right back in Valdore’s lap.

Trip patched an optical cable that led from his suit’s com system into the microphone/speaker jack he had just discovered on his pilot’s console. He then punched in a particular subspace audio frequency and boosted the gain as much as he dared. At that moment, he noticed Ehrehin watching him from the copilot’s station, his once rheumy eyes now brimming with undisguised, almost youthful curiosity.

“Whom are you contacting?” the old man asked, apparently almost succumbing to his old habit of addressing Trip as Cunaehr before catching himself and changing his next utterance to “Trip.”

Trip smiled at the scientist. “I’m calling the one man who’ll do whatever it takes to help us.”

Touching the control on his chest that opened his helmet microphone, he said, “Lazarus to Captain Archer of Enterprise,Priority One and Coded. This is Lazarus, calling Captain Jonathan Archer….”

Forty‑Three

Friday, February 21, 2155

Enterprise NX‑01

“CAPTAIN, I HAVE A PRIORITY audio communication for you,” Hoshi Sato said, swiveling in her chair and touching the com device she sometimes wore clipped to her ear.

Archer looked over to her, his attention diverted from the padd onto which he’d begun entering his speech. After the events of this week, he didn’t know if he’d even be allowed to present it at the Coalition Compact ceremony, but he wanted it to be ready nonetheless. “Who’s the message from, Hoshi?”

“Your ears only, sir.” She frowned slightly. “The only other word in the subspace burst is the name Lazarus.”

Archer immediately stood and moved toward his ready room. “I’ll take it in here,” he said.

Trip’s alive,he thought, trying hard to stifle a big grin as he breezed past several of the bridge crew. He hoped that the message would contain good news, perhaps with the engineer telling them he was ready to come in from the cold of his spy mission. He slid into his chair in the ready room and tapped the console on the desk in front of him.

“ Lazarus to Captain Archer ofEnterprise,” the voice said over the speakers. The sound was full of static, and distorted slightly, but it was undeniably Trip’s voice.

“Archer here. It’s good to hear your voice. You ready to come home?”

“Thanks, Captain, but not quite yet. There’s been a wholemess of complications.”

“Are you all right?” Archer asked, frowning with concern as he leaned forward. He wished there was a visual component to the message, so that he could see his old friend’s face again.

“I’m okay, but Coridan’s in trouble. The Romulans aredefinitely targeting the planet. But it doesn’t seem to be an invasion. It’s more of an annihilation.”

Archer was stunned. “You’re sureabout this?”

“Absolutely. Some time in the next seventy‑two hours, they’re striking Coridan. You’ve got to warn them.”

“Any idea how they’ll attack?”

“No, sir. What I–”the rest of Trip’s reply was cut off in static.

Archer hit the com button. “Hoshi, I’ve lost the signal. Boost our reception.”

“Aye, sir,”Hoshi said.

The wait for Trip’s signal to be regained was torture. Archer’s mind reeled with the news. The annihilation of Coridan in the next seventy‑two hours.The thought was ghastly almost beyond imagination.