She frowned. “Dont you mean the lateCaptain Sopek, Denak?
Something that almost resembled a small smile came to the older mans lips. “Reports of Sopeks death may have beengreatly exaggerated.
“I appreciate the information, Denak, she said, wondering precisely how Sopek might be involved in Romulan espionage; only two years ago, following the Andorian attack on PJem, Sopek had used his influence with the Vulcan High Command to keep TPol aboard Enterprise. She resolved to investigate Sopek whenever time and duty permitted it.
“I only have a few moments more before the subspace scrambler may be detected, she added quickly. “Please contact me again at this frequency should you discover anything further that you think would be helpful. She tapped the screen, sending him a specific frequency graph.
“I will expect you to do the same, TPol,Denak said. “As I noted, many of us believe that the Romulan threat issignificantly more dire than even Vulcans government officials and representatives seem to understand. Or will admit. If you learn anything that might help raise awareness within the new administration, you have my word that I will contin
The screen went blank as the timer reached zero, and TPol knew that the scrambling device was already erasing any trace of the transmission from the ships com logs and computer backup subroutines. She wished that she had been able to speak to Denak for just a little longer. But for now, she had some slim threads to follow.
It seemed clear that at least someVulcan military or intelligence operatives were working covertly within the boundaries of the Romulan Star Empire, which meant that at least some knowledge existed on Vulcan of the connection between the two long-sundered peoples. She had no reason to believe that Denak was aware of that connection, however; nor did she feel that he was holding back any important information.
Which meant that he also didnt have any information concerning Trip, or the specifics of his mission for the covert Earth-based intel bureau. TPol cared intensely about the future of Vulcan, as well as that of the Coalition of Planets and the safety of the Starship Enterprise. But she also knew that deep within her, no matter how much she tried to repress her emotions, her actions were being guided, illogically, by fear.
And by loss.
Where is Trip now, and what kind of danger is he facing right at this moment? And when will he be back?
TPol knew she couldnt rest until she found the answers.
FOUR
Day Twenty-nine, Month of KriBrax Romulus
W ITH MORE THAN AN HOURto spare before his next scheduled check-in with Captain Eric Stillwell, Charles “Trip Tucker III left his small suite of rented rooms for a brisk sunset walk downtown.
Of course, downtown Dartha wasnt just anydowntown. Even by the standards of the Romulan capitals venerable Government Quarterwhich had been built, and was even today continuously being rebuilt, over the bones of one of the oldest settlements on the planetthe ancient streets seemed absurdly narrow. Moving with a confidence instilled by having lived here continuously for the past several weeks, Trip wended his way along the tightly packed warren of constricted roads and footpaths, all of which curved gently to conform to the generally round, concentric style that characterized even the oldest Romulan urban planning. As he walked, the remnant of the neighborhoods daily throng of assorted shopkeepers, clerks, laborers, and retail customers moved past, either ignoring him entirely or favoring him with wordless nods or perfunctory greetings of “Jolantru,the local equivalent of “Have a nice day.
He turned sideways to allow a middle-aged man and woman to pass him on a narrow sidewalk. These people dont smile much more than the Vulcans do,Trip thought, suppressing an ironic grin so as not to attract any unwanted attention; he knew from firsthand experience just how dramatically the sometimes explosively passionate Romulans differed from their more contemplativeif sometimes equally standoffishcousins on Vulcan.
The slow trickle of passersby inexorably slowed further, dying off entirely as the yellow Romulan sun finally completed its long horizonward arc, its present low angle giving it the hue of human blood. Trip paused to take in the spectacle of the bloated, ruddy orb as it settled behind the phalanx of centuries-old structures that comprised the squat Old City skyline. Caught between the waning rays and lengthening shadows, the venerable illuminated spires of the kilometers-distant Hall of State rose belligerently, war pikes poised over the Romulan capital, the anthracite-black waters of the Apnex Sea at their backs. It told Trip a tale of the fearsome martial past that TPols people shared with the Romulans, a way of life that could return to the presently peace-loving Vulcan people should the star-spanning empires dreams of conquest ever reach fruition. The tableau could have been the work of a painter determined to limn the contradictory streaks of beauty and savagery of the galactic civilization that radiated from this very city.
A civilization, he reminded himself, whose crash program to develop a warp-seven-capable stardrive still posed a direct and mounting threat, not only to the world of his birth, but also to its allies. Putting a definitive stop to that program was the reason he had come to this alien place. It was also the reason he had allowed all but a handful of the people in his life to believe the official reports of his death in the line of duty. His parents, his brother Bert, and Owen, the child that Bert and Miguel had adopted a few years backall of them believed what Starfleet had told them about his death in an apparent pirate raid.
He ached to finish his mission, to return home and see them all againto put his life and the lives of his loved ones back together. Thank God that at least TPol knows the truth,he thought, briefly wondering if he could ever mend that particular relationship. Ever since the death of their daughter Elizabeth a few months back, he tended to doubt that he and TPol would ever recapture whatever spark had once passed between them, even though their relationship had been headed that way very shortly before his “death.
The narrow street upon which Trip stood seemed to become even more constricted as the evening settled in, covering the sky like a bejeweled raven-colored canopy and bringing with it a chill, foggy breeze tinged with Apnex Sea brine and the faint but acrid scent of what might have been shore-dwelling mogaior neirhh,or perhaps some other kind of local predatory bird. Illuminated only dimly by the greenish glow of the lanterns that topped the districts widely spaced, age-pitted stone lampposts, his surroundings quickly began to suggest menace rather than beauty. Cinching his brown travel robe tightly against the rapidly falling temperature, he turned and began retracing the route hed taken from his apartment, hoping the terrain wouldnt appear too different in the baleful semidarkness.
The pavement beneath one of his feet suddenly became soft and yielding, and he nearly fell backward before regaining his balance. A stench, wholly alien yet also somehow distinctly familiar, assaulted his nostrils not half a heartbeat later.
“Ugh, he muttered as he leaned against a wall, squinting to get a good look at the semisolid foulness into which he had just stepped. Damn it. Theres one thing thats the same on any planet thats got cities on it, pointed ears and green blood notwithstanding.Doing his best to ignore the stink, Trip stepped over to the nearby brick-lined gutter, against which he scraped the bottom of his shoe until its sole once again looked reasonably clean. Then, after breathing a pungent Rihannsu curse upon those who failed to curb their pet setleths, he resumed walking, quietly rounding a corner.