Текст книги "Kobayashi Maru"

Автор книги: Andy Mangels

Соавторы: Michael Martin
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The continued illumination from the console fires showed that most of her bridge crew had either been thrown from their posts or had barely managed to hang on to them. Luckily, no one seemed to have been seriously hurt.

Fletcher and el‑Rashad were the first to break out the emergency hand beacons and fire extinguishers, which they immediately brought to bear against the worst of the electrical fires. The emergency lighting finally kicked on as the crew attempted to access Columbias almost uniformly downed systems. The drinks, which had remained mostly untouched after their arrival, had become airborne momentarily, and the emptied cups now rolled in the liquids that had pooled across part of the decks port side, where cups and contents alike now lay forgotten.

“Systems are down shipwide, Akagi said, an apprehensive tremor in her voice.

That fact alone didnt tell Hernandez very much of value. “I need to know how badly weve been damag

“Internal communications coming back online now, Captain, Valerian said, interrupting.

The com system crackled, and the chief engineers Teutonic‑accented voice issued from it. “Captain? Whatever they hit us with really fubared us. The warp core iskaput, at least temporarily. Itll take us several hours to fix it, even if the rest of the systems were working fine. Which they arent.

So much for the repairs we just completed,Hernandez thought ruefully. She stared at the main viewscreen, which had yet to return to life. “Are they targeting us again? Hernandez asked, hoping the bridges interval of blindness would be a brief one.

“Sensors are coming back up, Akagi said, coughing at the acrid by‑products of the damped‑down electrical fires that still lingered in the air.

The ships ventilation system must be down, too,Hernandez thought, cursing inwardly. But she knew Columbiahad to deal with issues even more urgent than life support.

To Hernandezs relief, the viewscreen lit up and displayed a three‑dimensional tactical image of what lay above Columbias dorsal hull. The two Vulcan ships seemed to be doing nothing, though Hernandez was pleased to see that the warp‑propulsion ring encircling the one they had fired upon appeared to be damaged and offline.

“Transmit our bridge flight recorder files to Starfleet Command now, Hernandez shouted to Valerian. “They need to know what the Vulcans are up to, in case they dont give us time to send a report.

“Im trying, Captain, Valerian said. “Subspace communications seem to be working only intermittently.

“I dont understand any of this, Fletcher said as she wiped the sweat away from beneath her blond bangs. “Why would the Vulcans fire on other Coalition ships?

“Maybe they had intel that told them something about the cargo they were carrying? Hernandez wondered aloud.

“Maybe. But that wouldnt explain why they fired on usas well, Fletcher said.

Hernandezs mind reeled as she realized she had no answers. All she knew for certain was that this situation was not,in the words of members of a certain pointy‑eared race, logical. Unless

“Unless the Vulcans arent the ones piloting those ships, she said, her voice low enough that only her XO would hear. “What if the Romulanshave learned to commandeer Vulcan tech, like they did with the Klingon battle cruisers at Draylax?

“Captain, sensors are picking up three more incoming ships! Thayer shouted.

Hernandez stared, slack‑jawed, as the image on the viewscreen changed yet again.

Dropping out of warp were two more DKyr‑type combat cruisers, and one of the larger, better‑armed ShRaan‑class ships, which looked like a spear jammed through a hoop. The weaponry the newcomers carried between them would be more than enough to blow both Columbiaand the remnants of the cargo fleet to little more than drifting trails of vapor in a few seconds, polarized hull plating notwithstanding.

“Some days you just cant win, Hernandez said as she slumped back into her chair. Turning toward her XO, she said, “Better prepare to launch the log buoy, Veronica. While we still can.

THIRTY‑EIGHT

Tuesday, July 22, 2155 Enterprise NX‑01, near the Gamma Hydra sector

“S HUTTLEPOD T WO IS MAKINGits final docking approach now, Captain, Hoshi said.

Archer nodded, rising from his command chair. “Im going down to the launch bay to meet them, he said. “You have the bridge, Hoshi.

The bridge was running with a skeleton crew at the moment; the most overworked of Enterprises personnel, including ONeill and McCall, were taking well‑deserved breaks during the outbound voyage, at least until the time came to bring the ship about deep in the Gamma Hydra sector, retracing the original patrol route back toward Earth.

