CHAPTER THIRTEEN
"Say what?"
"You heard me perfectly clear, Charles," Janos replied with a stern eyebrow. "The Enterprise will be going in search of the Xindi. Perhaps hoping for a diplomatic solution."
"I don't want a diplomatic solution," Trip all but growled.
"I know, son," Janos said kindly. "And we don't work for Starfleet, or even Earth, when it get's right down to it. I have seen nothing, of yet, that convinces me Archer has a hope in Hades of carrying this off."
"You have a choice to make, Charles," Janos continued. "You can strike out on your own, or you can shadow the Enterprise. Protect her. I will not presume to tell you which way to go. So long as you prevent any other attacks upon Earth, I really don't care if the Xindi continue to exist or not, though you know I share your sentiment," he added.
"I'll think it over," Trip promised. "We'll figure something out."
"I'm sure you will," Janos was confident. "Give Neera my love, and Godspeed, Charles."
"You don't love me?" Trip asked with a grin. Janos was still scowling when the screen went blank.
"Nah, he loves me," Trip answered his own question. "Dammit, Jon," he then said aloud. The last thing he needed, or had expected, was that Enterprise might head into the Expanse. Alone.
Trip sat back, considering his two options. Well, three, he amended. One, ignore the fact that Enterprise was out here, and continue with his own plan. Which would leave a woefully underpowered, and unprepared, ship full of people he knew vulnerable.
Second, he could patrol the edge of the barrier, and announce himself to Archer, ordering him to stay the hell out of his way, and go home. That, Trip figured, would go over just about as well as a dog turd in the punch bowl at the family picnic.
Lastly, he could simply dog Jon's tracks, and watch over the Enterprise and her crew. He sighed, rubbing his temples.
Decisions, decisions.
Trip put that away for a moment to consider his own current status. They were three days from the border of the Expanse, the shake-down well under way with no problems. He had forty-five ground troopers. He had planned for fifty at a minimum, but with twelve Klingons and fourteen sym-humans, if that was a word, he was very satisfied.
Tragon's men were accustomed to serving on ship as well as on the ground. He had watched the former special forces Denobulans practicing their maneuvers, and they were good. If Dru'hak and his Klingons were a broadsword, then Tragon and his troopers were a laser scalpel.
And then, there was Hunter.
Two days before they left dock, Athena had returned with a last minute shipment of supplies and equipment for the Acheron. Along with a fourteen strong squad of Janos' personal storm troopers, led by one Jason Hunter.
Hunter was tall, rangy, built like an athlete, as were his men and women. Eight men and six women troopers bunked in the last available Marine crew quarters, while Hunter was billeted in Officer country. They all looked. . .hungry, Trip had thought at the time. Yeah, hungry. Eager.
The crew of the Acheron was first rate all around. Trip had his pick of the cream of free lance spacers, and the quality of the crew showed in Acheron's smoothly running systems and schedules. Trip rarely had to give any actual commands. He had, typically, spent most of their first two days out in engineering, mostly watching, occasionally tinkering, and always getting on Tala's nerves.
Finally the young woman had called Neera, who had come to remove Trip from the area. He remembered the day pretty well, since Neera had very definite ideas of how better to spend their time than tinkering in an engine room, or rooms, that were functioning flawlessly.
Trip's last 'suggestion' as he was dragged from the area was to implement damage control drills the next day. Tala had informed him, a bit tersely he'd thought, that DC drills were already scheduled, thank you, and have a nice day. Or night.
Implied in that was have them away from engineering. Trip shook his head, grinning. He'd never liked having other people in his own engine spaces after all.
He leaned forward and pressed the Com button.
"Julio, Neera, Kron, please report to the Captain's Ready Room," he ordered. He had a decision to make, and needed their input.
An hour later, Trip reached a reluctant decision, and called Janos to let him know what it was.
STE
Enterprise left space dock with out fanfare, and under tight security. The crew were subdued, and had mixed feelings. Fear, trepidation, excitement, and the desire for revenge all rolled into one.
The officers were no different.
Archer sat in his ready room, an hour after launch, reviewing his final meeting with Max Forrest. His instructions were boiled down to a few set rules. Don't make the war worse, don't allow Earth to be attacked again, settle things diplomatically, if possible, and don't expect any help. From anywhere. Earth's so called allies were notably absent in her time of greatest need.
