The Expanse - J.M. Dillard [15]
Archer faced him fiercely. Soval seemed to have already made up his mind—regardless of how “logical” the evidence was. “I haven’t the slightest idea. But that doesn’t change what’s on that scanner.” He nodded at the component from the Xindi ship. “That fragment’s from the future. Unless you have another explanation.”
The Ambassador was unmoved. “The ‘lack of another explanation’ doesn’t make your assumption correct.”
Archer gave up on him: Clearly, the Vulcans were too deeply mired in their dogma concerning time travel to be persuaded. Instead, the Captain turned his focus on Admiral Forrest.
And in Forrest’s weary eyes, there shone the first stirring of belief. Archer felt a surge of victory, even before the Admiral said quietly:
“I’ll speak with Command.”
Soval shook his head in suspiciously humanlike disapproval and frustration.
Archer took pleasure in ignoring him, and gestured at the morgue unit. If Starfleet gave the Enterprise permission, Archer would need to be able to recognize the enemy he would be dealing with. “I’d like to take a look in there,” he said grimly.
Forrest nodded to the nearby security guards; one came forward and worked a control console next to the unit.
The covering slid open, releasing a blast of cold vapor that turned to mist in the warmer air.
Archer looked down through the white swirls; beneath lay the scorched, battered remains of the probe’s pilot.
The Captain was not quite sure what he had expected to see—perhaps a hairless race, sleek and exotic, like the Suliban, futuristic-looking. Instead, what he saw was the charred corpse of a tall biped, dressed in twisted remnants of metallic armor. The creature’s face was so badly scorched its features had caved inward, making any guesses as to its actual appearance impossible.
The Captain raised his scanner over the alien corpse.
“Are you suggesting this is a Xindi?” Soval’s tone was still laced with skepticism.
Archer didn’t even glance up. “I sure as hell would like to find out.”
Chapter 5
Archer returned to the Enterprise, still in orbit around Earth, and found a summons from Phlox awaiting him. He proceeded immediately to sickbay, where he found the doctor in the company of a stern-looking Vulcan.
Phlox’s usual abundantly cheerful manner was subdued—in part because of the tragedy which had occurred on Earth. But at least part of it was due to his visitor; Archer got the strange impression that the Denobulan, who was always avidly friendly and interested in everyone and everything, didn’t much care for the Vulcan.
Even so, Phlox’s tone was pleasant. “This is Doctor Fer’at.”
Fer’at was slight, with hair the color of steel and a jumpsuit to match; his eyes were large and probing.
Archer scowled at him impatiently. “I don’t have a lot of time. What’s up?”
Phlox answered in Fer’at’s stead. “The Vulcan research team detected traces of pyritic radiation in the alien debris.”
“Why didn’t Starfleet catch it?” Archer asked.
“Some of our technology is still more advanced than yours,” Fer’at replied smoothly.
Archer’s frown deepened; he’d had more than enough of Vulcans and their patronizing attitudes.
Phlox sensed the Captain’s irritation and leaned forward, his tone mollifying. “We’re going to need to treat anyone who got close to the wreckage. Doctor Fer’at is here to determine the extent of your exposure.”
Fer’at motioned to a nearby diagnostic bed. “It shouldn’t take long,” he told Archer. “Please sit down.”
Archer sat grudgingly. The Vulcan produced a type of medical scanner the Captain had never seen before, and began to wave it over Archer’s body. Meanwhile, Phlox moved to a nearby console and continued some work of his own.
Fer’at assumed a clinical air. “Have you experienced any nausea or dizziness?”
“No.” Archer was still puzzling over the fact that Starfleet had failed to detect the