Eleven

“SIR?” Hoshi prompted again.

Trip sat in the pilot’s seat aboard the just barely cloaked cell-ship, hands poised over the controls, thinking. He had to decide what to do before they were blown to bits.

As if on cue, space in front of them flashed white again.

He couldn’t help but whistle admiringly.

“That is one big gun.”

“Not a very accurate one, though,” Brodesser said. “That blast missed its target by a considerable distance as well.”

Trip nodded. He was reading the same sensor console as Brodesser. Whoever was firing that weapon-a fixed gun emplacement on the orbital platform above Kota-needed a little more practice. Either that, or glasses.

Trip frowned. Something about the energy readings from that weapon suddenly looked very familiar. For the life of him, though, he couldn’t place it.

“I’ve identified the DEF ships. Makandros’s forces,” Brodesser said. “I recommend we make for their positions and surrender.”

That seemed to be about their only option. They could not escape on impulse, and it would be suicide to stay where they were. Trip only wondered why the professor had suggested surrendering to Makandros, rather than the forces defending Kota, then realized that he had the answer to that himself.

A solar system away from here, the civil war was raging on the Denari homeworld as well. And there, Elson had dropped at least two nuclear warheads. On his own people.

Giving up to a man capable of doing that didn’t seem like a good idea to Trip either.

On the other hand, he didn’t like the idea of giving up at all.

“I’ve isolated their hailing frequencies,” Hoshi put in. “All transmissions are scrambled, but I can get us through to them. Say the word.”

That word being surrender.

That word, when said, would put their fate back into the hands of others.

Trip had had quite enough of that over the last few weeks.

“Nah,” he said.

Brodesser turned to him, surprised. “Trip?”

“Sorry, sir,” Trip said. “But Hoshi and I-we’re just about out of time. I don’t think we want to spend the next few days trying to explain ourselves all over again.”

“But-“

“You really want to see the inside of a prison again? Not me. And I’ve just been breaking people out. You’ve been on the other side of those bars.”

Brodesser hesitated. “What do you propose we do instead?”

Trip frowned. That was the question, wasn’t it? The display showed him the cloak had about thirty seconds worth of life left in it, and then they would be visible for one and all to see.

Shortly after that, if they didn’t surrender, they would be space dust.

What to do? Kamikaze run? No point in that. He’d just ruled out surrender-the cell-ship’s weapons wouldn’t do much for them, and there was nothing else aboard the little ship thatTrip’s eyes fell on the storage compartments above them, and he smiled.

“I have an idea about that.”

 

“Shutting down sensors,” Brodesser said.

“Roger,” Trip replied.

“Disabling the UT module,” Hoshi said.

“Copy that as well.” Trip looked down at his console. Those were the last systems to go; they had already cut power to everything except the cloak and the maneuvering thrusters. Shields, weapons, communications-all were off-line to enable them to keep the cloak functioning, to stay hidden, for as long as possible.

Check that. The last systems to go save one.

Trip took a deep breath.

“Disabling life support,” he said, reaching for the console.

At the last second, before punching the buttons that would shut off the flow of oxygen to the cabin, he turned to Brodesser.

“All set?”

The professor nodded.

Trip turned around to Hoshi. She too, nodded her readiness.

He punched the button.

A light began blinking red on the console. Trip watched the diagnostic for a moment longer, as the status indicators for the ship’s circulation systems fell below the nominal line…

And kept falling.

He opened the com circuit on his EVA suit.

“Everyone all right?”

“Fine.”

“Yes, sir. So far, so good.”

“Glad to hear it.” They were all in the Denari EVA suits now. They had only a half hour’s worth of oxygen, but that half hour should be more than enough to get them inside one of the orbital platform’s hangars-specifically, the one farthest from the main battle theater, which sensors had shown them was empty-and from there, into a contained atmosphere.

Assuming, that is, the cloak could hold out that long.

Trip activated thrusters and set his sights on the platform. He was flying without instruments, by what he saw in front of him. The fighting was more sporadic now. Makandros’s ships seemed to have regrouped just out of range of the platform’s weapons, though every few minutes one of them would buzz in close and draw fire.