Archer and the Enterprise were truly on their own.
STE
T'Pol was in her quarters, meditating. She reviewed her discussion with Soval, four days prior to launch.
"The High Command has ordered you home," Soval had told her in typically Vulcan flatness.
"Who will you assign to replace me?" she had inquired, thinking of what she needed to include in her briefing for the replacement.
"No one," Soval had informed her. "This is not a Vulcan matter. The Humans will have to deal with this issue in their own way. On their own."
"I do not understand," T'Pol had said. "What has happened?"
"Nothing has happened, and nothing will happen that involves Vulcan, or her people. That is all you need to know, for now."
"I disagree," T'Pol had replied calmly. "I must make an informed decision, and I cannot do that without the necessary facts."
"There is no decision for you to make," Soval told her. "You will follow your orders."
T'Pol remembered her confusion, and her. . .anger? Yes, she admitted, anger. There had been no reason she could see for Vulcan to abandon Earth, or it's people, and she had said so.
"The Humans have refused to listen to reason, refused our guidance," Soval had responded, clearly annoyed at her attitude. "The position they now find themselves in is the result of that."
"I do not believe that to be the case," she had politely accused Soval of lying. "This race, these Xindi, are unknown to Earth. Enterprise has never encountered them, so there has been no opportunity to give offense, nor to wage war."
"We call the Humans allies, yet we abandon them at their time of greatest need. I find no logic in this, Soval."
"The decision has been made," Soval cast aside her concerns. "We will not aid them."
"My decision is my own to make," T'Pol informed him. "My resignation will be in your hands before I return to Enterprise."
"You will follow your orders," Soval's voice was close to showing emotion.
"I will no longer be under your orders," T'Pol allowed herself a weak moment of pride at the strength in her voice. Commander Tucker would be pleased, she thought.
"I will offer my services to Starfleet," T'Pol went on. "My own people have shown considerable reluctance to accept me since I was ordered to serve on Enterprise. I have no reason to believe that will change."
"The Humans, at least, do not ostracize their people for following orders. Perhaps they will extend me the same courtesy."
"You are endangering all that you have worked for, if you follow this irresponsible path, T'Pol," Soval told his god daughter.
"I have Pa'nar syndrome," T'Pol told him suddenly. "Vulcan healers refuse to treat me, so my time is limited. The goals which I had aspired to are no longer within my grasp. As such, I will spend my remaining time as I see fit, with the view of accomplishing all that I can before. . .while I am still able to function effectively."
"How did you contract Pa'Naar?" Soval asked, concern creeping into his voice.
"That is not your concern," T'Pol informed him. "It was. . .involuntary. And while Vulcan healers refused to treat me, Doctor Phlox has done all that he can for me, to the point of appealing to various medical colleagues within the Vulcan Medical Service, from his time on Vulcan with the IME. All have refused. The humans I serve with have all likewise tried to assist me, while my own people would allow me to die."
"Thus my path should seem somewhat less. . .irresponsible to you, Uncle."
Soval's inner turmoil was almost noticeable. It had been his order that had placed her on the Human ship. Logically, that meant that everything she had endured, she had done so following his orders.
"I will speak to a healer I know at Gol," he offered. "He will ensure your treatment and recovery, T'Pol kam."
"It has been too long, now," T'Pol had replied with indifference. "My path is before me, Uncle. Know that I hold you in great affection, despite our many differences. Live long, my en'ahr'at, and prosper."
T'Pol breathed slightly, opening her eyes to take in the flickering candle before her. If she was to die, it would be in a manner of her own choosing, following the guidance of her instincts, and her heart. The Humans on this ship had befriended her despite their less than fair treatment at the hands of her people.
She would not dishonor them.
STE
Malcolm Reed lay on his bunk, a piece of silk in his hands. Silk underwear to be precise. July Novichek was indeed a delightful morsel, as Janos had put it.
He reflected on his last visit to Janos, two days before Enterprise was scheduled to depart. He had informed Captain Archer, who had immediately endorsed the idea. Reed had arrived at the bookstore, pleased to see a smiling July at the counter.
"Hello, Commander," she had smiled softly. "I don't suppose you are here to see me, are you?" she asked.
"I'd like nothing better luv," Reed had replied truthfully. "But I must see him, first."
"I will be holding you to that, Commander. He is actually expecting you."
