A/N: Welcome back! Thanks for the love and support. Don't own them, don't make money from them. Our A-plot is (vaguely) inspired by TNG 3x04 Who Watches the Watchers and 4x13 Devil's Due, and a profound need to put Liz in a glitzy ball gown for absolutely no reason. This series is nothing if not shamelessly self-indulgent.
This season, we're going for shorter, more impactful planet-of-the-week stories. My fellow ATPers - thanks for sticking with me. They'll be getting a lot more screen time in the next two episodes. I'm making sure that everyone on senior staff gets their own time to shine...or be thrown on a cliff and nearly pecked to death by a giant bird. Something like that.
Next time: Let's wrap up this little Terra Prime arc with a bow. Harris gets his just desserts.
Season Seven
Episode Two: Corner of the Sky
Commodore's log, April 29th, 2160: We've arrived in the Demerian system for our first big mission after the war - convincing our allies to get behind the ideals of Samuels' Federation. I know I can't be alone in hoping that we can just go a matter of days without experiencing some sort of disaster.
"So what are the odds of this one leaving me alone?"
"Very slim."
"Really? What if I give it some of these flowers?" Liz paused, braced herself against a nearby tree, and swung her backpack around to the front, rummaging around in the big pocket. In short order, she came away with a handful of red blooms and shook them enticingly towards the animal beside her, to little avail.
Phlox crouched down, inspecting the creature anew. It was a little taller than the Commodore's beagle, covered in soft, yellow fuzz, and resembled an Earth ungulate, somewhere between a fawn and a miniature horse. They'd come across it somewhere between this meadow and the last, and it immediately began to trail them, licking and sniffing at his wife's hand until they were forced to come to the conclusion that they'd picked up an uninvited - though extremely adorable - guest.
"It's remarkable," he said quietly, stroking the creature's floppy ears. It whinnied and fluttered its eyelashes at him, edging just a little closer. "It doesn't seem to fear people at all. Elizabeth, it must have imprinted on us."
"Think its mom is somewhere near here?" Her gaze followed the line of the ridge, through the waving, knee-high grasses to the next hilltop, where a patch of wildflowers was growing in earnest. They'd seen plenty of unusual animals over the past few days, from a moth that glowed fluorescent green in the nighttime to a large, herbivorous feline the size of a shuttlepod. Though they were only a matter of kilometers from the capital, the ecosystem was lush and diverse, the perfect playground for a doctor and a science officer and a dozen or so specialists.
Demeris was the home of a space-faring species, capable of warp two and not a bit more, though they made up for it in their hospitality and the beauty of their cities, flourishing population centers that appeared to be clustered around mountain ranges, entire buildings built into the side of the rock face. The people were humanoid in appearance, tall and thin with hawkish features, from their golden eyes to angular jawlines to the lines of their tattoos running down their chins and up their temples. Technically, this was their first stop on their latest diplomatic mission, and while it was an intensely long shot to say they'd be able to talk the Demerians into joining the Federation, for the interim, they were grateful to have the opportunity to explore.
They'd had such little opportunity to do so over the past four years.
Immediately, Elizabeth's enthusiasm had been infectious - she had met them all in the loading bay, shuttle already idling, dressed in the standard tan excursion fatigues with her backpack sitting in the copilot's seat. Once on the ground, she rushed from discovery to discovery, crawling into caves and overturning rocks and digging through the mud as she took in whatever the landscape had to offer. They filled countless jars with specimens to examine, and when the twin suns at last sunk below the horizon, they set up camp in the shadow of a towering waterfall. That night, when the rest of the crewmen turned in to their tents, she shyly asked him if he'd like to lay down under the stars, and she'd fallen asleep with her head on his chest, snoring and mumbling into the fabric of his jacket.
That next morning, their studies continued in earnest, and they snuck away in order to explore a nearby valley, an excursion which stretched into hours, easily overtaking the afternoon. For the first time in forever, duty was the last thing on their minds, and their thoughts were consumed with pure scientific curiosity and the appreciation of one another's company. It had been like this since the beginning, Phlox realized, as within the confines of Enterprise, Elizabeth had always been his best girl, his closest friend, his dearest confidante.
And he'd so very much missed her smile.
"This entry in the Demerian database says the adults are carnivorous," she concluded, her face partly shielded by her PADD. Phlox startled, pulling his hand out of the creature's mouth, where it had been chewing on his fingers noisily. She giggled, a sound he'd always found most charming, and together they forged onward, up and over the hill and into the shade of a circle of ash trees, where they found their companions hard at work.
They crossed paths with Crewman Marceline first. Their resident exobiologist was busily studying some kind of reptile, chameleon-like in appearance, though it seemed to be sparking and giving off faint electrical energy as it sat in its enclosure. She smiled up at them, then activated her tricorder, returning to her notes.
Here, the reflecting pool was crystal clear, the waterfall nearly soundless as it tumbled over the rocks below. Someone in a scuba suit was ducking underneath the waves, in and among the fish and corals, leaving snorkel bubbles unbroken across the surface. Further still, one of their newer commissions waved to her, and Liz went to attend to her post-haste, leaving him alone with a very curious creature gnawing at his shirt sleeve.
Phlox took a good long look at it, remembering how his wife had cooed and fussed over it, how it had knocked her over and licked her face once it discovered they were carrying food. The logistics of bringing it back to the ship were sure to be complex; things were already tight in their quarters, and he certainly couldn't keep it in a cage with the rest of his menagerie. Even letting it roam was ill-advised - given what they knew now, it was just as likely to eat Porthos than stay out of trouble.
The sensation of someone stepping up to his side drew him out of his thoughts, and he turned to find one of the many politicians who had welcomed them to Demeris, a young man by the name of Velami. He was a councilor, or perhaps an ambassador, but in the moment, he was just someone who'd managed to sneak up and scare the life out of him. Phlox pressed a hand to his chest, inhaled deeply, and offered him a smile.
"Can I help you?"
"I've come to bring your team back to the capital," he said, giving nothing away.
"Are negotiations not going well?" Then, a little more specifically: "Did Archer or Reed ask for us?"
"I'll fill you in along the way."
Somewhere, he heard the low drone of a hovercar idling, and his gaze wandered over to Elizabeth, already not looking forward to telling her that their time in paradise was nearing an unceremonious end. She and her assistant were peering into a narrow gap between the rocks with a flashlight, and within seconds, she cried out triumphantly, sending the other crewman scurrying away. Phlox knew she was running for the sample containers, but it was much too late, as a cloud of silvery, iridescent butterflies shot out and surrounded her, causing an expression of pure wonder he'd never seen before to settle across her lovely features.
At that moment, the wind rustled through the trees, creating a slight passage for a shaft of sunlight to cut through. It hit the top of her head squarely, bathing her in warmth, and the creature bounded towards her, squealing and whinnying all the way.
Velami looked shocked, even awed, as though the slightest push could've bowled him over. When he spoke again, his voice was tremulous, barely comprehensible: "She's a goddess."
Phlox took a good look at her, her flushed cheeks, her dirt-stained fatigues, the wisps of hair just barely peeking out of her NX-01 ballcap, and decided he was right.
"That she is."
It was all the encouragement he needed. In a flash, he was gone, breaking out into a sprint towards the reflecting pool. A few centimeters before tumbling in, he fell to his knees, dipped his head, and quite literally kissed the ground she walked on.
"I'm sorry, Ethan, it's just that nothing you do or say could possibly convince me this stuff is any good."
He held out his hand, reminding him to keep his voice down, then gestured towards the half-dozen bowls laid out before him on the table. "Back on Enterprise, Captain T'Pol always talked about plomeek broth, but in reality, it's just the Vulcan word for soup. Each province has its own recipe, even down to the city and family. Really, the subtle differences are fascinating."
"Which is why you've brought me here."
