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"In the Cold of the Night"
Rating: PG-13 (Violence, Adult Language, Rampant Sexism, Politically Incorrect Social Commentary, Uncouth Fashion Sense) This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living, dead, or yet unborn is simply your own paranoia bothering you so don’t bug me about it. Note: Vulcan terms used in this story were stolen wholesale from the Vulcan Language Dictionary at http://www.starbase-10.de/vld/. Part 2 Trip had a headache. A bad one. It started right behind his eyes and ended somewhere in the vicinity of his tail bone. But he soldiered on like a good Vulcan husband, revealing no evidence of his pain. “Would you care for some more kasa juice, Lady T’Para?” Trip graciously asked the wizened old bat who sat grimly presiding over the festivities in the family room. She waved him off with an imperious finger and he subsided, properly chastened. Trip retreated to the relative shelter of the kitchen nook in relief, hoping that nobody would notice his absence for a while. He heaved the deepest sigh he could, straining to keep it silent. A trickle of sympathy made it through the bond and comforted his bruised ego and browbeaten male soul. Being trapped alone in a small house with 46 human women would have been a prospect to daunt the boldest of men. But 46 Vulcan women? Were it not for the thought that T’Pol really needed his help, he would have run screaming into the night and gladly taken his chances with the wild sehlats and the le’matyas. His solitary retreat was cut short by the only thing that could have spurred him into action by that point. Elizabeth had been expressing her dissatisfaction with being passed around like a football for the past several minutes. Finally she decided that enough was enough and started venting at full volume. Since she was going to do it, she figured she might as well do it properly. Every Vulcan in the house winced at the piercing volume of her shrieking wail, backed by the power of Vulcan lungs filtered through Human vocal cords. Luckily there was no real glass within range. Trip plunged into the storm, bent on a mission to salvage what was left of everyone’s eardrums. He scooped up his daughter from the arms of whoever happened to be holding her at the time, Trip didn’t even bother to check who it was, and started to bounce and rock and talk to her. “It’s ok baby Daddy’s got you it’s all right now settle down honey please settle down Daddy’s got you have mercy on us please!” He started walking down the hall with her, murmuring and rocking. Gradually the tornado faded into a drizzle and the expressions of misery all around smoothed over. “Well done young man,” T’Para regally acknowledged his service. “The child is plainly becoming fatigued and requires the comfort of a parent. As T’Pol will be occupied with gifts, you shall be permitted to present your daughter to the remaining guests.” “Oh joy. Oh lucky me,” Trip thought plaintively. “All the battles I have been through, all the deadly perils I have faced, all the times people have taken pot shots at me. But did I get lucky enough to draw the short straw and avoid this? Nooooo....” “I am honored,” He said dead pan, inclining his head with dignified restraint. T’Para’s expression told him he certainly had better be. T’Pol gestured for Trip to join her and they moved together to face the next member of the family, a middle aged woman with a reasonably friendly expression. At T’Pol’s nudge, Trip knelt with Elizabeth and carefully held her out for inspection. The woman placed two fingers gently on the baby’s face and softly murmured a brief phrase in ancient high Vulcan. The lady, whose name Trip could not have remembered if someone had stuck red hot irons to his crotch, quirked a tiny smile and told them both, “May she grow strong and true.” The two of them moved on to the next guest where a similar ritual was performed. Trying to spare himself some pain with the Vulcan gravity, Trip decided to switch off and kneel on the other leg this time. The act was repeated with only minor variations a total of 14 more times, by which point Trip could not feel either one of his knees. He could feel his hips though. Yes, he sure could. Most definitely he could feel his hips. And his thighs. His thighs were right there, making their presence known. The presentation was finally done. Only one more item was left on the agenda, Trip learned. “Your daughter will be carried outside,” T’Para told him, “and given her clan name under the light of T’Kuht. As her father it is your responsibility to stand guard against any prowling dangers of the night. You will go out first to secure the area, then you will stand guard, patrolling the perimeter while the ceremony is conducted, and you will remain outside until the last woman has returned indoors. Do you understand?” “Certainly,” Trip told her with deep relief. “This is something I can handle. This is something I understand.” He handed Elizabeth to her mother, then turned toward the back bedroom and the weapon cabinet to prepare. T’Pol followed him down the hallway. As Trip unlocked the cabinet and drew out a phase pistol along with a weapon belt, T’Pol put Lizzie in her crib and came over to advise him. “Tradition requires that you carry one of the ancient weapons also husband,” she told him softly. T’Pol pointed to the wall, where a rack full of various imposing types of cutlery hung. Trip strapped on the phase pistol and gave his wife an amused look, then wandered over to check out the assortment of oversized kitchenware. T’Pol went on, “Customarily most fathers choose either a lirpa or a spear, but you are free to pick anything that appeals to you.” Trip hacked out a derisive laugh. “I haven’t touched a spear since I went wild boar hunting with one as a teenager. And I didn’t kill anything then.” He reached out and pulled a short stabbing spear off the wall. “But at least I know which end to hold and which end to poke with.” T’Pol reached into the weapon cabinet and pulled out a flashlight and a portable scanner. Trip took the gear and asked, “What area will you be using?” He picked up his personal communicator and slid it into his shirt pocket, clipped the light on his belt and powered on the scanner. T’Pol gave a detailed description of the specific location where the ceremony would be conducted, as well as the route that the ladies would follow in proceeding to and from the spot. Trip nodded without comment and left by the back door. T’Pol gathered her own communicator and went back to rejoin her guests. T’Leera met her at the door to the family room with a cup of tea. T’Pol nodded and sipped the refreshing brew with gratitude. “It will not be long. Trip will call in as soon as he has surveyed the ceremonial grounds.” T’Para said coldly, “I presume that he is trained for such work?” T’Pol replied calmly, “My adun is an experienced officer Eldest Mother. In addition, he grew up in a subculture that maintains a strong hunting tradition. He is fully at ease in such a situation.” T’Para made no further comment. Five minutes later T’Pol’s communicator beeped. “Area clear. I scanned and visually surveyed the route, nothing larger than one of those k’bet you showed me along the path. I am at the far side of the ceremonial grounds. There is a le’matya in the distance, approximately a kilometer off. I am watching it closely, but it shows no sign of approaching.” “Acknowledged,” T’Pol said crisply. “We are on the way.” She closed the communicator and started to turn and retrieve Elizabeth when T’Para’s voice stopped her. “He cannot possibly have