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“All of them,” Xiong said. “We’ve been working the problem from every angle, but because of the interference caused by the pulsar, her tricorder was only able to make basic visual scans. Which means we have no detailed nuclear imaging or spectral analysis.”
The elfin redhead added, “We have enough data to build a frame to hold the artifacts, but no idea how to make it start. It’s like having hardware with no operating software.”
“In other words,” Nogura grumped, “a very expensive piece of junk.”
“Unfortunately, yes,” Xiong said.
Nogura was about to tell the scientists to do their best and then dismiss them, when T’Pry
“Admiral . . . I might be able to help.”
Qui
He rolled over and regretted moving. A deep pounding ache felt like a lead weight trying to ram its way out of his skull. Each throbbing beat of his pulse made him fear that his abused brain had grown nerve endings just so it could protest what he’d done to it the night before. He groaned pitiably. Why can’t I ever have a coma when I really need one?
Squinting against the cold, white light of one of Vanguard’s numerous, immaculate brig facilities, he labored to focus his eyes. Then he sat up on the edge of the bench and cradled his head in his hands. Hunched over in misery, he realized he’d put his bare feet down in a broad splatter of spilled soup. He hoped it was soup.
“I can hear you breathing, Newsboy,” he mumbled, through a vile taste human mouths were never meant to know. With effort, he turned his head. “If you’ve come to—”
Words failed him as he realized his visitor wasn’t Tim Pe
He narrowed his eyes in tired contempt. “You’re dead to me.” He winced at another crushing throb in his temples. “But if it makes you feel any better, I’m dead to me, too.”
“The arrest report indicates you were ejected from no fewer than six establishments for drunken and disorderly behavior before you were taken into custody.” She arched one eyebrow. “You do appear—what’s the expression? ah, yes—worse for wear.”
Her gingerly mocking didn’t make him feel better, but it gave him a reason to be mad, and that helped him focus on something other than how awful he felt. “Goddamn, lady, you got a gift for understatement. I spent all my credit and wound up feeling like phasered shit. It’s like I mugged myself, except someone else got the money.” Massaging a vicious crick from his neck, he shot a one-eyed glare at the Vulcan woman. “What do you want with me, anyway?”
She seemed unfazed by his blunt challenge. “During your last mission for SI, you witnessed what you described as a ‘huge, moving equation’ that the Apostate said was the key to the Tkon array. But your final report contained no specific details of that equation.”
“I know.” He turned his head, growled the foulness inside his mouth into a wad, and spit it on the floor. “Like I said, it was all just a blur. I don’t remember the details.”
T’Pry
This didn’t sound as if it was leading anywhere good. “I know I’ll probably be sorry I asked, but what’re you driving at?”
“I need you to consent to a Vulcan mind-meld with me.”
“Go to hell.” He tried to turn away and lie down.
The urgency in her voice stopped him. “Please, Mister Qui
“Like I give a shit?” Confronted with so much national security claptrap, it was hard for Qui
She looked taken aback by his tirade. “In light of the personal loss you suffered, I can understand your animosity toward Starfleet and the Federation, but that—”
“Dammit, you’re not listening to me. I ain’t sayin’ no because I got a grudge with the Federation, and I ain’t saying go to hell because I give a damn about you invading my privacy. What I’m sayin’ is, I don’t care anymore. I don’t want to do it because I never want to think about that day ever again, as long as I live. All I’ve done since I got back was try to forget it.”
There was sympathy in her voice. “Have you?”
“Have I what? Tried?”
“Forgotten.”
He slumped against the metal wall and stared at the light on the ceiling. “Not yet. But I plan to keep drinking till I’ve killed so many brain cells, I lose my own name.”
T’Pry
He was too exhausted to argue with her. What harm could it do? He responded with a grudging nod. “Fine, all right. But first, get me someplace else.”
“Time is of the essence,” T’Pry
“No, it won’t.”
His defiance seemed to irk her. “Why not?”
“Because right now, you’re standing in my puke.”
She looked down, confirmed his claim, then met his bleary gaze with her level stare. “You make a reasonable point.”
T’Pry
The disheveled ex-soldier-of-fortune edged inside as if expecting an ambush. “Cozy. Who lives here?”
“No one,” T’Pry
“Kind of. It’s telepathy, right?”
“It is far more than that. It is a fusion of two minds, a sharing of memory, feelings, and consciousness. Within the meld, we will become one.” She lifted her left hand and reached out to touch his face. As she expected, he recoiled slightly. “It will not hurt, I promise.”