Kobayashi Maru - Michael A. Martin [21]
The screen went blank as the timer reached zero, and TPol knew that the scrambling device was already erasing any trace of the transmission from the ships com logs and computer backup subroutines. She wished that she had been able to speak to Denak for just a little longer. But for now, she had some slim threads to follow.
It seemed clear that at least some Vulcan military or intelligence operatives were working covertly within the boundaries of the Romulan Star Empire, which meant that at least some knowledge existed on Vulcan of the connection between the two long-sundered peoples. She had no reason to believe that Denak was aware of that connection, however; nor did she feel that he was holding back any important information.
Which meant that he also didnt have any information concerning Trip, or the specifics of his mission for the covert Earth-based intel bureau. TPol cared intensely about the future of Vulcan, as well as that of the Coalition of Planets and the safety of the Starship Enterprise . But she also knew that deep within her, no matter how much she tried to repress her emotions, her actions were being guided, illogically, by fear.
And by loss.
Where is Trip now, and what kind of danger is he facing right at this moment? And when will he be back?
TPol knew she couldnt rest until she found the answers.
FOUR
Day Twenty-nine, Month of KriBrax Romulus
W ITH MORE THAN AN HOUR to spare before his next scheduled check-in with Captain Eric Stillwell, Charles “Trip Tucker III left his small suite of rented rooms for a brisk sunset walk downtown.
Of course, downtown Dartha wasnt just any downtown. Even by the standards of the Romulan capitals venerable Government Quarterwhich had been built, and was even today continuously being rebuilt, over the bones of one of the oldest settlements on the planetthe ancient streets seemed absurdly narrow. Moving with a confidence instilled by having lived here continuously for the past several weeks, Trip wended his way along the tightly packed warren of constricted roads and footpaths, all of which curved gently to conform to the generally round, concentric style that characterized even the oldest Romulan urban planning. As he walked, the remnant of the neighborhoods daily throng of assorted shopkeepers, clerks, laborers, and retail customers moved past, either ignoring him entirely or favoring him with wordless nods or perfunctory greetings of “Jolantru, the local equivalent of “Have a nice day.
He turned sideways to allow a middle-aged man and woman to pass him on a narrow sidewalk. These people dont smile much more than the Vulcans do, Trip thought, suppressing an ironic grin so as not to attract any unwanted attention; he knew from firsthand experience just how dramatically the sometimes explosively passionate Romulans differed from their more contemplativeif sometimes equally standoffishcousins on Vulcan.
The slow trickle of passersby inexorably slowed further, dying off entirely as the yellow Romulan sun finally completed its long horizonward arc, its present low angle giving it the hue of human blood. Trip paused to take in the spectacle of the bloated, ruddy orb as it settled behind the phalanx of centuries-old structures that comprised the squat Old City skyline. Caught between the waning rays and lengthening shadows, the venerable illuminated spires of the kilometers-distant Hall of State rose belligerently, war pikes poised over the Romulan capital, the anthracite-black waters of the Apnex Sea at their backs. It told Trip a tale of the fearsome martial past that TPols people shared with the Romulans, a way of life that could return to the presently peace-loving Vulcan people should the star-spanning empires dreams of conquest ever reach fruition. The tableau could have been the work of a painter determined to limn the contradictory streaks of beauty and savagery of the galactic civilization that radiated from this very city.
A civilization, he reminded