covered the entire area in that length of time,” she declared in disapproval. “I further question whether your scanner has a range of a full kilometer.” T’Pol returned frostily, “Trip does not need to walk over the entire area to survey it. Nor does he require the scanner to detect the le’matya. He can see it.” The old woman’s mouth actually dropped open a fraction for a brief instant. “Have you been among Humans so long that you have begun adopting their habit of telling jokes child?” T’Para demanded. “Certainly not,” T’Pol sniffed, a picture of offended dignity. “Due to it’s thicker atmosphere, dense cloud cover, and the extremely low albedo of its moon, Earth nights are much darker than Vulcan. As a consequence Humans have developed acute night vision. My adun can see clearly outside by the light of T’Kuht even without artificial lighting.” She left to get the baby, leaving a murmur of interested discussion behind her. Trip paced the outer rim of the ceremonial plateau. The scanner kept insisting that nothing was close enough to be a threat, but he trusted his eyes more than any instrument. The weight of the spear was oddly comforting. Intellectually he knew that the feather light phase pistol in the holster on his hip was a hundred times deadlier. But for some reason the heft of the spear, and the gleam of its broad bladed tip was more calming to his nerves. “It really is just a thin veneer, isn’t it?” Trip pondered. He reached the end of his self-imposed picket and reversed course. From the corner of his eye Trip saw the first of the ladies arriving and starting to take their places around the big altar-firepit-belltower thingie in the middle of the sacred area. The le’matya was moving. Trip tensed up and stopped to watch it closely. The huge catlike reptiloid raised its head and started to weave its snout back and forth like a snake. Trip recalled reading that le’matya, like pit vipers on Earth, tracked prey by heat. In the thin Vulcan air the nights got cold quickly. Anything warm blooded, especially anything with a body temperature as high as a Vulcan, would stand out to a le’matya’s senses like a neon sign. A large group of Vulcan’s must shine like a beacon to the beast. Trip slipped out the phase pistol and absently check the settings. It was on stun. He was bound and determined not to shame T’Pol on this special occasion by taking a life when it wasn’t required. The le’matya still had not shifted location. Trip watched a moment longer and decided to continue along his route. That cat-lizard was far from the only danger out here. It wouldn’t do for him to get so bound up watching this one critter that he overlooked a passing sehlat. Trip glanced over at the women. T’Para was holding Elizabeth in both hands, raising her toward the sky and reciting something indecipherable to Trip’s ears. T’Pol stood in front of them with a colorful cloth spread across her arms. The other women were formed around them in a semi-circle watching and listening intently. Trip felt a comforting tingle at the back of his mind and knew that T’Pol had initiated a faint telepathic contact. Nothing intense, just enough to assure herself that he was all right and let him know that all was well with the two of them. Trip smiled gratefully. Then he tore his eyes back to business. He scanned the far end of his patrol arc and swung back to retrace his steps. The le’matya was gone. Adrenaline boiled through Trip’s veins like acid. Between one breath and the next his heartbeat doubled. Trip opened his hand and let the spear fall, slapping the holster and drawing the phase pistol all in one motion. With his other hand he yanked the scanner off his belt as his eyes started flickering from side to side, piercing every nook and shadow to spot the predator. Nothing. His mind screamed warning to his mate through their bond. Trip sidestepped and crouched at the lip of the bluff, blinking rapidly to moisten his eyes in the dry air. His pupils were dilated painfully wide and his ears strained to catch the slightest whisper of sound. His muscles were rigidly tense, blood pulsing hot and ready for combat. There it was. Moving low and fast. Hugging the ground and coming in, moving from cover to cover. Headed straight for the plateau. Heading for his woman and his child. The le’matya had already covered a third of a kilometer in the time it had taken him to notice it’s movement and locate it. The thing was impossibly quick. Trip felt his skin and his extremities getting numb as the endorphins kicked in. The throb of his pulse shook his whole body like a drum beat. The light of T’Kuht shone as brightly to his abnormally dilated eyes as an overcast day on Earth. The slight rustle of sand under his feet and the sound of his own breath were deafening. A stone rattled at the base of the plateau. Trip fired. The stun beam hit the reptiloid directly in the shoulder and didn’t even slow it down. A whistling scream lifted into the night and the animal started scrambling up the loose scree at the base of the cliff. Trip took careful aim and fired again, hitting the le’matya mid-torso. He held the beam until the phase pistol became too hot to continue. The le’matya slowed its advance but kept coming. Trip started muttering a long string of words that would have earned scorching looks of disapproval from the assembled Vulcan ladies, if they could have heard him. Then he re-set the phase pistol to kill and fired again. The le’matya stopped moving and started sliding back down the slope. Trip released the firing stud and slumped to his knees in relief, gasping for air. He took regular tri-ox injections every morning to help him keep going until his lungs acclimated to the thinner atmosphere, but just moving around on Vulcan still took a lot out of him. It sounded like it was taking the le’matya a long time to finish sliding to the bottom of the talus slope. Trip raised his head and stared directly into the red eyes of the straining hunter as it dragged itself upward again. Trip’s right hand swung around mechanically and slapped into his left palm. He took aim like a robot, firing directly into the center of the le’matya’s chest with the phase pistol on full power. Trip held the beam steady until the power unit faded and died. The le’matya, mindless hunger armed with poison claws, managed a squealing hiss and crept forward another meter. It was barely alive, but it still moved. One front paw reached out and slapped the ground, only an arm’s length short of Trip’s position. He backed away and grabbed the spear. The creature had holes burned through it. Trip’s first shot on kill setting had drilled completely through it’s body, leaving intestines and blood dripping out of either side of the animal’s body. The last shot had seared away skin and flesh on the le’matya’s chest, splitting and charring the breast bone. But the beast was too brainless to lie down and play dead. Trip stood with the spear balanced in his hands. His brain was wrapped in a fog of fearful rage, but his subconscious mind threw up old memories of fifteen years ago. The lessons were too basic to forget. “...back hand for power. The front hand guides the point with a loose grip. The back hand grip is firm but not tight. Don’t try to aim it like you would a gun or a bow. Just keep your eyes fixed on the strike point. When the prey is within range, STRIKE!” He stood sideway with the spear poised and ready. The le’matya hooked the claws of both front feet on the lip of the cliff and pulled itself painfully upward. Trip waited with the spear raised and felt his eyes grow hot. The le'matya's head came up over the edge of the