“Put the weapon down, Terix said. His weapons muzzle was pointed straight at Trips head in a gesture of unambiguous menace. Across a distance of maybe four meters, there was no way the centurion was going to miss if he were to open fire.
“Settle down, Terix, Trip said as he made a careful show of allowing a weapon to fall from his hand for the second time today.
When Terix spoke again, his voice seemed to be unnaturally loud. “That man has my weapon. Pausing, he gestured toward one of the unconscious troopers who lay on the floor nearby. “Lift it out of his belt. Slowly. Then drop it on the floor and kick it over here.
Trip nodded silently, and did as the centurion instructed. From what hed observed of the weapon, he knew hed never get the safety setting disengaged before Terix burned him up like a Roman candle. Or a Romulan candle,he thought absurdly.
A few moments later, Terix had recovered his weapon. While covering Trip with the troopers pistol in his left hand, he manipulated a switch on the handle of his own weapon with his right. He then holstered the weapon in his left hand, apparently content to keep it as a backup for the one he kept pointed at Trips head.
With his free hand, Terix removed two small objects from inside his ears, first the right, then the left.
Understanding began to dawn on Trip. That was no safety catch on his weapon,he thought, appreciating the engineering ingenuity involved as much as the tactical genius. It was some sort of ultrasonic attack. Something that works on a frequency so high that only dogs and Romulans can hear it. Unless theyre wearing protective earplugs.
Or theyre not really Romulans in the first place.
“We are notleaving together, Terix said as he took a single menacing step in Trips direction. “Commander Tucker.
I didnt fall down the way everybody else did,he thought. So he doesnt have to justsuspect I might not be the real deal anymore. Now he knows for sure.
His hands raised and his palms out, Trip tried to put on the same lets-both-be-reasonable-and-talk-this-over-before-either-of-us-does-anything-rashgrin that had forestalled more than a few bar fights during his undergraduate years.
“I should have listened to my mother when I was in school back in Romii, he said aloud. “She always warned me about playing those Frenchotte recordings with the volume up so high.
Terix appeared unmoved by Trips improvised excuses. “Once I obtain whatever warp-drive data Chuihv has stored in this place, he said, “you will die with everyone else here when I vaporize this complex.
“Is killing me youridea, Terix? Or Valdores?
“I have made the admiral aware of my suspicions.
“But Im willing to bet he doesnt share them. At least he might not until after he hears your next report.“Otherwise he wouldnt have sent us out here together on this wild mogaihunt without another couple of men to watch your back.
Terixs scowl deepened, but Trip could see that doubt was warring with resolve behind the centurions dark, hooded eyes.
“You are not loyal to the Empire, he said. His weapon remained unwaveringly trained on Trips head. “And even the Ejhoi Ormiinaccuse you of being a Terran spy.
“And you believethat? Chuihv is a pathological liar, Terix. Its how he makes his living. He gestured toward the spot where the dissident leader lay unconscious. “For Erebuss sake, man, hes so crooked he has to screw his pants on every morning.
The weapon seemed to waver ever so slightly in Terixs hand, though Trip couldnt be sure that wasnt merely wishful thinking on his part.
“But you are not even Romulan,the centurion said. “You couldntbe. He punctuated his point by holding up the protective earplugs he still clutched in his free hand.
Think fast, Charles.“Why? Because my hearing is defective?
“I find it curious that you have never seen fit to mention this rather convenient defect before, Terix said.
From somewhere far beyond the confines of the building, Trip could hear the sound of distant thunder. He found it mildly ironic that the keen-eared centurion had shown no sign as yet of having noticed it.
Just as he found it hard not to fantasize that the sound represented the faint and fading hope of a last-minute cavalry rescue. More goddamn wishful thinking,he thought, trying but not quite succeeding in dismissing the distracting notion.
“My bad hearing isnt something Im particularly proud of, Trip said, hoping it wasnt as painfully obvious to Terix as it was to him that he was merely grasping at straws in order to stay alive. “After all, its kept me out of the military my whole life. And its kept me from having a career like the one youvehad. Can you imagine how that feels? When all else fails,he thought, theres always flattery. Not to mention spadefuls of good, old-fashioned Florida bullshit.
Another rumble of thunder sounded, much closer this time. Terix obviously noticed it now, and cast a quick glance at the still-empty doorway, to which his right side was now faced.
Jumping Terix remained out of the question. But Trip knew he still had to press forward with whatever advantage he might have just created for himself, however narrow.
“Listen, Terix, he said, trying to sound far more reasonable than worried. “Whatever you might believe about me, Im the best chance Admiral Valdore has of achieving the goal of creating a working avaihh lli vastamstardrive prototype now that Ehrehin is gone. The admiral might be a little upset with you if you do anything to compromise that. Kill me and you set the whole project back by fvheisn.
For an interminably long moment, Terix appeared to mull over the prospect of losing years of hard-fought progress in high-warp physics. Despite his apparent internal debate, hed lowered his gun only a few centimeters, if that.
More thunder, inside the building this time. A klaxon blared, its repetitive tattoo echoing throughout the complex.
Terix raised his weapon again, pointing it straight at Trips head. “I believe I can live with that, he said with a snarl.
Trip watched him begin squeezing the trigger with exaggerated, excruciating slowness.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Monday, July 21, 2155 Qam-Chee, the First City, QonoS
S OMETIME DURING THE LAST INSTANTof life he expected to experience, Jonathan Archer made a decision: He simply wasnt going to stop fighting.
Even as Krells batlethblade descended toward his head, Archer brought his own weapon to bear in front of his face, one hand on the traditional grip, the other grasping the outer blade.
The tip of Krells batlethsliced through the gap between the outer and inner blade of Archers weapon, becoming trapped there, wedged mere inches from Archers face. He grimaced, ignoring the pain in his punctured side, ignoring the blood that slickened the outer blade beneath his lacerated fingers, and twisted with every ounce of strength he still possessed.
Krells blade suddenly torqued to the side, and he grunted in anger as one of his hands lost its grip.