The Expanse - J.M. Dillard [20]
“I can’t remember the last time you weren’t late,” she said with dry good humor. Her tone changed abruptly, became somber. “Did they bring you back because of what happened?”
Archer looked down at the tablecloth. He didn’t have to answer; Rebecca understood, as she almost always did, without words.
“For how long?” she asked.
“I wish it was longer ...” Archer said honestly. “I was hoping to spend some time with you.”
Tommy appeared silently and smoothly, without interrupting the flow of the conversation, set the Scotch in front of him. He took a long drink.
“How’s Porthos?” she asked. She always inquired after the beagle; it was her mother, after all, who’d given Archer the dog from one of her prize litters. Four fine males; four little Musketeers, she’d called them, and that’d been that. The rowdy little pup had been christened on the spot.
“He’s great,” Archer said, reminded that despite the horror of the past several days, there were still good things in life. Porthos was one of them—unconnected to the tragedy, unaware of it, always happy to see his master. “Turns out he loves space—if he even realizes he’s out there. He’s a trouper.”
She smiled faintly at that; another long silence ensued, during which time her expression grew grim.
“Do they know who did this?” Rebecca asked him. “Why they did this?”
“We know a little bit, but not enough.” He smiled apologetically and shook his head as he picked up his chopsticks and stole a bite of her dinner. “I’ll probably be gone for a long time, Becky.”
As always, she refused to be sentimental. “You’ve been gone for a long time before.”
He set down the chopsticks and permitted himself to look at her—really look at her, to memorize her as she was now. And he could see at once that she understood, in typical lightning-Rebecca-fashion, that he was not talking about a typical mission.
She tried at once to lighten the mood. “If I find out you’ve got a girl in every spaceport ...”
He smiled and reached across the table to take her face in his hands; he had forgotten the warmth, the softness of her skin, and impulsively leaned across the table and kissed her, gently.
Rebecca was not one to be outdone; she returned the kiss, full force, and when at last they broke from each other, both were breathing audibly.
“I suppose you expect me to invite you back to my apartment,” she said wryly.
Archer kept his tone light. “What are my chances?”
She picked up a fortune cookie from a small plate and opened it with a resounding crack, then pulled out the small strip of paper hidden inside. She read it studiously, puckering her brow, then glanced back up at him.
“You’re in luck ...”
Chapter 6
Aboard the Enterprise, T’Pol entered sickbay tentatively.
It was not her habit to solicit advice from others, or to discuss personal decisions; logic generally dictated an obvious path.
But in this case, logic failed, and meditation did little to clarify the issue. T’Pol knew what her instincts told her—to remain on board, to continue serving with the crew. She would be needed for the difficult journey ahead.
Instincts, however, were often tainted with emotion, and T’Pol could not permit feeling to influence such a critical decision. Ethically, she was bound to follow the dictates of the Vulcan High Command, and remain behind. She had an influential career as a diplomat awaiting her; to risk entering the Expanse was to risk years of training. It was not easy for the High Command to locate Vulcans willing to work closely with humans, and T’Pol was not only willing, she had become comfortable in their company. That made her a valuable commodity to the Vulcan government. As willing as she might be to sacrifice her own life because it could possibly help save the human race, she had to think of the impact her choice would have on her own people.
She entered sickbay in search of clarity.
The physician Phlox was seated at his work station, peering at the screen. Even in repose, his round, ridged face radiated benevolence.