cliff and snarled in Trip's direction. He drew in a deep lung full of air and got ready. As the le'matya opened its jaws and lunged Trip crouched low and stabbed for the animal's neck, just below the jaw. The spear point hit hard and penetrated the le’matya’s throat, driving upward toward the skull. Trip vented his lungs in a roaring bellow and shoved forward with every bit of strength his legs possessed. The front half of the reptiloid rose off the ground and its claws swiped blindly at Trip, who ducked and pressed in close to get inside the animal’s reach. He twisted the spear shaft and pushed hard, forcing the le’matya over onto its side. Trip ended up kneeling between the le’matya’s forelegs, with both hands wrapped around the spear just behind the long, broad point. He bore down with his full weight, yanking the tip back and forth to widen the wound and digging deeper into the beast’s brain. At last the le’matya’s writhing slowed to spasmodic quivers, then stopped. Trip sagged forward and rested his forehead against the spear shaft, trying to suck in enough oxygen to keep from passing out. T’Pol raised her face from her bundled child and opened her eyes. “The le’matya is dead,” she announced. T’Para took the news calmly. Of course. She matter-of-factly replaced her personal disruptor in its concealed carry holster beneath her robes. Several other women followed suit with their own weapons. “Is your adun injured?” the Eldest Mother asked T’Pol. “No,” T’Pol answered with half-closed eyes. “He killed the animal without sustaining any scratches.” T’Para nodded. “Most satisfactory.” The Eldest Mother turned and started leading the way back to the house. T’Pol fell in step behind her and the other ladies joined the procession in order of seniority. T’Pol sent a gentle telepathic touch to let Trip know that they were returning home, feeling his recognition and acknowledgment. Trip worked the spear out of the le’matya’s skull with more effort than it took to put it in. Then he gathered his phase pistol and scanner. Then he propped up on a rock for a while. In the distance he could see the last of the ladies leaving the ceremonial grounds. Trip looked up and let the cold Vulcan night wind sweep the last of the sweat from his face. He opened his mouth wide, hoping the breeze would push more air down his lungs than he could pull in alone. The stars on this world glinted like laser points, burning holes through his eyes and into his soul. Each point of energy flared with a merciless intensity that could only be seen on Earth at the highest mountaintops. The narrow slices of sky between the violent sparks above him were as black as an Orion’s conscience. T’Kuht rode high above him now, her tortured surface dotted with occasional flares of active volcanoes. Trip’s eyes were relaxing as the adrenaline subsided, leaving him with the inevitable shakes that always accompanied the aftermath of battle. The light dimmed but was still plenty bright enough to see clearly. The last of the women were out of sight on the path back to the house now. Trip sighed and stood up. He smacked a new power pack into the phase pistol and re-holstered it. But he left it on kill this time. A careful scan showed nothing big enough within range to be worth worrying about, so headed down the slope to the ceremonial grounds and strolled tiredly over to the altar. Interesting structure it was. Trip walked around it admiring the carvings. Weddings, funerals, inclusions, bondings, they were all performed here. Anyone in the family who didn’t have a home with enough room to host their own group would come here and use the family’s common grounds. Idly Trip fantasized what might have happened if T’Pol’s wedding to Koss had been held here instead of at her mother’s house. He had a sudden picture of himself holding out a kipper in front of a le’matya and crooning “here kitty, kitty”. Trip grinned and shook his head. Time to head back. This place was incredible. So many things about T’Pol were becoming clear to him now. If only he had been to Vulcan before he ever met her. So many of their problems would never have happened. So many things that confused him back then would have been simple and easy to understand. If only he had been here one time before he ever met her. Koss would never have stood a chance. In the privacy of the blood colored moonlight, Trip allowed himself an ugly snarl. Now he knew about the ka-li-fee. Of course T’Pol wasn’t going to call a challenge during the ceremony. What good would it have done at that point? But Trip wasn’t sure if T’Pol realized that he had been doing some in-depth research. He wasn’t sure if she realized that he had learned about the gas’rak-ka-li-fee. The challenge of the right to claim one as a mate. Unlike the koon-ut-ka-li-fee, the gas’rak-ka-li-fee was issued between two males who both wanted a female, and it was done before the wedding. In fact, the woman had no say in the matter. She did not even have to be informed that the challenge was taking place until it was over. And unlike the koon-ut-ka-li-fee, there were no standard weapons or location or terms for the fight. Those, like the code duello on Earth, would be negotiated between the two participants. Tradition required that each participant be permitted an equal voice in setting up the conditions for the duel. Which meant that Koss's vaunted Vulcan strength would not have saved his ass. Trip’s eye’s gleamed at the thought of getting Koss alone in a swamp at night. Or on the surface of an asteroid in a pressure suit. Then he shook his head, irritated with himself. “Let it go fool,” he chided. “It’s over. Let go of it. She’s yours. He’s out of the picture. If he ever tries to make trouble again, then you can deal with him. Otherwise you are just giving him space in your head that rightfully belongs to T’Pol and Lizzie.” It just wasn’t that easy though. Sometimes he still woke up in the night, sweating, from a dream of standing there and watching her giving herself to another man. Trip supposed that part of him was never going to completely forget it. He was just going to have to come to terms with it. It didn’t hurt as bad now as it once had. He knew she loved him. He knew that she wasn’t going anywhere. Besides, it had been a marriage in name only. He would get past it eventually. He would get past it. But as long as there remained breath in his body, he would never stop wanting to kill Koss. He couldn’t even make the ta’al hand gesture any more because of that sonuvabitch. T’Pol had carefully taught it to him on the journey to Vulcan so he could use it when he met her mother. He had practiced it so carefully too. Trip stopped, sadly remembering how he had been innocently eager to make a good impression, hoping T’Les would someday be his mother-in law. Now, whenever he tried to make the ta’al gesture, a picture of that meeting instantly flashed into his mind. The meeting, and what it led to. Invariably his hand would spasm into a convulsive knot of quivering pain. No matter how often he tried or practiced, he just couldn’t force himself to do it anymore. Trip stopped along the path at a patch of loose sand to plunge the spear point into the dirt several times. He finally got the blood off well enough to justify carrying the weapon inside for final cleaning. The back door scanned and recognized him, sliding open to admit him with silent efficiency. T’Pol waited for him inside the rear storage area with a clean towel and some water. She took the spear and sat him down on a bench. Trip grunted tired thanks and drained the bottle of water in one swallow. Then he wiped his face