The Good That Men Do - Andy Mangels [89]
“And you, Cunaehr- I truly never expected to see you again, especially after that accident on Unroth III.”
Once again, Trip was rattled by that same feeling of deja vu. Even the man’s voice sounded familiar.
He suddenly realized why, and that abrupt awareness very nearly caused him to lose his composure. But he really thinks I’m Ehrehin’s assistant, Cunaehr, Trip thought, his mind racing. So he hasn’t seen through my disguise the way I’ve seen through his . At least, not yet.
Trip was determined to cling to that slender advantage for as long as he possibly could. “It was a very near thing,” he said finally, trusting his Adigeon-altered vocal cords, as well as his translator, to complete the illusion that he was, indeed, Cunaehr. “I look forward to seeing Doctor Ehrehin again.”
The man named Ch’uihv broke out into a smile, an occurrence that Trip gathered was probably rare. And seeing a smile on such a Vulcan-like face struck Trip as extremely odd. “And I am sure that Doctor Ehrehin will be delighted to see you. It’s extremely fortunate for us that you are here, in fact; your presence may make him easier to handle. Please, come inside with us.”
The stolid presence of the armed men by the door made it crystal clear to Trip that Ch’uihv wasn’t making a request.
“Lead the way,” said Phuong, his voice betraying no fear.
Instead of taking them straight to Doctor Ehrehin, as Trip had hoped, Ch’uihv and his men led them into a comfortably appointed sitting room or waiting room, where yet another Romulan- a youngish-looking female this time, also clad in paramilitary garb, and looking every bit as dangerous as any of the men- brought them refreshments before leaving them alone together in the room.
Trip and Phuong sat at a small, round table, both of them eyeing the tray of exotic-looking fruits, meats, and breads that the woman had left for them.
Phuong immediately grabbed a plate and some silverware. He heaped some food on a plate and started to eat.
“Hey!” Trip said. “You sure that’s safe?”
Phuong paused for a moment, then spoke around a mouthful of food. “You think they’d bother poisoning us? If they really wanted us dead, I think they’d just shoot us.”
Trip had to admit that Phuong had a point. Besides, he couldn’t deny the insistent growling of his own stomach, and he quickly began digging into the food before him with gusto, though he studied the tall, clear carafe that accompanied it with some suspicion. It contained an intensely blue liquid that reminded him uncomfortably of something called a Blue Hawaii, an alcoholic beverage with which he’d once had an unfortunate experience back on Earth many years ago.
Phuong noticed Trip’s discomfiture immediately. “It’s called Romulan ale. It’s got quite a kick, but I can guarantee that it’s nonlethal.”
Trip shrugged, then began filling a pair of squared-off drinking glasses with the sapphire-hued fluid. “If you say so.” He handed one of the glasses to Phuong, then took a single cautious sip of his own before deciding that he liked a smooth Kentucky bourbon a lot better.
“Something’s bothering you,” Phuong said, setting his cutlery down momentarily.
Trip nodded. “I’m not sure it’s safe to talk about it here, though.”
“The electronics woven into our clothing would have let us know if there were any bugging devices trained on us now. Go ahead and speak freely.”
Trip looked furtively about the room for a moment, as though he expected to see a hidden microphone embedded in a wall, or a chair, or perhaps even in the food. Feeling foolish, he forced himself to focus all his attention back upon Phuong.
“It’s about our host,” Trip said quietly. “This Ch’uihv character. He’s not who he seems to be.”
Phuong chuckled and appeared almost to aspirate a swallow of his Romulan ale. “In case you haven’t noticed, neither are we.”
Trip felt his irritation beginning to rise. “From the moment I first laid eyes on him, I knew I’d met him before. It was over three years ago, during one of the civil conflicts on Coridan Prime. His name was Sopek back then, and