Last Full Measure - Michael A. Martin [27]
“We’re only interested in the Xindi,” said Archer.
A crooked grin appeared on Trahve’s otherwise inexpressive face. “Why? Do they owe you some latinum? Did they break a contract?”
“That’s between us and them, Mister Trahve. I’m sure you can appreciate the need for confidentiality in business relationships.”
The humanoid nodded knowingly. “Ah. So they are customers of yours as well?”
Archer ignored the question. “I need to speak to your Xindi employers. Where is their homeworld?”
Trahve shook his head in an almost pitying fashion. “I have no idea. They aren’t terribly forthcoming with such information, you understand.”
Reed was having trouble believing that. “Then how do you maintain contact with them?” he asked.
“I don’t. Officers from a Xindi construction concern contact me whenever they require my services. Freight running, courier assignments to intermediaries, and so forth.” Trahve tipped his head slightly to the side, and regarded Archer with evident curiosity. “Say, where are you from, anyway?”
“Let’s just say we’re from far enough away not to have any Xindi within easy reach,” Archer said.
“Hmmm. It doesn’t sound as though you’ve developed a terribly solid business relationship with them.”
“There are a few things we still have to…negotiate with them,” Archer said, nodding slowly.
Trahve suddenly became flinty-eyed. “You haven’t come to negotiate. I don’t believe you’re being very candid with me, Captain.”
“We could say the same thing about you,” Reed said, feeling heat rising under his collar. The man’s continued evasions and diversions were growing tiresome.
Trahve chuckled. “No doubt you could.”
Archer again placed an arm around Trahve’s shoulder, and smiled a smile that was all lances and knives and did not completely reach his eyes. Reed noticed then that his scanner’s proximity alarm had begun beeping again. Shutting off the sound, he looked to the side, where the multi-limbed Rekna stood by gazing at the group, suspicion clearly evident in his four dark eyes.
“What if I were to tell you that the Xindi recently launched a sneak attack against my homeworld?” Archer said to Trahve, his words dripping with acid even as he smiled and nodded in Rekna’s direction. “Suppose I also told you that they murdered more than seven million of my people with a particle-beam weapon?
“What if I went on to tell you that the Xindi are now building a far more powerful version of that weapon—and that they plan to use it to finish off the rest of my race?”
Archer released his grip on Trahve’s shoulders, then slapped him convivially across the back. The alien blanched, all of his worldly insouciance abruptly vanishing as he sat heavily, dropping backward into his seat.
“You say the Xindi contact you when they have work to offer you,” Archer said, leaning forward, an intent, earnest expression on his face. “When was the last time you heard from them?”
Trahve seemed to be recovering his composure, though he still seemed far less confident than he had before; the revelation about the Xindi attack on Earth seemed to have blindsided him. He nodded and said, “Very recently, Captain. Maybe four—no, five local daycycles ago.” That seemed to square with Grakka’s account, Reed realized; perhaps Trahve wasn’t an inveterate liar after all.
Perhaps.
“So they’ve given you a new assignment?” Archer asked.
After a moment’s hesitation, Trahve said, “Yes.”
“Can I assume you’ve made plans to meet with them again soon?”
Trahve nodded again, though his eyes were darting to and fro like trapped animals. Reed surmised that his employers were rather unforgiving of blatant security breaches.
Well, that’s his problem, Reed thought, glancing down again at his padd. The display still showed a diagram of the results of the chemical trace scan he had run on Trahve earlier. The complex, snowflake-like energy pattern was clearly unusual, like nothing produced by Starfleet technology.