Stalking away, Terix saw that Sweba had properly detained the assistanta man whom Terix believed was notwho he pretended to be.

“And what makes you so certain that this Cunaehr is a Vulcanspy? Valdore asked, squinting up at Terix from behind his vast desk, atop which sat numerous reports and other paper documents. On the wall behind the admiral was mounted the datheanofv‑senthe Honor Bladethat usually hung at the admirals side.

“During Doctor Ehrehins animaurolhao,he performed several movements that I know to be specific to Vulcantradition, rather than ours, Terix said. He had hoped that Valdore would have received the news of this discovery a bit more favorably.

“I had no idea you were so well versed in Vulcan traditions, Centurion, the admiral said, lofting an eyebrow.

The admirals stare made Terix feel like a bug in a jar. “I performed two covert intelligence missions there right out of the Academy.

“And you find this mansVulcan movement to be proof that Cunaehr is a Vulcan? Have you interrogated him? Tested his blood?

Terix nodded. “We haveinterrogated him, sir, though not as thoroughly as we might without authorization from your office. Our admittedly cursory medical tests on him revealed that he has a very unusual mutative blood type, with traits common to both Vulcan and Romulan genetics.

Valdore held up a hand, palm outward. “Do not force further interrogation on the prisoner yet. Yourallegation may require further investigation first. Doctor Ehrehin was working on a veryimportant project for the Praetors fleet when he died, a project whose ultimate goal remains unfulfilled. This Cunaehr may hold the key to reaching that goal. If you damage him, or do anything to make his mental state morefragile than it may be already, you may seriously jeopardize that prospect.

“Then do you wish me to release him? Terix asked. He had hoped for permission to use every tool at his disposal to extract the truth from the scientist, but it appeared that Valdore wasnt about to grant him that.

“Not yet, Valdore said, looking thoughtful. “Let me think on this for a night. Keep Cunaehr in custody for now, but keep him sequestered away from Ehrehins assassin. I must consider all of my options. But if I dont find a way to make him usefulor if we find hard evidence that he really is somehow involved with the Vulcansthen you,Centurion, will be allowed to choose the method of execution.

Terix saluted and favored his superior with a rare smile.

TEN

Wednesday, July 16, 2155 Enterprise NX‑01

TP OL WASHED HER HANDS CAREFULLY, looking in the mirror as she did so. It was something she rarely didwhatever her many failings might be in following Suraks teachings, she did not number vanity among thembut she could see in her reflection that she looked tired.

She hoped that none of her colleagues on the bridge had noticed this, or any fatigue‑related errors she might have made. She regarded the chance of the latter as relatively minuscule, given that she generally triple‑checked her work; on the other hand, she had been up for most of the last forty‑eight hours, applying her off‑shift hours to her ongoing surreptitious search for more information about Sopek, emphasizing anything that might connect him with the Romulans.

She moved through the open secondary hatchway inside the sanitary facility the humans referred to as “the head, entering the tiny interior chamber in which puffs of aerosolized sanitizer attacked any bacteria or other dirt that might be present, on either bodies or uniforms. Some of the crew occasionally joked about the heads “decontamination chamber, but TPolwith her heightened sense of smellwas grateful for it.

Exiting the head, she found herself immediately disoriented. Instead of being back on the bridge, she now stood in a corridor whose walls and floor and ceiling exuded an almost painfully brilliant white light. To her right, TPol saw that only a few meters down the corridor the light ended, dropping abruptly off into the inky, star‑strewn vastness of space.

TPol turned her head and saw two figures, both of them far enough away to appear somewhat indistinct. One seemed to be slumped on the floor, while the other stood above the first in a threatening stance. The standing figure leaned over and picked up the slumping one by grabbing a handful of its dark hair and dragging the body to which it was attached to a nearly upright position.

Running toward them, TPol wasnt sure if she should announce her presence to the aggressor or not. She chose to stay silent, at least until she knew what she might be facing. But the distance between her and the pair seemed to elongate as she moved, even as the taller figure began to beat on its prey.

TPol heard a roar behind her, a cacophony louder than anything shed ever heard before. Despite its unnatural volume, she recognized it instantly, just a split second before the blast of wind struck her. The sound and fury of massive decompression spurred her on, and she barely glanced back to see the white corridor breaking apart behind her, the vacuum of space seeming to hurtle toward her in a headlong, predatory rush.

“Stop! she shouted, throwing caution to the grasping winds around her as she forced herself nearer to the two figures, perhaps relying on the power of her will alone. The aggressor turned and roared at her, its Vulcan features distorted and angry. With flattened ears and sharpened teeth, it resembled one of the Frislen mutants that she had battled some two decades ago.

With the corridor tearing asunder behind her, TPol used the last of her declining strength to launch herself at the monster, tackling it at its midsection. The thing writhed and screamed, and through the flying tatters of its robe TPol finally caught a glimpse of what the monster had been beating.

Or rather whom. Despite the extensive surgery he had undergone to help him blend into Romulan society, and the bruises and contusions that swelled his face, she knew it was Trip. His eyes looked unfocused, but he seemed to see her nevertheless.

“TPol, he said weakly. The escalating roar of cold, empty space swallowed up anything else he might have said.

The corridor behind him crumbled a heartbeat later, and Trip went tumbling into the void, his voice gone, though she was certain he still carried her name on his blood‑flecked lips.

Marshaling all her remaining strength, TPol continued to grapple with the monster, determined to end its life before it managed to do the same to her.

“TPol! The voice was closer now, louder, despite the intensifying rush of white noise. “Commander TPol!

Abruptly, the white corridor and the void beyond it vanished, displaced by the bridge of Enterpriseand its startled beta‑watch crew. Lieutenant Mack McCall was in front of her, grasping her shoulders, concern etched deeply on his features. “Commander TPol, can you hear me?

TPol turned her head, blinking away the vision that had just filled her mind, willing her racing heart to slow down.

“Yes, Lieutenant, she said slowly, focusing first on the distraction of the mans salt‑and‑pepper goatee before looking directly into his brown eyes. “IIm not sure what just happened.

“Neither are we, McCall said, his demeanor softening a bit. “You exited the head, stopped in the middle of the deck, and yelled, Stop! You seemed to be in some kind oftrance. Very gently, he grasped her wrists and pulled her hands up. “And you did this to yourself.

TPol looked down at her hands, both of which were balled into fists, her fingers clenched so tightly that her short‑cropped nails had pierced the flesh of both palms. Emerald‑hued blood welled out onto her wrists and dripped from between her knuckles.

“Perhaps I should pay a visit to Doctor Phlox, TPol said.