The Good That Men Do - Andy Mangels [104]
Soon, he would be as dead as almost everyone in his life already believed him to be.
He judged the distance between himself and his executioner- about two meters- and decided he had nothing to lose by leaping straight at him. Maybe Ch’uihv would be surprised just enough to give him a fighting chance. Of course, he knew that wouldn’t save him from the armed guards.
But what the hell, he thought. Trip tensed his leg muscles and bent his knees slightly, preparing to take what would very likely be the last long-odds gamble of his life.
“Stop this!” came a shout from behind, disrupting Trip’s concentration and causing a look of mild surprise to cross Ch’uihv’s normally stoic features.
It took Trip a beat to recognize the frail Ehrehin as the source of the cry.
“Don’t take your foolish rage out on Cunaehr, you execrable coward,” Ehrehin said, his voice astonishingly calm and resolute. “There’s no reason for you to do any more killing.”
Ch’uihv chuckled and shook his head. “On the contrary, Doctor. There is indeed a very sound reason. I want something very badly, and unless you provide it immediately I will demonstrate precisely how badly by killing your beloved Cunaehr- if that’s really his name- right where he stands.”
The new stardrive, Trip thought.
“Don’t do it, Doctor,” he said, turning toward the elderly scientist. Before he could react, a crushing blow came down against the side of his head, and he crumpled to the deck, stunned but still conscious.
“Give me detailed schematics of your avaihh lli vastam work, Doctor. Or else I will apply more than the butt of my weapon to your aide’s skull.”
Sprawled prone on the unyielding hangar floor, Trip felt the cold barrel of Ch’uihv’s weapon pressing painfully into the back of his neck.
“Choose, Doctor,” Ch’uihv growled. “Now!”
“Ehrehin, don’t—” Trip said, his voice muffled by the deck and his words interrupted by a bout of nausea, no doubt caused by the blow to his head.
“I will begin counting now, Doctor. Sei.” Thanks to his internal translator, Trip recognized the Romulan word for “three.”
“This is absurd,” Ehrehin said.
“Kre.”
Two, Trip counted. The weapon continued jabbing painfully into the back of his neck.
“There’s no reason this has to happen.”
“Hwi.”
One.
Ch’uihv’s pistol clicked loudly, sounding to Trip like the rattle of a guillotine blade being drawn upward. He tried to persuade his body to roll to the side, even though he still felt stunned and nauseated from the blow he’d just taken. Besides, he knew there was no way he could outrun Ch’uihv’s weapon, even if he were in perfect condition.
“Lliu.”
That’s “zero,” Trip thought. The stench of Phuong’s charred flesh assaulted his nostrils, like a portent of what was to come. He closed his eyes tightly, preparing as best he could for the inevitable.
“If you kill him, I shall kill myself,” Ehrehin said impatiently. “And my knowledge will die with me.”
Trip opened his eyes and saw that the scientist was now standing so close to him that there was no way to hit Trip without taking them both down.
“Is that what you want?” Ehrehin continued, haranguing their captors. “Or would you prefer that we all sit down like civilized people, so that I can properly satisfy your curiosity about my work?”
At first, Trip had thought that Ehrehin had stood up to Ch’uihv; then he suddenly realized that the old man had just done the exact opposite, though he clearly had little choice in the matter.
The pistol withdrew from Trip’s neck, and a pair of Ch’uihv’s men hauled him roughly to his feet, manacling his wrists behind his back without showing an excessive amount of gentleness.
Though he was grateful still to be alive, he knew that Ehrehin had just made an enormous mistake- and very likely the final one of his long career.
A trio of guards dragged Trip unceremoniously out of the hangar, into the now brightly illuminated corridor,