Surak's Soul - J.M. Dillard [58]
Wanderer certainly could not be allowed to take further lives. The question was in weighing the degree of force necessary to restrain the entity.
If the only way to do so was to destroy the creature—this unique, unimaginable being—could T’Pol justify doing so?
The question had particular relevance, since it was clear that someone was soon going to attempt to use the device against Wanderer. And T’Pol, since Wanderer felt ethically bound not to harm her, was the obvious choice. If she refused, she was possibly condemning one of her crewmates to death; if she agreed, she was possibly condemning to death a creature who had only peaceful intentions toward her.
She had promised herself, after killing the Vulcan-turned-smuggler Jossen, that she would never again be party to the death of another. But she knew she would need to make a choice soon, before the captain called upon her.
With Porthos in his lap, Archer permitted himself the luxury of sitting inside engineering and watching Tucker and Reed argue over exactly how the electrical device should be triggered. The relief from the agony in his shoulder now allowed him to realize the severity of his headache, and his level of physical exhaustion; even so, he was grateful that he and his crew had survived thus far…with the exception of Lieutenant Meir. He was still perplexed by the fact that she—or rather, Wanderer inhabiting her body—had left, and permitted him and T’Pol access to engineering.
But at the moment, he was too tired to try to understand. It was enough that Trip and Reed had a handle on the problem, and that for a moment he, Archer, got to sit down and pet his dog.
“No, that won’t work,” Trip Tucker was explaining calmly, with that intently focused look in his eye that Archer’s dad used to describe as “the lights are all on and nobody’s home.” Malcolm Reed was listening, nodding, not taking the comment personally; the two were working together, getting it done. Archer smiled internally at the sight.
Abruptly, the lighting flickered.
Instinctively, Trip looked upward. “What the…?”
The lights flickered again, then the entire room went utterly dark. Even the useless computer console at Archer’s elbow flashed, then dimmed.
Archer sighed and rose, dog in his arms, as the murmuring began. “Everyone stay calm. Please remain silent so that I can direct you.” Exhaustion kept his tone relaxed; inwardly, however, dread began to gnaw at him. In a flash, he understood exactly why Wanderer had chosen to ignore him and T’Pol, why the creature had considered it more important to use human hands and fingers to override more computer circuits. “Let’s not go anywhere until we have to. If Wanderer’s turned off life-support, the less we move and speak, the better.” It occurred to him that perhaps he should put the dog outside, so that there would be more oxygen for his crew; but moving would only use up more oxygen, and the amount Porthos was using was minimal compared with a human.
He didn’t admit to himself that doing so would also break his heart.
His people obeyed. For several moments, the room, which had before been filled with voices, was silent save for the low hum of the warp engines.
“Trip,” he said. “You got any auxiliary lighting? I want you to keep working on that device, if you can.”
“Yes, sir.” Trip paused, and Archer could practically hear the engineer’s mind working as he oriented himself in the darkness to the portable lamps he sought.