The Expanse - J.M. Dillard [13]
Now the engineer’s eyes were narrowed, his lips taut with grief ... and something which troubled the Captain even more: hatred, and a desire for revenge.
It was night in San Francisco, cool and damp. As the fog rolled in off the Bay, Archer felt a sense of relief that Starfleet Headquarters looked pretty much the same as the last time he’d seen it. It was a reassuring reminder that most residents of Earth were still intact, still going about their usual business.
And yet it was impossible to deny that what had happened had changed everyone and everything.
Certainly it had affected Admiral Forrest severely. Flanked by the Vulcan ambassador, Soval, Forrest stood in his office looking haggard. His black uniform only served to emphasize the fact that his face was now as ashen as his close-cropped hair; beneath his gray brows, his eyes were limned with dark shadows. Despite the urgency of his words, his tone revealed his weariness. “I told Command every word you said. They’re having a hard time buying it.”
Frustration coursed through Archer. He did not like having to believe Silik’s mysterious master, either, but he did not see where they had a choice. “Do they have a better idea of who did this?”
Forrest didn’t even try to reply.
Archer turned on Soval. The ambassador was, as always, maddeningly calm and composed in his green Vulcan robes and black cape; there was, in his detachment, a hint of disdain. He, like Forrest, was also silver-haired, but probably a century or two older. There was something in Soval’s polished mannerisms that reminded Archer uncomfortably of Silik. In fact, at the moment, Archer was beginning to think that he liked the Suliban better.
Soval’s eyes were scarcely open, his hands steepled, as if he were in meditation; he faced serenely forward, meeting no one’s gaze, while Archer paced about.
“And how about the Vulcans?” the Captain said, less than politely. “I suppose you think I’m hallucinating?”
Soval did not deny the charge. “Our Science Directorate has determined that time travel is impossible.”
Archer leaned closer to both men, his manner fiercely intent. “Are you all willing to risk a second attack?”
Neither replied.
“All I’m asking is to take Enterprise and find these Xindi. What do we have to lose, a single starship? Seems like a small price to pay if there’s one chance in a million he was right.”
Soval was unmoved. “Do you know where these coordinates he gave you are?” His tone made it clear that he already knew the answer.
Archer played along. “At warp five ... about a three-month trip.”
“They’re inside the Delphic Expanse,” Soval said, as if Archer should find this extremely meaningful.
Archer didn’t. “What’s that?”
“A region of space nearly a thousand light-years across. Vulcan ships have entered it ... but only a few have returned.”
Now it was Archer’s turn to react with disdain. “You sound like you’re talking about the Bermuda Triangle.” He wondered whether the area still existed after the alien attack.
“There have been reports of fierce and dangerous species,” Soval continued gravely, “unexplained anomalies. ... In some regions, even the laws of physics don’t apply.” He paused and at last, faced Archer and held his gaze. “Twenty years ago, a Klingon vessel emerged from the Expanse. Every crewman on board was anatomically inverted, their bodies splayed open. And they were still alive.”
Archer could not keep from wincing inwardly at the image—but outwardly, he refused to show that Soval’s words had any effect on him.
The Vulcan finished. “You’d be more than foolish to pursue this course of action.”
Archer responded by completely ignoring the Ambassador and turning instead to Forrest. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take ... and I imagine most of my crew would be with me.”
“This is typical of your impulsiveness,” Soval said, his uninflected tone belying the sharply critical nature of his words.