The Good That Men Do - Andy Mangels [134]
Trip paused for a moment, still struggling to calm himself, though it wasn’t easy at the rate their pursuer continued to gain on them. “When did you figure out I wasn’t really Cunaehr?” he finally said in a quiet voice.
Wondering if his helmet had muffled his words too much to allow Ehrehin to have heard him, Trip was about to repeat his question when the scientist said, “Frankly, it was always difficult to accept you at face value, although I must confess that you do bear an astonishing resemblance to Cunaehr. But it was far too convenient for Cunaehr to reappear precisely when I needed his encouragement the most.”
Trip sighed, feeling like an utter failure. So the only people I’ve managed to fool on this spy mission of mine are all the people back home who think I’m dead. Peachy.
“If I really were Cunaehr, Doctor,” he said aloud, “I think I’d still ask for your help. We need to get the com system back up at least.”
“Why? So you can bargain with Valdore for your life? I must caution you: The admiral is not renowned for his willingness to take prisoners.”
You’re afraid of him, Trip thought. He’d noticed a new tremor in the scientist’s voice that couldn’t have been attributable to old age alone.
Aloud, he said, “I’m actually thinking about your safety, Doctor.”
Ehrehin smiled, and Trip saw an amused gleam in the old man’s eye. “My safety? I should think that the arrival of one of Valdore’s ships should more than ensure that.”
“Unless Valdore decides to kill you because he believes he’s caught you in the act of defecting.”
“The admiral would never believe such a story- especially if it were told by a spy.”
Trip tried to summon up everything he could remember from the briefings Phuong had given him on Romulan politics. “The question isn’t whether Valdore believes me or not, Doctor- it’s what he already believes about you.”
Ehrehin’s smile collapsed, swept away by another dark, forehead-crumpling scowl. “What are you talking about?”
Another glimpse of the fast-approaching blip on the console sent a large bead of sweat racing down Trip’s back, and pushed his words out somewhat faster than before. “It’s no secret that you have differences with the Romulan military. You’ve even been known to criticize the Praetor himself from time to time. But I suppose that’s one of the privileges of being too important to the Romulan war machine- whose goals you haven’t been all that happy with over the years- to make you worry too much about ending up with somebody’s nice, shiny Honor Blade sticking out of your back.
“And then there’s what your military is about to do to Coridan Prime. I might not be Cunaehr, Doctor, but I think I’ve gotten to know you well enough to believe that you wouldn’t want anything to do with that.”
Trip could see that he had finally gotten Ehrehin’s full attention. He had no choice other than to press on, keep pushing any advantage he could find. “You don’t have to be a part of that. You don’t have to keep looking over your shoulder. You don’t have to live in fear of what will happen to you after the Praetor finally decides that you’ve outlived your usefulness to the Empire’s expansion plans.
“You could live among my people instead. Balance out the Empire’s need for conquest by helping us stand against their military machine. You know what will happen if you don’t: More planets will get rolled over by Valdore. Millions of people could end up dead, or as slaves. And it’ll be because you helped make it happen. In fact, maybe it can’t even happen at all without your help. Can you live with that?”
He fell silent then, and simply watched the play of emotions that crossed the old man’s deeply lined face- or at least as much of it as Ehrehin’s stubborn self-discipline and two sturdy helmet faceplates would reveal.
Trip seriously doubted that he had completely convinced Ehrehin to throw in his lot with him. But the thoughtful look in the old man’s dark eyes made it clear that he had upset the scientist’s earlier pretense of equanimity about going