Precipice

Reyes saw no point in lying. “Nope.”

“We should consider some of the possibilities,” Ezthene said. “Perhaps they wish to interrogate us for intelligence to use against our peoples.”

“I’ve been here for three days,” Reyes said. “So far, no one’s asked me a goddamned thing.”

Ezthene ruminated quietly for a few seconds. “There were rumors the Klingons had placed a bounty on your life.”

“It wasn’t a rumor,” Reyes said. “But if that’s all this was, they could’ve killed me weeks ago. And whoever grabbed me handed me over in a hibernation pod. If they plan to put me on trial back on Qo’noS, why thaw me out before I get there?”

“Excellent queries,” Ezthene said. “In any event, their vendetta against you would still not explain my presence.”

“Also true,” Reyes said. “Unless you ticked them off. Did you ever insult some random Klingon’s mother?”

“Not that I am aware of.”

Reyes frowned with boredom. “So much for that theory.”

“Is it possible,” Ezthene asked, “we are being held for ransom?”

“Maybe you are,” Reyes replied. “But me? Not a chance.”

“Why do you think that?”

Unable to help himself, Reyes let out a grim chortle. He wondered whether Ezthene could appreciate his gallows humor as he replied with a taut smile, “Haven’t you heard? I’m dead.”

8

February 21, 2267

Days of hiking through the mountains had left Pe

He and T’Pry

“I need to procure supplies for our journey,” T’Pry

Too tired to argue, Pe

Without further explanation, T’Pry

Pe

Flexing his fingers, he found dehydration had left his skin feeling brittle and tight. He fished his last canteen of water from his pack and drained half of what was left in it.

There was no shade where he was standing, so he picked up his pack and moved around the corner, beyond the suns’ reach. He sat down on the dusty ground and leaned against the overfilled pack.

And he waited.

It hadn’t occurred to him to ask T’Pry

Spindrifts the color of nutmeg flew low to the ground.

Nevasa burned brighter as it ascended by slow degrees.

From somewhere in the heart of the village, a lonely melody of flute music, as soft as a breath and as light as air, rippled through the town’s deep reservoir of silence.

Toth’Sen began to stir. Then all at once it was awake.

Pedestrians cast wary glances at Pe

Nearly two hours passed without any sign of T’Pry

He had started to nod off when T’Pry

“I exchanged it to facilitate the creation of new travel documents.”

Lifting his arm to shield his eyes so he could see her expression better, he said, “You paid someone to forge a new ID for you? I didn’t know Vulcans did that sort of thing.”

“Not all of this planet’s residents are Vulcans,” T’Pry

“And I made the documents myself. My payment was merely for access to the necessary materials and equipment.”

“Right,” Pe

“Actually, Mister Pe

“I’ll add forgery and theft to your growing list of crimes,” Pe

“Enough to make my documents and buy us passage on a private transport to Ajilon,” T’Pry

Pe

“I am aware of my homeworld’s stringent regulation of its citizens’ movements on and off the planet,” T’Pry

“But they’ll scan your DNA so they can verify your identity if and when you return,” Pe

She regarded him with determined eyes. “It is therefore imperative that you help me prevent Vulcan Security from forcing me to submit to such a scan.”

He wondered if she was being deliberately obtuse. “How am I supposed to do that? All Vulcan citizens have to get sca

“Which is why I must become a citizen of a world that exempts its people from such invasions of personal sovereignty.”

It took a second for Pe

“Correct,” T’Pry

9

February 22, 2267

A pair of Klingon soldiers led Reyes into a dimly lit briefing room. “Hello, Diego,” said Ezthene.

Reyes nodded at the Tholian, who was being shadowed by two Klingon guards of his own. “Morning,” Reyes said.

“Sit down,” said one of Reyes’s guards. Reyes pulled out a chair from the conference table and took a seat.

A week had passed since Ezthene’s arrival, but this was the first time Reyes had seen him since their first night of shared captivity. By the next morning, the Klingons had modified a small compartment to provide the kind of superheated high-pressure environment Ezthene needed if he was to remain a long-term prisoner; just as with most other varieties of self-contained environment suits, the Tholian’s silk garment could function for only so long before needing to be recharged and replenished.