The Good That Men Do - Andy Mangels [100]
Aw, crap, Trip thought.
The hangar’s overhead lights came on, triggered by what Trip assumed was an emergency power circuit designed for occasions such as this. Though Trip’s eyes were momentarily dazzled by the brilliance, he could make out the ring of armed, uniformed figures deployed all around them. One of those figures stepped directly toward him, carrying a large black pistol in one hand.
It was Ch’uihv. Or Sopek.
Trip decided it didn’t much matter what the man chose to call himself.
The former Vulcan ship captain came to a stop perhaps two meters away from Trip- close enough for Trip to catch the full brunt of the man’s angry, hostile glare.
“I am very disappointed in you, Cunaehr. Some of my associates counseled me initially not to trust you, but I ignored them because of your relationship to the esteemed Doctor Ehrehin.” Ch’uihv paused to favor the old man with a respectful nod before fixing his angry glare again upon Trip. “But it is clear to me now that you are most likely either a spy for Admiral Valdore and the military, or an operative for one of the Romulan Star Empire’s intelligence services.”
He raised his weapon and leveled it straight at Trip. Think fast, Tucker, he thought, struggling in vain to find the right words to buy at least a little more time before his assailant opened fire.
“Cunaehr had absolutely nothing to do with this,” Phuong said in a loud, confident voice as he stepped directly between Ehrehin and Ch’uihv, his hands raised over his head. “This was entirely my doing, not his. I merely thought it prudent to bring Cunaehr along to calm Doctor Ehrehin should he become emotionally overwrought.”
What the hell does he think he’s doing? Trip thought.
A thoughtful look crossed Ch’uihv’s face, and he lowered his weapon momentarily. Then he took Trip’s weapon, walked past him, and stopped within a meter or so of Phuong, who had just dropped his own weapon onto the floor. Ch’uihv raised his weapon once again.
And fired it point-blank at Phuong, who was instantly reduced to a pile of incinerated flesh and clothing. The sickening stench of immolated flesh filled the hangar, and Trip had to work hard to suppress his suddenly buoyant gorge. In the distance, he heard at least one of the armed guards retching. A fleeting hazy memory, now suddenly crystal clear, danced through his mind: the Adigeon surgeon warning him that this voyage into the Romulan Star Empire would probably be a strictly oneway affair.
Ch’uihv stood almost directly over Phuong’s smoldering mortal remains. Strangely, Trip thought the look on his violence-hardened face strongly resembled pity. “Such a noble soul,” he said. “And such a filthy liar.” He raised his weapon again.
This time, he pointed it directly at Trip’s head.
Twenty-Nine
Friday, February 21, 2155
Enterprise Nx-01
STANDING ALONGSIDE CAPTAIN ARCHER, Phlox watched anxiously as T’Pol adjusted the power levels on the telepresence helmet yet again. Against his better judgment, the doctor had allowed Shran to be rewired to the device, but only after Shran, Theras, and T’Pol had all had six hours of desperately needed sleep.
He still thought that the machine was likely to cause irreparable damage to Shran’s cerebral cortex, but the Andorian was adamant, and the device did seem to represent their one tangible hope of finding the kidnapped Aenar. However, Phlox’s current concerns were exacerbated by the unpleasant whine of the machine and the ugly burned-flesh-and-ozone smell that once again permeated his sickbay.
Shran ground his teeth, his hands alternately and repeatedly flexing and extending, perhaps because the helmet restricted the unconscious, emotionally driven movements of his antennae. “I think… I sense something,” he said. “The ship that’s carrying Jhamel. It is in Romulan space.”
T’Pol’s expression showed more concern than surprise. “Are you certain?”
Tears rolled down Shran’s face