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The staring woman continued to watch, sitting as motionless as though her body had thrown down roots.

“She is authorized to hear any secrets you may choose to reveal,” T’Vran said in response to Trip’s silent query. “What did you wish to tell me?”

He nodded, and took a deep breath. In addition to the air being far too hot and thin, something seemed to be going wrong with the ship’s inertial dampers as well. “There’s a man,” he said, struggling to keep his thoughts focused. “This man served as the keeper of the—ah, what do you call it—the katra of Surak during the last few days Administrator V’Las was in power.”

T’Vran nodded, her demeanor somehow grimmer even through her mask of nonemotion. “Those were dark times indeed. What do you know about this keeper of Surak’s katra?”

The entire room seemed to be slowly turning, even as it began to grow dark at the edges. “He’s a human. And I know his name: Jonathan...”

The lights dimmed entirely before Trip got to hear the rest of his own words.

FOUR

Saturday, July 26, 2155

Enterprise NX-01, en route to Tarod IX

THE BRIDGE WAS QUIET as the time of the shift change drew near. Which was why the amber light in the lower left-hand corner of her bridge comm console immediately attracted Ensign Hoshi Sato’s attention.

Checking her chronometer, she saw that more than half an hour remained before she was to have her private meeting with Captain Archer. Reassured that she had time at least to scan through the latest dispatches from Earth’s most influential media organization, Hoshi placed the tiny receiver in her right ear and toggled the activation switch. The recording that had just arrived via the subspace bands immediately began spooling onto one of her small comm screens.

Newstime, Hoshi thought. She settled back in the comm station’s padded chair, expecting to see the latest news of the unfolding Romulan conflict, just as the civilian world back home on Earth was receiving it.

What she didn’t expect to see was Enterprise orbiting a half-sunlit Earth. Judging from the latticework of support structures visible on the screen’s right side, the image must have been made aboard the McKinley drydock station, or perhaps the Obama facility.

“This is Newstime, with Gannet Brooks,” intoned the familiar deep voice of the same faceless male announcer Hoshi had first heard back in grade school. Hearing it now, particularly during times as stressful as these, was always a comfort.

As Enterprise continued her slow, stately tumble around humanity’s homeworld—and the angular logo of the Solarcorp News Service—a more spontaneous-sounding female voice replaced the canned male one. “This is Gannet Brooks, with all the news that’s under the sun. Although the reports remain sketchy, Starfleet’s Starship Enterprise— one of Earth’s most advanced interstellar vessels—has been involved in what Starfleet’s public relations officials describe as a ‘skirmish’ in the distant Gamma Hydra sector.”

Hoshi suddenly noticed a presence beside her, and looked up to see Lieutenant Reed standing at her elbow, watching the small comm screen along with her.

“Do you mind turning the sound up a bit, Ensign?” Reed said. “I’d like to see why Newstime thinks we’re headline news.”

It was obvious to Hoshi that Reed’s remark was intended as tongue-in-cheek, his dry British sense of humor coming to the fore. Just as it was crystal clear that there could be only one reason why Gannet Brooks would consider Enterprise particularly newsworthy this week.

After all, it wasn’t every day that one of Starfleet’s most prominent captains abandoned a distressed civilian vessel and its crew in order to save his own ship.

Deactivating her earpiece, Hoshi brought the sound up so that Reed could listen along with her to Brooks’s report. Her finger remained poised over the mute switch, however, just in case Captain Archer returned to the bridge unexpectedly.

“Starfleet Command’s Admiral Samuel W.