The Romulan War_ Beneath the Raptor's Wing (Book 1) - Michael A. Martin [214]
“You mean our meek, mild-mannered Tevik might suddenly ‘go Romulan’ on us?”
“The danger may not be imminent at the moment. But without a continued regime of frequent melds to keep his memory blocks firmly in place, I would judge that outcome to be an eventual certainty.”
Trip rose and began pacing beside the sofa. “Crap. I really hate being right all the time. I knew this whole memory suppression thing was a good, old-fashioned bad idea right from the start.”
“Perhaps it is,” T’Pol said. “But I can certainly understand why Ych’a perceived the need to suppress much of Terix’s memory, given the use to which she, or the V’Shar, has decided to put him. But I must question the need to suppress your memories, however.”
“How do we know that’s what really happened?” Trip said, coming to a stop. “I mean, I expect Ych’a not to be entirely candid, or even to tell lies; she’s a spy, after all. But the thought that she might have tampered with my memories...” He trailed off, perhaps having difficulty digesting the idea that he may have suffered such a deep, fundamental violation without even knowing about it.
“Ych’a has tampered with Terix’s memories,” T’Pol pointed out. “Do you honestly believe it impossible that she might have decided it had become necessary to do the same to you? She certainly has the ability.”
“Maybe. But judging from my own, um, limited direct experience with this stuff, a mind-meld seems sort of like a huge fun-house mirror for the mind, or a kind of dreamscape. You can never be entirely sure what you’re looking at. Maybe you just misinterpreted something you saw.”
“Perhaps. However, that would not explain the gap in your memory.”
“No. But it might account for your thinking you saw something inside Terix’s head right after you caught a glimpse of what you think was the exact same thing in mine. I can remember everything important that happened on that mission, including the finish—the explosion that wiped out the Romulan warp-seven prototype starship and the stolen Vulcan ship.”
T’Pol nodded. Via Trip’s memories, she had witnessed the same sequence of events, though she hadn’t actually seen the explosion consume the vessels that Trip had described; both ships were supposed to have been moored inside the enclosed shipyard when its reactor core went critical and tore the entire facility apart, and thus wouldn’t have been visible to outside eyes at the time.
“As far as you know,” T’Pol pointed out.
It had struck her that Trip and Terix could indeed have shared an experience that Ych’a might wish to see suppressed—the knowledge that they only appeared to have accomplished their mission objective. But what end would such a betrayal on Ych’a’s part serve? Still, T’Pol had been dealing with a government that appeared rife with both foolish idealism and corruption, and perhaps other failings that she had yet to bring to light. She had to concede that anything was possible. Including the prospect that there was no one, other than Trip, whom she could afford to trust implicitly, even among the ranks of her oldest friends.
“Of course it’s as far as I know, T’Pol,” Trip said, looking perplexed. “What are you trying to say? That you don’t trust me to remember what I saw?”
“I was merely beginning to wonder,” she said, “whether Ych’a and Sopek know the same things that you and I do—but also know them somewhat... differently.”
SEVENTY-TWO
Sunday, April 4, 2156
Columbia, near Tellar
“THE LEAD SHIP in the convoy confirms receipt of the pergium consignment, Captain,” Ensign Valerian reported from the comm station.
It’s about damned time, Erika Hernandez thought. As vital as pergium could be to the life-support systems employed