As he traveled down to E deck in the turbolift, Archer was glad that relatively few people would be around to witness the return of the stolen shuttlepod. No one had questioned him about it directly over the last few days, but by now scuttlebutt had placed TPol and Malcolm on any number of secret missions. He felt fairly certain that none of the crews guesses had come even remotely close to the reality, whatever that might actually turn out to be. He was eager to learn the truth himself.

For the past several days, whenever he hadnt been preoccupied with some emergency or otherhis life‑or‑death duel on QonoS sprang instantly, not to mention painfully, to mindArcher had mentally rehearsed what he planned to say to TPol and Malcolm once they returned. The chance that they might notmake it back had been a variable he hadnt allowed himself to consider; he couldnt bear to dwell on the possibility that he might have lost two more of his most valuable officers and friends so soon after Trips “death.

But now, as his reunion with the two errant officers neared, he felt his anger being pushed into the recesses of his mind by a rising sense of relief; his momentary pleasure at that unexpected feeling calmed his soul. Whether the root cause was mere fatigue or an emotional ricochet off the ceaseless frustrations all the recent political uncertainty within both Starfleet and the Coalition Council had caused him, by the time he reached the entrance to Launch Bay Two he had settled into an almost Vulcan state of serenity.

The hatch slid open in front of him, and Archer saw that Ensign Bougie was scuttling about outside the newly docked shuttlepod, making post‑flight checks of the little ships outer hull and external propulsion components. The launch bays magnetic docking arm stood just above the shuttlepods roof, and the launch bay air seemed charged with expectation, along with the traditional chill it usually carried immediately after the bay had been repressurized.

“Ensign, Id like a bit of privacy to welcome my officers back aboard, Archer said.

Bougie looked up, apparently surprised and caught in mid‑thought, his mouth twisted to one side. “Yes, sir, he said finally, gathering his materials up quickly. Archer noted that he still used old‑style writing implements and clipboards, checking off the items on his duty list manually rather than relying on computers and datapads.

A few moments later Archer had positioned himself directly outside the shuttlepod, standing beside its stabilizer wing as he waited for the dorsal hatch to open. TPol exited first, followed by Reed. Both wore dark, tight‑fitting but otherwise nondescript clothing, which was partially covered by loose Vulcan‑style travelers robes.

“Welcome back aboard Enterprise,Archer said, inflating his words with an air of laconic drollness. In spite of himself, he was enjoying the look of discomfiture he saw on both their faces, especially Malcolms.

“Captain, we can explain, Reed said in a guilt‑ridden tone, before TPol had even had a chance to open her mouth.

Archer released a long exhalation through pursed lips. He wanted to ask after Trip Tucker, whose absence now seemed as conspicuous as a corpse at a funeral. At the moment, however, he was in no mood to hear what could well prove to be very bad news. Instead of saying anything, he opted instead merely to smile as he held both arms out before him, making the universal gesture for “give me a hug.

“You can save your explanations for later, he said. “First, are both of you all right?

Reed stepped awkwardly into the hug, half embracing Archer while patting him on the back lightly, though just hard enough to force him to suppress a wince. TPol merely stood in place, looking nearly as awkward as Reed did.

“We managed to make it back in one piece, with no scratches or dents, as has the shuttlepod, Reed said in overemphatic tones as he pulled back just enough to make a close study of Archers bruised face. “Which is apparently more than we can say about you, Captain.

“Cracked ribs, Archer said. “I had a mean encounter with a Klingon admiral, but I think he ended up looking even worse than I do. Long story, short ending.

“Like I said, well have a long talk later about what the hell you two were doing when you took that shuttlepod, Archer said, trying to color his words with the same stern, scolding authority he remembered from the occasional childhood reprimands he had received from his father. “All Im going to say on the subject right now is that Im getting a bit tired of my most trusted officers deciding that the rules dont apply to them. Finding a detour off the main road doesnt automatically make it the route to take. And ifmy most trusted officers want to continuebeing my most trusted officers, theyd better have an explicit understanding that there will notbe any more detours.

TPol raised an eyebrow. “Captain, you have my sincere apologies. Our actions wereinappropriate and badly timed. I hope that you will allow me and Lieutenant Reed to make amends.

Archer turned and strode in the direction of the hatchway that led out of the launch bay and deeper into E decks interior, TPol and Reed following in his wake. “As far as anyone on this ship other than myself is concerned, you wont needto make amends. Phlox is the only person other than the three of us who knows that what you did wasnt authorized. Everybody else thinks you were on some kind of secret spy mission for Starfleet.