"The protein resequencers in Sagan Hall only store the two most common varieties." Lieutenant Novakovich ladled up a heaping spoonful of the one in the center, which was a vibrant ruby red, rich with fragrant vegetables and spices. "Besides, nothing beats homemade."
Back on the Maelstrom and certainly during the war, actually setting his work aside for an hour-long lunch was a concept entirely foreign to Ensign Nguyen, but now that they were back on Earth and doomed to an endless dirge of desk assignments, he started finding more and more excuses to hang out with his former shipmates. Most of the time, this involved the former members of his armory brigade, which were scattered between the Alameda Arsenal and R&D, but on occasion, he visited STC to nap on Commander Hammond's couch. More often that not, Lieutenant Commander Sato would swing by on her way to her next meeting, if only to vent her frustrations about the behavior of one of her subordinates in the communications department. Once, he accompanied Captain Tucker to preschool to have lunch with his goddaughter Katie, and allowed the little girl to climb all over him like a jungle gym, listening intently as she babbled about anything and everything.
He digressed. Ethan was acting like this was his first time out of the tactical compound, which it wasn't. It was true a majority of his days were consumed by running correspondence between Intelligence and Logistics, which was a truly thankless job, considering just how much the two entities detested each other, but the halls of the Vulcan Consulate were familiar. Yuris spent a lot of time here, between Soval's office and his lab at Starfleet Medical, and he enjoyed nothing more than to take a long walk with him after work.
Jimmy opened his mouth to gently correct his companion, to tell him that he'd already tried all the varieties and they all tasted like dirt, but was distracted by a sudden flutter of movement out of the corner of his eye. He was soon greeted by the sight of none other than Minister T'Pau, surrounded by her entourage and deep in conversation with an aide. Up until now, he'd only seen her face on various news bulletins touting goings-on at HQ, and he really shouldn't have been surprised to see her there, considering they were among the handful of humans in the mess hall of the Vulcan Consulate. Still, whatever he was about to say died in his throat, and he followed her path with his eyes halfway across the room, the swish of her skirts, the soft drag of her robe along the stone floor.
The fact that she was stunningly, absurdly beautiful didn't help matters at all.
Jimmy knew that she had cut her teeth as a leader among the Syrrannites, and had been instrumental in exposing Administrator V'Las as a traitor and eventually as a Romulan sympathizer. She and Archer were responsible for the rise of the Kir'Shara among the Vulcan youth, and as such, she was considered a bit of a cultural icon. Unlike the other diplomats on Soval's staff, she wore her hair long and loose, complementing her luminous eyes and her full lips, perpetually curled down in a sneer of indifference. From Yuris, he knew that her emotions were closer to the surface than most of their peers, but if anything, that only made her more interesting.
More than anything, he yearned to sit her down and listen to her entire life story, to figure out what she was all about.
Novakovich seemed curious as to what had stolen his attention, but his confusion was soon replaced with understanding. Jimmy was seized by the urge to smack that smug smile off his face, but fortunately for them, T'Pau had already passed their table, en route to her usual private dining room. Several other ministers were moving to intercept her, but she stepped rather abruptly away from the receiving line, moving towards the windows and squinting into the sunlight.
Neither of them could hear anything, but the Vulcans certainly could. One by one, they turned towards the far end of the room, until by the time it reached them, the bowls on the table were vibrating powerfully, threatening to spill their contents. The grinding noise seemed to come from all around, deafening and absolute.
It mimicked the sound that so often accompanied a Romulan bird-of-prey bearing down on them during the war, and in a flash he was off, sprinting towards the minister and throwing his arms wide.
He only just managed to push her away when the entire side of the building collapsed, pelting them with stone and broken glass.
Beneath him, T'Pau gasped, or perhaps it was a groan, but either way, she grabbed the back of his uniform and held on for dear life. People were shouting, though with the ringing in his ears, he couldn't be sure what they were saying. A certain stinging in his eyes told him he was bleeding, but he was unable to think of anything else but keeping this woman safe, to shield her from the onslaught that was undoubtedly coming.
It was there faster than any of them were prepared for, in the form of a strong pair of hands on his shoulders, throwing him off of her. Jimmy scrambled around in the near darkness, and as the dust cleared all around them, he discovered with horror that a masked assailant had descended upon her, pulling at her robes and trying to force her to turn her face towards the light.
"I found a minister!" He shouted, then gripped her collar, pulling her off the ground. His voice drew darker, more malicious: "Tell me where Administrator Kuvak is! Ambassador Soval!"
Jimmy was halfway expecting her to ignore him, or else act out in the graceful, measured style of the Vulcan martial arts he'd seen during his training, but instead she pulled back and decked him hard across the face, sending him sprawling across the ground. It was then he remembered that each Vulcan was at least three times as strong as any human, and knew they were in for it.
This provided enough of a distraction for him to return to her side, and he reached for his phase pistol, only to find that he'd lost it in the struggle somehow. Still, he scrambled to his feet and pulled her up alongside him, curling an arm around her waist to keep her steady. A steady stream of soldiers were forging into the room, up and over the fallen bodies of their companions, descending on the staff of the consulate without mercy, though they weren't making the least bit of headway. As he predicted, the Vulcans winning their own little skirmishes, and it wasn't long until the tides appeared as though they were about to turn.
The sunlight was visible now, as well as a hint of the external walls of the complex, a sprawling desert garden the only thing standing between them and salvation. Jimmy felt the irrepressible need to deliver to her safety, and grabbed her hand, meaning to find some way out.
Instantly, a bolt of electricity shot up his arm, and he faltered, pulling away, sharing a wide-eyed, bewildered glance. Before he could move, a deafening, pealing tone rang out through the air, incapacitating the Vulcans and all but sending him to his knees.
It could have been ten minutes, or even an hour, but the sound finally stopped, replaced by the perimeter alarm of the compound and the distant wail of sirens. They were utterly surrounded by unfamiliar soldiers in dark fatigues, each armed to the teeth with phase rifles, the Starfleet insignia stripped from the barrels. He squinted, trying to make sense of the scene around them, until his eyes fell on the distinctive blue triangle and green earth set into the embroidered patches on their arms.
Even after all this time, the emblem of Terra Prime was unmistakable.
"Humans to one side, aliens to the other!" One of them shouted, and he readily assumed it was the one in charge. Jimmy couldn't hazard a guess as to his identity, as every single one of Paxton's associates had been jailed, but his intent was certainly evident. Gesturing to his companions, he called out: "Take their weapons!"
Ethan was much too close, and soon found himself on the receiving end of a rather invasive search. "I don't have anything on me!" He insisted, turning out his pockets to show them, even though Jimmy knew that he most certainly did, that he was planning to swing by the range between lunch and his first afternoon class.
He could only imagine the rest of HQ was in lockdown, including every embassy and residential street in this section of the city. Legions of MACOs would be descending upon them within minutes, and they would easily overpower them.
It was only a matter of time.
One of the soldiers poked him in the chest with the muzzle of his rifle, and Jimmy glanced up, trying his best to keep his expression neutral.
"Didn't you hear him? Humans over there."
"I'm not leaving her," he replied with an impressive amount of fortitude, given that he was practically shaking in his boots.
He looked at him with poorly restrained anger, then took one step to the side, delivering a swift kick to his stomach. As Jimmy doubled over, he became aware of two hands on his shoulders, shielding him from their scrutiny and keeping him upright.
"Suit yourself. You'll die like the rest of them."
It was a perfectly ordinary, boring day aboard the NX-01, and that was enough to make Captain T'Pol concerned.
The shift had started just as it usually did - with tea, the exchange of words in the morning briefing, then a short commotion as they went their separate ways. Protocol dictated that she and Jonathan lead the Federation pitch to the Demerians, but her bondmate had insisted on bringing their first officer, on the basis that this was exactly the kind of work he'd be doing in a little less than two years, when Enterprise was decommissioned and he was handed command of the Poseidon.
