CHAPTER 16

“OUR MISSION is to return the Klingon to his homeworld. Another rescue attempt could jeopardize that mission—”

“The captain specifically told us to come back for him!”

“As commanding officer, it’s my job to interpret the captain’s orders.”

Trip Tucker’s anger flushed right up into his face and out the top of his head. “I just told you his orders! What’s there to ‘interpret’!”

Everyone on the bridge watched tensely as Tucker confronted T’Pol with his report and watched it pulled apart, brick by brick, and the captain with it.

T’Pol contained herself with damnable reserve. “Captain Archer may very well have told you to return for him later because he knew how stubborn you can be.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You might’ve risked Klaang’s life in a foolish attempt to swing back and rescue the captain.”

Tucker grimaced. “I can’t believe this!”

A jolt from outside rocked the ship and punctuated his fury as the tension rose for them all. Reed was standing behind him, but said nothing. Hoshi looked positively destroyed at T’Pol’s refusal. Mayweather’s hands on the helm were stiff and flushed.

“The situation must be analyzed logically,” T’Pol said, but this time it sounded like she was trying to convince herself as much as them.

“I don’t remember the captain analyzing anything when he went back for you on that roof!” Tucker roared.

“That’s a specious analogy.”

“Is it?”

“We have work to do. We must stabilize our flight condition before we can move out of the atmosphere. Take your posts, please. That was not a request.”

Well, she might not be Starfleet, but she had the style down. Everyone responded, though with a bitter silence. Tucker ground his teeth and went to the engineering master control station. What could he do? Was there a way to neutralize her command status?

“Hull plating’s been repolarized,” Reed reported. His voice was hardly more than a rasp. Behind it was the question in everyone’s mind. Leave the captain? Would he leave us?

“Stand by the impulse engines. Mr. Tucker, status?”

Tucker felt a vicious tone rise from his throat. He thought about lying, stalling. But, ultimately, he couldn’t do it. “The autosequencer’s on-line, but annular confinement’s still off by two microns.”

“That should suffice,” T’Pol said.

“Easy for you to say.”

“If the Suliban have reestablished their defense, we’ll have no other option.”

The ship roared through the gas giant’s atmosphere directly below the roiling blue layer. Several cell ships appeared on the scanners and began an attack pattern, strafing the underside of the huge dove-gray vessel. Reed, still under his fire-at-will order, took out his frustration with T’Pol on the incoming assault vessels.

“We have four more coming up off starboard!” he called.

T’Pol paused. “Can we dock, Ensign?”

Mayweather blinked. “These aren’t ideal conditions—”

“Mr. Tucker, we’re going to plan B.”

Tucker swung around. What had changed her mind? Why would a person who claimed to be ruled by logic suddenly whip around to a completely crazy plan of action?

Who cared!

“I’m on my way!” he declared, and rushed off the bridge.

It was crazy, and he embraced it with everything he had. In less than two minutes he was in the newly installed transport-materializing chamber, summoning power from deep in the bowels of the ship’s impulse drive system. Yes, crazy—he might find himself standing over the shredded, gurgling remains—

No, don’t think that way. The control station fell under his trembling hands. Just work the controls ... make the numbers line up ... focus the beams ...

“I’ll do it,” he murmured. “I’ll do it, I can do it—”

He only had seconds. He felt the presence of T’Pol and Reed and all the others, even though they were decks away from him. This was it. T’Pol would never give him another chance. There was no plan C.

The chamber began to whine a god-awful noise. He focused and focused, adjusted and hoped. If only Porthos were here, he could cross his paws.

A column of light appeared inside the chamber, between the two pie plates on floor and ceiling that would act as a receiver. Human readings ... he was sure those were human readings. There was only one human on that big Suliban knot out there!

A humanoid shape appeared, forming between the lights. But the Suliban were humanoid. Tucker held his breath.

There was nothing more he could do with the controls. They would either do what they were designed to do, or there would be a disaster here.

The captain’s build—the captain’s hair and hands—a crouched position. Running?

Long seconds finally pulled Jonathan Archer together out of a puzzle of lights and whines. He stumbled forward on sheer momentum, then skidded and stopped himself, and looked around in shock at his new surroundings. He wavered, disoriented, then patted himself to see if he was all there.

“Bridge!” Trip called. “We’ve got him!” He rushed to the pad platform and reached for Archer. “Sorry, Captain! We had no other choice!”

Well, that was a silly thing to say, because there were always other choices, but at least it sounded better than anything else he could think of.

Archer stumbled down with Tucker’s help.

“Are you hurt? Are you all here?”

“Well, I think so, most of me, anyway.” Archer offered him a tremulous smile and a grip on the arm to prove to them both that they were together again.

“T’Pol wanted to leave you behind!”

Archer steadied himself with a hand on Tucker’s shoulder. “She wanted to. Notice she didn’t act on what she wanted. She acted on what she could do.” He drew a breath of life and actually laughed. “Trip, old man, I believe I can work with that!”