She had had far too much time to think about this.
Shifting her posture slightly, Commander T'Pol studied the data now appearing on the master display, a subtle frown on her face. For the last seventy-five hours, she had been here in the command center, monitoring Endeavour's sensor scans as well as coordinating the fleet-wide search for the Romulan ship. In that time, two additional fission bombs had been located and destroyed, five smugglers had been detected and apprehended, two asteroids had been discovered that contained rare minerals that would be beneficial to Starfleet needs, and one previously uncharted comet had been officially classified as P/2157 D3 T'Pol (due primarily to Trip's influence.)
But there had been no sign of the Romulan bird of prey.
Frustration threatened to spoil T'Pol's poise, but utilizing her many years of experience, she suppressed the emotion under a layer of rigid self-control. Indulging in a moment of annoyance, no matter how desirous it may be, would not get her closer to locating the bird of prey. There was no doubt that the warship was still there, and T'Pol was intent on finding it. She simply wished that it did not feel like she was overlooking something.
Her sensor board chirped, informing her that the latest adjustments to the sweep pattern were now going active. At her direction, all of the ships in the Sol System had linked their sensors together to form a system-wide sensor net. Boomer transports, Iceland-classes, Daedalus-classes, even the Tellarite and Vulcan ambassadorial ships currently in Earth orbit were joining together to scan the system.
And they were still not detecting the Romulan ship.
"Ignoring me won't make me go away," Phlox informed her from where he stood at the doorway. For the past thirty hours, the doctor had been pestering her to rest. Ignoring the urge to sigh, she gave him a sidelong look.
"I am not ignoring you, Doctor," she responded as she turned her attention back to the master display screen. The digital image representing the UES Saratoga was now flashing, indicating that the Iceland-class ship had detected an anomaly and was moving closer to investigate. "My duties, however, require my full attention," T'Pol continued.
"You need rest," the Denobulan declared, stepping closer and violating her personal space. T'Pol instinctively stiffened before frowning slightly; Phlox knew she was uncomfortable with such blatant physical closeness, and was likely trying to either put her on the defensive or to intimidate her. Neither would work, of course, but it was a fascinating display of his keen insight into psychology. It was at times like this that she was reminded of the doctor's own amazing intellect and experience: he was, after all, older than she was.
"I do not have the time to rest, Doctor," T'Pol retorted sharply. The incoming data stream from Saratoga altered, and she fought the urge to glower at the false alarm. Beside her, the Denobulan crossed his arms in frustration. Fortunately, he took a step back, evidently recognizing that his latest tactic was not working. "Your concern for my health is appreciated, but unnecessary. As you know, Vulcans can go several days without sleep."
"T'Pol, you've been awake for over ninety hours," Phlox argued. "You haven't slept. You haven't eaten. You haven't meditated." A beep from the master display caused him to hesitate, but he continued once he saw that it was a routine status report from the Beijing. "I have the authority to relieve you," he said ominously.
"You do." T'Pol turned to look him in the eye. "In the past seventy-five point three hours," she stated calmly, "My presence here has led to the discovery of two additional fission bombs." He blinked in surprise at that, which was to be expected. His duties in sickbay had prevented him from attending the most recent command briefing; two of the STAB personnel who had disabled the first fission bomb were experiencing the first stages of radiation sickness; a fractured seal on one of the warheads had been discovered too late. She made no mention of the fact that this fracture was likely the only reason she had been able to detect the weapon in the first place. "I am well aware of my limits, Phlox," T'Pol said, purposely using his name instead of his honorific. She hoped he recognized the honor she paid him in doing so.
The wall comm interrupted whatever he was about to say.
"Sato to T'Pol." The Vulcan's hand was reaching for the comm panel before she was entirely aware of it.
"This is T'Pol."
"I've finished my partial reconstruction of the targeting profile," the linguistics officer announced, a hint of triumph in her voice. "Uploading it to your station now."
"Acknowledged," T'Pol replied as the incoming file appeared on her screen. She silently urged it to load faster. Behind her, Phlox stood quietly. "I have the data now," the Vulcan stated as she began to study the translation in front of her. Sato had spent the previous three days laboriously reconstructing and translating the fission bomb's guidance software, hoping that it would provide some insight into the bird of prey's location or sensor profile.
"Those are Denobulan bio-signs," Phlox said abruptly. He stepped forward, pausing the data's advance. "And human, and Vulcan, and Tellarite." His expression tightened as he advanced forward slightly. "There are a dozen different species here ..."
"It appears that the guidance software is able to differentiate between life signs from orbit," T'Pol remarked. She pressed a button on the console, advancing the data slightly. "And then select targets for the maximum number of casualties," she continued. It was both monstrous yet efficiently logical. By targeting civilian populations with a weapon such as this, the Romulans could effectively neutralize their enemies' supplies of fresh troops.
"Commander Sato, inform the captain," T'Pol said into the comm line. It was mostly a formality, as she could feel Trip's horrified disgust at their discovery through the bond, but it was a necessary one for the official record. "I am examining the sensor data now, and will have an update for him in five minutes."
"Aye, ma'am. Sato out." The comm line went dead, and T'Pol spent a long moment staring at the data on the screen. Phlox had not budged from where he stood, and was examining the display with equal intensity.
"How has the Romulan ship avoided detection?" he asked, and T'Pol raised an eyebrow at that. She had no concrete proof, of course, but her research pointed toward a strong possibility.
"By taking his warp core offline," she replied. Almost instantly, she was aware of the less than precise nature of her response, and the urge to blame Trip for her use of a pronoun to describe the Romulan ship was nearly overwhelming. She caught herself pressing her tongue against the side of her cheek, and sighed almost imperceptibly. Clearly, she was more tired than she thought. Trip's unconscious habits only bled through when she had not meditated sufficiently.
"That would trap the ship in the system," Phlox realized. He reached forward and advanced the data.
"Yes, but it would also significantly reduce the ship's sensor profile." She backed the data up as she spoke, earning herself a sheepish look of apology from the doctor. "Given the Romulan predilection for self-destruction rather than capture," T'Pol remarked, "It is logical to assume that the crew of this ship is aware that it has a small chance of survival." With her left hand, she began inputing new sensor frequencies based on some of the data she was studying. Phlox watched her for a moment, but said nothing; his silent yet steady appraisal was mildly disconcerting, and caused her to make a minor error in her calculations. She quickly corrected it, however, and was confident that he did not see the mistake in the first place.
As she was about to upload the revised sensor sweep patterns to the fleet, familiar readings in the guidance software caught her attention, causing her to hesitate. Frowning, she spent another long moment studying the data. Anger flooded through her then as she realized the extent of her error, and her fingers began flying across the console. Phlox's surprise was evident, and T'Pol fought to suppress the emotion on her face. She was only partially successful.
"Commander?" the doctor asked in the moment before the computer accepted her new commands. The comparison between the fission weapon data and the sensor net was almost instantaneous. T'Pol felt her stomach clench at the horrifying truth.
The Romulan ship was posing as the UES Saratoga.
She struck the Transmit button on the comm panel with slightly more force than was necessary, and Phlox jumped visibly at the sound.
"T'Pol to Tucker," she said sharply. "I've found the Romulan ship."
"Battle stations!" her mate's voice echoed from the comm panel, as T'Pol darted toward the exit.
A moment later, the klaxon began to sound.