The Romulan War_ Beneath the Raptor's Wing (Book 1) - Michael A. Martin [11]
All right, Trip thought, more determined than ever to bring his spy career to an end. So I’m gonna have to play Cunaehr a little longer than I’d hoped. At least till I’m sure who I’m dealing with here.
“Are you all right, Cunaehr?” T’Vran said. “You do not look well.”
Trip willed away another wave of light-headedness. “I’ll be fine, Captain.”
The eyebrow lifted again. “Then you should be able to answer my question: Why do you wish to go to Earth—particularly now, when that world is under direct threat of Romulan attack?”
Romulan attack. Her words echoed in his head, which was beginning to feel as though it were stuffed with cotton. Romulan attack. Of course, Earth itself wasn’t under Romulan bombardment just yet. But he knew it would happen, just as soon as the Romulans had gathered sufficient personnel and matériel to launch assaults from their newly acquired beachheads.
Unless somebody did something about it before they were ready.
“The Romulans are conducting large fleet movements right now,” Trip said. “They have a toehold at Calder, and they’re already trying to get another one at Alpha Centauri. If they’re not stopped, they’ll be able to send whole battle groups to Earth, and to the rest of the Coalition planets.”
T’Vran answered with a coolness that made Trip believe that butter wouldn’t have melted in her mouth. “And you seem to believe that you—alone—can do something about this.”
“Well, somebody’s gotta do something about it!” Trip said, his arms flailing as he abandoned any pretense of Vulcan reserve.
“I assure you, Cunaehr, the Vulcan High Command is already well aware of whatever fleet movements the Romulan Star Empire may or may not be undertaking at the moment,” T’Vran said, her brow creasing into a single barely perceptible furrow.
“That’s good to hear. So what the hell do they intend to do about it?”
“I do not know.”
And you sure as hell wouldn’t tell me if you did, Trip thought as spots began to swim before his eyes, prompting him to blink rapidly to chase them away.
A small runnel of sweat trickled from his brow down into his collar. “You don’t believe anything I just told you,” he said. “Do you?”
She stared at him for a protracted moment before responding. “I do not wish to insult you, Cunaehr. But I do not find you to be a credible source of information.”
Trip couldn’t help but wonder whether the woman staring at him from the bench had made a similar assessment. Looks like we’re at a standoff here, he thought. T’Vran can’t trust me because I came here straight from a Romulan escape pod. And for all I know she and the lady giving me the stink eye are just a couple of glorified Romulan interrogators.
He knew that this occasion would require a leap of faith. And he understood that he would have to be the one to take it.
And he suddenly knew in which direction he had to leap.
Making a studied effort to calm himself, Trip leaned forward slightly across the round conference table. “Let me prove that you can trust what I tell you,” he said.
“How do you propose to do that?” T’Vran said.
“You’ve just about accused me of being a Romulan. But I know something that no Romulan could ever know. Something you can verify independently with your superiors.” He hiked a thumb over his shoulder. “If you’ll send the guard out of the room, I’ll tell you what it is.”
He half turned to assess the reactions of the guard, as well as the silent, staring Vulcan woman on the bench. Both appeared to tense perceptibly, despite their Vulcan calm.
Turning back to face T’Vran, he said, “So how about it, Captain?”
“All right,” she said, absolutely no fear or apprehension in her tone. Trip didn’t doubt she could take him in a fair fight, with or without the assistance of the staring woman. With a nod, the captain dismissed