Текст книги "The Good That Men Do"

THERAS COWERED ON THE DECK as blast after blast slammed into the metal surfaces all around him. He imagined he could feel the fierce heat of the disruptor beams singeing his back through his heavy environmental suit. He hadn’t felt such terror since the day the raiders had invaded the Aenar enclave nestled beneath Andoria’s northern wastes.

Recollections of how those freebooters had mercilessly ripped his beloved Shenar, Vishri, and Jhamel from his life–and during their sacred shelthrethceremony, of all the days they could have chosen–helped him to focus his thoughts and steel his courage against the ongoing fusillade that was keeping him pinned to the floor.

I must not let fear sunder ourshelthreth, Theras told himself, his smoldering outrage fanning itself into an incandescence that he hoped would consume his all but debilitating dread. Icannot allow it.

Not wishing to fumble for the external controls of his suit’s com system, Theras spread his mind out across the wide interior spaces of the transport ship, his telepathic senses once again “feeling” the locations of his colleagues and protectors. Shran and Lieutenant Reed were positioned closest to him, both hunched behind a dense metal pillar to Theras’s left as they returned their assailants’ fire. Commander T’Pol and both of the Earth soldiers were slightly farther away in the other direction, all three lying on their bellies and returning fire despite the much scantier cover they had at their disposal. He could feel the pain of the wounded human soldier as though it were a dull ache of his own.

Theras also searched about telepathically for each of the armed Romulan troopers, noting with some sadness that two of them had been hit by the Earth soldiers, their bodies now lying just inside the chamber’s doors. He couldn’t be certain from their pained, disordered thoughts whether their injuries would prove fatal.

But he knew with visceral certainty that someone–or perhaps severalsomeones–in the boarding party would soon be very dead unless the situation rapidly changed for the better. They’ll kill us all if they can,he thought, tapping into the keenly honed martial savagery of the Romulans’ thoughts; the painful intensity of that contact allowed him only a thankfully brief glimpse.

How can anyone harbor such ugliness in his soul?Theras’s ingrained Aenar sensibilities barely allowed him to frame the question. He couldn’t help but hope that such monstrous violence didn’t loom quite so large in the psyches of the Earth soldiers, or anyone else in the boarding party, including Shran, whose anger and impatience Theras could often feel palpably.

Another blast came disconcertingly close as the firefight continued inconclusively. I have to dosomething, Theras thought. Yet I cannot fight. I am Aenar.

He felt Shran’s rage, which was no doubt being intensified by the fact that Jhamel remained trapped aboard this cursed slave ship.

An inspiration seized him.

I am Aenar. I cannot fight.

But neither am I helpless.

Theras smiled grimly to himself and carefully reached out once again with his mind….

Centurion Rhai had unexpectedly ceased firing, making Decurion Taith fear that one of the interlopers shooting at them from out of the darkness had scored a lucky shot and killed him.

Taith paused for a moment to ascertain his superior’s condition, creeping toward him cautiously on knees and elbows. Reaching the centurion’s supine form, he placed a hand on his shoulder, preparing to turn the body over in order to check for injuries.

The centurion swung into motion at Taith’s touch, bringing the muzzle of his disruptor aggressively up toward the young decurion’s face.

“Hold!” Taith whispered.

“Don’t sneak up on anyone like that!”

“I thought you’d been killed, like Decurion T’Rheis. Why are you not firing?”

“Why aren’t they?” Rhai asked.

Taith suddenly realized that the intruders had indeed ceased firing. He had been so intent upon reaching the centurion that he hadn’t noticed the abrupt silence of their adversaries’ weapons.

“They must be on the move,” Taith said, fumbling for the scanner at his belt. “They found the other exit from the holding pens.”

“Where are they?” Rhai wanted to know.

Taith’s eyes went wide when he saw the reading on the stealth‑shielded, backlit screen. “I can’t detect them, Centurion.”

“ Fvadt!They must have used their material transmission device to escape us.”

Taith adjusted his scan, attempting to confirm his superior’s idea. A moment later, he shook his head in confusion. “I don’t think so, Centurion. Their teleportation equipment left a telltale energy signature. But I’m not detecting it now.”

