The Good That Men Do - Andy Mangels [121]
“I thought we had sedated each of the prisoners, Centurion,” Taith said. “To blunt their telepathic abilities during their passage to Romulus.”
“That was my belief as well,” Rhai said. “But suppose our prisoners had planted the notion into our minds? Suppose we never actually sedated them, or were deceived into leaving even a few of them with their mental abilities still intact?”
Taith shivered slightly, as though the spirits of Erebus were coming for him. If we can’t even trust our own memories… He allowed the thought to trail away like an errant wisp of smoke, though he could do little to shake the vivid image of the T’Lluadh suddenly erupting in all-consuming gouts of flame and venting atmosphere because an Aenar had influenced the control room crew.
“What can we do, Centurion?” Taith whispered.
Rhai raised his disruptor pistol. “If the intruders are still aboard, they may be trying to get the prisoners to freedom right now. Contact the rest of the security contingent, and tell them to concentrate their fire on the detention area’s aft exit.”
Taith put his scanner away and pulled his communications device from his belt, then raised his own weapon. “What about the prisoners, sir?”
“Our orders are clear, Decurion. They are not to come into the possession of anyone- save the Romulan Star Empire. Perhaps if one or two of them are hit, the remainder might be motivated to behave themselves for the duration of their voyage to Romulus.”
As Taith began signaling the rest of his fellow soldiers, he hoped that they would be able to trust that any Aenar suddenly observed “behaving themselves” wasn’t actually a ruse of the deadliest kind.
Shran and T’Pol led Jhamel and the remaining handful of sedated Aenar captives through the transport ship’s darkened, winding passageways, while Lieutenant Reed and the MACOs- one of whom now walked with a pronounced limp, thanks to a stray disruptor bolt- guarded the group’s moving perimeter. As the team made its way toward the vessel’s central core, Shran had to acknowledge his grudging admiration of Theras, who was actually taking the point in the pitch-black corridors.
He’s a pacifist, Shran thought with no small degree of wonderment; it was, after all, a philosophical stance that stood at odds not only with Shran’s own personality, but also one that flew in the face of nearly all of his own often bitter personal experience. And he’s obviously terrified. Yet he’s willing to help us fight a very dangerous, unscrupulous foe.
Because he must want to save Jhamel just as much as I do. Though he was unable to see Jhamel clearly in the darkness, Shran was nevertheless haunted by a vision of the icy gray eyes of the woman he had been quietly in love with for the past several months. A woman whose great strength, despite her own innate pacifism, had been evident to Shran ever since the Romulans had forced her to deal with her brother’s death. He clung to the slender lifeline of the psychic bond her telepathic talents had tethered in his mind, drawing comfort from it even as he worried about the incoherence and fear he sensed in her mind. They’ve drugged her, he reminded himself yet again. Of course she’s incoherent.
A sizzling energy beam interrupted Shran’s reverie, passing close enough to scorch his helmet’s faceplate. The boarding party and the Aenar immediately split into two groups, which flattened against the walls on either side of the narrow corridor.
Shran found himself standing almost nose to nose with Theras. He grabbed the startled Aenar’s tunic, momentarily lifting him a couple of centimeters off the deck. “I thought you said they couldn’t see or hear us!”
“They can’t!” Theras said, almost stammering in fear. “At least, they shouldn’t be able to, even on their scanning instruments.” Once again, Shran felt a wave of loathing for the pasty Aenar, and extended his left arm to shove him up against the same cold metal wall into which he himself was trying to blend.
Another blast bisected the corridor, missing both halves of