The Good That Men Do - Andy Mangels [117]
While recovering the chip, Trip had studiously avoided looking closely at the ruined corpse that he’d been forced to search, and he continued breathing carefully through his mouth so as to avoid the sickening, acrid-yet-cloying smell of burned flesh that suffused the hangar. Now, he forced the focus of his attention back onto the problems of the living, and onto their solutions.
One such solution now loomed directly ahead of him, in the form of the micrometeoroid-pitted hull of a cylindrical, twenty-meter-long spaceship whose design Trip didn’t immediately recognize- the very same vessel onto which Phuong had been about to lead him and Ehrehin before Ch’uihv had interrupted their escape and ended Phuong’s life.
Trip walked to the starboard hatch located approximately amidships, and quickly found the exterior control pad that would extend the gangway that someone had closed after Ch’uihv had made his appearance. A moment later, the open hatchway beckoned, and Trip helped the old man begin ascending the entry ramp, which was slanted at an almost forty-five-degree angle.
Trip cast a mournful backward glance at Phuong’s still form, which thankfully was visible only in silhouette thanks to the interior lighting now streaming from the ship’s hatchway. I can’t just leave him here, Trip thought. He knew that far more than simple human decency was at play here; if the Romulans were to autopsy Phuong, they might determine that he was in fact a human infiltrator, and the consequences for Earth could be dire. He also understood that while there was no stopping an acquisitive Empire from going to war as it pleased, there was also no good reason to provide it with any after-the-fact justifications for its actions.
The ground vibrated in response to a particularly loud exchange of disruptor fire elsewhere in the complex. The jarring sound ascended above the general background wash of combat noise that suffused the place, reminding Trip that time was growing short. At any moment, Ch’uihv and his people could come streaming in, expecting to use the various small vessels housed here to make a hasty escape.
Trip also surmised that Admiral Valdore’s patience wouldn’t be infinite either. Sooner or later, once Valdore finally realized that he wasn’t going to recover Ehrehin, he’d simply order his ships to obliterate the Ejhoi Ormiin compound from orbit. So we’ve got not one but two ticking time bombs to race against, Trip thought, desperately wishing to be anywhere but here.
Once he was certain that Ehrehin wasn’t going to take a bad fall and tumble down the gangway, Trip ran back to Phuong and dragged the dead man’s surprisingly light body up the ramp and into the vessel. He left it lying in a narrow passageway just aft of the entryway, then sealed the hatch before making his way forward to the cockpit.
He was more than a little surprised to see that Ehrehin had already begun running the pilot’s and copilot’s consoles through what could only be a standard pre-flight checklist.
“Thank you, Doctor,” Trip said, taking the pilot’s seat after the old man relinquished it to him and took the copilot’s station on the cockpit’s port side.
The elderly scientist smiled beneficently. “Seeing all the trouble you’ve gone through to keep me safe, Cunaehr, warming up the helm for you seemed like the very least I could do. I flew one of these old scout ships during my military days. I was once a pretty fair pilot myself, you may recall.”
In fact, Trip didn’t recall, but he made no response, busying himself instead with the various controls that were arrayed before him. As the vessel’s numerous interlocking systems continued powering up, Trip continued to study the consoles, hoping against hope that he wouldn’t reveal his imposture to Ehrehin by appearing hesitant or bewildered by the flight instruments and indicators. Fortunately, Romulan instrumentation was fairly