and gasped, “Everything go all right?” “Yes,” T’Pol let him see one of the smiles she reserved for their private moments. “The ceremony was completed successfully, thanks to you.” She moved unexpectedly to straddle his lap and put her arms around his neck. Trip smiled back in surprise and hugged her waist. “I am most pleased, Husband,” T’Pol told him. Then she leaned in for a long, lingering kiss. Trip felt a jolt of lightning travel from her lips down his spine to his loins. He moaned and pulled her closer, feeling her softness mold against him. He pulled back reluctantly, only because the alternative was unconsciousness. “Wow. For that kind of reward I will go kill a few dozen more.” “That wasn’t the reward, Trip,” T’Pol told him with an impish gleam. “The reward comes later, after the guests leave.” Trip leaned in again for another kiss. “Let ‘em find their own way out,” he mumbled. “Elizabeth needs to be fed and put to bed,” she reminded him. Trip whimpered but nodded. The formal leave taking was long and tedious. On the plus side, the junior members of the family jumped in to help with the clean up. So as the tide ebbed, it left order in it’s wake instead of chaos. Finally they closed the door to find themselves alone in their own home for the first time. Elizabeth, worn out from all the handling and excitement, took her bottle and drifted off with minimal fuss. T’Pol started giving Trip his reward in the shower with a full body shampoo, using herself as the sponge. To Trips intense frustration the shower stall was designed for one (skinny) person. Perfect for intimate contact, not so good for acrobatic activity. By the time they got rinsed off he was hotter than the water. They dried each other slowly and thoroughly, licking off the extra droplets as they went. T’Pol pushed Trip backward onto the bed and slid down next to him, nibbling her way up his chest to the side of his neck. “Ummm,” Trip sighed happily. “That feels fantastic. I was more than half expecting to sleep on the floor tonight.” He rolled over and drew her close. “Why would I allow you to sleep on the floor?” T’Pol looked confused. Trip laughed quietly. “I thought you might kick me out of bed.” He added in response to her stare, “Because I killed the le’matya. I tried not to take a life, hun. I really did. But the stun setting just wasn’t powerful enough to stop it. I’m sorry I had to do that, especially on this special day.” T’Pol lifted a long suffering eyebrow and kissed him deeply before responding. “It is completely acceptable by the teachings of Surak to kill in defense of one’s own life or in defense of one’s family Trip. Besides,” she looked a touch mischievous, “it improved your standing with the Eldest Mother I believe. She seemed uncertain at first of the wisdom of my choosing a Human. However, since you have proven that you are competent to defend us, she has been mollified.” She ran her tongue along the edge of his jaw to his throat, then down his jugular vein to his collar bone. “In that case,” he pulled her over on top of his chest, “I have a confession to make. Winning a fight always turns me on.” He gently nipped her shoulder. She looked down at him with her dark eyes glowing. “My people are descended from warriors, Husband,” she growled. “I invite you to guess what watching you win a fight does to me.” She swung her leg across hips and bent forward to capture his mouth. Elizabeth was the only person in the house who got any sleep that night. -&- Trip was trying his hand at giving Elizabeth her bottle, and trying feebly to grab a rare bite of his own breakfast at random intervals, when the call came in from Enterprise. T’Pol stood up from the kitchen table and answered the hail. “T’Pol? This is Hoshi Sato. It is good to talk to you again. How are things down there?” “We are well Ensign Sato,” T’Pol informed her with a smile, glancing over at her husband as he tried to mop and feed simultaneously. “Although I fear more of Elizabeth’s formula is being deposited on Trip’s shirt than in her stomach at the moment.” A faint giggle came through the communicator. “T’Pol? Captain Archer here. If you have no objection we will beam down as soon as we receive clearance.” Trip looked up in concern. “There’s no reason to use the transporter Cap’n,” Trip called over. “There’s plenty of room to set a shuttle pod down in front of the house.” “We have our reasons Trip. I will fill you both in when we get there. See you soon. Archer out.” Trip and T’Pol traded concerned looks. It was about twenty minutes later that the whine of a transporter beam came through the front door speaker, revealing the arrival of their guests. Trip opened the door and stood watching in surprise as multiple beam-ins took place in quick succession. At the end of it seven people stood in front of the house. Archer, Malcolm, and Phlox were standing next to a short Vulcan woman, two huge Vulcan males and an older Vulcan man who looked vaguely familiar to Trip. “Welcome,” Trip said uncertainly. “Come on in.” The invading horde trooped inside to be greeted by T’Pol’s raised eyebrow of Who-The-Heck-Are-You? Recognition soon lit her eyes though, and she explained to her husband, “Trip, this is Chief Minister T’Pau. Chief Minister, this is my adun, Commander Charles Tucker III. He prefers to use the nickname Trip however.” T’Pau raised her hand in greeting. “Peace and Long Life Commander. I am pleased to finally have the honor of meeting you.” Trip straightened. “Live Long and Prosper Chief Minister. I regret that I am unable to return the gesture properly. Welcome to our home. And I believe the honor is mine.” T’Pau gestured to the three men accompanying her. “I believe you have both met Healer Kerlek before. The other two are my bodyguards, Thorun and Stavol. I am required to have them escort me at all times. I apologize for intruding unannounced on your home in this fashion, but I could not resist the temptation to meet you, Commander. And to meet your daughter as well as to see T’Pol again.” “We are honored at your interest Minister,” T’Pol told her evenly. T’Pau gave her a straight look. “Your mother was my friend and ally T’Pol. Without her, and you, the Kirshara would never have been found. Without your adun’s courage our people might have been plunged into the most destructive war in our history. Your child is unique in the universe. She is the first of her kind, and a living embodiment of the IDIC principle by the very fact of her existence. It would be strange indeed if you were all not a focus of interest.” Phlox knew a cue when he heard one. “Speaking of which,” the Denobulan stepped forward cheerfully, “how is my favorite little patient today?” “Messy,” Trip sighed. “What started out as breakfast turned into a wrestling match. She won.” The non-Vulcans broke into a laugh. “At this age getting them fed is more an art than a science, Commander,” Phlox advised sagely. He took Elizabeth from her mother’s arms and started clucking to her. Lizzie perked up at the sight of her favorite live toy and promptly reached for his nose. Healer Kerlek stepped forward. “Commander, Lady T’Pol.” He seemed hesitant. “With your permission, I would like to observe and assist Dr. Phlox with his examination of Elizabeth. I am here as a representative of the Science Directorate, in the interest of documenting her growth and development.” “Sure,” Trip’s casual approval seemed to stun the Vulcan, who remembered vividly the almost savagely protective attitude that Trip had displayed aboard Enterprise. “Anything Phlox agrees to is all right. Anything he doesn’t agree to is off limits. OK with you