T'Pol was of the distinct opinion that he wasn't giving Malcolm enough credit - he was far from the reticent, cagey disciplinarian they'd met nearly a decade ago, his edges worn smooth by the trials of duty and his personal relationships. Still, he needed practice at the negotiating table, and so she'd let him take her place and resigned herself to an uneventful shift at the conn.
All the same.
She could sense that something was amiss, could feel that familiar creep from deep within her bones. It usually returned just before a battle or a rough encounter with one of their more confrontational enemies, and served as a precursor to her fight or flight reflex. Self-consciously, she reached out to Jonathan through their bond, only to receive bewilderment back. Eyes tracking from one end of the room to the other, she took in Taxa sitting at the tactical station, boots propped up against the console, and Tejal, who was sitting so close to the helm that her nose was practically pressed against the screen. Dita was halfway asleep, chin propped up on her hand, but the second it slipped from her palm, she startled awake, correcting her posture and looking into the latest read outs from Echo Two.
"Something is wrong," T'Pol mumbled aloud, just as the comm sounded.
Undoubtedly grateful to have a bit of excitement, Ensign Singh slung her headset over one ear and stroked a few keys. "Go ahead, Commander."
Alira perked up a little at that, swiveling around to face her. Meanwhile, her voice increased unnaturally in volume.
"I'm sorry, they think she's a what?"
No less than five minutes later, they were clustered around the table in the wardroom, which was covered in dozens of PADDs. Dita hadn't been sure exactly what part of the cultural dossier on the Demerians would've been helpful in this situation, so she'd downloaded the whole damn thing, and prayed to the stars above that they could find some way to convince the locals that their science officer wasn't the reincarnation of an omnipotent deity with powers beyond their wildest imagination.
T'Pol was just about to start their session when the hatch opened behind them, producing none other than Lieutenant Commander Kov. He cut them that distinctly Vulcan half-smile, then showed that he carried a carafe of coffee and no less than five cups stacked together behind his back, earning a few expressions of gratitude.
"Nice of you to join us," Alira mumbled, dragging her hands up the planes of her face. Miri had been particularly fussy the night before, and though she didn't need much sleep beyond her yearly hibernation, she was exhausted. "Slow day in engineering?"
"I've already rotated the plasma injectors, scrubbed the exterior shell of every impulse reactor, and polished all the railings and handles in the room." As usual, he was bumbling, industrious, and infuriatingly upbeat, though she couldn't help but smile as he took his spot next to her. Knitting his fingers together, he sighed and admitted: "This is a new one."
"Apparently, they've mistaken Lieutenant Cutler for the reincarnation of a deity named Mother Leandra." With a press of a button, the viewscreen illuminated behind her, and Dita gestured over her shoulder, towards the artists' rendition of a young woman surrounded by a veritable menagerie of creatures, reclining in a bed of soft grasses with her eyes closed and the most serene smile on her face.
"The creator goddess, the keeper of the earth, the divine sculptor that called forth the shape of man and beast from the heavens…" Tejal read aloud from the nearest PADD, and her antennae swiftly curled inward, perhaps indicating she couldn't believe what she was seeing. "She's said to reincarnate across many successive generations, regardless of of species or creed. Looks like she's been a Tarkalean, a B'Saari, an Andorian..."
Kov seemed a little bewildered, but even more so amused. "So they just abandoned their previous lives, their families and their homes, to spend the rest of their days as a figurehead for the Demerian religion?"
"Wouldn't you?" Tejal's question was perfectly reasonable, given the extent of the provincial palace they'd seen, the prosperity of the cities and legions of servants that would likely be at their beck and call.
"She looks a lot like Miss Cutler."
"Kov…"
"I'm serious," he insisted, then reached forward, cycling through a series of paintings and cave drawings, each stunningly detailed. In each, she was beaming from ear to ear, utterly relaxed and content, bathed in the finest silks and covered in tattoos across every bare centimeter of skin. Of course, the distinctly Demerian features were there, but the comparison was obvious. "How is it possible that we missed this?"
"The political and social practices of the Demerians are exceedingly complex," T'Pol said evenly, tacitly admitting that they'd chosen to focus on the wrong things when preparing for this mission. Across from her, Dita's cheeks were red with embarrassment.
"Listen, they ought to just come out and say that they've got the wrong woman. Surely they'll understand."
"It isn't that simple, Lieutenant." Dita advanced towards a different screen. "These people are remarkably argumentative. Even looking at them the wrong way could cause an incident."
"So we've got to prove that she's mortal, that she's no more special than the rest of us. Cut her hand, show that she bleeds. It's not that difficult."
"Being fallible isn't the issue. Besides, they aren't letting anyone near her," T'Pol interjected, acting on a sudden message that came surging across their bond. "Some kind of ritual cleansing."
"Maybe you should talk some sense into them," Alira said pointedly, the implication being that among the five of them, she was the most likely to maintain her cool under duress. T'Pol couldn't necessarily argue with that.
"Given the circumstances, I think it would be unwise for any of you to travel down to the surface." At their curious looks, Kov displayed the PADD he'd been studying, revealing a carved etching of a woman clad in dark robes, surrounded by fire and brimstone as she rose high above the dishonored dead. "Allow me to present Mother Alorma, the Demerian goddess of darkness."
Wordlessly, Tejal snatched it out of his hands and held it up next to her superior, grinning all the way. Alira was sorely tempted to smack her.
"What are the odds, huh?" Dita continued to scroll through the pantheon, soon uncovering the goddesses of wisdom and conquest, as well as her counterpart, the guardian of the stars and the heavens. Truly, it was one in a million.
T'Pol appeared none too impressed. "The way I see it, there is only one course of action that can correct this situation."
Or rather, one person.
"I'm not quite sure what they're waiting for."
"Is it not obvious? They want their time with the media. I don't believe they understood that by jamming all comm signals going out of the complex, they also cut themselves off from the outside world."
"Suppose the MACOs don't arrive in time…"
"They're already here on the other side of the wall." T'Pau paused long enough so her companions could hear the whirr of several impulse engines overhead, more than likely due to surveillance shuttlecraft. A soldier passed by them on his patrol, and she glared at him, effortlessly raising her voice: "Is there a problem?"
He took one step towards her, looking for all the world as though he were going to shoot her down where she sat, only to be drawn away by one of his companions at the last possible second. T'Pau regarded him with indifference, then turned back towards their conspiratorial circle, leaning into the center.
Across the way, Jimmy unclenched his fists, tucking them into the pockets of his uniform. He was very nearly about to put himself between the two of them, and the understanding of that was so bewildering he didn't care to put even a bit of thought into it. She was fearless, that was true enough, but also cold and calculating, with the same degree of recklessness he'd grown to appreciate in Lieutenant Taxa in the years they'd served together. Though they didn't necessarily agree with her methods or politics, the staff seemed to gravitate towards her, like a moth to the flame, like a speck of light on an event horizon.
He couldn't say he particularly blamed them.
"We've got the advantage," she said, gesturing over her shoulder towards a young man huddled up against the wall. "Sub-Commander Tolok's bondmate was in a meeting at Starfleet Logistics Command when the bombardment started. He's told her how many soldiers there are, which exits are barricaded…"
That meant all of them, certainly in the mess hall and he suspected all over the building. The only discernible way out was the hole they'd blown into the side of the consulate, which was well guarded. Every once in a while he heard a thunder of footsteps from overhead, indicative of a distant skirmish, and couldn't help but ask.
"How's the Administrator?"
T'Pau startled, and he realized that he'd interrupted her, but fortunately, she skipped right past that. She leaned into the older woman sitting beside her, repeating the question softly. Kuvak's wife had one of her eardrums shattered from the blast, but readily confirmed their suspicions.
"He is barricaded within the fourth floor meditation chambers with Ambassador Soval and your Dr. Yuris." The latter was denoted with a noticeable hint of disdain.
