The Romulan War_ Beneath the Raptor's Wing (Book 1) - Michael A. Martin [26]
Her eyes were riveted upon him, just as in their previous nonen-counter. Some sort of political officer? he wondered briefly before brushing the matter aside, at least for the moment.
“How is my... colleague doing?” Trip said, gesturing toward the man who lay motionless on the other bed.
The woman the captain had identified as Doctor Sivath spoke up, her tone surprisingly warm yet still businesslike. “He is unconscious, and might remain so for another several days, depending upon the rate of progress his own internal healing processes achieve. However, his condition has stabilized.”
The captain turned toward the security guard and dismissed him; after he had left the infirmary, she faced the doctor again. “Doctor Sivath, have you confirmed your initial findings regarding the origins of the unconscious man?”
Sivath hesitated, apparently not sure about how much she ought to reveal in Trip’s presence. Trip noticed that the woman observing him from Sopek’s bedside had likewise tensed, as though prepared to demand a little bit more discretion from the captain.
“I have,” Sivath said with an obvious unease. “His readings are a close match to the Romulan baseline figures from the intelligence files.”
“So he’s a Romulan,” T’Vran said, raising an eyebrow in Trip’s direction. “Not a Vulcan at all.”
“If the intelligence files are correct, yes,” said Sivath.
Trip could see now that T’Vran was watching him as carefully as was the scowling-but-still-silent observer who sat beside Sopek’s bed. The captain’s trying to shock me into letting slip just how much I know about Sivath’s other patient, he thought. He was well aware that T’Vran was treading on extremely sensitive ground.
“And what of the origin of your more recent patient, Doctor?” T’Vran said, her gaze still fixed upon Trip.
“As you suspected, Captain,” the doctor said, also looking at Trip, “this man is neither Vulcan nor Romulan.”
Uh-oh, Trip thought.
“Please explain, Doctor,” T’Vran said.
The physician nodded. “For one, his blood is red rather than green. Only the Cymbeline blood burn can produce such a symptom in a Vulcan, and only in the disease’s terminal stages. This patient exhibits no such sign of infection.”
Trip recalled the sulfatriptan drug he had been using to maintain his blood coloration artificially ever since he had started operating behind Romulan lines. The last time he had taken a booster had been a couple of weeks ago, shortly after the night those young punks had tried to jump him in downtown Dartha, the Romulan capital. He thought the drug shouldn’t have worn off so completely already, but that was obviously what had happened. I guess your mileage may vary, he thought.
T’Vran took a step toward Trip, who was beginning to feel more like the subject of an interrogation than a guest.
“Please explain to me how a red-blooded human got so far away from his home planet,” she said, her tone even though her eyes were cold and flinty. “And more importantly, Commander Tucker, why have you been operating in secret inside the Romulan sphere of influence?”
A feeling of vertigo seized Trip’s guts, as though the gravity plating had failed or a huge hole had suddenly opened beneath his bed, casting him into a limitless freefall.
“Oh, shit,” was the only response Trip could formulate as the realization began to sink in that his cover was now well and truly blown. “How did you find out?”
“Besides the doctor’s examination of your body’s decidedly non-Vulcan internal arrangement?” T’Vran said, now sounding almost amused, at least for a Vulcan. “You told me your name just before you lost consciousness.”
Trip’s cheeks flushed hot with shame. I can’t believe I did that. Aloud, he said, “Must’ve gotten bonked on the head a lot harder than I realized.”
“I have repaired the subcranial trauma you suffered during