"That does not surprise me," Reed sighed. "Thank you."
Janos had, in fact, been expecting him. The first thing he had done was offer him a chip.
"Latest information, Commander, and all that I have," Janos had said, almost apologetically. "I have something to tell you, Commander," Janos the leaned back. "And this is for you, and you alone. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, sir,' Reed was hesitant. "But if it's something that would help Earth, or the Enterprise, I can't promise you I won't share it. You may rather not want to trust me with it, under those circumstances." Janos actually smiled at that.
"You never cease to amaze me, Mister Reed. Charles indeed picks his friends well." Reed blushed slightly at the praise, but remained silent.
"What I'm about to tell you is so secret that I'd prefer you don't even dream about it, if you can. And, if the time comes, the need arises, of course you can use it. That's why I'm sharing it with you." He smiled.
"You do impress me, young Reed. I really, really hope, that once you see that Starfleet is far too tame for you, that you'll consider joining me."
"I'll keep that in mind, sir," Reed chuckled.
"Charles is you friend, is he not?" Janos had said suddenly.
"My best friend, despite his sodding poor treatment of me, at times," Reed had nodded. "There's nothing I wouldn't do for him."
"I assure you the feeling is mutual," Janos smiled. "So, I'm going to tell you what your best friend has been doing these past few months. I'm placing great trust in you, Malcolm, for more than one reason. Charles, of course, is one of those reasons."
"The second is that I have great respect for you, and your abilities. Your loyalty, and determination, resolve, and because at heart, you aren't really a sailor, or a Starfleet officer. Good at them, perhaps, but that's not what you are. Not deep down, where you live."
"You, my boy, are a warrior, pure and simple. You work to hide it, and do quite well, but I've been a warrior much longer than you have been in the world. I know my own kind when I see it. That is the final, perhaps the main reason."
"Charles has been building himself a warship," Janos said calmly. "One that I financed. It is far superior to anything currently in space, at least among the races I know of. And there are three more currently under construction, with still more behind that."
Reed prided himself on his ability to project calm, and never show surprise, but this time. . .he failed.
"I'm not exactly what I appear to be, Malcolm," Janos admitted. "Perhaps, when you run into Charles, he might explain it to you. That's for him to decide. You see, he's no longer exactly what he seems to be, either. Again, that's for him to tell, if he desires."
"I have spent a great long time trying to prevent mankind from destroying itself. My track record, outside the Genetics fiasco, is actually pretty good."
"You were ali. . . ."
"I told you, Malcolm, not today," Janos reminded him. "Until the Xindi attack, I ignored matters in space, save for my own interests. Man has to make a living," he grinned. "I realize now, too late, that this was a mistake." He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "Charles is my response to that mistake. There is no one I trust more to be out there, protecting this planet, protecting all of mankind, in fact, than Charles Tucker. I trust him so much, in fact, that I have expended a great deal of resources, people, and time on his behalf, and continue to do so."
"I can afford it, Malcolm," Janos smiled at Reed's look. "As I said, I'm not exactly what I appear to be."
"I, myself, have no love of space, as Charles does. I don't dislike it, really, it's just. . .for me, space is that final frontier, and I cannot find the desire to see beyond it. Earth is, and will always be, my home. I've sworn my life, my wealth, and the people who serve me, in it's protection."
"As I said, however, I ignored space. A mistake that cost me dearly, and one that I will not make again. Your friend Charles has become the hammer which I will use to beat the enemies of Humanity into dust, Commander. He will lead my modest fleet, and ensure that nothing like what happened with the Xindi can ever happen again."
"I. . .I don't know what to say, sir," Reed had managed to stammer.
"There's nothing for you to say, Malcolm," Janos smiled. "But, you need to be aware of what's going on. I remind you, that this information is for you and only for you, until the time comes to use it." He extended another chip.
"This is how you contact Charles, when you need his help," Janos told him. "He told me, just before you got here in fact, that after discussing the situation with his staff, he's decided to put his desire for vengeance on hold, at least for now." He frowned, then.
"What I can't promise you is how long that will last," he admitted. "Charles has become something. . .more, I suppose, since you saw him last. He's no longer the smiling, laughing young man you knew him to be. He, like you, was born to be a warrior. He has fought that inclination his entire life, until the Xindi."