"Any chance of them rushing at the nearest group of soldiers and taking them by surprise?" T'Pau looked at him as though he'd suddenly sprouted three heads, and he waved his hand dismissively, encouraging all of them to hear him out. "Environmental control is on that deck. They can flood several chambers with poisonous gas, smoke them out."
"Out of the question."
"Minister, please…"
"A word," she ground out, and he stood with her, taking two steps out of the circle and moving towards the window, eyeing the closest soldier warily.
Even under his disguise, Jimmy could tell he was still a teenager. The significance wasn't lost on him.
On their feet, it occurred to him that T'Pau was much shorter than he'd initially thought, the top of her head perfectly even with the underside of his chin. They were so close they were very nearly touching, and she had to stand on her toes to speak directly into his ear.
"I am afraid that the sensibilities of your former COs are affecting your judgment."
"How did you…" He paused, then tried again. "You don't even…"
"You're Ensign James Nguyen, formerly of the Enterprise and the Maelstrom. Born in Da Nang, Vietnam, United Earth. Starfleet Training Command class of 2150, tactical focus." She hesitated before explaining herself. "During the war, I learned the basic biographical data of all senior officers aboard the NX vessels."
"Minister, I meant no offense."
"All the same, you must consider how your words impact your audience. Take it from me, a majority of the staff in this compound never interact with humans unless strictly necessary. Such outlandish suggestions will only cloud their perception of Starfleet and your people as a whole."
"It wasn't outlandish!"
T'Pau nodded, as if she expected him to say that, then faced him directly, tilting her head up to look him in the eye. "During the last attack by Terra Prime, the prevailing sentiment on Vulcan was that it was disturbing just how many of your people fell in line so readily with Paxton's ideals. Soval very nearly pulled our delegation altogether."
"But you demanded they stay." He'd heard that much from Archer and T'Pol.
"I knew better," she corrected him. "What happened couldn't be helped. Prejudice doesn't disappear, it only lays dormant and reemerges in different forms. Ask any former Syrrannite or V'tosh Ka'tur, and they will tell you the exact same thing."
Realization dawned on him. It would have been hypocritical of them to abandon humanity when their own culture was so irreparably shattered - besides, he'd heard how certain members of the High Command had treated her in the past, and knew just how utterly shunned Yuris was, even among his colleagues.
Jimmy lowered his voice considerably. "I understand, and I know it came out of left field, but the way I see it, Paxton had money and means, namely the Orpheus mining complex from his father. These people are motivated by hatred and little else. Look at them - it's clear they don't have a plan. One unpredictable move on our end, and the entire mission falls apart."
She grew contemplative, and he was convinced she'd come around to the idea, but before they knew it, one of the soldiers was shouting at them to get down. Jimmy reflexively stepped in front of her, but another enemy approached them from behind, intertwining his fingers into the minister's hair and forcing her down to her knees. Before he could react, he was on the business end of three different phase rifles and a blinking visual sensor pointed directly at his head.
One of the men approached from the huddle of humans, sauntering into the frame and treating the camera to a blinding smile. He appeared nervous, tremendously on edge, but that didn't stop him from pulling a PADD from his pocket and reading aloud in a distinctive, clear voice, all in words Jimmy had heard before and didn't care to hear again.
"A new era is at hand, an era that will expose the concept of interspecies unity as an absolute and vicious lie. An era that will witness…"
"It's over," T'Pau interjected, her voice dangerously close to a shout. To maintain stability more than anything, she'd knit her hands together at the back of her head, covering the point of contact where the enemy still had hold of her by the hair. "You're too late. MACO is here. Just a few more minutes, and…"
"Shut her up!"
"All you want to do is put on a spectacle. You're simply terrified of the unknown, of alien worlds beyond your comprehension. You fear it will make you insignificant, that your name will be forgotten by history…"
"Interrupt me again, and I'll start shooting!" He redirected on a dime, turned and wrapped a hand around Jimmy's neck, squeezing tightly. Through the haze of sheer mortal terror that shot through his veins, he made eye contact with Ethan from across the room, and saw him reach for the hidden pocket in his coveralls. "Who is this man to you? Is he your lover?"
"I don't know him," she insisted. In front of them, the Vulcan contingent began rising to their feet, irrespective of the soldiers screaming at them to sit down.
"That's funny, because a little bit ago, he gave up his only chance of survival to protect you."
"A poor turn of logic," she assured him, then cut him a wry glance. "Quite human."
Even if he died right then, or even if he lived a hundred years, he would never forget that twinkle in her eye, that hint of a smirk that graced her lips. At long last, she was playing their game, and it was devastating in all the best ways.
The situation was rapidly deteriorating, and there was no denying that. Jimmy was caught between wanting to bolt and wanting to trust her, but in the end, he did neither. There was a flash of movement, then a beam of light emerged, sinking into the chest of the man holding T'Pau captive and sending him to the ground.
The next thing he knew, Ethan was sprinting, screaming something intelligible, and by the time he fought his way out of his assailant's grasp, all hell had broken loose.
"I'm telling you, this banquet you've prepared won't agree with her. Now, either you can step aside and let me treat her, or I'll have to get your superior involved."
"And just who are you again?"
"The doctor," Phlox said simply, jabbing his scanner into the guard's chest for emphasis. "Now, Miss Cutler is my patient, and I'm willing to stand here as long as it takes for you to make the right…"
"Please wait," he interrupted, and he felt a surge of satisfaction knowing that he'd finally worn him down. The set of heavy wooden double doors opened behind him, and the scent of perfume and incense hanging in the air nearly bowled him over. Within, the chamber was naturally illuminated by skylights running the length of the ceiling, but hundreds of candles were burning anyway, lining every available space on the tables and chairs. There was a moment of uncertainty where he wasn't convinced their gambit would work, but then the gentleman reappeared, nodding to his companion and holding the opposite door open as wide as possible.
Nodding curtly and offering them a small smile, Phlox stepped into the room, and almost immediately slipped on the colorful flowers covering the tile. Though their situation was at the present incredibly dire, his thoughts immediately went back to their wedding, the cargo bay filled with fragrant white petals, the rapturous look on his bride's face as she sank down into them, how wonderful the family reunion had been before it had all gone so tragically wrong.
It didn't take long to find her - indeed, the tub was set directly in the center of the room, surrounded by pillars and potted plants. Somewhere, birds were singing, flying between the rafters, settling in the silky swaths of fabric hung from the ceiling. In the middle of it all sat his Elizabeth, eyes closed and head tilted back as she luxuriated in the bath. He said her name, softly at first, but she didn't hear over the roar of the jets. In fact, she didn't bother to look his way until he passed directly into her line of sight, blocking out the streaming sunlight with his head.
"There you are," she said softly, her voice of a lower and richer timbre than usual. Ever so slowly, she pulled one hand out of the water to beckon him forward, and his eyes were drawn to the soft blue lines of the geometric tattoos covering her arms, leading over her bare shoulders and up into her temples. Someone had slicked her hair back and combed it through with some silvery filament, setting off the warm golden flecks in her eyes. "I keep asking to talk to one of you, but the handmaidens they've sent after me…"
"Are those permanent?" His voice was a little too loud, and he caught on to a flutter of movement, belonging to a young woman who glared at him with intensity before disappearing into the shadows.
"I hope not," Liz replied, laughing quietly.
"Elizabeth…"
"Phlox. You're always telling me to relax," she said sweetly, then leaned all the way to the side, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Although I must confess to feeling like I'm rapidly losing control of the situation."
He sank to his knees, producing a hypospray and pressing it to the pulse point in her neck. She inhaled deeply, her expression questioning. "What was that?"
"Your asthma medication. You were due this afternoon." Her heart swelled at the thought that he was thinking of her even as everything else unraveled around them, but she hardly had time to consider it. "These aren't diplomatic honors, beloved. They honestly think you're a reincarnation of a goddess."