Good. The lull enabled him to take them straight into the platform, rather than having to curve around weapons fire that might accidentally disable them.

It also gave him an opportunity to study the massive platform up close-which was easily the size of the Warp Five complex, and then some. Not that much of a surprise, considering how many ships Trip knew of that had come out of this facility. Though it had obviously seen better days: the platform arm closest to them was pitted and scarred all across its surface. Repair crews in EVA suits of their own scurried in and out of an area near a large gun emplacement that was particularly badly marked. The gun emplacement, Trip realized, where all that errant fire had come from.

As they banked toward the hangar, he got a head-on look at the weapon, and blinked.

“Hoshi.”

“Yes, sir, I see it too.” She was leaning over his shoulder, peering through the forward glass.

“Tell me that’s not a phase cannon,” Trip said.

“That’s what it looks like to me.”

Trip smiled. He supposed the Denari’s inability to shoot straight with the weapon could be forgiven. After all, they couldn’t have had it for more than a week or so.

“Enterprise,” Hoshi said, unable to keep the excitement out of her voice. “She’s here.”

“Could be. Let’s not get our hopes up,” Trip said. They hadn’t picked the ship up on any of their scans, after all-though who was to say this was the only part of the Kota system where fighting was taking place? Enterprise could be in the middle of a battle on the other side of the moon, or the gas giant, and they would have no way of knowing. And as far as the phase cannon was concerned, yes, the most likely scenario was that the ship had been here and the cannon constructed by copying the one on board Enterprise. Trip realized with a start that cannibalized parts from Enterprise, along with sufficiently gifted engineers-Daedalus’s engineers, for example-could have built it from scratch, using plans. Another possibility was that Enterprise had been here and gone. No way of telling for certain right now.

The cell-ship passed into the vast, empty hangar. Trip maneuvered it close to one of the hangar walls and used mooring clamps to secure it in place.

He powered down the thrusters. Then he shut down the cloak.

They waited in silence.

“Nothing unusual. No increase in message traffic,” Hoshi announced a minute later, listening to the reactivated com. “They don’t know we’re here.”

“Good.” Trip nodded. “Then I’ll get going.”

He reached for the airlock hatch.

“Trip.” Brodesser’s voice stopped him. “You’re sure about this? Why don’t we see if Hoshi can-“

“Professor, with all due respect,” Trip said, “we’ve talked this through. You work on the ship. Let me see what I can find out from their computers.” He nodded out the forward window port, in the direction of the orbital platform. “I won’t take any risks, believe me.”

“Please don’t. Remember, you lack a cloaking device of your own.”

Trip smiled. “Yes, sir. I know. Maybe you could build me one.”

Through the EVA helmet, Brodesser returned his grin. “After I fix this, I’ll see what I can come up with.”

“Fair enough.” He turned to Hoshi. “I’m taking one of the communicators. You hear anything that I ought to know, contact me.”

“Aye, sir. Good luck.”

“Thanks.” He also fit one of their phase pistols to the suit-just in case. Then, having vented the ship’s atmosphere earlier, he opened the hatch. With a final thumbs-up to both of them, he pushed himself free of the cell-ship.

Trip hadn’t been EVA in a long time in a suit other than the high-tech ones Enterprise carried. The Denari one lacked the kind of precise controls those had. His gentle push out of the hatch took him thirty meters straight toward the open end of the hangar before he could get turned back around, headed toward one of the airlocks that dotted the vast interior walls.

On his way, he floated past the forward window port of the cell-ship, and waved.

Inside, he saw Brodesser and Hoshi shucking their EVA suits. They’d already repressurized the vessel and reactivated the systems they’d need in order to work. That made them vulnerable in there; it was kind of like turning on a night light in the middle of a vast empty room and hoping no one noticed. A stray sensor beam, a ship happening to drift by the hangar and peer in…

They were sitting ducks in there. It wasn’t just Trip who had to hurry, it was all of them.

He pushed off then, headed toward the nearest airlock.