But Rhai seemed unconvinced. “Perhaps they’ve adjusted their equipment somehow.”

“Or else they’re still aboard, Centurion, and are cloaking themselves somehow,” Taith said.

“We must be prepared for either eventuality, Decurion. Scan our remaining prisoners. What is their status?”

Taith hastened to do as his superior had bid. When he saw the reading, his heart sank as though it were in freefall in a gas giant’s atmosphere. He quickly ran the scan a second time.

“Well?” the centurion asked impatiently.

Taith realized that he had to tell Rhai what he least wanted to hear. “I can’t even findany of them, sir. They’re gone!”

“ All right, Theras,” Shran whispered into his suit’s com channel. “Your plan had better work. The more we prolong this standoff, the more vulnerable we’ll be.”

Theras smiled in the direction of Shran’s voice. He could feel the attentive presence nearby of Commander T’Pol, Lieutenant Reed, and the two Earth soldiers. “In order to have a standoff, the Romulans would have to know where we are.”

“ What do you mean?” asked the Vulcan woman.

“I mean that I have used my telepathy defensively.They cannot see us now. Nor can they see their prisoners. I’ve made us all…disappear from their conscious minds.”

“ Good work, Theras,” Lieutenant Reed said, both his voice and his aura brimful of admiration. “ If we really are invisible to the Romulans now, maybe we can stay aboard long enough to use their own transporter to send the rest of the Aenar over toEnterprise.”

But Shran sounded and felt far less admiring. “Then we’d better get on with it–before the Romulans figure out that we’re using parlor tricks against them instead of real weapons.”

As the group slowly made its way forward, moving directly into what had been the active line of fire only moments earlier, Theras wondered just what he would have to do to gain the hard‑bitten Shran’s acceptance.

Uzaveh take him,Theras thought, concentrating instead on recovering his beloved shelthrethbondmates.

He tried, without success, to shut out Shran’s intrusive, passionate thoughts about Jhamel; he was clearly prepared to do just about anything to rescue her.

Far more, apparently,Theras thought sadly, thanI ever could.

“The intruders are still here,” Rhai said, his words still pitched at a whisper. “And unless I miss my guess, so are the remainder of our prisoners as well.”

Taith felt confused, even though he had been the first to raise the possibility. “The scanner cannot confirm that, Centurion.”

“Of courseit can’t, Decurion. Not if our prisoners have reached into our minds to alter what we can see–or thinkwe can see. Had they teleported away like the firstprisoners that went missing, they would not have bothered covering it up. Therefore, they arestill aboard this ship, and are hiding that fact from us. As are their would‑be rescuers.”

Like all the soldiers serving aboard the transport vessel T’Lluadh,Taith had been well briefed on the danger posed by the Aenar prisoners. Although they seemed possessed of far too gentle a temperament for their own good, they were powerful telepaths who could indeed tamper with the minds of their jailers, were they so inclined–and were they given the barest opportunity to do so.

“I thought we had sedated each of the prisoners, Centurion,” Taith said. “To blunt their telepathic abilities during their passage to Romulus.”

“That was mybelief as well,” Rhai said. “But suppose our prisoners had planted the notion into our minds? Suppose we never actually sedated them, or were deceived into leaving even a few of them with their mental abilities still intact?”

Taith shivered slightly, as though the spirits of Erebus were coming for him. If we can’t even trust our own memories…He allowed the thought to trail away like an errant wisp of smoke, though he could do little to shake the vivid image of the T’Lluadhsuddenly erupting in all‑consuming gouts of flame and venting atmosphere because an Aenar had influenced the control room crew.

“What can we do, Centurion?” Taith whispered.

Rhai raised his disruptor pistol. “If the intruders are still aboard, they may be trying to get the prisoners to freedom right now. Contact the rest of the security contingent, and tell them to concentrate their fire on the detention area’s aft exit.”

Taith put his scanner away and pulled his communications device from his belt, then raised his own weapon. “What about the prisoners, sir?”