T’Pol?” “Certainly, Husband,” she agreed demurely. The two medical men took the baby and headed for the bedroom. Meanwhile T’Pol invited everyone into the kitchen for tea and snacks. “So this is why you had to use the transporter?” Trip asked. “I still don’t get it. In fact, it makes even less sense now.” He looked at T’Pau and her bodyguards. “I don’t want to worry anyone Minister. Actually we have never had an accident with the transporter aboard Enterprise since we launched. But it still adds an unnecessary risk. I am surprised that your bodyguards allowed it.” Thorun and Stavol exchanged resigned looks. Then one of them, the slightly taller one with the knife scar on his chin, said, “One does not allow the Minister to do anything. One obeys and makes the best possible arrangements given the circumstances.” T’Pau had the grace to look a bit embarrassed. “We have a security situation Trip,” Archer told him soberly. “A shuttle pod might have been tracked. Tell him Malcolm.” His tactical officer shot the Captain a dirty look that said, plain as day, why me?, but in true British fashion he kept a stiff upper lip and carried on with his duty. “It’s possible that Terra Prime may have agents on Vulcan, Commander,” Lieutenant Reed said bluntly. Trip sat perfectly still. Only his white knuckles gave any sign that this news was effecting him at all. T’Pol closed her eyes and reached deep inside. During her meld aboard Daniels ship, when she joined her mind with that of her alternate self, they had exchanged a complete set of memories. Her alternate self had at one time spent a year studying the disciplines of Kohlinar. T’Pol searched deep within herself to find those memories and started putting them to practical use. She decided that she was going to practice them on a regular basis from now on. More than likely she would need them. Malcolm went on, “There have been a multitude of minor incidents recently. But the thing that really set off alarms with everyone happened about five months ago. A young Andorian woman affiliated with their embassy here was kidnapped in Shi’Kahr. She was never seen again.” T’Pol asked, “What makes you think Terra Prime was responsible for this?” T’Pau answered her. “At the time of course, the Andorians were not sharing information with anyone. Only since we have recently begun to enjoy improved relations,” she inclined her head to Trip, “due in large part to your efforts Commander, was this incident revealed. It was during a meeting with the Andorian ambassador two days ago that I learned of the kidnapping. After he informed me of the evidence that his agents had gathered, I felt it prudent to inform Captain Archer of the details as well. He and I, along with Lieutenant Reed, spent most of the day yesterday at the Andorian embassy consulting with the Andorians who investigated the disappearance.” “Originally the Andorians suspected Vulcan kidnappers. Naturally,” Archer said sadly. “But the deeper they dug the more suspicious they got. Eventually they dug up enough evidence to make it virtually certain that the last people who were anywhere near the young woman were Human.” Trip leaned forward and rested his head on his clenched fists. “Did they identify the Humans?” “Three of them,” Lieutenant Reed said. “One of them was I.D.’ed as a Jacob Svengali, Earth citizen. Residence unknown. Employment unknown. Suspected member of Terra Prime. Another one was I.D.’ed as Louis Johanson. Earth citizen. Residence in San Francisco, currently vacant. Employment, unknown. Suspected member of Terra Prime. The third one was I.D.’ed as Frederick Hanson. Earth citizen. Residence, Chicago. Employment, attorney. The guy is a high powered legal mercenary for a long list of clients, most of whom are known or suspected fronts for Terra Prime.” “Where are they now?” Trip asked coldly. “We don’t know about the first two,” Archer said tiredly. “Hanson is back on Earth. We know that because he...” Archer stopped and looked helplessly at Malcolm, who gazed back stubbornly and shook his head. No way was he going to let his superior officer off the hook on this one. Archer’s shoulder’s sagged. “Hanson is the lawyer who got Massaro out of jail.” He clenched his teeth and waited for the explosion. He was not disappointed. “WHAAAAT!!!!” Trip leaped up and slammed both fists down on the table hard enough to crack the thin marble top. He ignored the blood and pain from his damaged hands, and brushed away T’Pol’s efforts to examine him. Trip tried to swallow and failed. Finally, “Tell me,” he managed to force out. T’Pau and her bodyguards watched with interest. This Human was plainly in the grip of killing rage, but he still managed to retain enough self-control to function within civilized limits. Quite impressive actually, considering.... Malcolm said moodily, “We couldn’t go to court with the confession Trip. It was coerced. Besides, he didn’t have counsel present. We could use everything he told us in the confession, and we did use it to disrupt Terra Prime in a hundred different ways. But the confession itself was completely inadmissible in any Human court. And we couldn’t produce a witness who saw him take the DNA samples out of sickbay either.” Trip started to say something, then stopped. Of course they couldn’t produce a witness. That information had come from Daniels. He could just picture it. “Why yes your honor. We have a witness. A time traveler from the 31st century told us all about it.” The entire prosecuting team would end up doing time for contempt of court. At minimum. “What about the shuttle? He couldn’t worm his way out of that could he?” Trip said hopefully. “We could prove that much on our own. He had to have been the one who sabotaged the shuttle.” “They negotiated it away Trip,” Archer said grimly. Trip’s face turned crimson. “Hanson argued that even if the shuttle was damaged, which he did not admit by the way, all it proved was that Massaro might have made a mistake. In order to prove deliberate malice they had to have a motive. Without something to tie him to the DNA theft, there was no admissible evidence that could be used to prove in court that he had any motive to try to kill anyone. Reasonable doubt Trip. There was no way they could have gotten a criminal conviction. Right now, with the political climate being what it is on Earth, Hanson threatened to turn it into a media campaign making it look like the Vulcans were trying to persecute Massaro and make him a scapegoat. Remember that he was with us in the Expanse, after all. Finally they plea bargained it down to just busting Massaro back to crewman and giving him a dishonorable discharge.” T’Pol watched in deep concern as her husband turned and walked into the living area, then passed through it, down the back hallway to the storage room. Trip stood breathing heavily next to a metal storage cabinet. Then he cut loose with a right hook that had everything he owned behind it. The reverberations shook the entire house. Growing up in Florida had provided Trip with a wealth of cultural variety. Aside from his recent efforts to learn Vulcan, Trip was mono-lingual in almost every respect. Except one. One of the main advantages to sharing his boyhood and young adulthood with other young men of differing subcultures had been the chance to broaden his vocabulary of invective. Trip could curse fluently in English, Cajun French, and street Spanglish. He cut loose and used it all with inspiration and true sincerity. Captain Archer and Lieutenant Reed listened to the recital echoing down the hallway with a combination of discomfort and admiration. “Seven minutes and I haven’t heard him