"Now, I'm afraid that his suppression of that nature, combined with his cold hatred for the Xindi, his need to protect others, and my. . .mismanagement, I suppose, have left him a very different man."
"Know this. If, or when, Archer pisses him off, I expect that Charles will simply move on the Xindi on his own, and destroy them root and branch. That was his original intention, at least. His mind is no longer so easy for me to know."
"I. . .how can he do that?" Reed asked "He's only got one ship."
"A ship he designed and constructed for one purpose," Janos agreed. "To destroy, to erase, the Xindi. Completely and without remorse. Charles, I'm afraid, is completely out of remorse, these days," he added sadly.
"And his plans do not end with the Xindi," Janos added. "There are other things that have attracted his attention. And I assure you, Malcolm, no matter what race it is, they do not want his attention."
"Sir, with respect," Reed had answered, "how could you give him that ship, knowing what. . .how, he is, now?"
"Two reasons," Janos surprised him by smiling. "First, Charles Tucker is the son I never had. I know he has parents of his own, and I would never compare myself to them in anyway. But I care for the boy as if he were mine. And, I want him to have his vengeance. I want my own, but that's beside the point."
"Secondly, I don't really care about any race of beings who would make war on Man. Period. If they make the mistake of crossing him, or bringing themselves to his attention through an attack on Humanity, anywhere, or in any way, then he has my complete blessing to deal with them as he see's fit."
"And he does not see very fit, these days," Janos observed quietly. "So, if Captain Archer begins to look as if he's going to. . .annoy?. . .yes, annoy is an excellent word. If it seems that Archer is annoying Charles, then you might want to try and talk him out of it. For his sake."
"I like what I know of Archer, for the most part, but his inclination to be a bit narcissistic is bothersome, in a trivial way. He want's to be in on everything, know everything, and be a part of history. Understandable, and not a bad thing, so long as he tempers it with a bit of patience and. . .restraint. Especially where Charles is concerned."
"It's possible that I am wrong about this," Janos admitted, "but I don't think so. I believe that Archer's friendship with Charles will work in his favor, but a concerned word or two, here and there, might keep him from. . .hm, what word for this?" he pondered. "Presuming, I should think," he continued after a second's thought. "Yes, you might caution Archer about presuming too much where that friendship is concerned. I'm not sure it would be wise."
"I understand, sir," Reed nodded. His tone indicated he really did understand, Janos was happy to see.
"The next vessel will be completed soon," Janos informed him further. "It's mission will be to assist in protecting the Earth from further attack. They will, of course, not attempt to communicate with Starfleet. I share this with you only to help put your own mind at east. Earth will have help soon enough. I swear that to you."
Malcolm sat back, processing all this. He knew, for some reason, that he could trust this man before him. It didn't hurt that Trip trusted Janos, but there was something. . .more. Malcolm didn't understand it exactly, but his instincts in these matters was usually accurate.
"I'm glad to hear that, sir," Reed nodded. "Perhaps, one day, I might serve on one of those ships," he added, but would never know why.
"I'd like that very much, Malcolm Reed," Janos gave him a genuine, happy smile. "I would like that very much indeed. It would warm my heart to see you commanding one of my vessels in combat, or in peace." Reed managed not to start at that. He hadn't considered commanding one of them, just. . . .
"Now, unless I am mistaken, and that is rare indeed, there is a very attractive woman waiting downstairs to see you off," Janos ended. "Godspeed, Malcolm, and good hunting."
"Thank you, sir," Reed stood. "Farewell."
Reed shifted in his bunk slightly, remembering the send off with a smile. July was a remarkable woman, and every minute he'd spent with her had been special. She had been cautious to warn him not to read anything into their. . .liaison.
"It would never work out, love," she told him softly, her head resting on his chest after a particularly spirited bout of love making. "We are from different worlds, Malcolm, and that is all I can say. But. . .," she kissed him softly. "I shall ever remember you fondly."
He would remember her too. No, he would never see her again, but. . .he would never forget her, either.
Restless, now, Malcolm rose and dressed for the gym.
STE
Neera watched Trip carefully as he sat in his chair, brooding. Like the kings of old, she thought to herself.
Neera was old. Very old, in fact. But she had never had a man excite her, charm her, claim her, the way Charles 'Trip' Tucker had, and sometimes she caught herself wondering how he had.