“Our orders are clear, Decurion. They are not to come into the possession of anyone–save the Romulan Star Empire. Perhaps if one or two of them are hit, the remainder might be motivated to behave themselves for the duration of their voyage to Romulus.”

As Taith began signaling the rest of his fellow soldiers, he hoped that they would be able to trust that any Aenar suddenly observed “behaving themselves” wasn’t actually a ruse of the deadliest kind.

Shran and T’Pol led Jhamel and the remaining handful of sedated Aenar captives through the transport ship’s darkened, winding passageways, while Lieutenant Reed and the MACOs–one of whom now walked with a pronounced limp, thanks to a stray disruptor bolt–guarded the group’s moving perimeter. As the team made its way toward the vessel’s central core, Shran had to acknowledge his grudging admiration of Theras, who was actually taking the point in the pitch‑black corridors.

He’s a pacifist,Shran thought with no small degree of wonderment; it was, after all, a philosophical stance that stood at odds not only with Shran’s own personality, but also one that flew in the face of nearly all of his own often bitter personal experience. And he’s obviously terrified. Yet he’s willing to help us fight a very dangerous, unscrupulous foe.

Because he must want to save Jhamel just as much as I do.Though he was unable to see Jhamel clearly in the darkness, Shran was nevertheless haunted by a vision of the icy gray eyes of the woman he had been quietly in love with for the past several months. A woman whose great strength, despite her own innate pacifism, had been evident to Shran ever since the Romulans had forced her to deal with her brother’s death. He clung to the slender lifeline of the psychic bond her telepathic talents had tethered in his mind, drawing comfort from it even as he worried about the incoherence and fear he sensed in her mind. They’ve drugged her,he reminded himself yet again. Ofcourse she’s incoherent.

A sizzling energy beam interrupted Shran’s reverie, passing close enough to scorch his helmet’s faceplate. The boarding party and the Aenar immediately split into two groups, which flattened against the walls on either side of the narrow corridor.

Shran found himself standing almost nose to nose with Theras. He grabbed the startled Aenar’s tunic, momentarily lifting him a couple of centimeters off the deck. “I thought you said they couldn’t see or hear us!”

“ They can’t!” Theras said, almost stammering in fear. “At least, theyshouldn’t be able to, even on their scanning instruments.”Once again, Shran felt a wave of loathing for the pasty Aenar, and extended his left arm to shove him up against the same cold metal wall into which he himself was trying to blend.

Another blast bisected the corridor, missing both halves of the team by about a meter.

Theras gasped, making Shran fear for a moment that he’d handled him too roughly. “They’re just firing blindly!”

“But these passageways ought to look empty to them,” Shran said.

Theras nodded, his features taking on an almost hysterical cast. “They should. But the Romulans must know that there are only two ways in or out of this section of the ship.”Large tears pooled in the Aenar’s gray, sightless eyes; he appeared to be in intense physical pain, but it was clearly not because of anything Shran had done to him. “They’ve cut us off. And they’re determined not to let anyone take their prisoners away from them. They’ll kill us all before they permit that. I–”

Yet another disruptor blast illuminated the corridor for a split second. It struck lower than had the previous shot, but came no closer to hitting anyone.

“Even firing blind, they’re bound to start hitting us sooner or later,” Shran said, addressing nobody in particular. He supposed that even if the Romulans hadn’t actually somehow pierced Theras’s psionic veil of selective blindness, they must have intuited the boarding party’s continued presence aboard their vessel by some other means.

Of course, none of that would matter a whit if the Romulans managed to score only a handful of lucky, random shots.

“What have I done?”Theras said, breaking down into shoulder‑racking sobs that were amplified grotesquely by his suit’s com pickup.

Shran wanted to strike him, but restrained himself when he realized he’d only succeed in injuring himself on the Aenar’s helmet. “Shut up, Theras. Remember, they still can’t see us. Otherwise they wouldn’t be lob‑bing their fire at us at random.”

“There is another problem,”T’Pol said. In the dimness, and with the suit’s apparently damaged night‑vision functions disorienting him somewhat, Shran could just make out the fact that the Vulcan woman, flanked by Reed and a pair of rifle‑wielding MACOs, was holding a small scanning device before her face. “We apparently cannot determine the precise location of any of the Romulans aboard this vessel. Therefore we cannot return their fire with any degree of accuracy.”