"But all I did was…"
"Be in the right place at the right time, yes. Unless I miss my guess, they intend to put you through some cleansing ritual and keep you here."
"Have Malcolm and the Commodore tried to reason with them?"
"They won't listen. It's impossible. I can't believe they honestly think they have the right to…"
She reached up and touched one fingertip to his chin, as she so often did when he got worked up over something, anything. The gesture was comforting, familiar, and he was temporarily placated. I'm staying, it said. I'll never go anywhere.
"Leave it all to me. Honestly, who else are they going to listen to?"
He didn't have the chance to answer, for in the next moment a trio of Demerian women emerged from the wings, balancing piles of towels and ceremonial robes between them. One of them cut Phlox a dirty look and then stepped deliberately between them, pinning him down under her gaze.
"You must leave," she insisted. "It is time for the anointed one to get dressed."
"It's fine, really. He's my husband." That was a tiny dose of reality none of them were prepared for, but they eagerly shook it off. The angry one seized him by the shoulders and forced him to turn away, to face the rows and rows of ivy climbing the stonework all around them.
"I don't think so. According to our legends, Mother Leandra is chaste, the paragon of virtue…"
"Not quite," she interjected, and though he couldn't see her, he could definitely hear the smile in her voice. He heard her rise from the water and head towards the back of the room, leaving a trail of footprints behind her.
"You must make the time to say goodbye to your ship. After tonight, you will be making your home here."
"What if I like my old one?"
"Once the ascension is complete, we can provide you with whatever you need. Food and drink, simple diversions, intellectual pursuits…"
"This whole thing is ridiculous. I'm sure if you let me speak to the Commodore we can reach some kind of compromise."
This time, they actually laughed, and the fact that they were being so cavalier about it all filled him with rage. Yet, as Malcolm had mentioned an infuriating amount of times in the past few hours, if they wanted to salvage their diplomatic mission, they had to tread carefully.
"I assure you that will be quite impossible." Her voice was gentle, yet impassive, leaving no room for disagreement. "Mother Topenna has shown us tremendous favor by allowing our paths to cross. When we discover a new reincarnation, we cannot simply turn a blind eye to fate."
That comment was followed by a loud, war-weary sigh, and then she drifted into his line of sight, a vision in a gown made of the finest silks, leaving her delicate shoulders and beautiful arms completely bare. As she moved and the material caught the light, he realized the fragile underlayer was studded with thousands of tiny crystals. She'd never looked so flawless, and a certain warmth began to spread from the pit of his stomach to every part of his being, coloring his cheeks and allowing a smile to take shape, entirely unbidden.
One of the women slapped him hard upside the head, causing his chin to rock forward and strike his chest. Indignant, Phlox glanced backwards, only to receive a sharp rebuke: "You mustn't look upon her directly. She's above us mortals, transcendent…"
"Again, he's my husband, so it's completely fine if he…"
From the opposite side of the wall, someone struck a gong, and the sound reverberated through the chamber, causing the birds to scatter overhead. For the first time, something shifted in her, and when Liz met his gaze, her eyes were impossibly wide, fear and trepidation unmistakable.
They met the other members of their landing party just outside in the corridor. Malcolm especially struggled to look anywhere else, eventually settling on the space above her head. "I'm afraid that outfit doesn't meet our codified uniform standard, Lieutenant."
It was just like him to crack a bad joke at a time like this, and Liz smiled, reaching out to lay a hand on his arm. The women who had accompanied them all this way couldn't suppress their sharp little gasps, though they scattered just as soon as Chancellor Velami appeared, looking much too excited for his own good.
"You honor us with your presence, Mother Leandra."
"Again, my name is Elizabeth, I'm human, I don't require any kind of special…"
"I assure you, this evening will outpace even your wildest expectations." He began to speed walk, nearly leaving them behind in the dust, crossing underneath columns and archways until the afternoon shadows gave way to beaming sunlight.
The entire side of the palace had been built into the side of the cliffs, a slight overhang partially shielding their view of the cloudless sky. Already, the dinner table was filled with well-dressed attendees, all Demerians, laughing and sharing drink and carrying on without a care in the world. The floral centerpieces were so towering and voluminous they could scarcely tell where one ended and the other began, but none could miss the sheer volume of platters that have been laid out for them, stacks of fruits and vegetables and what appeared to be a large boar-like creature roasting off to one side. Somewhere, a musician was playing an electric harp, and the air was so effuse with happiness and mirth that Liz scarcely noticed the golden chalice set atop a placemat all the way at the head of the table, anchored by a massive throne that would have been more at home in Earth's middle ages.
"Once you drink from the Goblet of Transformation," Velami began quietly, dipping his head reverently, aiming his gaze at the ground. "All of your previous injuries will be healed. Every last scar and imperfection, gone within the cycle. Your lifespan will be extended, perhaps doubled by human standards. You will live a beautiful life with us, and my people will serve you well. As long as I live and breathe, you will have all you ever need."
Phlox cut him a doubtful glance. He suspected it was little more than a very sophisticated antibody cocktail, but the curiosity to examine the concoction was overwhelming. Beside him, Liz squeezed her fists at her sides, brows knit together in confusion, and he swooped in before she could be taken in by his flattery.
"How long have you been without a Mother Leandra, Chancellor?"
"By your standard of time, some thirty-three years," he admitted, and they all startled at that. "Imagine my surprise to find that your date of birth coincides with the death our last honored guest, Miss Cutler. A remarkable coincidence, one might even say fate."
"And the other women?" Malcolm hesitated to call them goddesses - really, they were just extraordinarily lucky.
"Kept in cities at the four cardinal directions of our world. We are in the south, the keeper of the heavens to the north, with the rulers of darkness and conquest to the east and west."
"And in the center?"
"The goddess of wisdom and balance." He made a soft, almost reverent sound in the back of his throat, then handed over his PADD, revealing a painting of a woman surrounded by scrolls and volumes of text. Jonathan's breath hitched in his chest, and he immediately handed it back, refusing to acknowledge that Mother Topenna bore more than a passing resemblance to his wife.
"As I've said, Commodore, we will take good care of Miss Cutler. In fact, this might just be the tipping point for us joining your little Federation."
There it was, as plain as the nose on his face. Jonathan wasn't about to trade his science officer for a single name on the dotted line, and didn't mind saying as much. "I'm sure your continued partnership with the ECS is also contingent on our cooperation."
"Your brilliance and quick wit is spoken of throughout the quadrant," Velami replied, completely skipping over the implication. "I am pleased to find that the stories have not been exaggerated."
"None of this matters. She's not going to do it, and we won't respond to…"
"It's alright," Liz interrupted, just as a chaos erupted behind them. Their first officer immediately glanced back at it, but he was fixated on her, on her apparent willingness to leave it all behind.
"Elizabeth!"
"Trust me," she ground out, silently begging them all to do so, even just this once. She took one step towards the head of the table, only to be caught by the elbow and dragged sharply backwards.
A tense hush fell over the crowd, and as she turned, she caught a glimpse of Malcolm's phase pistol, drawn and at the ready. In his sights was another man dressed similarly to Velami, perhaps another chancellor, his hands held up in deference. Archer pushed his weapon down, and it was then she made eye contact with his guest, and her heart dropped through her stomach.
All her life, she'd heard of the uncanny valley, left over from a time when their species had the evolutionary advantage to fear creatures that looked nearly human, but weren't. In this case, she found herself staring down a near identical copy of herself, the resemblance striking in its detail, even though the woman standing before her was distinctly Demerian. Still, she wore the same shimmering gown and intricate tattoos, though she was markedly more ill at ease.
In contrast to the other attendees, Velami seemed delighted. He went to confer with his counterpart, then returned presently, treating them to a broad smile.
"It's been centuries since we've had a challenger to Mother Leandra's throne, but Chancellor Juvani believes he's found one. Fortunately for us, they were only a few hours away when they heard the news."