She didn't spend very long wondering, if she were honest. It was enough that she loved him, and he loved her. But because she loved him, she worried over him. His brooding wasn't new, as he'd been doing it since she met him. Well, met him the second time.
Her concern stemmed from the fact that his brooding was becoming worse. The decision to protect Enterprise rather than head straight in to the Expanse had cost him, she knew. Now, she wondered if he was regretting it.
She rose and walked over to his chair.
"I think, my Lord, that Kron should take the bridge for a while," she whispered to him. "I would like for you and I to be alone for a while, and talk."
"Talk?" Trip smirked at her, his eyes twinkling slightly. "We 'talked' most of the night, darlin'."
She actually blushed at that, wondering again how he could make her do so. It wasn't like she a school girl, after all.
"I meant really talk, you pervert," she almost giggled. Damn him and the effect he had on her.
"All right," he nodded. "Kron." He spoke louder.
"Sir?" the Klingon responded from his post as Tactical Officer.
"You have the bridge. Continue patrolling as we have been. I'll be in my Ready Room."
"Sir," Kron nodded, almost a short bow, actually, and Trip resisted the urge to snort. Such things were important to his Klingon friend. He needed them, and Trip wouldn't deprive him of them.
He got up from his chair and followed Neera to his ready room. Trip had allowed himself and Neera one concession as the ship was being built. His quarters, her's, the ready room, and one other cabin were connected by interior doors, allowing them a large living area.
He'd done that because he had begun to realize that the Acheron was likely to be their home for some time. They would spend the next several years in space more than not. Command had some perks, he supposed.
Once they were inside, Trip relaxed and sat down on the sofa, where she joined him.
"You're brooding," Neera said without fanfare.
"'Spose I am," he nodded. "Sorry," he added.
"Stop apologizing for everything, Trip!" she scolded playfully. "It wasn't an accusation, just an observation. What's wrong?"
"Nothin'," was his one word answer. That was another thing that concerned her. Where the old Trip had been talkative, the new one. . .well, wasn't. Not really.
"If it were nothing, we wouldn't be here," she told him. "Trip, I hope that you see our relationship as something you want to last. To endure. I see it that way. I want us to be together until. . .well, we'll never really be old and grey looking, but. . . ." Trip actually chuckled at that.
"Yeah," he smiled. "And I do. I love you Neera. You know that. Doesn't mean I shouldn't say it more often, but I know you know it. And I don't really wanna do anything that you ain't part of."
"Then know that I am here to share, Trip," Neera said softly. "When something bothers you, I want to know it. I want to share the burden with you, and help you any way I can."
"Thanks," he replied. "I know ya do, and it means the world to me, sweetheart. I just. . .I'm. . .nothin' really wrong, I'm just. . .unhappy, I guess. I mean, I know that Enterprise needs help, and there are a lot of people on that ship that are friends of mine. Some of'em close enough to be fam'ly," he added, frowning. "Now, I'll be just like I am now where they're old and grey. Takes some gettin' used to, I guess," he shrugged.
"But the real thing is that I've basically relegated us to bein' a babysitter for them, 'stead o' doin' what I meant to do. I don't like it, and sometimes I catch myself second guessin' my own decision."
"I see," Neera nodded. "That's understandable, my love, but we are not bound by the decision. You can, at any time, order the ship deeper into the Expanse, and continue on our original mission."
"Nah, I can't, either," Trip sighed. "Janos told Malcolm we'd be around, close by, if Enterprise got into trouble. If they do, then Mal'll call us. I can't be too far from where they are, since I already said I'd be close."
"Well, if we are bound to the decision you've made, then it's time to stop worrying over it, love. The crew will start doing the same thing if they see you like that too often."
"And the one thing we have, darling Charles, is time. We aren't fore-going your revenge, my precious. Merely putting it off a bit."
"Guess I hadn't really looked at it that way," Trip admitted. "You're right, I reckon," he smiled at her, this time a real smile. "I sure am glad you came along. I can't imagine how I could get by without you."
"I'm sure you'd think of something," Neera snorted, grinning.
"Well, I suppose I could spend more time in the Med bay, if you weren't here," he jibed, and Neera's smile faded.
"You'll pay for that," she warned him in mock anger. "Suffer, actually, would be a better word."
