Surak's Soul - J.M. Dillard [42]
Trip glanced at him. “You really think a phase pistol’s gonna stop that thing if it gets mad?”
Archer shrugged. “You’ve got a better idea?”
Without moving a muscle in her face or deviating from her normal calm intonation even slightly, T’Pol managed to convey cool disdain for the notion. “Commander Tucker has a point, sir. Phase pistols are likely to be quite useless if in fact Wanderer is a danger to us. And there is no point in your accompanying me to speak to Wanderer, given that you do not feel safe. I am perfectly capable of asking it whatever questions you wish. I am quite certain it will not harm me.”
Archer was by no means as certain—but he was willing to accept T’Pol’s offer so that he could accomplish other things in the interim. “Very well, Sub-Commander. Although I want it noted that I’m gravely concerned for your safety, and am ordering you to arm yourself.”
“And I must refuse, sir.”
Archer could feel no anger: like Trip, he doubted whether a phase pistol would protect T’Pol if Wanderer decided to attack. He could only hope that, having communicated directly with T’Pol, Wanderer would have some compunctions about harming her.
T’Pol found Wanderer still lingering in the laboratory where Hoshi had been working. The creature was still hovering near the main computer databanks—it needed no terminal or viewer to access information, but apparently absorbed it directly from the computers themselves.
T’Pol crossed the threshhold, stood beside the creature, and remained silent—voice silent, thoughts silent, mind still, for she did not wish to communicate inadvertently any of her previous conversation with the captain. If Wanderer was innocent, she had no wish to offend; and if the creature was guilty, she did not wish to give it notice of the preparations to defend the crew, lest it retaliate.
For a full minute, Wanderer continued working on accessing the database. T’Pol waited patiently, but when her gaze fell on Hoshi’s now abandoned station, she noticed something odd: a very slight scorching around the terminal data input area. She moved toward the area, and drew a fingertip over the darkened spot, then examined it.
Fine ash.
She pressed a control to eject the data disk—nothing emerged, and when she peered more carefully into the drive, she discovered a layer of black cinders. The disk had apparently been incinerated.
She turned to the energy creature—blue, roiling, and silent.
“Wanderer, do you know what happened to the Oani medical logs?”
Wanderer did not reply. Had T’Pol been capable of feeling surprise, she would have done so; the most obvious conclusion she could arrive at, given the apparently impossible, complete incineration of the Oani logs, was that Hoshi had discovered information that Wanderer had not wanted her to see.
Which led, inevitably, to the next, more unpleasant conclusion: that Wanderer had, in fact, been responsible for the destruction of the Oanis, and the weakness affecting the Enterprise crew members.
For herself, T’Pol felt no fear: instead, she felt a driving curiosity to know the full truth before she died. If Wanderer chose to kill her, the very fact of her death would serve the captain as notice that his theory was correct, so she would feel no sense of loss, no regret. Once more, she addressed the entity. “Ensign Sato became ill in this laboratory, while working. Yet you did not notify me of her illness. Is there some reason that you did not?”
Again, silence.
“It is interesting,” T’Pol noted, “that the data logs we retrieved from the Oani people have been destroyed. Did you destroy them?”
When Wanderer again did not answer, T’Pol continued. “Your lack of response is perplexing.” She paused. “I have postulated a theory—that you feed off the energy field created by humanoid bodies. Is this correct?”
At last, Wanderer spoke. I do not feed off sentient humanoids.
T’Pol was at once intrigued. “If you do not feed off humanoids, then how do you feed?”
Wanderer