Shran felt as though a physical blow had abruptly slammed all the air from his lungs. He grabbed the hard carapace of Theras’s suit, keeping both their bodies close to the wall as he caught his breath.

“Why might thatbe, Theras?” Shran whispered.

It took Theras a protracted moment to rein in his sobs and find his voice. “It may be…that using my telepathy defensively has created a…blanket effect.”

“Are you saying,” Shran said, the words leaving his mouth in a snarling rush, “that you’ve blinded usas well as the Romulans?”

Theras nodded, weeping again. “Forgive me, Shran. Forgive me, all of you. I am…unused to the ways of war.”

Pacifists,Shran thought disgustedly. Beautiful.He felt his psionic bond with Jhamel jangling uncomfortably at that thought, momentarily filling his mind with an unpleasant sound not unlike an inexpertly plucked high string on an Andorian zharen’tara.

Still another stray blast briefly ionized the air, once again coming uncomfortably close to Shran’s back. Theras winced as the beam passed and struck a distant wall with a momentary spray of bright orange sparks. In that instant, Shran saw Jhamel clearly, her gray eyes staring and sightless, her mien sedated and confused.

She was in mortal danger, as were they all. Why couldn’t Theras have just tricked the damned Romulans into shooting at each other instead of atus?

“I suggest you getused to the ways of war,” Shran said, no longer trying to hold back the contempt he felt for this weakling. “And quickly,Theras. Otherwise, you’ve probably condemned Jhamel and all the rest of us to death.”

Thirty‑Eight

Friday, February 21, 2155

Rator II

“HANG ON, DOCTOR,” Trip said, though he could see that Ehrehin was securely strapped into his seat, just as Trip himself was. “I’m taking us out.”

“Perhaps we should wait until the hangar bay doors open completely,” the elderly scientist said, a note of apprehension causing his voice to quaver slightly.

Trip grinned at him. “Trust me.” He pulled back the throttle, and the small vessel shot forward. Trip was slammed backward into the pilot’s seat for a second or two, before whatever passed for the scout ship’s inertial damping system compensated for the g‑forces generated by the sudden acceleration. Like Ehrehin, Trip had not yet donned the helmet of his pressure suit–both pieces of headgear were wedged securely beneath their respective seats, where they would remain until they were needed–so his pressure suit’s titanium neck ring bit briefly into the back of his neck as the little ship whipped upward at a steep‑angled roll through the only partly opened hangar dome, narrowly missing the still spreading doors. Trip imagined the hangar bay filling with armed troopers, all of them vainly firing their disruptor pistols at his quickly vanishing stern.

Trip opened the throttle further, and the vessel swiftly arced high into the deep cerulean skies above the Ejhoi Ormiin’s secret island fortress. The paradisiacal blue of Rator II’s atmosphere quickly gave way to a deep, brooding indigo, passing within moments into the star‑flecked blackness of space. The cold vista of the cosmos made Trip grateful for the pressure suit he was wearing, even if he was helmetless at the moment.

When he and Ehrehin had first come aboard the little scout ship, Trip had marveled at his good fortune in having found environmental suits constructed so similarly to the standard Starfleet‑issue vacuum garb used by Enterprisepersonnel. He could only wonder how these suits had made it aboard. Perhaps Ch’uihv–or Sopek–had acquired a few of them through his espionage connections on Vulcan, or maybe the Ejhoi Ormiinhad obtained them by raiding an Earth outpost or by hijacking an Earth ship. Wherever the suits had come from originally, it was easy for Trip to imagine that Phuong had found them elsewhere in the hangar while reconnoitering the place, and then had stashed them aboard the scout ship before leading Trip and Ehrehin into their initial–and catastrophically failed–escape attempt.

An alarm on Trip’s console suddenly flashed a deep sea green; he reminded himself yet again that to a Romulan, green was the color of blood, and therefore signified the presence of imminent danger.

“We’re being pursued,” Ehrehin said, leaning forward and to his left to observe the readings on Trip’s console.