"Well, if I'm sufferin', then I'd have to go to Med Bay and see the dhmphhh. . . ." He was cut off as Neera's mouth slammed into his, forcing him down on the sofa.
In Med Bay, Delana Grix rubbed her left ear, wondering why it suddenly felt hot.
STE
"Sir, we're here," Travis said softly. Jon nodded, looking over the younger man's shoulder, looking at the undulating thermobaric cloud before them that stretched as far as the eye and their sensors could see in either direction. Nearly six weeks it had taken just to get here. That was a long time to dread the unknown.
Well, we're here now, he thought. Time to go have a look inside.
"Half impulse, Travis," Jon ordered, taking his chair. "We'll ease into it, and see what happens. Hoshi, ship wide, please."
"Ship wide sir," Hoshi nodded. "You're live mike sir."
"Attention all hands, this is the Captain," Archer said. "We're about to enter the Expanse. Prepare for a rough ride, make all equipment fast, and stand by for orders." He signaled for Hoshi to cut the transmission.
"Malcolm, let's go to tactical alert, at least until we see what happens."
"Aye, sir," Reed nodded in approval. He had been about to suggest that very thing.
"Let's go, Travis." The young helmsman increased speed to half impulse and started into the Expanse.
STE
"Captain to the bridge."
Trip had started on his way as soon as he heard 'Captain'.
"Status, Mister Kron," he asked as soon as he walked onto the bridge.
"I believe we have located Enterprise, sir," Kron informed him. "The signature matches very closely to what you had given us."
"Very well," Trip nodded, taking his chair. "Any reason to think they know we're here?" he asked.
"They have given no sign they've seen us," Kron replied.
"No Elint, either, sir," Givens reported. "Their sensors would play hell trying to pick us up anyway," he added. Trip nodded.
"Mister Trail, we'll stay back, but I don't want to lose them. If they need assistance, I want us there to give it. Understood?"
"Aye, sir," the helmsman nodded. "We'll be just another shadow, m'Lord." Trip rolled his eyes at that, and both Kron and Givens snorted lightly at his response.
"Shut up, both o' ya," he ordered, but his grin robbed the words of any sting. "Let's go. Tactical Two, Kron," he added.
"Aye, Captain," Kron was all business now.
"Still no com noise, sir," Givens advised. "Enterprise is maintaining a steady course. I'd say she's around half-impulse, heading straight in."
"Very well," Trip nodded. "Maintain course and speed fo. . . ."
"Captain, I've got three ships approaching," Givens cut in. "They appear to be Klingon, sir."
"What?" Kron looked up. "What are they doing here?"
"More interested in knowin' what they aim to do now that they are here," Trip observed. "Any com. . . ."
"They're following Enterprise," Givens cut him off again.
"Follow'em," Trip ordered.
"Duras," Trip sighed. "Kron, you're like a brother to me, but some of your people just don't know when to give up."
"We imbibe it in our mother's milk, m'Lord," Kron replied. "And Duras' mother was very well endowed," he added drily, causing Trip to erupt in laughter.
"Sir, the Klingons are in attack formation now," Givens informed them, ignoring the by play. "There are in definitely in pursuit of Enterprise," he added.
"Well, we can't have that," Trip sighed. "Kron, any problems with the. . .situation?" he asked. Kron looked up at him.
"In no way, My Lord," Kron actually sounded hurt.
"You know what I meant," Trip said easily, and Kron's face relaxed.
"Thank you, m'Lord, but. . .there is no conflict for me. Sometimes one must remove the stain before the wood is made pure again." His voice was full of dignity. And pride.
"Then make ready. Weapons hot, shields up. Mister Givens, let's introduce ourselves. And I'd rather Enterprise didn't know we're here, if we can avoid it."
"No problem, sir." In seconds, Trip was facing Duras on his own screen.
"What do you want, human, other than to be destroyed."
"Oh, I want what every man wants. Hot girl, hot car. . .oh, wait, I already got that. There was something though. . . ." Trip tapped his lip with one finger, striking the pose of a man in deep thought. Just as Duras was about to erupt, Trip snapped his finger.
"I remember now!" he sounded excited. "I want you and your friends the hell outta my space, and the fastest way you manage that will be too slow. You got, oh, let's be reasonable. . .ninety seconds 'fore I kill you all." His voice had gone cold as he spoke.
"What!" the Klingon roared. "I'll feast on your bones this very night, impudent Human!"