A minute later, he was through it and inside the hangar proper, in a high-ceilinged chamber the size of a small church. It was a staging area where the workers gathered before heading out into the hangars to their jobs. EVA suits, tools of all kinds, airsleds and other small utility vehicles lined the walls. There was nothing that looked like a com terminal or a data station anywhere in sight.

Trip shucked his own EVA suit and left it in the airlock he’d come through.

He passed through the chamber to a door at the far end and opened it.

A long corridor, gun-metal gray, dimly lit, stretched out before him. Off in the distance, it bent sharply to the left and disappeared. If memory served him correctly about the station’s structure, it led toward the central platform.

He paused a moment and listened. Nothing.

He started down the corridor. At the bend, he paused again. Still nothing.

He frowned. Perhaps fifty meters ahead, the dim lighting suddenly brightened. That part of the station was clearly active-and he doubted that in the middle of an all-out attack like the one they were currently experiencing, it was deserted.

He took a step back the way he’d come and flipped open his communicator.

“Hoshi?”

“Right here.”

“Anything on the com?”

“Nothing about Enterprise. But the professor was right-the ships attacking are Makandros’s. They’re demanding that Kota surrender.”

“And-“

“Kota’s telling them to go to hell. How about you, sir? Any luck?”

“Nothing yet. I-“

A noise sounded behind him-machinery, starting up. Trip turned and saw a bulkhead lowering from the ceiling.

When it hit the floor, it was going to cut off his escape route.

Operating on instinct alone, he dove to the floor and rolled up underneath the bulkhead. He came up on his knees…

And saw a second bulkhead coming down ten meters ahead of him. This section of the corridor was being sealed off.

Instinct, again, told him he did not want to be inside it.

He rolled back underneath the bulkhead as it slammed down to the floor, making an airtight seal.

He was cut off from the cell-ship.

“Sir?” Hoshi said over the communicator. “You all right?”

“Fine.” His eyes scanned the wall, looking for some sort of control panel, something that might let him raise the wall in front of him. Nothing. “Listen, I’ll call you when I can. Out.”

He flipped the communicator shut just as a red light above the bulkhead began flashing. The corridor lights came on full.

This was not good.

The bulkhead had a clear panel set in it at eye level. Trip pressed his face up against it and peered through.

Inside the newly formed chamber, a hatch was swinging open.

Somebody-whether it was Makandros’s forces, the troops defending the platform, or someone else entirely-was about to join him on this part of the base.

Trip suddenly realized that someone would not be at all welcoming. Not just because he’d sneaked aboard, but because-as he was all too aware of now, looking down at his clothes-he’d made a terrible mistake.

He was wearing a Guild uniform.

Either side was likely to see him and shoot first, probably with no questions for later.

A leg stepped through the hatch.

Trip turned around and ran.

The lights came up around him as he went, almost as if they were chasing him down the corridor. He glanced left and right, looking for a place to stop and hide, even an alcove of some sort that he could duck into. But there was nothing.

He came to a T and halted.

Off in the distance behind him, he heard voices. Footsteps as well-several people, from the sound of it, had entered the platform behind him and were following at a brisk pace. No, following was the wrong word. They didn’t know he was here. Unfortunately, that didn’t make a bit of difference. He had to run anyway.

Trip went left. Another T, and he went left again. And then again, a third time, making the way back as easy to remember as possible. The corridor took on a curve, as if he was looping out away from the central platform.

And then all at once, it ended. Trip came up short.

He was looking out on the stars.

His view was courtesy of a long, curving, clear panel that dominated the front of the room the hall emptied into. A crescent-shaped room twice the size of Enterprise’s bridge. There were dozens of computer consoles laid out in curving rows that matched the shape of the room. In the back, a glassed-in control booth, and at the front, three much larger stations, one of which was instantly familiar. It was a weapons control station, exactly like the one back in Enterprise’s armory-the one they used to operate their phase cannons.

This station, however, was nonfunctional, like the rest of the room, which was in a state of disarray. Conduit and optic cable lay loose everywhere.

Trip’s heart sank just a little. He’d thought for a minute he’d stumbled across exactly what he’d been looking for-a computer station he could tie in to Kota’s central system and use to find out about Enterprise. But as he walked through the room, every station was dark.

