The Expanse - J.M. Dillard [35]
Archer watched as the photonic torpedoes—appearing on the viewscreen as bright, round flares—streaked away from Enterprise toward the rear of the Klingon ship.
Duras had been so focused on firing the disruptors—his one thought that of blowing Archer and his crew to the afterlife—that he quite failed to notice the small, blinking display on his console, with its attendant bleating alarm, showing a bevy of bright red dots moving rapidly toward his unprotected stern.
Perhaps his first officer was about to yell out, to alert him; Duras got only the most fleeting impression of the crewman whirling toward him in that last, fleeting second.
And then the bridge on which he sat began to dissolve.
It was the roar he noticed first: the pounding of blood in his ears, the shriek of the ship, so loud he could hear nothing else, not even the sound of his own frustrated screaming. Then came crimson flecked with gold, brilliant, blinding, blotting out the sight of exploding consoles, shattering bulkheads. Duras drew a breath; fire filled his lungs, seared away his hair.
He tried to draw another, and realized there was no more air to be had: Life support systems had failed. Deafened, sightless, he flailed, and felt himself begin to lift out of his chair: Gravity was failing, too.
In his final, fiery millisecond before he was hurled into the vacuum of space, the Klingon allowed himself one last spasm of hatred for Archer, and wondered: Would he, Duras, be considered a failure in his mission? Would his House continue to feel shame on his behalf, or would his kin instead find honor in his death?
He had not given up, as the others had; he had not turned back. He had persevered, to the end. ...
There was a sudden flare of brightness, of intense heat that took him to a place far beyond pain ... and then it faded abruptly, leaving only infinite darkness.
Chapter 9
Archer watched the viewscreen as, in front of them, the bird-of-prey exploded in an angry red blaze that momentarily lit up the dark clouds like a fleeting sunset.
Enterprise sailed through the flames and debris smoothly, as if she were moving through clear space.
Archer let go a sigh. He took no joy in Duras’s death—though he could not admit to sorrow, either. He had done everything he could to avoid violence, to discourage the Klingon from following—and, indeed, the saner ones on two of the birds-of-prey had wisely chosen to back off, and return home. Duras had been determined to make this a fight to the death; he simply hadn’t realized that Archer was just as equally determined not to lose.
The Captain let go the grim thought and instead directed a faint grin at his helmsman; Archer had to admit to being impressed. “Nice going, Travis.”
Mayweather half turned to him; for the first time, the Captain noticed the beads of sweat on the young helmsman’s dark forehead. “I hope you don’t ask me to do that too often, sir.”
Archer’s grin grew indulgent; it was interrupted by an announcement from a relieved-sounding Hoshi Sato.
“The Expanse is ahead, Captain.”
He gazed up at the viewscreen. In the far distance, the clouds were thinning out, giving way to clear space. He looked at it a long moment before finally asking Trip, “Did you lose any more of those injectors?”
“No, sir,” Tucker replied. His tone was calm—no doubt in part because the battle was over, and his engines were safe ... but Archer also got the impression that Trip was deeply relieved to have finally arrived at their destination, to have the mission truly underway.
The Captain turned to T’Pol, his expression a bit whimsical. “Sure you still want to tag along?”
It was the one thing about her that had always impressed him, from the first time he’d met her: She was the one Vulcan who understood a joke, and knew how to play along.
“It’s only logical,” she answered.
Archer stared back at the viewscreen. After a long silence, he said, “Let’s see what’s in there.”
Enterprise leapt toward the distant stars.
Her passage did not go unnoticed.
At the great