• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

The Romulan vessel was still right where hed left it, though neither Trip nor TPol were anywhere within view. The main hatch was closed.

At least the ship isnt rocking, he thought, thankful for small mercies. But please, dont let me have to knock on the door.

As though in response to his thoughts, the scoutships main hatch hissed open. TPol emerged, looking like a portrait of staid dignity, with every hair in place.

Trip followed her out of the craft a moment later. He was flushed, sweating, disheveled, and grinning like an idiot.

Reed returned the grin. This was the image of Trip he wanted to keep in his memory forever.

In case, he thought, he never manages to come in from the cold.

“Till next time, okay? Trip said, gathering TPol into another embrace near the scoutships open hatch. Trip felt as torn about parting from her now as he had before this whole damned spy business had begun.

TPol nodded, apparently at an uncharacteristic loss for words.

He released her and turned back toward the hatch. Malcolm was standing in the way, and caught him in a quick bear hug.

“Keep safe, Commander, the tactical officer said as he released Trip. “Or Ill murder you. Fair enough?

“Fair enough, Malcolm. Trip grinned as he hopped back up into the open hatchway, alone this time. “And lets all hope that fortune really does favor the foolish.

Which covers all three of us, he thought as the hatch hissed closed, separating him from his friends.

Perhaps for the very last time.

THIRTY-TWO

Tuesday, July 22, 2155 Qam-Chee, the First City, QonoS

T O A RCHER it felt as though only hours had passed since he had last entered the Klingon High Councils main assembly chamber, though he knew he had little grasp of time as it was reckoned on alien planets. QonoS, like countless other worlds, had its own calendar based upon the unique motions of the planet and its satellites, none of which corresponded neatly to United Earth Standard. Combined with his time in the arena and in the medical facility afterward, Archer wasnt at all certain exactly what time it was when Krell began presenting the evidence that MRek had promised would exculpate the Klingon Empire over the attack on Draylax.

With his doctor husband looking annoyed nearby, Admiral Krell moved slowly but restlessly about the front of the otherwise nearly empty chamber, using a crutch tucked under his good arm to support his considerable weight. Although Krell once again had two armsa hard cast held the reattached limb immobile against the admirals sideit was clear that his every movement was causing him excruciating pain. Though he had emerged from the duel in slightly better shape than Krell had, Archer felt grateful for the hard bench on which his weary weight rested at the moment; with the wound in his side still smarting even as it was healing under Phloxs ministrations, he certainly wouldnt want to have to stand for any length of time, despite his own restive desire to get back to work protecting Earth and the Coalition. This guy obviously doesnt deal with enforced idleness any better than I do, Archer thought, feeling a surge of sympathy for a kindred spirit as he watched Krells unconscious fidgeting.

Mounted on the wall beside Krell was a giant flat screen, not unlike the central viewer that adorned the forward wall of Enterprise s bridge. Standing sentry at the door were several armed Klingon warriors, all of them evidently carrying enough rank and privilege to be allowed to witness the admirals presentation; because of the sensitive nature of Krells briefing, Chancellor MRek had insisted that Archers MACO escorts wait outside the chamber, and Archer had nearly had to fight another duel to convince the chancellor to overrule Krells initial refusal to allow Phlox to stay.

Using his one functional hand, Krell gestured toward the screen, which had shifted to an oblique overhead starboard view of the busy bridge of a Klingon battle cruiser. “As you can see, the captain and crew of the I.K.S.