repeat himself once Malcolm,” Archer muttered in mild awe. “I think that’s a record.” The Vulcans were more clinical about it. T’Pol tried to maintain her dignity. “My adun has chosen to remove himself to the far end of the house to spare us his emotional state. Unfortunately...” T’Pau told her, “It is not a matter to concern yourself T’Pol. He does not follow the path of Surak. It would not be logical to expect him to maintain calm in the face of this news. It was courteous of him to withdraw to the maximum possible distance within the house, as you said. However I am curious about something. The translator does not appear to be completely effective at the moment. What exactly is a ‘payr-roe’ and why would anyone’s sister wish to mate with one?” Before either of the panicking Starfleet officers could be pressed into satisfying her thirst for knowledge, Dr. Phlox emerged carrying Elizabeth, with Kerlek in hot pursuit. Both medical men looked intrigued by the recitation coming from the rear of the house. “I take it that you have informed Commander Tucker of the situation,” Phlox remarked as he walked up. “Unfortunately,” Malcolm admitted. They listened as the rate and volume of cursing started to diminish. “He held everything together quite well until we told him about Massaro. That straw broke the camel's back.” “I'd like to break Massaro's back,” Archer muttered under his breath, ignoring the looks this garnered from the Vulcans. Elizabeth distracted everyone by loudly demanding momma and the subject moved on to happier things for the moment. “You will be pleased to know T'Pol, that she seems to be completely healthy,” Phlox beamed. “She has gained a bit more weight than I anticipated, but it all appears to be going into bone and muscle tissue so there's not one thing wrong with that.” Trip appeared sheepishly in the doorway and slunk around the perimeter of the room to join his wife and daughter. “I'm... sorry about that everyone. I apologize for my outburst. It was inexcusable.” “Hardly inexcusable Commander,” Phlox scolded him. “Why, if I received news that the man who wanted to kill my child had just been released from jail I do believe that I would have done a great deal more than simply mutter a few swear words. Your frustration is completely justified, don't let anyone tell you it's not.” Dr. Phlox gave T'Pol a meaningful look, which she accepted silently. Trip chewed his tongue and sighed. “Anyway. How’s Lizzie doin’?” “As I was telling T’Pol, quite well.” The Denobulan gave one of his trademark grins. “She has obviously been eating well. However I do think we need to add some supplements to her diet from this point forward.” T’Pol winced a bit, but nodded. “What kind of supplements?” Trip wanted to know. T’Pol focused on Elizabeth to avoid looking at the other Vulcans. “Do we need to import anything?” “Not really,” Phlox assured him. “She just needs some additional Earth proteins. For now I suggest that you arrange to have some Human infant formula delivered here. We can try her out on that to see how well she likes it. If there is no problem getting her to drink it, then you can try alternating bottles. One bottle with her old formula, one bottle with the enriched Human mixture.” He smiled again and added. “Otherwise we can try adding supplements directly to her existing formula, but she might object to the taste. It would be better if she can get them naturally from her food.” “That will present no difficulty, Doctor,” T’Pau said. “If you will provide Healer Kerlek with your specific recommendations, I will ensure that the formula is delivered promptly and confidentially.” “Thanks,” Trip said gratefully. “That will be a big help.” He smiled hesitantly. “About earlier.” Trip paused and cleared his throat. “I recognize that my emotional outburst was entirely inappropriate. I deeply regret my lack of control. But even more than this, I regret that my actions may have reflected badly on T’Pol. I hope that you all recognize that she has only begun to teach me the basics of proper Vulcan behavior, and I am not by any means the best student. I ask that you do not hold her responsible in any way for my failure.” T’Pau tilted her head and examined Trip curiously. T’Pol shook her head and put a hand on her husband’s shoulder. “Enough Trip,” she told him tenderly. “Stop. You have nothing to apologize for.” T’Pol turned to face her Vulcan guests. “Dr. Phlox will confirm that Humans are not equipped to follow the path of Surak. Some Human philosophers, for example the ancient Stoics, have attempted to promulgate lifestyles that eschew emotion. However these have inevitably failed due to the reality of Human physiology.” Phlox agreed, “Powerful emotion causes the Human endocrine system to release a variety of stimulating chemicals into the bloodstream. If these chemicals are not purged through physical expression of the underlying emotion, a variety of deleterious effects can occur. Serious damage can be inflicted on the nervous, digestive, and circulatory systems. In extreme cases this damage can even be fatal.” “Really?” Kerlek looked fascinated. “I wonder if this will effect Elizabeth in later life.” “Hopefully not,” Trip said uneasily. “Her Vulcan genes are dominant.” “True, her genetic makeup emphasizes Vulcan genotypes,” Kerlek acknowledged, “However her physical make up is a blend of the two species. For example her nervous system displays aspects of both races. He circulatory system is primarily Vulcan, whereas her digestive system tends more toward a Human configuration.” “Which actually provides her with a number of advantages,” Phlox started to warm up with what his shipmates recognized as his lecturing voice. “The Vulcan circulatory system is remarkably efficient, and copper is a more effective material for transporting oxygen than iron in any case. So she has this advantage.” Trip shrugged. “Good.” Phlox nodded and went on happily. “It’s really quite remarkable Commander. The more I work with this young lady, the more amazed I become at just how fortunate she was. The genetic manipulation process by which she was cloned could not possibly have been this selective by deliberate choice. The technology does not exist. It would be absolutely impossible. Yet looking at your daughter it is almost as if someone quite deliberately picked and chose the best attributes from each race to include in her genetic make up. Amazing.” “Uh...” Trip shot T’Pol a look. She in turn raised an eyebrow and looked thoughtful. “What do you mean doc?” “Well,” Phlox gushed onward enthusiastically, “as I said the Vulcan circulatory system is more efficient, and that is the one she ended up with. However the Human digestive system is superior in many ways, and Elizabeth seems to have as close to a Human digestive system as it is possible to get inside a Vulcan physiology.” “How is the Human digestive system superior, Doctor?” Kerlek wanted to know. “Vulcan’s can survive for extensive periods without food and water, and we are capable of sustaining ourselves on a wide variety of foodstuffs.” Phlox nodded, “True. But not as wide a variety as Humans.” At the forest of levitating eyebrows he explained, “Humans finished up the final phase of their evolution during a series of ice ages. Water was available during an ice age. One could always melt snow. But frankly, food is even harder to come by on top of an ice cap than it is in the middle of a desert. The ancestors of modern Humans spent most of every winter huddled together starving their way toward spring. They adapted to take advantage of food wherever they could find it. As a result, a Human can go