Try as she might, Liz couldn't wrap her head around it. "What does this mean?"
"There will need to be a trial of strength," he explained. "On this planet, and in this province, there can only be one."
"You're not talking about…"
"A fight to the death," he said with a ludicrous amount of nonchalance, handing her a strange, scythe-like weapon, and stepping to the side.
Like he always did during a firefight, Jimmy lost control of his actions as instinct took over.
He saw himself bringing down the man who'd held him at gunpoint, taking advantage of the distraction Ethan had caused. All around, the Vulcans were converging on the soldiers, employing a nerve pinch or brute strength or whatever debris they could pick up to incapacitate them. A few were making a break for the main gate, stolen weapons at the ready, and he could hear the MACO shuttles growing closer and closer, so many that he was sure they weren't about to leave without a significant amount of blood being shed.
Novakovich went flying past him, hooked his hand on the curve of his elbow, and nearly dragged him off his feet as a phase rifle blast zipped over their heads. They locked eyes, and there was no time to offer his thanks, let alone contemplate his next move. There were hundreds if not thousands of Vulcans being held captive all over the consulate, and once the mess hall had fallen, the other soldiers were likely to panic. If they didn't act quickly, if he didn't get the minister to safety…
His heart instantly leapt into his throat, knowing that he'd lost visual on T'Pau some time ago. He soon found her through the haze, just as she broke through the hatch into the corridor, charging up the stairs as if the devil himself were on her tail. Her name - not her title, nor an honorific, but her real name - crossed his lips, hesitantly at first, then as a desperate scream, and Ethan let him go, not even bothering to give him a second glance as he gave chase, dodging the adherents of Terra Prime at every turn.
At the second landing, she finally became aware that he was calling out to her, and glanced over her shoulder, eyes wide and expression fraught. A thunderous herd of Vulcans burst out of a nearby room, temporarily cutting them off from one another, and he picked up his pace, going against the flow of the mob, narrowly avoiding being thrown backwards against the stairs with every step.
On the fourth floor, she turned and dashed into the hallway, only to smack right into an enemy soldier. This time, Jimmy shouted a warning, but it was too late - T'Pau seized him by the collar and threw him to the ground, sinking her boot into his abdomen. Without pause, she stooped and retrieved his weapon, momentarily faltering over the buttons before slinging it over her shoulder. This gave him the chance to catch up, making a flying leap over the fallen soldier and pursuing her up the corridor. In his split second in midair, he glanced down to find that the man's lips were moving, making an earnest appeal to their humanity, or lack thereof.
Terra Prime forever, he said, and then fell silent.
At long last, he caught her by the arm, then by the waist, pulling her into a side corridor just as a dozen soldiers came hustling around the corner. She gasped and tried to speak, chest heaving, but he held up a cautioning hand, and together they listened as the extremists blew past them, shouting all the way.
It was only then that he dared to let go of her, and T'Pau quickly stepped back to a professional distance, crossing her arms confrontationally. He'd seen that particular look before, mostly in his former captain, and understood enough of Vulcan emotions to know when they were practically boiling over with rage from within.
"What do you think you're doing, Mr. Nguyen?"
"Saving your ass," he hissed, pointing upwards towards the ceiling. "Any second now, the MACOs are gonna come bursting through the roof, assuming they haven't already, and you don't want to be anywhere near this building when that firefight breaks out."
"Is this how you won your battles, Starfleet? Avoiding your instincts?"
"What would you know about winning battles?" The second that particularly statement came out of his mouth, he was kicking himself, because the smolder in her eyes soon grew to a towering inferno. His snap judgment of her - and all diplomats of the Coalition, really - had been that she just sat at a desk while the rest of them risked life and limb. Now, he wasn't sure what to believe.
"I know enough to understand how these militant groups work." She paused. "How do you think they made their way through the security checkpoint at the gate?"
He hesitated, about to offer some blanket explanation, before realizing that he and Ethan had been subjected to some pretty invasive scans on their way in, and that was after showing their credentials and submitting to a rapid DNA test to confirm their identities. There was no way hundreds of soldiers could get past them, unless…
"The impulse generator," he concluded, dashing back out into the corridor. Sure enough, as they passed by a window, they caught a glimpse of the space where the front gate used to be, utterly obliterated by explosives, by now swarming with Vulcans and MACOs. Logically, this meant that the two detonations had been simultaneous, that they had most likely been preset, that there was a mole at the High Command, likely a human with access to their facilities. The very concept was horrifying to him, and he knew that if they were lucky enough to survive this, the real work was just beginning.
They crashed into the control room doors as one, finding the electronic latch broken and wrenched to one side. Jimmy threw it open and crashed into the room, almost immediately skidding to a halt as he took in the horrifying scene before him.
The consulate's power source was indeed up and running, surrounded by whirring and blinking consoles as it always was, a powerful orange glow originating from the central chamber as the nuclear fusion reaction proceeded within. What couldn't be ignored, however, was the vast network of wires and detonators strapped across the main console, so crisscrossed and intertwined that he couldn't tell where one began and the other ended.
T'Pau said something in Vulcan, a particularly strong curse that wasn't in the universal translator, then took one step towards the reactor, peering into the light. "How strong is the charge?"
"Enough to level the entire compound," he admitted, approaching it tentatively. His tricorder came out, confirming his worst fears. "There's activation material from at least three different regulation photonic torpedoes here."
"So they intend to activate this remotely."
He nodded tersely, reaching up to wipe the sweat off his brow. Their sprint through the consulate was catching up to him, and the air felt caustic in his lungs. Jimmy found himself desperately wishing he still had his communicator, or any way of contacting the outside world for that matter.
"What are we waiting for?" Swiftly, T'Pau removed her stolen weapon and her outer robe, leaving both slung over the back of a nearby chair. The sleeves of her dress were voluminous, but she took the time to roll them up before bending to her work, studying the mess of wires with interest. "It appears that secondary power has been looped through this transistor here."
Joining her, he stepped as close as he dared, making a judgment about which cable they should cut first. He had nothing in the way of weaponry after their hostage ordeal in the mess hall, but he did have his multitool, and pressed an unseen button to reveal a tiny blade, which he passed into her waiting hands. Her motions were smooth, effortless, as if she'd been doing this her whole life. "I had no idea that knowledge of explosives was a prerequisite for serving on the High Command."
"It is not," she replied evenly. "After the Syrrannites were framed for the bombing of the United Earth Embassy, I made it my responsibility to learn, specifically for an instance such as this."
"And here I thought you were a pacifist." The first cut made, she set aside the shears, skating her fingers over the console, unraveling the charge as she went.
"It appears that you do not know all that much about me." There was no way that she could express just how much being kidnapped and tortured by Captain T'Pol's half-brother at the height of the war had changed her, so she didn't try. Soval knew that her allegiance to the fledgling Federation had more to do with self-preservation that anything, allowing Vulcan time to grow and heal, and so she didn't press the issue.
"You're correct, Minister," he admitted, making three additional cuts and finally sliding the first charge free, lowering it to the ground ever so gently. "I suppose the opposite is true as well."
She hesitated, clearly debating whether to say anything at all, then turned fully to him, eyebrows arched in consternation. "Let me tell you who I think you are, and you tell me if I'm wrong. You've been following orders your whole life, first swearing allegiance to Reed and then to Taxa, and it only led you to ruin. You've been an ensign for ten years, which is strange for someone with such extensive commendations from their superiors. The logical conclusion I draw from that is that you've demonstrated an unwillingness to take risks, to act decisively in times of great conflict."
At first he was furious, and very nearly said something that would've caused a diplomatic incident, but then the detonation circuit he'd been working on began to beep furiously, indicating that the firing sequence had begun. Frantically, he indicated the next few incisions he needed to make, and together their hands flew, not daring to stop, not daring to breathe.