“Which is true, except for the Starfleet part, Reed said, grinning sheepishly.

Archer turneda bit too sharply for his ribsand growled, “Nobody else needs to know that. My log will show that TPol needed a lotof therapeutic meditation, and that you, Malcolm, were in your quarters recovering from the worst case of the Altairian quick‑step in the history of human space exploration.

Reed made a face, but said nothing in response.

“Captain, the ship that helped ferry us in and out of Romulan space was a Vulcan intelligence vessel, TPol said.

“I was wondering how you were going to manage to pull off that part of your plan, Archer said. “You wereflying a short‑range Starfleet shuttlepod, after all.

“Apparently, a craft as small as a shuttlepod canescape detection even deep inside Romulan space so long as it calls no undue attention to itself, TPol said. “Unfortunately, the only way we could discover that fact was to proceed with our plan.

“Gaining access to a Vulcan spys rather detailed Romulan star charts didnt hurt either, Reed added.

Archer stared at him as the hatch that led to E decks corridors opened in front of them. “Youve got maps? The official Coalition maps of the Romulan Empire were astonishingly incomplete, cobbled together mainly by means of long‑range scans. Archer didnt know what good Reeds maps would do anyone at the moment, but he suspected that they might become extremely valuable in the days ahead.

Reed nodded, grinning an “aw‑shucks grin that he had developed after four years of close association with Trip. “I certainly hope those maps will buy us back some of the goodwill weve lost.

“Ill consider it a down payment, Archer said. “As long as it stays in trustworthy hands, and away from certain shady characters I could name. The idea of having a resource that the mysterious black‑garbed Agent Harris and his secretive Starfleet intelligence organization might lack appealed to him greatly.

Reed swiped his index finger across his chest, miming the letter X. “Cross my heart, sir. This little adventure of ours had nothingto do with the bureau.

As they approached the central turboshaft, TPol spoke again. “Captain, while we docked with the Vulcan vessel, we also discovered some intelligence related to you.

“Me? Archer said as he came to a stop just outside the turbolift door, which slid obediently open for him.

She nodded. “We know, for instance, about the evidence you presented to the Coalition Council concerning the Romulans and this new ability of theirs to remotely commandeer Klingon vessels.

As the trio stepped into the turbolift, Archer said, “Good. That ought to make it easier to persuade the Council not to get caught up in the wrong war against the wrong enemy. The doors hissed closed and Archer directed the turbolift to A deck, and the bridge.

“Our understanding, at least from those aboard the Vulcan ship, TPol said, “was that the Vulcan government may be far more inclined to accept your interpretation of the danger posed by the Romulans than are the other Coalition members.

“I wonder how much of that agreement stems from the relationship we know exists between the Vulcans and the Romulans? Archer said. He knew that Reed hadto know about that relationship by now; he couldnt have undertaken an extended mission into Romulan space without gaining some exposure to the startling physiological similarities between the two races.

“I am not sure, Captain, TPol said with evident sincerity; Archer knew that this was an extremely sensitive topic for her.

Noting they were about to reach the bridge, Archer pressed the stop button on the control pad. “Before we go any further, I want to cover the one topic weve all been avoiding since you two came aboard. He wasnt certain he wanted to hear the answer, but he had to know the truth. “How is Trip? Did you find him?

Reed nodded and displayed a sober expression. “We found him, and arrived just in the nick of time, too. Whatever these psychic flashes or connections that TPol has been having with our late chief engineer, she was right; his life wasin danger. After we helped get him out of the jam hed gotten himself into, we offered to bring him back, but he refused. He felt he still had a mission to complete.

“Something about the Romulan warp‑seven project? Archer asked.

“That is at least oneof the objectives he appears to be pursuing, TPol said, her voice dropping lower. “He had also gathered other information, which he passed on to us. It concerned the Klingon attack on Draylax.

“He found more evidence that the Romulans were behind what happened at Draylax?

TPol shook her head, looking almost wistful. “No, Captain. His Romulan intelligence contacts had led him to believe that the Klingons were indeed the aggressors at Draylax.

Archer was puzzled. “But we already know that cant be true. How could he discover something that isnt true, unless

The answer to his question dawned on him before he could finish his sentence, and the idea chilled him to the core.

