Archer took the empty seat beside his tactical officer. “Looks like my speech must have come off as badly as I think it did.
Reed turned toward him, displaying a bemused expression. “Sir?
“You seem to be brooding, Malcolm. Just like the rest of my audience.
“I wouldnt say Im exactly brooding,Captain, he said in his clipped British accent. “I was just thinking about these Breen that Minister Soval mentioned.
“Ah. Archer nodded. “What about them?
“I just wonder why the hell weve never heard of them before, sir.
Archer had considered that as well, but had already decided that he had to place some limits on his capacity to worry about the future, the unknown, and what might be the unknowable.
“Perhaps the Breen are obscure to humans because so little is known about them, TPol said. “Even the Vulcan Security Directorate possesses very little hard information about that species.
Archer nodded, accepting TPols explanation at face value. “Theres no point in jumping at shadows, Malcolm, he said. “For all we know, the Breen are really just Sovals favorite breed of saber-toothed Vulcan puppies, and he was just jerking our collective chains. Besides, weve got the annual inspection of the Altair VI outpost ahead of us, and then its back to the commercial freight corridors to prowl for pirates, Romulans, or whatever else turns up. Weve already got enough on our plate without borrowing any moretrouble.
Reed smiled ironically. “Worrying just might be the biggest part of a tactical officers job description, sir.
Sir,he thought, nodding a silent acknowledgment of Malcolms commendable vigilance. Captain.When had his crew begun sounding so excessively formal in his presence?
It started after Trip left,he realized in a rush. Despite the fact that his working relationship with TPol had grown more close, open, and cordial than he had ever imagined possible, there was nobody aboard Enterprisewho could fill the cold void created by Trips open-ended absence. Though he knew Trips death was merely a ruseas did TPol, Phlox, and Reedit felt real enough to inspire genuine mourning.
Captain. Sir. Captain. Nobody here feels comfortable just calling me Jonathan.Not even TPol, who had to have been grieving over Trips absence even more intensely than Archer was, her Vulcan emotional makeup notwithstanding.
He suddenly felt more disconcertingly alone than he had since hed first accepted command of Enterprise.
THREE
Vulcan Year 8737 (2135 A.C.E.) Trilan (Vulcan outpost settlement)
TP OL FLATTENED HERSELFagainst the moist wall, struggling to keep her ragged inhalations under control. She wasnt certain what had happened to the others. It had been at least a quarter of an hour since she had heard any screams, or anything other than the sound of her own heartbeat and rushing bloodlife-giving fluid that she felt certain might be betraying her even now.
She had been one of six agents of the VSharthe Vulcan Security Directoratethat had undertaken this mission, but she knew that their prey had already dispatched at least two of the others. Their squads leader, Denak, had disappeared down a hole in the ground; the fact that the hole had sealed itself almost immediately lent credence to the idea that Denak had been takenand had not fallen victim to a simple misstep.
The two other VShar agents had similarly disappeared as theyd made their way through the dank caverns that housed the Frislen, but TPol had nimbly managed to avoid capture. She tried to tamp down the voice inside her that fairly screamed, You havent been takenyet. In this context, the feeling of fear was less an emotion than a primal survival instinct. She allowed it to settle upon her like a warm but ill-fitting cloak.
To catch something as primal as these creatures, I must think like them,TPol reasoned. It was, in fact, one of the most basic lessons of intelligence and espionage work; to infiltrate, one had to learn to think like ones opponent, even to the point of becoming one of them if necessary.
She knew that she could never becomeone of the Frislen, unless she contracted the contagion that had ravaged them. From what the Security Directorates files had indicated, that would require both intimate sexual contact and a significant blood-to-blood transfer; the majority of the Frislens victims were not transformed, however, but served instead as food for their cannibalistic appetites.
Despite their savagery, the Frislen were apparently not without technological defenses, as the VShar team had learned shortly after disembarking here. A targeted electromagnetic pulse had rendered not only all of their scanning and communication equipment useless, but their weaponry as well. The pulse should have been their cue to leave, as TPol and Eskren had reasoned, but Denak had ordered them to move into the caves that apparently housed the Frislen. They were armed now only with smaller weapons barely suitable for hand-to-hand combat, although TPol knew that she could throw the hand-length tricheqon her belt with deadly accuracy. Once, at least.
TPol felt her boots come into contact with something on the floor, and she crouched defensively, peering into the darkness around her. One hand moved forward, and her fingers connected with something crust-covered and tubular. Further exploration told her that what she had stumbled upon was the skeletal remains ofsomething. She couldnt be certain what it was. It wasnt humanoid, but it was too large to be one of the smaller creatures that were indigenous to this world.
A sehlat,she finally reasoned, exploring further and finding not only clumps of fur and gristle, but also the sharp tusks that were indicative of adolescent-to-fully-grown members of the urso-feline species that this forbidding worlds Vulcan settlers had brought with them.
Her mind racing, TPol quickly began removing certain parts of the sehlats skeletal structure. She winced as she broke several of the bonesthe sound of the cracks was like cannon fire in the tunnelsbut her fingers told her that she had guessed correctly about the brittle condition of the remains.
A short while later, TPol heard sounds nearby. She couldnt tell from which direction they had emanated, but she assumed she was now being stalked anew. Crouching lower, curled almost into a ball, she quickly finished making her preparations, then stood. Shaking, she used a bone fragment to scratch the top side of her shoulder, where the fabric of her sedmahhad already been torn. She felt the blood well up immediately; she had been cut deeply enough to bleed, but not enough to cause nerve damagenor, she hoped, to affect her defensive abilities.
Knowing that the Frislen could detect her scent even more strongly than before, TPol sprinted forward into the darkness, barely able to see the tunnels around her. She sensed movement behind her, but dared not whirl around to face her pursuers. The only thing she knew for certain was that the farther into the caves she got, the closer she would come to their nest.