The Good That Men Do - Andy Mangels [107]
The viewscreen image changed to a reverse angle as a quartet of phase cannon blasts ripped into the Romulan ship even as Enterprise zoomed past the other vessel.
“Their engines have been crippled,” Reed said, his tone exultant. “Their defensive hull plating is down to twenty percent of capacity and is failing quickly.”
Archer flashed a grin at Malcolm, then shot a quick glance in Shran’s direction. Despite his apparently depleted condition because of his repeated use of the telepresence apparatus, the Andorian was smiling broadly as well. Theras wore a stricken expression, no doubt unused to being in the presence of such violence.
“Bring us about, Travis,” Archer said, then looked down at the intercom on the arm of his chair. “Ensign Moulton, prepare to beam out the Aenar.”
“Aye, sir,” Moulton said.
“Captain, I’m showing two other ships coming into range, closing fast.” T’Pol’s voice rose. “They’re Romulan war vessels.”
Damn, Archer thought. That’s what I get for letting myself get cocky.
“On-screen,” he said.
Even as the image on the viewscreen showed two sleek, greenish craft arcing quickly toward Enterprise, Hoshi called out.
“Receiving a transmission, Captain.”
“You have made an illegal incursion into territory controlled by the Romulan Star Empire,” a woman’s voice said menacingly, her words rendered into precise English by Hoshi’s translation matrix. “And you have fired upon a Romulan vessel. That was your final mistake.”
“They’re charging their weapons, Captain,” Reed said. He hit the tactical alert alarm with his left hand, and klaxons began to blare throughout the ship.
Simultaneously, a pair of energy bolts lanced out of the forward sections of both of the Romulan vessels.
“Reinforce dorsal hull plating!” Archer yelled, bracing himself for an impact he could only hope wouldn’t vaporize them outright.
Thirty-Two
Friday, February 21, 2155
Rator II
AFTER EHREHIN HAD laboriously completed his fourteenth diagram, Ch’uihv- whom Trip thought had been listening and watching both patiently and attentively until now- began to look distinctly restless.
“Is this presentation of yours really going anywhere, Doctor?” the man Trip had once known as Sopek asked Ehrehin flatly, the outer edges of his slanted eyebrows rising steeply in clearly evident anger. Trip still found it odd to see emotions displayed on such an apparently Vulcan face.
Despite the danger he was in, Ehrehin displayed an exasperated expression, looking like a college lecturer being asked yet another in an endless series of stupid questions by a none-too-bright undergraduate. “Wherever this presentation is going,” the old man said in a waspish tone, “it would get there a good deal faster were you to refrain from interrupting again until I finish it.”
Ch’uihv scowled deeply. “I know something about engineering, Doctor. And if I didn’t know better, I might think you were merely stalling for time.”
The hard-faced guards posted around the prisoners looked skeptical as well, making Trip- still seated beside Dr. Ehrehin with his hands bound behind his back- decidedly more nervous than he already was.
“Ridiculous,” Ehrehin said with the sneer of an eminent academic who was growing weary of casting pearls before swine. “Now, if I may resume?”
Ch’uihv gestured toward the computer terminals on the tabletop. “By all means, Doctor.”
Of course, Trip knew very well that Ehrehin was indeed stalling for time, though precisely what the old man hoped to accomplish by continuing to do so eluded him. Whether it happened in the next ten minutes or was delayed for another two hours, the scientist was marked for death.
Just like me, Trip thought, eyeing the disruptor pistol that Ch’uihv had left lying on the tabletop beside his computer terminal, still well out of Trip’s reach. Though the weapon might as well have been a parsec away, Trip couldn’t help but wish for telekinesis, imagining the gun making a swift leap into one of his manacled hands.
After deleting his current technical diagram- which had no doubt been captured along with all