"Let's say for the sake of the argument you're correct," he began, unable to let it go. She had no idea that the same tendencies she'd described had led him to spend months in solitary for a crime he didn't commit, back when Corporal Saben was alive and wreaking havoc on the Maelstrom. It had set his career back by years. "You're not, but let's say that you are. By contrast, all you've done is take risks. It cost you your family, your reputation. Really, finding the Kir'Shara was just a stroke of luck, and if you and Archer hadn't come across it, you'd be in prison right now. A nobody."
"And yet we both find ourselves in the same place. Interesting how that works."
Interesting, indeed. With force, he severed the last link, allowing it to fall to the ground, the fever pitch of the alarm soon descending into silence.
There was a moment of tense anticipation where she looked at him and he looked at her and he saw something indecipherable in her eyes, but it was broken at once by frantic pounding on the door. T'Pau retrieved her stolen phase rifle and leveled it, and Jimmy tentatively approached the door, fully prepared to take out whoever was on the other side of the wall with his bare hands.
He was soon met by a trio of MACOs, who nearly bowled him over in their rush to get to the minister. Behind them, Ambassador Soval emerged in the darkened corridor, somewhat dazed with greenish blood trailing the cut on his brow. They all seemed immeasurably relieved to see her and none too interested by him, so by the time Yuris arrived to make sure nothing was amiss medically, Jimmy knew he was no longer needed. In complete silence, he slipped out of the control room and strolled through the consulate, passing fallen Vulcans and Terra Primers held at gunpoint. At the outer perimeter he sat when directed by the crisis intervention team, and didn't speak again until they came to take his statement, nearly three hours later.
"This is not going to happen," Phlox insisted, his voice tremulous. The only thing keeping him from smacking some sense into Chancellor Velami was his wife's hands on his shoulders, holding him back. "We're not leaving her behind, we're not playing this game, and we're not going to let her die just for your entertainment."
"But surely you understand there can only be one Mother Leandra." His voice was infuriatingly neutral given the circumstances. The rest of the banquet's attendees were listening in now, forming a circle around them, talking quietly among themselves as they drew odds.
Malcolm was next to express his doubts. "You said this goddess is the guardian of nature, of creation. How does it make sense that they fight to the death for the privilege of staying here?"
"This is the way it's always been," he answered, offering them their singular most hated response to anything. "If Miss Cutler's abilities are anything close to how you've described, she will have no trouble gaining the upper hand."
"I never said she had any special abilities."
"You said she was a goddess."
"To me," Phlox cried helplessly, with a reverence that tore her soul. Liz sandwiched herself between them, understanding at once what she needed to do.
"I'll do it," she called out, causing the conversation to die all around them. Once she was sure every eye was on her, she continued: "Promise me you'll cooperate with the next stage of Federation talks and continue your partnership with the ECS."
"Anything you want."
"And my friends are free to go." Velami nodded, and Liz took one step towards him, finding Phlox's hand and squeezing tightly, praying he couldn't feel just how hard she was shaking. The instant they lost contact, Archer pulled her into a tight hug, leaning forward to whisper in her ear.
"Remember, Lieutenant - all you have to do is lose."
She was instantly flooded with memories from his turn at the ushaan with Shran during the Babel Crisis, and an idea began to form. Swiftly, she reached up and cupped the back of his head, a comforting gesture which served to show him that she understood.
"Aim for the face," Malcolm advised, retrieving the scythe-like weapon from the ground and passing it into her hands. Consciously, Liz avoided her husband's imploring gaze, backing up towards the cliff as Velami urged his guests to give them some room. Across from her, the challenger looked even more hesitant, uncomfortable with the blade in her hands, and Liz found herself wishing she looked even just a little bit more confident.
At every tactical review for the past few years, she'd heard the same thing. She was a decent shot, and even better at self-defense, with her short stature being her main disadvantage. Now, this could only be to her benefit - as her heels lost contact with the ground and hung over the precipice, she glanced backwards to confirm what she'd seen earlier at a distance near the waterfall, then nodded resolutely, a small smile lingering on her lips.
Velami said something, perhaps some ancient incantation befitting the challenge for Leandra's throne, that the UT certainly couldn't pick up at a distance. She twirled the staff experimentally in her hands, trying to find the center of mass, and her opponent flinched, shrinking away from the movement. Before she knew it, the attendees were whooping and cheering, and they were tentatively approaching one another, side stepping and turning, not daring to make the first move.
Simultaneously, Liz realized that she would need to be the aggressor, and that she'd become so desensitized to life in space that this just seemed like another day on duty. Somewhere between psychotropic pollen and Xindi attacks and trips to alternate dimensions, it all became normal. She was sure that if the meek, mild-mannered science crewman who had joined Enterprise almost a decade ago could see her now, she would go running for the hills.
But none of that mattered now. She charged at the other woman, gave her best facsimile of a battle cry, and swung her weapon through the air, nearly taking her head off in the process. Shrieking, she leaned away and nearly lost her balance, only to surge forward and take an uncoordinated swipe at her abdomen.
It was her turn to fall back, studying her tense body language and the abject fear in her eyes. This had to be an ordinary citizen who hadn't asked for any of this. The one thing they had in common was having the distinct bad luck of resembling the same long-dead goddess, and if she weren't presently scrambling for her life, she would've laughed at how ridiculous it all was.
Knowing she needed to act decisively, Liz sidestepped her, landing a kick on the back of her calf and nearly forcing her down to her knees. Looping an arm around her shoulders, she hissed: "Push me off the cliff."
"What?"
"I want to go back to my ship."
"I don't want to kill anybody…"
"You won't kill me," she promised, disengaging and lunging for her chest. This time, she parried away the weapon easily, and Liz let the scythe go flying out of her hands, landing somewhere in the crowd among scrambling Demerians. Now she was on the run, and tried her best to make it look convincing as she fell back inch by inch. "Trust me."
The girl faltered momentarily, then nodded, charging at her with renewed strength. She grabbed for the weapon, but was forcibly shoved back and went flying over the precipice, disappearing from view and falling to her presumed death against the rocks far below.
She didn't need to fake the ensuing blood-curdling scream. It came naturally.
After a few eternal seconds, she landed hard on her back among a soft bed of straw and twigs. Liz gasped and reached for her heart, if only to assure herself she was alive, and wound up inhaling a bunch of downy white feathers. Rolling to one side, she made contact with a dozen lavender-colored bird's eggs, each the size of her head, and went to great lengths to cover herself with them, hiding within the interior walls of the nest which had been built rather precariously on the ledge suspended high over the valley.
She could only hope that the fascinating species of four-winged condor they'd discovered early in the morning didn't return to roost anytime soon.
Back at the top of the cliff, her companions remained motionless, immeasurably horrified as celebration erupted all around them. Devotees of the newly chosen Mother Leandra were falling at her feet, kissing her hands and hailing her wisdom, kindness, and beauty. Even Velami seemed to largely ignore them, leading the charge back towards the banquet table, laughing as if nothing had just happened. Once they were sure they were alone, Phlox retrieved his tricorder, then visibly relaxed as he found her biosign with ease, dropping his head into his hands.
Jon wrapped an arm around his shoulder, squeezing reassuringly. Slowly, the three of them leaned over just as far as they possibly could without drawing attention to themselves, catching a glimpse of the nest underneath them.
From a veritable pile of eggs and prairie grasses, a hand shot out, giving them a definitive thumbs-up.
"What do we do now?"
"Well…" Malcolm turned to face the party, which was already in full swing. "We act natural, stay about an hour, have a drink, and beam her out from a distance."
"Only after we've gotten their signatures for the next round of negotiations," Jon added.
Phlox couldn't believe his ears. He wasn't sure if it was the sheer craziness of the situation or the letdown from the adrenaline high of the century or a combination of the two, but that wasn't nearly enough for him. Turning so he could face them, he asked: "Are all of the worlds we visit on this mission going to be like this?"