"Kron, kill one of'em," Trip ordered casually. "Not him though, not yet." Kron simply pressed a button on his console, looking straight at Duros as he did so.
"Bird of Prey destroyed, Captain," Givens reported. "No survivors," he added quietly.
"Now, what about it?" Trip demanded. "You goin', or stayin'? Clock's tickin', by the way," he added.
"You cowardly scum!" Duros almost screamed. "I'll. . . ." Trip made a motion to Givens to cut the feed.
"Finish'em Kron. We ain't got time for this." Kron nodded, and two minutes later there was nothing between Acheron and Enterprise but an expanding debris field.
"Quarter impulse, make a run through to look for life boats," Trip ordered automatically. "Well done, Kron."
"Thank you, Captain." If the Klingon had a problem with what he'd just done, he hid it well."
"Call for you relief, Kron. We'll walk down to the boat bay together, just in case."
"Aye, sir," Kron nodded, and motioned for one of his people to take his place.
"Neera, keep us on course, and try to keep Enterprise from seeing us."
"Yes, My Lord," Neera grinned.
As they made their way to the boat bay, Trip examined Kron from the corner of his eye.
"I'm sorry you had to do that, Kron," Trip said gently.
"Sir?" Kron looked surprise.
"You didn't sign up to shoot at your own people," Trip pointed out. "I'm sorry I had to ask it of you."
"As you once said to me, My Lord, never say anything like that to me again." Trip stopped, looking up at his Klingon tactical officer.
"I serve your House, now, My Lord," Kron told him forcefully. "You, and Lady Neera, are my people. You never have to apologize for asking me to do my duty." He suddenly grinned.
"And I never liked him, anyway," he added. Trip gawked for a moment, like a fish out of water, then burst out laughing.
"You. . .you had me. . .me going, Kron!" Trip howled.
"I must keep you on your toes, My Lord," Kron said formally. "Lady Neera's orders."
"Well, I guess you know who gives the real orders around here after all, then," Trip was still laughing.
"Indeed. And, thank you."
"For what?" Trip asked.
"For bothering to care if I had. . .issues such as your feared."
"Kron, ever Captain oughta know things like that, and do'em," Trip shrugged.
"Perhaps they should, but not all do," Kron replied. "The fact that you do, has not gone unnoticed by the crew. Whatever loyalty they once held, anywhere, they are now loyal to you, and The Lady Grim. I understand you, sir, and was therefore not offended by your question of whether I could do my duty. But others may find it offensive. I suggest you not inquire, at least not like that, about future. . .issues."
"I didn't mean to be offensive," Trip nodded in agreement. "I just don't wanna ask someone to do something that'll give'em problems."
"Then do not ask," Kron suggested. "You are the Lord and Master of this ship, and all who serve aboard her. When you speak, your word will be heard, your orders carried out. Never doubt that. Never let anyone see or hear you doubt it, either."
"You are in command," Kron emphasized. "Command."
Trip considered that for a moment, then nodded.
"Guess I'm still tryin' to be good ole Trip Tucker," he sighed. "Thanks, Kron."
"That is what Tactical Officers are for, My Lord."
STE
"Captain, I believe that there have been ships damaged or destroyed in our wake," T'Pol intoned from her science post. "I cannot be sure at this distance, but I am reading an energy spike, as well as weapons signatures." She looked up, eye to eye with him.
"The weapon's signatures do not match any known to be on file," she added neutrally.
"Behind us, huh," Archer considered that. "Any idea on what kind of ships?"
"Impossible to say with certainty, but residual radiation does meet minimal matches for Klingon style reactors," T'Pol replied after consulting her station again.
"You think Duras tried to follow us?" he asked.
"Unknown," T'Pol replied. "Logic suggests, however, that they attempted to enter the Expanse, whatever their reasoning might have been."
"But they're gone now?" Archer requested.
"Destroyed," T'Pol confirmend.
"Well, I can't see how what they're doing is our business," Archer concluded. "Carry on Travis," he ordered. "Well done, T'Pol," he added. The science officer nodded, but remained quiet.
At his own station, Reed sighed slightly. He had seen the same thing on his sensor readout. But because he knew what he was looking for, he also saw something else. A large shadow, passing through what had been a trio of Klingon Birds of Prey.
Thanks, mate.