The Good That Men Do - Andy Mangels [54]
Trip winced. “Did everything go okay?” he asked, looking over to Archer and Reed as he rubbed the sore spot. Glancing toward sickbay’s entryway, he saw that Phlox had stretched a white privacy curtain across the transparent aluminum doors that separated the ship’s infirmary from the rest of E deck.
Archer sighed. “As well as can be expected. I have a monster headache, but we’ll take care of that shortly.” He rubbed the spot on the side of his head where one of the “pirates” had clubbed him.
“We’ve got to get you off the ship now,” Malcolm said. “Enterprise is going to pursue the pirate ship any moment. I’ve taken measures to make sure that we don’t quite catch them.”
Phlox held up a pile of garments. “Get into these, Commander, quickly. Where you’re going, you won’t want to have any trace of Starfleet on your person. And we’ll need your uniform for the… burial.”
Trip undressed quickly. “Try to make sure there aren’t too many broken hearts, please?”
Malcolm managed a slight smile, but Trip could see that there was little humor behind it. “Actually, there will probably be widespread relief among the crew, especially in engineering. They’ve always said you were a tyrant.”
“I’ll do my best, Trip,” Archer said. “I’ll contact your family personally.”
Trip was soon dressed again, in a nondescript utilitarian brown jumpsuit.
“The materials I pumped into you while we were trying to ‘save your life’ were actually several wide-spectrum inoculants,” Phlox said, handing him an enzyme-infused medical wipe to clean the burn smudges away. “It’s unlikely you would have ever before encountered the pathogens they protect against, but you’re venturing into unknown territory now. It’s better to be safe than sorry.”
Trip turned to Phlox. “Thanks, Doc. For everything.”
Phlox nodded, his eyes almost as grief-filled as though Trip had actually died.
Trip moved over to Malcolm, taking a device that his friend offered. “This is how they’re going to lock onto you,” Malcolm said. “And it contains the only codes you’ll be able to use to communicate with us, if you need to. Wipe them as soon as you have them memorized.”
Trip put one hand on Malcolm’s shoulder, and stuck his other hand out. They shook hands, looking into one another’s eyes.
“Thank you, Malcolm. I’m sorry you won’t be with me on this mission.”
Malcolm smiled grimly again. “Just remember the first rule of being a spy: Don’t fall for the girl. They’re always working for the bad guy.”
“I’ll try to remember that,” Trip said, turning toward Archer. He held out his hand again, but was surprised when the captain pulled him into a bear hug instead.
“I’ve known you too long,” Archer said. “You come back to my ship. That’s an order.”
“I will,” Trip said. “You just make sure you do your part to save the galaxy while I’m gone.” He felt his eyes watering, and pulled back from the embrace.
Trip stepped to the center of the room and depressed a button on the device Malcolm had given him.
“It’s been a pleasure and an honor serving with you all,” he said. “This isn’t a good-bye, though. Just a ‘see you later.’”
Even as the words were still leaving his lips, he felt the unnerving tug of the transporter, and the eerie sensation of momentary freefall that accompanied it.
Like a Valkyrie, the beam carried him off to his next life.
It had been three hours since Trip had materialized aboard the “pirate” ship, where he had finally met the men who had been paid to “raid” Enterprise.
Wungki was the captain’s name, and he was scarcely any friendlier now than he’d been in the corridors of E deck, where he had played the role of the head “pirate.” He had apologized, however, for having been so rough on Captain Archer. Captain Wungki’s crew of eight consisted entirely of mercenaries, all of whom seemed willing to work for just about anyone capable of paying them.
That meant that they tended not to ask questions, and therefore were likely to be counted on to be discreet. “You’re not the first person whose death we’ve helped fake,” Wungki