without food even longer than a Vulcan. And when they do locate food, they can eat almost anything that doesn’t eat them first.” “Is this why Humans require meat?” T’Pol asked quietly. “Because plant food was difficult to find during the ice ages?” Phlox told her, “Not really. An adult Human doesn’t actually require meat. In fact, an adult Human is a true omnivore. That is, an adult Human like... well our three companions here, is capable of surviving as either a pure vegetarian or as a pure carnivore. Although the optimum diet for them is a mixture.” “A pure carnivore?” T’Pau asked, blinking in surprise. “Certainly,” Phlox responded cheerfully. “An adult Human is capable of surviving indefinitely on nothing but animal flesh. Provided of course that they are willing to consume the entire animal from nose to tail, including all internal organs from brain to bone marrow.” “No thanks,” Archer broke in distastefully. “Brain is not one of my favorite cuts.” “I dunno Cap’n,” Trip objected. “Head cheese is all right if it’s made properly.” “In any case,” T’Pol desperately broke in to change the subject, “Elizabeth is well equipped to deal with a wide variety of environmental challenges?” “Oh most definitely,” Phlox chortled. “In fact, she is even better equipped to deal with some of Vulcan’s challenges than native Vulcans are. For example her respiratory system is standard Vulcan, with the fortunate addition of a Human style filtration system added to it.” “Specify,” T’Pau requested. “Earth’s atmosphere is thick, and wet, and absolutely clogged with dust, and bacteria, and virii, and plant pollen, and spores, and microscopic invertebrates Minister. You might be astonished at how much space in the Human skull is taken up by an interconnected series of sinus cavities. Among other things, the cavities intercept and filter those minute invaders before they have a chance to penetrate the upper respiratory system. Elizabeth has been blessed with such an arrangement. Many of the typical respiratory ailments that plague your people should hold no terrors for her. I doubt for example that she will ever have to deal with th’kahl fever the way most Vulcan children do. Or if she does, I would expect it to be a very mild case.” Kerlek offered, “Th’kahl fever will probably be a non-issue in any case, given her hybrid immune system. Elizabeth seems to possess anti-bodies from both her parent’s species.” Phlox perked up even more brightly. “Yes! That is something else even more wonderful! When you first brought her to Enterprise this was the very thing that caused her illness and almost killed her. But now, somehow, the two formerly conflicting systems have been persuaded to work together. Elizabeth’s immune system is equipped with defenses tailored for both Vulcan and Human diseases. Her Human half should protect her against Vulcan infections, while her Vulcan half should protect her against Human infections. I tell you this little lady is the most remarkable small person I have seen in many years.” “IDIC,” T’Pol said with glowing eyes. “Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations.” “Indeed,” T’Pau agreed emphatically. “A most hopeful symbol for the future. For the present however, I must return to Shi’Kahr. The press of Council duties is relentless. Here,” she handed Trip a PADD. “This contains my contact information, as well as alternate personnel who will be able to assist you if I am not available. In the event that you need assistance of any kind whatsoever, great or small, I urge you not to hesitate in contacting us. Anything from a medical emergency, to more baby formula, to a leaky roof. The entire High Council is in full agreement that Elizabeth’s welfare is a matter of the highest priority.” “Gee, I,” Trip squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. “We really appreciate this. Don’t know what to say. Thank you.” “No need,” T’Pau brushed it off. “Our people are at a turning point in our history. The katra of Surak has been found, and he has led us once again to the truth of his original teachings. Our entire way of life is being renewed and reforged. Can it possibly be coincidence that just at this crucial moment in our history, when our people are on the cusp of a second Reformation, that your daughter comes to us? The child of two words, a daughter of the two closest friends to the one whom Surak himself chose to bear his katra? A child whose mother was herself one of those who re-discovered Surak’s writings? A child whose father put his own body between two warring armies in the name of peace, just as Surak himself did so long ago? Hardly.” Trip was speechless. He just stared thoughtfully at the PADD while farewells were being made. After T’Pau and her bodyguards had beamed out, T’Pol sat down with Phlox and Kerlek for an in-depth discussion of Lizzie’s needs regarding diet, exercise, hygiene, mental stimulation, potential career paths, and retirement options. The three Humans sat down in the kitchen over coffee and started talking about security. “We have arranged with Starfleet to provide you and T’Pol with an evacuation option if you need it,” Malcolm told Trip. “Send the code word ‘Hammer’ to the Earth embassy and two shuttle pods loaded with MACOs will be on their way here in minutes. They will escort you to a safe house that T’Pau has gotten the Security Directorate to set up. After that a joint task force will take over guarding all three of you 24/7 until the threat, whatever it may be, is neutralized.” “That’s assuming that we are able to get a message out,” Trip noted. “We thought of that too,” Archer told him. He slid over a small instrument about half the size of a medical scanner. “That’s a little item that Malcolm tells me is standard in security work. It’s a code generator. There is a match to it in the embassy. The pair of them are synchronized to generate matching codes on a regular basis twice every hour. What we want is for you or T’Pol to call in to the embassy at random intervals every day. Don’t announce it in advance. Tell them how many times each day you plan to call, but not when. During the call, you will provide them with the code that this generator gives you. If it doesn’t match, or if you don’t have a code for them, Operation Hammer goes into play automatically. They will never ask for the code, it will be up to you to volunteer it. If someone else is listening, or holding you at gun point, just don’t say anything about it. Help will be on the way ASAP. And of course if you don’t call they will also assume the worst and hit the panic button. ” Trip heaved a vast sigh of relief. “This helps Cap’n, Malcolm. This helps a lot. I was starting to get scared about leaving T’Pol and Lizzie alone when my leave was up after this.” Archer half grinned. “You don’t think we would stand for that do you? If it wasn’t safe we wouldn’t be going anywhere. Not without all three of you. Not gonna happen Trip.” “All right,” Trip smiled. “Now, let’s get those designs downloaded to my computer here. I want to take a look at those things. Warp six, here we come!” -&- The reception hall was a marvel of architectural design. Built in the form of a geodesic dome, it was constructed from a synthetic crystalline material so transparent as to be effectively invisible. Especially at night, like tonight. Floodlights around the perimeter of the great hall shone on the foaming majesty of the horseshoe shaped palisade of Niagara Falls, which plummeted majestically past the inner slope of the dome. Suspended in midair across the roaring chasm of the falls, the Niagara Dome was one of the most exclusive and expensive resorts