The Good That Men Do - Andy Mangels [86]
“Perhaps we can make another attempt soon,” T’Pol said, addressing Shran. “Once Doctor Phlox confirms that you are medically fit to do so, of course.” She gestured toward the various seared electronic components that now lay strewn about the sickbay deck. “And once Lieutenant Burch and I effect whatever repairs the telepresence unit now requires.” If that’s even possible now, she thought, her nostrils recoiling from the pungent ozone smell that now filled the room.
Shran simply glowered at her in hostile silence, and she met his stare with a wall of Vulcan impassivity. His passions may get him killed, she thought. As well as Jhamel.
Phlox intervened a moment later, ending the nonverbal showdown by stepping between T’Pol and the bed on which Shran lay. “If you don’t mind, Commander, I’d like my patient to have an opportunity to rest for a while.”
T’Pol nodded, picking up immediately on the Denobulan’s none-too-subtle hint, and gestured toward the wreckage of the telepresence apparatus. “Very well, Doctor. I will send Lieutenant Burch down shortly to collect our equipment.”
Phlox smiled solicitously, as though trying to make amends for his earlier display of brusqueness, however justified it might have been. “Thank you, T’Pol. I would very much appreciate that.”
With that, T’Pol turned and exited the sickbay. A moment after entering the corridor, she realized that she wasn’t alone when a shaky voice spoke from directly behind her.
“Why do you suppose the device failed?”
She turned to face Theras, somewhat surprised that the faint-hearted Aenar had the presence of mind to ask such a probing question. “It is difficult to say,” she said. “There could be some unforeseeable difficulty on Jhamel’s end of the mind-link. Or perhaps the problem is that Shran possesses no innate telepathic abilities of his own, in spite of the psionic link that Jhamel established with him.”
Perhaps, she thought, we could adjust the device so that it can be used in tandem by both Shran and Theras—
“T’Pol.” It was another familiar voice. She turned again and saw a somber Captain Archer standing behind her, evidently having just exited a nearby turbolift.
“Captain.”
“I was on my way to sickbay to check on your telepresence experiment,” he said.
She shook her head. “The results of the first attempt left much to be desired. However, I am confident that we will be able to try again soon, perhaps as early as tomorrow. Once Phlox declares Shran medically fit, and after our equipment undergoes some repairs.”
Archer nodded sadly. “I see. Well, I suppose that means you can afford to put it aside for a while.”
T’Pol found that she was having difficulty suppressing a scowl. “I would prefer not to do that, Captain. It is vitally important that we prevent the Romulans from gaining access to any more Aenar pilots.”
“Of course it is, T’Pol. I’m only asking you to set it aside an hour so.” The captain paused momentarily before continuing in a quiet, strained voice. “It’s almost time for Commander Tucker’s memorial service.”
Twenty-Four
Thursday, February 20, 2155
Romulan Space
“ITS LIKE I ALWAYS SAY, COMMANDER,” Phuong said, “nothing says ‘my ship was completely destroyed’ better than a cargo module blown to tiny pieces across an asteroid field.”
Trip watched the cloud of metallic debris slowly expand as its millions of constituent parts- all of which had been essentially a single piece bolted to the Branson’s belly only minutes earlier- drifted and tumbled through space, occasionally colliding anew with each other and the multitudes of irregularly shaped rocky bodies that called this region of space home.
“Let’s just hope that those Romulan bird-of-prey captains are in the mood to buy what you’re selling,” Trip said, his throat dry with apprehension. Otherwise, pretty soon we won’t need a ship to fly through space.
“Don’t worry,” Phuong said in a voice that brimmed with so much confidence that Trip wondered if his associate wasn’t a better actor than a tactician. “This is the same tactic we used to cover the escape of your ‘assas-sins