His eyes fell upon the glassed-in booth at the back of the room. In the darkness within it, a light glowed.

Trip walked to the booth and stepped inside.

He flipped open the communicator.

“Hoshi?”

“Right here.”

“Put the professor on, will you? I might have something.”

“Hold on.”

“Trip?” Brodesser’s voice came back. “You found one?”

“Yes, sir.” He looked down at the computer. Trip’s UT couldn’t help him navigate this machine. He needed to use the Denari language itself, which he didn’t know, but luckily, Brodesser did. “If you could guide me through this, maybe we can find what we’re-“

He heard voices, then footsteps coming at a fast walk.

He barely had time to shut the communicator and duck down behind the station before the footsteps were in the room with him.

“-we’ll find out if you’ve been telling us the truth, Lieutenant.”

That was a woman’s voice.

“He’s lying, Major. He’s been lying all along.”

A man.

“We’ll see,” the woman-the major, Trip assumed-responded. “Down here.”

More footsteps, and then a clatter of equipment. Something-someone-falling to the floor. A grunt, an exclamation of pain. From a third voice, Trip thought.

“Get up.” The man again. “Before you make me angry.”

A mutter in response. Definitely a third voice. Another man, but that was all Trip could tell from this far away.

Trip drew his phase pistol. Three against one. He didn’t love those odds, but they were doable. Better than he’d expected, in some ways. And he had a hunch that this lieutenant-the third voice-just might welcome Trip’s intervention. So two against one.

“Remove the targeting mechanism, please.” The woman again.

“It’s not-“

Another thump-the sound of someone being struck. Trip cocked his head, tried to move closer.

That third voice-in the split-second it spoke clearly, it had suddenly sounded familiar.

“You heard her,” the first man said. “Remove the targeting device.”

There was a long silence. Then the sound of someone getting to his feet. More noise-equipment being moved. The targeting device being taken out, he assumed. Why?

“You see!” That was the man again. “There. The device is incorrectly calibrated, just as the others were.”

“I do see,” the woman said. “You’ve sabotaged our equipment, Lieutenant. Why?” Though her voice was calm, her tone even, Trip heard the menace in her words and shuddered involuntarily. This lieutenant was in a lot of trouble.

“You think we’re idiots?” the woman asked. “Did you think we wouldn’t realize something was wrong?”

“No. I knew you’d find out-sooner or later.” The third voice came clear again. “The thing is, you’re bloody thieves. Murderers as well. And I’m quite happy to have bollixed up your little plans.”

Trip’s eyes widened. That voice…

He risked a peek out from behind the console he was crouched under.

Three people stood near the main weapons console. Facing Trip, a short, thick woman, medium-length brown hair. The major, no doubt. Beside her, hand on a phase pistol, a much younger man, his features contorted with rage.

And between them, the lieutenant they’d both been yelling at. Who still held the phase cannon’s targeting module in his hand. Who, even though he had his back to Trip, was instantly recognizable.

And who would most definitely welcome Trip’s intervention.

Tucker stood and raised his weapon.

“Don’t move,” he said, his pistol targeted on the younger man.

He paid Trip no mind, and started to swing his weapon around to fire.

You are an idiot, Trip thought, and shot him.

The blast caught the man square in the chest. He flew backwards through the air, slammed into the glass panel, and slid to the floor, unconscious.

Trip turned back and saw the major reaching for her weapon. She was fast.

But the lieutenant was faster.

He drew back a fist and clocked her on the jaw.

Her eyes rolled back in her head and she too fell to the ground, out like a light.

Trip holstered his weapon and stepped forward.

“Thank you,” the lieutenant said. “I was in a bit of a spot there.”

“I could see.” Trip smiled. The lieutenant didn’t know who he was. Understandable, he supposed. The beard, the uniform, all the weight he’d lost…

“Still, hitting a woman. What would the captain say?”

The man frowned. “The captain?”

“Archer. You remember Captain Archer, don’t you?”

The lieutenant stared at him a second longer…

And then Malcolm Reed’s jaw dropped.

“Bloody hell.” He blinked, shook his head, and smiled. “Trip.”