“Unless he was purposelybeing misled, TPol said. “Meaning that his identity as a spy may well have been compromised.

Archer shuddered, trying desperately to force his mind not to wander down the path it was already navigating. If Trip was indeed compromised, any information he was finding was likely to be tainted. And if he failed to pass along what was almost certainly disinformation concocted by the Romulan Star Empires intelligence servicesor if he managed to discover that Romuluss own spymasters were using him as a pawn in their gamethen he was likely to end up in the crosshairs of some Romulan assassin.

Archer knew that in the shadowy world of espionage, compromised spies frequently ended up very dead.

THIRTY‑NINE

Tuesday, July 22, 2155 S.S. Kobayashi Maru , Gamma Hydra sector

K OJIRO V ANCE TRACEDthe swell of the womans dusky‑hued hip as she slumbered, his fingertip traveling over the exquisite area he had so recently ravished. She had tasted like plums, although he granted, in retrospect, that it might have been the liqueur they had consumed before theyd had passionate sex against nearly every flat surface in his opulently appointed quarters.

Orana Shubй clearly wanted to go places on the ship, but Vance wasnt certain that there was any place for her to go. After all, she wasnt particularly intelligent, and her mechanical aptitude was laughable. He suspected that she would best serve him exactly where she was, in the captains bed. Or, perhaps, in the galley, preparing food for the crew and passengers. And, of course, thetemporary guests.

Yawning, he clambered over his plaything and padded naked toward the shower, absentmindedly scratching his groin as he walked. Stepping into the shower, he mourned the days on Earth when hed been able to enjoy real showers, with unlimited supplies of hot water. But on a fuel carrier like the Maru,carrying the huge quantities of water needed for such a personal extravagance was not something he could justify, either to his financial backers in the Tau Ceti system, or to the crew that would expect to share this amenity. And since theMaru is a retrofitted Klingon fuel carrier,he thought, having any luxury at all is, well, a luxury itself.

He heard a chime at his door, and poked his head out of the shower stall. “Enter!

Jacqueline Searles, the chief engineer of the Kobayashi Maru,stepped into the cabin, first noticing the nude woman on Vances bed, then turning her head just enough to ascertain that her captain was in the shower.

“What is it, Jackie? Vance asked, reaching for a towel.

She made a face. “Whatever is in that cargo we picked up for the Horizonseems to be slowing us down.

“How is that possible? Vance asked, spreading his hands wide and shrugging. The towel fluttered to the deck.

Searles made another face and put a hand out as if to block her view of his nakedness as she turned away. He noticed that she seemed to object a great deal less to viewing Oranas plump behind. “Would you mind terribly putting some clothes on, Captain? Searles said. “I dont need to talk to allof you.

Shrugging again, Vance walked naked to his large wardrobe, which he opened so he could consider which of his many fanciful outfits he was going to wear. After all, if he was to be dealing with histemporary guests again, he wanted to make the best of impressions, regardless of their present demeanor.

Theyd picked up the nearly two dozen new passengers nine days ago, along with their cargo, at Altair VI. The Earth Cargo Service freighter Horizonwas supposed to have been the ship to ferry them, along with their equipment, from the Marus destination of the Sataghni II fuel depot in the near side of the Gamma Hydra sector all the way to the outskirts of the Tezel‑Oroko system, deep in section ten. But the Horizonhadnt been heard from in about a week, and Vance had agreed to perform the Horizons runsurreptitiously, of coursefor triple his regular fee. Finding out a little bit about the sensitive nature of the mission had also been part of the bargain Vance had struck with his clandestine passengers.

Hed kept the full facts about the mission, at least as he knew them, from his first mate, Arturo Stiles, a man whose pragmatism was matched only by his excitability. So far as Stiles knew, they were making an unscheduled but highly paid delivery, and that was all he needed to know for now. The unexpected windfall ought to have made the economics‑minded Stiles very happy indeed.

But if Stiles were to learn that the Vulcans aboard the Kobayashi Maruwere headed for a stable cometary body in the Tezel‑Oroko systems Kuiper belt, where they intended to fortify and expand a small, covert listening post whose electronic ears and eyes were aimed at both the Romulans and the Klingons, he would probably go ballistic. Vance didnt much care about the galactic politics involved, though he knew he would prefer that the stodgy Vulcans have the upper hand over either the Klingons or the Romulans; from what little hed seen, both empires were far too capriciously aggressive to suit a free spirit like Captain Kojiro Vance.