on the planet. Even with the best sound proofing that Earth science could provide, Ambassador Soval could clearly hear the roar of the falls. His feet felt the faint vibration through the floor like the growl of a hungry beast. His glass of juice showed ripples from the harmonics. Every time he attended a diplomatic function here, he went home with a headache. However, the needs of the many... Draklas, one of the Andorian delegation, approached him and Soval turned politely. After spending 43.7 minutes trading insults with the Tellurite ambassador’s daughter, a nice refreshing interlude of verbal fencing with an Andorian would be a pleasant relief. At least he wouldn’t have to listen to any more remarks about his body odor. But Draklas surprised him. “Ambassador Soval, Commander Shran requests a confidential meeting with you. He sent me to escort you, if you agree.” Soval sent both of his eyebrows skyward. “Shran? I had no idea that he was on Earth.” Draklas smirked. “Nor does anyone else. Which is precisely the purpose behind keeping this meeting confidential. Will you come?” Soval considered carefully. “I will need to inform my aide of my whereabouts and the purpose for my departure. She can be trusted.” “Of course,” Draklas snorted impatiently. “You would be a fool to take my word for it and just wander off. By all means tell someone where you are going and who you are going with. Just please don’t spread it around. If it becomes general knowledge then the entire purpose for Shran’s mission will be destroyed.” Soval set his drink down and found his aide, J’Nal, surrounded by Human and Denobulan admirers. She looked grateful to be rescued, and listened intently to his explanation. “If I have not returned or contacted you within two hours,” Soval instructed, “inform the Security Directorate.” J’Nal acknowledged the order and left to take up her position at a communicator. Draklas led Soval to a standard Human air car and took off north into the autumn night. They flew for several minutes before Soval asked, “Can you provide me with any information regarding the purpose for Shran’s arrival here?” “I fear not,” Draklas sounded regretful. “I am under strict orders Ambassador, not to divulge anything. My instructions were explicit. I was to transport you to the meeting place, and otherwise to keep my mouth shut.” Soval subsided and waited silently until the air car settled down in a forest clearing. They emerged and Draklas explained, “Commander Shran is based nearby. As soon as I leave and he confirms that we were not followed, he will come here himself to meet you and escort you to his camp. It should not be more than fifteen minutes or so.” Soval nodded in understanding. Draklas climbed back into the air car and took off, leaving Soval to enjoy the crisp northern breeze that was sweeping down from Earth’s polar regions as the planet drifted closer to it’s autumnal equinox. In the southern Canadian latitudes where Soval found himself, the deciduous leaves were already well advanced in their annual color changes. Dried leaves rattled on the trees and blew across the ground in rattling waves. In much the same way that sand blew across Vulcan’s deserts, he mused. Frost was forming tonight on the upper surfaces of the plants. Soval suspected that if he didn’t keep moving, it would soon be forming on him also. “Humans have so many admirable qualities,” he groused to himself, “why couldn’t they have shown the good judgment to have evolved under a sun that put out a decent amount of heat?” The sheer illogic of this thought stopped him in his tracks and made him realize how very tired he was. “I haven’t made time to meditate properly in three days,” he realized. Not good at all. Duty or no duty, some things could not be deferred. He would be of no use to his people if he allowed himself to become dysfunctional. Crackling footsteps approached, to Soval’s relief. He saw a humanoid silhouette outlined by a softly glowing lantern step into view at the edge of the clearing. The figure was bundled in form concealing coveralls and carrying what appeared to be a long weapon. “Commander Shran?” Soval asked, stepping forward. The figure raised the weapon and took aim. Soval reacted with reflexes that had grown up dodging wild sehlats, and spent their young adulthood trading weapons fire. He dove, hit the ground rolling and bounced to his feet, then dashed for the edge of the forest, ducking and weaving. Several soft sounding eruptions behind him informed the Vulcan that he was dealing with a projectile weapon. Most probably a standard Human hunting rifle, using highly compressed gas to propel an explosive bullet. As he leaped sideways behind the cover of a large oak tree, Soval felt something impact his right shoulder. Shock waves spread down his arm, across his shoulders and down his spine as the bullet detonated on the bone of his shoulder blade. The kinetic energy knocked him staggering. -&- The Andorian called Draklas flew directly west, then southwest. Eventually he settled the air car beside a small restaurant in a non-descript town. Draklas put on a pair of gloves and pulled a hood over his head. Then he got out of the car and walked away from it, never looking back. His associates would take care of it. Three blocks later Draklas stepped into an alley behind a warehouse and ducked through a doorway. He followed the outer wall of the empty building to a small office and settled down in front of a sealed terminal. After inputting an extremely complex identification code, providing DNA identification, submitting to voice and retinal analysis, and then submitting yet another code, he was able to activate it and then input his password. The speaker activated, though the screen remained blank. “Thyren. Report.” The voice was mechanical, obviously scrambled. The Andorian cleared his throat. “Delivery complete.” “Precautions?” “Yes, of course,” Thyren allowed a touch of impatience to enter his voice. “Even though I sincerely doubt that a Human of Massaro’s obvious incompetence is capable of killing an experienced Vulcan operative. Not even one as old and out of shape as Soval. Moreover, the ambassador is not an idiot. He made sure to let his aide know where he was going. I scanned him in the car, and he is carrying a tracker. Which any sane person would be doing of course. In addition I made sure to notify the local Human authorities.” “Excellent. We are dealing with enough as it is. The last thing we need is to reignite war with the Vulcans right now.” “Set your concerns to rest. Soval will survive his little adventure, I am confident.” Thyren leaned forward. “What is important about this is the fact that Terra Prime now considers me a useful tool. They believe me to be as honorless as they are themselves, willing to sell myself to anyone for the right price. The closer I can maintain this connection, the closer we can reach to the ones who killed General Skrilla’s daughter.” “You are now convinced she is dead?” The scrambled voice still somehow managed to convey disappointment. “Yes,” Thyren looked grim. “I have also consulted various Human reference works on the subject, used for law enforcement training. All agree. If she has been missing this long without any contact from her kidnappers, then she is dead. Most likely they captured her for useful information. Once they were finished interrogating her, they killed her and disposed of the body to remove a witness.” “Then it falls to us as her comrades to carry out the duty of revenge. There is a blood debt to be paid.” (End of Part 2 - TBC) |
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