“I’d be surprised if we weren’t,” Trip said.

“We need to hail them, Cunaehr. Otherwise, Valdore’s forces may kill us inadvertently, as you say.”

Trip shook his head, wondering how long he could continue dissembling, stringing the elderly scientist along–and when Ehrehin would finally figure out that he’d disabled the ship’s receiver to prevent the reception of any hails from their pursuer, which would certainly reveal the identity of the vessel that nipped at their heels.

“We don’t know for certain that the ship on our tail is one of Valdore’s,” Trip said.

Ehrehin fixed him with a hard stare that seemed to Trip to fairly ooze with suspicion. “Who in the name of Erebus could it possibly be if not Valdore?”

“It could be Ch’uihv’s people, Doctor. And hailing them would only confirm our escape for them.”

“If he’s pursuing us,” Ehrehin said, shaking his head. “Ch’uihv already knows we’ve escaped in this ship.”

Trip shrugged, pressing on even though his extemporaneous yarn‑spinning was beginning to sound ridiculous even in his own artificially pointed ears. “Maybe, Doctor. Maybe not. If Ch’uihv is the one who’s chasing us, then all we know for sure that he knows is that somebodytook off in this ship without any launch clearance.”

Ehrehin leaned back in his copilot’s chair and sighed. Trip spared a glance at him and saw that he was staring straight ahead at the distant, uncaring stars. The old man was scowling deeply, apparently becoming lost in thought.

He must suspect by now that I don’t have any intention of taking him to Valdore,Trip thought as he leaned forward, entering commands intended to coax still more thrust out of the impulse drive, while simultaneously laying in his desired heading: Coalition space. So I’d better do whatever I can to keep him preoccupied.

He touched a few of the cockpit’s other thankfully simple controls. The deck plates beneath his feet began to rumble with a gratifyingly familiar vibration. That sensation alone told Trip that the warp drive was beginning to warm up to operational temperatures, pressures, and intermix ratios.

The little vessel suddenly shook and rattled intensely, as though it had been punched by the fist of an angry god.

“They’ve opened fire,” Ehrehin said dryly, one eyebrow arched upward as if to announce that he found making declarations of the obvious to be darkly amusing. He calmly studied the readouts on his copilot’s board. “At the rate they’re gaining on us, they’ll be in weapons range in only a few siure.”

Trip considered the grim fact that it could all be over for them both in a matter of only a few short minutes. He felt a knot of fear twisting in his stomach.

Fortunately, Trip often regarded his own fear as a wonderful source of motivation during a crisis.

“Put on your helmet, Doctor,” he said as his hands flew across the console. “We’re going to warp.”

Ehrehin scowled again, then reached under his seat and drew up his helmet with a pained grunt. A moment later, he was fitting it clumsily over his head and trying to mate its collar to his suit’s broad neck ring.

The vessel shook again, though not quite as roughly as on the previous occasion. Trip hoped that meant that their pursuers had scored only a glancing blow this time.

After noting the temperature and power‑level readings, displayed graphically as well as in unreadable Romulan text on the warp field gauge, Trip heaved a brief sigh of relief that the weapons fire hadn’t disabled the warp drive.

Yet.

Eager to deny their pursuers another opportunity to strike, Trip wrapped his gloved left hand around a pair of levers. Here goes.He pulled the levers down quickly, then punched a button beside them.

A moment later the starfield that lay before them distorted into streaks around the edges, with the light of the stars near the center shifting toward the blue portion of the visible spectrum.

“We are now at warp,” Trip announced. I’m not the only one who gets to state the obvious around here.

“And I’m sure Valdore’s ship is still pursuing us, only much faster than before. Do you think it was really wise to go to warp so close to the planet?”

Trip knew very well that certain types of warp fields could unleash catastrophic gravimetric and subspatial effects if activated too deep inside the gravity well either of a star or a planet. Once again, he had no choice other than to defend his decision to gamble for the sake of his mission.

“Seemed like the best option at the time, Doctor,” Trip said as he unstrapped himself from his seat restraints.