But Vance felt confident that his crew would forget whatever the Vulcans were up to here within a few short days, once the Maruwas engaged in another cargo run to some other, less perilously located world. Even Stiles would no doubt forgive all, should he ever discover the truth, once he received his share of the handsome profit the current Gamma Hydra run had already generated.

Vance selected a slimming, dark purple set of breeches and a full‑sleeved maroon shirt. He held them up against himself and noted with pleasure how nicely they complemented his straight black hair and olive‑gold skin.

“Are you even paying attentionto what Im saying, Vance? Searles asked.

Vance turned, suddenly remembering the presence of the engineer in his room, and regarded her with a smile he hoped she would consider charming. “Of course,Jackie. You were chattering on again, something about not liking the technology were carrying for the Vulcans.

Searles balled her hands up into clawed fists and growled, clearly exasperated. “Essentially, yes, that is what I was saying. The Vulcans keep quote helping unquote my engineering staff with quote multiple system upgrades unquote, but it seems to me that all theyre doing is further screwing up our already overtaxed systems. Yes, were heading toward our destination faster,but the warp core is running wickedhot, Vance. And were having a lot of system glitches as well. Plus, the stuff in the Vulcans shipping crates may be the source of the strange, low‑level radiation my people have been picking up on the internal scanners. Its making everyone very uncomfortable.

Vance frowned as he pulled the stitching at the waist of his pirate breeches tight, making sure not to catch anything important in the loops as he cinched them tighter. “Why would this radiation youre picking up necessarily have anything to do with the Vulcans or their matйriel? I love her like I love myself, but the Maruis alwaysspringing a leak in some system or other. I mean no offense to your skills, Jackie, but the old girl is perpetually in need of somerepair or other. He paused, then added with a flourish, “Unlike myself.

“I just want Searles frowned, seemingly searching very hard for the right words. “Can you just keep the Vulcans outof my engine room, please?

“All right, Vance said, pulling the shirt on over his head. The satin felt smooth against his skin, luxurious. “Ill ask them to stay away. As long as youkeep things running smoothly and make sure we get there in record time.

He crossed back to the bed, where he laid a hand on the sleeping Oranas rump. “I notice that you seemed to favor thissight more than my own impressive Davidesque nakedness. Would you like a quick taste, my dear, to make the more prosaic chores of the rest of your day more bearable? I must say, its done wonders for me.

Searles extended her right hand toward him, middle finger defiantly raised, even as she turned and slammed her other hand into the wall‑mounted hatch‑control mechanism.

As the door slid open and she stalked out of the room, Vance chuckled quietly. What a waste of a perfectly good offer,he thought. It would have been fun to watch, if nothing else.

After all, one of the benefits of being master and commander of the Kobayashi Maruwas that the position afforded him the means of enjoying life to its fullestso long as nothing interrupted the incoming revenue stream, and naysayers like Stiles and Searles didnt keep the Maruin dry dock rather than out among the stars, earning more of the stuff that made life worth living. And enjoying life was something Kojiro Vance intended to go right on doing.

No matter whocame out on top in the Vulcans clandestine struggle against the Romulans and the Klingons for the reins of galactic power.

FORTY

Romulan Scoutship Drolae

E FFECTIVELY OUT OF OPTIONS, Trip could think of little to do other than to continue staring out the forward window at the angry glow of the approaching bird‑of‑preys main disruptor tube. Only occasionally did he allow his gaze to flick momentarily down to his engineering displays.

The relentless downward progression of Romulan numeric pictographs on the console put him in mind of an hourglass whose sands had all but run out. Whether incoming Romulan disruptor fire killed him, or the sudden, explosive release of the mutually annihilative particles that powered the crippled scout vessel, he knew he would soon be very dead.

Dead for real this time, with no fakery involved.

Good thing TPol and I got to say good‑bye properly instead of just doing that hand‑jive the Vulcans do,he thought.

A disruptor pistol lay in his lap, against the remote possibility that the Romulans might somehow detect and undo his attempt to scuttle the Drolaeprior to boarding her. He wished hed taken a phase pistol from Shuttlepod Twohe far preferred a weapon with a stun settingbut he couldnt risk allowing an Earth weapon to fall into Romulan hands, which was almost certain to happen once the Drolaewas boarded. But so far, hed seen no evidence that the warship out there was attempting either to transmit helm override signals or to send over a boarding team.