"We've encountered stranger things," Malcolm reminded him, much too offhanded for his liking.
But damned if he wasn't right.
The morning after the raid on the Vulcan Consulate, Ensign Nguyen paced back and forth in front of Admiral Gardner's office, physically and spiritually restless.
Running for his life had awakened something within, namely the residual trauma from long-ago struggles and battles. He hadn't slept a wink, but every time he drifted off, he saw T'Pau's soulful eyes, so teeming with emotion below an otherwise disaffected facade. Her words had changed something in him. He kept thinking about what she said, about how they'd led polar opposite lives but ended up in the same place, and knew that it was the truth.
And yet when he had the chance to connect with someone, to tell her that her assessment was spot on, he'd insulted her to her face. What was wrong with him?
The door in front of him parted vertically, revealing a secretary laden down with PADDs. She only spared a passing glance towards him before rushing away, jerking her head towards the center of the room. "The Admiral will see you now."
He inhaled swiftly and held it there, stepping over the threshold before he could convince himself otherwise. Once inside, Jimmy immediately snapped to attention. There was a moment of tense silence, then the Gardner turned and retreated back to his desk, apparently none too impressed by his display of protocol.
"At ease before you sprain something, Mr. Nguyen." Then, sweeping his hand over the chairs opposite the window: "Take a seat."
And so he did, cautiously at first, eyeing his superior as one would with the intention of dodging a prowling animal about to pounce. Gardner seemed weary, even bored, and that thought was slightly distressing.
"I'm already preparing my report on the attack, sir. It'll be on the record by the end of the day."
"Take your time. You've certainly been through it."
Jimmy blinked slowly, taking that particular statement in, and wondered if he knew that every bit of hardship they'd encountered during the war had been a hundred times worse. "Yes, sir. Thank you."
A PADD slid across the table towards him, and he leaned forward, studying the words typed there. Eyes wide in surprise, he glanced back up at him, finding nothing but self-assurance there.
"You've been reassigned, Ensign," he said. "From now on, you'll serve as Minister T'Pau's private security. You will attend all of her meetings, conduct surveillance sweeps, see her home every night…"
Before he knew it, he was interrupting him, stammering all the way. "Sir, there must be some kind of mistake. Not in your orders, sir, but I mean...she...I've seen it. She's more than capable of defending herself."
"All the same, after the incident, Ambassador Soval has mandated that his entire diplomatic staff name their preferred officer. She chose you."
And not one of the thousand members of the High Command stationed in San Francisco. The significance was profound, and he felt a blush creeping across his cheeks and settling there.
"Her first meeting of the day ends in about ten minutes down at Cassini Hall." Gardner regarded him impatiently, as though he couldn't believe he was still sitting there. "I suggest you don't keep the lady waiting. Dismissed."
He stood automatically, reaching for his phase pistol, confirming it was still tucked in his waistband. A surge of something indecipherable rushed through him, knowing that he would soon be in her company again, that he was now personally responsible for her safety and well-being.
He also hoped they'd be able to continue their conversation, about duty and tradition and what lay beyond the stars.
"One more thing, Mr. Nguyen." He hesitated, realizing he'd crossed the room in the blink of an eye, then looked back at him, noticing how his tone had turned adversarial. "Minister T'Pau is one of the few Coalition delegates who is currently in favor of the Federation. It is critical that she remains on our side."
There was an insinuation there, and he couldn't have missed it even if it was spelled out in big neon lights blinking above his head. Jimmy reached for the door controls, only to be interrupted again.
"Time to start practicing your Vulcan."
"Yes, sir," he replied quietly, then slipped out of the room and into the corridor.
Back on the Enterprise, Jonathan stood adjacent to the entrance of his quarters, wine glass in hand, waiting patiently as his wife made her way up the corridor, her frustration almost palpable through their bond, growing stronger with every passing second.
It had been a long day for the both of them, a freshly averted diplomatic incident withstanding, and he knew there was no other way he preferred to come down from it than in her company. At his feet, Porthos barked, and he smiled, nudging the little beagle out of the way just as the hatch opened, issuing a very weary captain.
T'Pol was his favorite, and he never made any attempt to hide it; fortunately for Porthos, she was feeling a bit charitable this evening, and bent down to scoop him off the floor and into the crook of her elbow. With her free hand, she accepted the proffered glass, swirling her wine and inhaling the bouquet.
"How's Liz?" He asked, as if he didn't already know.
"Shaken and covered in feathers," she admitted, dropping Porthos onto the end of their bed. Their quarters were a perfect blend of the two of them, Vulcan and human, traditional and maverick, and he was reminded of that as she came to stand underneath the IDIC insignia hung on the wall, looking out on the stars as they streaked by the window. "But otherwise unharmed. Phlox is trying to remove the tattoos, but believes he will only be able to make appreciable color corrections on sixty percent of them."
He grimaced. "What did she think of that?"
"She said, and I quote, this job is already so weird, this might as well happen to me."
Jon could almost hear the frustration in her voice, her distinctive midwestern accent, her good-natured exasperation as she acquiesced to her fate. She really could fake it with the best of them.
"You know, I honestly believed we were done contending with disaster," he admitted, and the incredulous look she shot him told him he should know better than that. Smiling, he stepped up and pulled her into her side, heartened as she settled in willingly, dropping her head on his shoulder.
"It must follow us." T'Pol took a sip of her wine, allowing the liquid to settle in over her tongue. "Have you seen the most recent transmission from Admiral Gardner?"
Had he ever. The fact that Terra Prime had managed to raid the Vulcan Consulate, let alone get through the gate in the first place, was terrifying. It spoke of collusion, and he certainly didn't envy the position of their friends on the ground as they tried to sort it out.
"He said they seemed a lot more disorganized this time, more desperate," he said, then paused, knowing full well they couldn't afford to let their guard down. "I mean, we won the war. There's no making them happy."
"Hate does not care to listen to reason, ashayam. It simply is."
"We've had this conversation before."
"So we have," she acknowledged. It had been nearly five years ago now, shortly after the away team was caught in the crosshairs of a civil war between two Rigelian subspecies, caused by the brutal subjugation of one by the other. They had stood by the window and enjoyed the wine and one another's company, and in the near darkness of his quarters, he had pulled her close, in silent acknowledgement of all they'd seen and all that was yet to come.
How very much had changed since then - and mostly for the better.
"I don't think we should allow either of the Reeds to accompany the away team once we reach the Deneva system."
T'Pol nodded her agreement, seeing little reason to argue with that. Following a complete leveling of the mining facilities there across three successive battles, restorations had begun, and colonists started to return, only to find their homes occupied and their lands seized. Apparently, a few hundred opportunistic Terra Prime loyalists had decided to build their own version of a xenophobic utopia, and it was almost certain that they would struggle to get them to bend to the will of the law.
In a sense, Gardner had only sent them into the mouth of the beast.
Jonathan could feel her worry as his own, especially because her first pon farr was a little over a month away. They'd spoken about their options, and had scheduled several days of leave together, making up some convoluted reason as to why they couldn't be disturbed. The very idea that they were reliving the painful memories of her losing her first child at the same time they were preparing to try for their own was nothing short of devastating.
"A sensible precaution," she said at last, and her voice was so dredged with emotion it broke his heart anew. With a practiced hand, he retrieved her wine glass and set it on the desk alongside his own, then drew her into his arms, dropping kisses along her brow and into her hair.
They remained there for quite some time, relishing in the comfort of one another when so much else was uncertain, and let the rest of the universe pass them by.
End of Episode Two
Next time on Enterprise…
Episode Three: Embrace the Day Like Night
While on hand to assist in the rehabilitation of the mining facilities in the Deneva System, Enterprise runs afoul of Terra Prime. Trip receives a visit from an old friend intent on collecting a favor.