Kobayashi Maru - Michael A. Martin [147]
Searles extended her right hand toward him, middle finger defiantly raised, even as she turned and slammed her other hand into the wall-mounted hatch-control mechanism.
As the door slid open and she stalked out of the room, Vance chuckled quietly. What a waste of a perfectly good offer, he thought. It would have been fun to watch, if nothing else.
After all, one of the benefits of being master and commander of the Kobayashi Maru was that the position afforded him the means of enjoying life to its fullestso long as nothing interrupted the incoming revenue stream, and naysayers like Stiles and Searles didnt keep the Maru in dry dock rather than out among the stars, earning more of the stuff that made life worth living. And enjoying life was something Kojiro Vance intended to go right on doing.
No matter who came out on top in the Vulcans clandestine struggle against the Romulans and the Klingons for the reins of galactic power.
FORTY
Romulan Scoutship Drolae
E FFECTIVELY OUT OF OPTIONS , Trip could think of little to do other than to continue staring out the forward window at the angry glow of the approaching bird-of-preys main disruptor tube. Only occasionally did he allow his gaze to flick momentarily down to his engineering displays.
The relentless downward progression of Romulan numeric pictographs on the console put him in mind of an hourglass whose sands had all but run out. Whether incoming Romulan disruptor fire killed him, or the sudden, explosive release of the mutually annihilative particles that powered the crippled scout vessel, he knew he would soon be very dead.
Dead for real this time, with no fakery involved.
Good thing TPol and I got to say good-bye properly instead of just doing that hand-jive the Vulcans do, he thought.
A disruptor pistol lay in his lap, against the remote possibility that the Romulans might somehow detect and undo his attempt to scuttle the Drolae prior to boarding her. He wished hed taken a phase pistol from Shuttlepod Twohe far preferred a weapon with a stun settingbut he couldnt risk allowing an Earth weapon to fall into Romulan hands, which was almost certain to happen once the Drolae was boarded. But so far, hed seen no evidence that the warship out there was attempting either to transmit helm override signals or to send over a boarding team.
Just as the countdown entered its final minute, Trip suddenly noticed a tingling sensation that made him imagine thousands of overly caffeinated ants running frantically all over his skin. In the same instant, a shimmering curtain of light revealed the cause of the weird sensation.
Transporter beam. Damn it!
The cockpit of the Drolae swiftly vanished around him, to be replaced a few heartbeats later by the cold greenish metal walls of a narrow, utilitarian chamber. Trip fell with a hard thump to the unyielding surface beneath him, the contoured pilots chair that had been supporting his weight evidently having remained aboard the scoutship. As he scrambled to reach the disruptor that had transported with him, a pair of grim-faced Romulan uhlan s, both brandishing gleaming disruptor pistols of their own, stepped quickly up onto the small circular stage upon which Trip had just materialized.
“I suppose youre gonna take me to your leader now, Trip said as the guards flanked him, kicked his weapon out of reach, and hauled him roughly to his feet. The only response the unsmiling pair made was to hold his arms behind his back as they shoved him toward an open hatchway.
Trip worried he might suffer a dislocated shoulder as they frog-marched him along the narrow curve of a conduit-lined accessway. A seeming eternity later, they pushed him into another chamber not much wider than the room in which Trip had materialized.
Trip immediately sized up the cramped but roughly circular place as the bridge. The chamber was built