The Expanse - J.M. Dillard [14]
Archer kept his gaze fixed on the Admiral. It was clear that Forrest had heard him—and was seriously considering his point of view—but was still unconvinced.
At last, Forrest sighed, then spoke. “We’ve lost a lot of people already, Jon. Starfleet Command would need ... some kind of proof before they’d let you go.”
“I’m not sure if the person I spoke to was from the future or not,” Archer countered, “but he knew that this would be the reaction I’d get ...” he paused. “So he did give me proof.”
He felt a small glimmer of satisfaction of the look of surprise on Forrest’s—and quite possibly Soval’s—face.
Admiral Forrest led them both to the hangar where Starfleet had stored the remnants of the alien probe; a nod from the Admiral permitted them to pass two security guards without incident.
The hangar was shrouded in shadow, save for the bright lights that illuminated the area where the wreckage was heaped, and the small refrigerated unit that housed the alien pilot’s remains.
Archer stepped up to a large, jagged piece of scorched, twisted metal, adorned with tendrils of alien circuitry. He withdrew a scanner from his pocket and, with a deep intake of breath and a sincere wish that Silik had not once again played him for a fool, touched the controls on the scanner.
“Jon?” Forrest asked, his tone curious.
“This is quantum data from the debris.” The scanner beeped; Archer held it so that both he and Forrest could read the results. “Take a look.”
Forrest did.
“The principal alloy in this piece was synthesized within the last four years,” Archer said, trying not to be disappointed. He moved to another section of debris and scanned it.
“This one, about a year earlier ...”
Soval spoke, with less-than-perfect Vulcan patience. “What exactly are you trying to show us, Captain?”
Archer took pleasure in ignoring him—while at the same time growing more impatient himself. If Silik’s master had been lying after all ... He moved to yet another section, and performed yet another scan.
“Twelve years for this piece ...”
Even Forrest was becoming slightly annoyed. “Your point, Jonathan?”
“I’m getting to it,” Archer said, a little desperately. He looked around, trying to find a scrap of metal, a piece of debris, clearly different from the rest. He lifted up a chunk of metal and peered underneath.
And there he saw it: an intact piece of machinery—or perhaps, more accurately, technology—the size of his fist. He took it in his hand and scanned it, then checked the readout.
He turned to Admiral Forrest with a sense of triumph and held out the scanner. “You might find this interesting.”
Forrest glanced at the readout—did a beautiful double-take, then stared at it again. “Your scanner’s not working properly.”
“Why’s that, sir?” Archer was careful to keep any hint of gloating from his tone.
“The quantum reads minus four-twenty.”
“And what’s wrong with that?” Archer was fishing and enjoying it.
“Quantum always registers in positive numbers,” Forrest stated, his tone dismissive.
But Archer had come prepared. He pulled a second scanner from his pocket and held it up to the alien component. “Then I guess this one’s not working, either.” He didn’t show it, but he felt an enormous surge of relief and vindication. Silik’s master had been telling the truth after all. And he would not have intervened if there hadn’t been a good chance that a second attack could be stopped.
He had contacted Archer—which meant that it was up to the captain to do something about it—and nothing could stop Archer now, not Soval, not Admiral Forrest, not even Starfleet Command. He’d already made up his mind to find a way to stop the Xindi, even if it meant disobeying orders.
Despite Ambassador Soval’s apparent disinterest, the Vulcan could no longer ignore what was happening. He strode up to Archer, took the scanner, and regarded the readout with distaste.
“You said he told you this ‘faction from the future’ ”—the ambassador uttered the words with