He rose to help Ehrehin hook up the hoses that led from the back of his helmet to the environmental pack mounted on the back of his suit.

“Indeed,” the scientist said, obviously unconvinced.

Once he was satisfied that Ehrehin’s suit was completely sealed and functioning properly, Trip reached behind his own helmet, attaching his own air hoses and checking his suit’s seals in a series of swift, practiced movements.

Then he noticed that Ehrehin, who had already strapped himself back into his seat, was staring daggers at him through their helmet faceplates.

“These particularpressure suits were an interesting choice on your part, Cunaehr,” the old man said, his voice distorted slightly by its passage through two hel‑mets before reaching Trip’s ears; Trip had taken the precaution of disabling the com systems in both suits, so that Ehrehin wouldn’t be tempted to find a way to use them to communicate with their pursuer.

Trip shrugged as he strapped himself into the pilot’s seat once again. “You have to use what you have on hand.”

“Indeed you do.”

Trip looked across his console’s orderly bank of gauges and monitors, noting with some apprehension that the pursuing vessel was steadily gaining on them. Although the scout ship’s sensors lacked the resolution to settle the matter definitively, Trip had no doubt that Ehrehin was right about their pursuer being one of Valdore’s military ships. Therefore the other vessel had to be more than capable of catching up with them at their present speed, which both the console gauges and the vibrations of the deckplates told Trip he had already pushed to within a millicochrane or two of maximum.

It’s time to push this baby a little bit past spec,Trip thought as he carefully began entering a new command string into his console.

“Tell me, Cunaehr: Are there no other suits aboard this ship?” Ehrehin asked.

He knows,Trip thought. Heis a genius, after all.

Aloud, he said. “There are, Doctor.”

“Suits of Romulan manufacture, rather than these… aliengarments?”

Trip was becoming increasingly certain that it wasn’t going to matter much longer how he answered the old man’s questions. “I think so.”

“Yet you chose thesesuits instead. And you seem quite expert in their operation, I might add.”

“The environmental packs on these suits were more fully charged than any of the others were,” Trip said. Whether his answers continued to matter or not, he found he couldn’t resist offering plausible‑sounding explanations whenever possible. “And you know what a quick study I am.” He punctuated his words with what he hoped was a disarming smile.

The scientist did not return it, however, either because he couldn’t see it through both of their faceplates, or because he simply was no longer quite so easy to amuse.

“I had no idea you were so fluent in reading the gauges and instrumentation on non‑Romulan pressure suits.”

You have no idea,Trip thought as he examined his pilot’s console, confirming that the other ship was still inexorably creeping up on them. Would it be able to open fire on them in two minutes? Three?

“I’m going to have to coax a bit more power out of her,” Trip said just before entering yet another command into his board.

The cabin lights instantly shut off, and the resulting total darkness was replaced a beat later by dim, green emergency lighting. Trip could hear the sudden, conspicuous absence of activity in the air‑circulating system as the ventilator fans abruptly died. He imagined he could feel the icy vacuum beyond the hull caressing his spine with delicate, chill fingers, although he knew it was far too soon for either of them to start feeling the cold of space through their heavily insulated suits.

Even as the life‑support system gasped and died, Trip could feel a qualitative change in the vibration rising from the deck plating beneath him into his thick‑soled boots.

The scout ship’s warp drive was now receiving considerably more power, and the weakly glowing console display confirmed it. Warp five point three, and still not quite redlining,Trip thought, barely succeeding in restraining himself from letting out a jubilant warwhoop–at least until afterhe learned a little bit more about their pursuer’s maximum speed.

To his pleasant surprise, Valdore’s ship was no longer gaining on them. It wasn’t falling behind either, but the purloined scout ship didn’t appear to be in any danger of being overtaken now, at least not during the next few minutes.

We’re still well out of weapons range. And we’ll stay that way as long as the ship tailing us doesn’t suddenly sprout an extra nacelle.

Of course, Trip knew that there was no way he could be certain that their pursuer wouldn’t find some method of sharply increasing its ownpower output, and thus its speed. But he was reasonably sure that her commander wouldn’t shut down her life‑support system to accomplish it.