Just as the countdown entered its final minute, Trip suddenly noticed a tingling sensation that made him imagine thousands of overly caffeinated ants running frantically all over his skin. In the same instant, a shimmering curtain of light revealed the cause of the weird sensation.

Transporter beam. Damn it!

The cockpit of the Drolaeswiftly vanished around him, to be replaced a few heartbeats later by the cold greenish metal walls of a narrow, utilitarian chamber. Trip fell with a hard thump to the unyielding surface beneath him, the contoured pilots chair that had been supporting his weight evidently having remained aboard the scoutship. As he scrambled to reach the disruptor that had transported with him, a pair of grim‑faced Romulan uhlans, both brandishing gleaming disruptor pistols of their own, stepped quickly up onto the small circular stage upon which Trip had just materialized.

“I suppose youre gonna take me to your leader now, Trip said as the guards flanked him, kicked his weapon out of reach, and hauled him roughly to his feet. The only response the unsmiling pair made was to hold his arms behind his back as they shoved him toward an open hatchway.

Trip worried he might suffer a dislocated shoulder as they frog‑marched him along the narrow curve of a conduit‑lined accessway. A seeming eternity later, they pushed him into another chamber not much wider than the room in which Trip had materialized.

Trip immediately sized up the cramped but roughly circular place as the bridge. The chamber was built around a central pillar that served as an anchor for a compact array of consoles and viewers that faced outward to a ring of similar equipment that lined the curved walls. A handful of purposeful‑looking Romulan military officers were distributed around various control stations, occupied with the familiar moment‑to‑moment business of keeping a starship flying.

Trip looked toward the back of the command chair that was positioned just forward of the rooms central pillar. A male Romulan officer sat there, as still as a marble sculpture, perhaps transfixed by the large forward viewer before him. The screen displayed an image of the Drolae,adrift and broken. Rode hard and put away wet,Trip thought, grateful that the battered little ship hadnt given up the ghost at an earlier, less opportune time.

“The scout vessels warp‑core pressure is still heading toward critical, Commander, said a young woman who was posted at one of the portside consoles.

The captain, who still faced away from Trip, nodded. “Retreat to a safe distance, Decurion.

I know that voice,Trip thought, startled.

A moment later the image of the Drolaevanished, replaced first by a brilliant if short‑lived bloom of orange molecular fire, which quickly gave way to a rapidly expanding sphere of sun‑dappled metal shards. Within a few seconds, the debris cloud grew nearly as diffuse as the vacuum surrounding it. The Drolaedisappeared, as though it had never existed in the first place.

“Put us back on our original course, the captain said, still staring straight ahead.

“Yes, Commander, said the young male officer who was posted at what Trip assumed to be the helm panel. The star field displayed on the viewer smeared into multicolored streaks as the warp drive engaged. The subaural vibrations transmitted into Trips boots via the deck plates increased sharply in frequency, marking the vessels quick transition from station‑keeping velocity to warp five or thereabouts. And the brief sensation of lateral acceleration Trip felt before the inertial dampers fully engaged told him that they were headed awayfrom Romulus.

Trip could barely contain his astonishment. Theyre not going to take me the rest of the way to Romulus? This is definitely not going according to Hoyle.

When the man seated at the rooms center turned his chair toward the bridges aft section, Trip finally had an inkling as to why.

He also had about a thousand new questions.

“Take the prisoner to my office, the captain said, apparently in anticipation of those very questions.

“Sopek! Trip said after the guards had finally left him alone with the man in charge.

“I prefer Chuihv, if you please, Commander Tucker, said the erstwhile Vulcan captain. “At least while Im operating in Romulan space.

Trip sat heavily in the chair that his captor had offered, gently flexing his sore, badly manhandled shoulders. “This galaxy is getting waytoo small, he said, his mind still reeling.

“You are no doubt referring to the apparent element of coincidence underlying our present meeting, the other man said, steepling his fingers before him and planting his elbows atop the small transparent desk behind which he had seated himself. “But people in our profession are frequently drawn together by common circumstances, Commander. Particularly when their mission objectives overlap as much as ours do.

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