Enterprise - Secrets of P'Jem

by thepunctuator001

This is based on 'The Andorian Incident' ..with a sprinkle of poetic licence. Viewing from the character's points of view. A few insights and a different perspective. There has been a gap since the Prologue series while I've struggled to concentrate after my Father passed away. I finally got around to finishing it and I hope it reads as I intended it to.

Chapter 1 - Sauna-time, part one

The heat in the room was almost unbearable. Sat in the dark, cross legged, with only a small light source which barely illuminated the silent and still figure opposite her. Another trickle of sweat rolled down the side of Hoshi's face working it's way down her neck to soak into the already damp sports bra. She had arrived at T'Pol's quarters, freshly showered with her long dark hair pinned up, wearing loose fitting clothing as requested. Stepping across the threshold into the dark, hot interior, was like walking between opposing seasons. A wall of heat hit her as she moved from winter into summer. What had initially sounded like an exciting opportunity to experience Vulcan culture had rapidly gone downhill.

"Concentrate on your inward breath," T'Pol spoke quietly in Vulcan, her eyes still closed, breathing deeply. It was a shame that Hoshi did not have a candle to focus on, or a rock to watch grow, but it was not permitted. She had been fascinated to learn that many Human religions used meditation to achieve greater spiritual purity. Buddhism practiced by Japanese monks sometimes used rock or zen gardens to stimulate meditation. These ideas were introduced into Japan from China around the 12th century and had become popular with Samurai, a warrior cast, who admired it for it's focus on control and self discipline.

Hoshi could feel her whole body perspiring - even with her eyes shut she could visualise T'Pol's look of disgust. To the casual observer it wouldn't be immediately obvious but her eyes would narrow, her chin would tilt ever so slightly upwards and her lips would crinkle as they were imperceptibly pursed. Vulcan females have a heightened sense of smell and obviously she would find the smell of a sweaty Human in an enclosed space quite disgusting.

If only Hoshi had suggested to use her own quarters then the heat might have been turned down to the level of a blast furnace. It was hot enough in here to fry an egg on any surface including her own skin. She blushed as yet another line of sweat, which had been rolling down her bare back, started to puddle above the elasticated waist band of her shorts, the material already fully saturated. She should have anticipated that T'Pol would like her quarters to be warm but even the entire bottle of deodorant wouldn't have been enough to keep her dry and she knew it's perfumed scent would have been equally unpalatable.

T'Pol could sense Hoshi's emotions even more strongly now. She had clearly been nervous when she entered T'Pol's quarters but her emotions were almost impossible to ignore now, unsettling her own attempts to guide the meditation.

"Ensign, are you well?" she was uncertain what had gone wrong but Hoshi was definitely uncomfortable. There was a damp odour, something she classed as wet-Human, pervading her room which had not been there earlier.

"I'm so sorry, Sub-Commander," while their relationship occasionally used first names Hoshi always took T'Pol's lead so she would not to appear too forward to the reserved Vulcan, "I'm just not used to quite so much heat." She would refer to future sessions as 'sauna-time' - good for the skin if not for your nerves.

"Lights." The ship's computer sprang into action and T'Pol could now see her clearly. A bedraggled Hoshi, face, neck and chest reddened with heat, sat slumped in front of her. Light grey clothing saturated with sweat, sticking like a damp second skin, hair plastered against her scalp as the hair grips began to give up their struggle. T'Pol looked aghast as trickles of sweat, no longer hindered by dry skin, ran freely across Hoshi's body. "You are unwell." She pressed the intercom button.

"Phlox here." came the response.

"Doctor, there is a medical emergency. Ensign Sato is unwell. Please expect us in sickbay shortly." She started to stand to help Hoshi.

"No, please," Hoshi now blushing a beetroot colour, "I'm fine, look it's just the heat OK? I don't need the Doctor". Her hair finally lost it's battle to stay upright and flopped limply over her eyes.

"Hoshi?" Doctor Phlox was familiar with the Communications Officer since they had struck up a friendship almost immediately as Hoshi had struggled to cope with her worry of space travel.

"Doctor, I'm fine, honest." Hoshi was now exasperated. "This was a mistake - I'm sorry but I've got to go and take another shower." She stood, damp hands sliding off the door control, and half walked, half ran, into the ice cold of the corridor.

"Hoshi?" T'Pol looked after her with concern as the door closed smoothly. She sniffed.

"Sub-Commander? Hoshi?" Phlox spoke after a few moments of silence.

"Yes, Doctor. I am here but Ensign Sato has left. I am uncertain what to do. She looked quite unwell during our meditation session. Should I visit her quarters?" T'Pol wasn't certain how an unwell Human should look. She had seen Humans suffering from a pathogen they called 'the common cold' but this normally involved a deepening to the voice and a reddening around the eyes and nose.

"Your location says personal quarters - was Hoshi visiting you there?" That sounded to T'Pol as if he was choosing his words.

"Yes, Doctor. I was attempting to take the Ensign through a standard Vulcan meditation session. There was nothing which might affect Human physiology other than peaceful contemplation." She tried not to sound defensive but was he presuming a mind-meld? She would never consider this with another species!

"Are your quarters set to a Vulcan environment?" He clarified. "Can I presume that the temperature would be Vulcan summer perhaps?".

WHY had she not considered this? She had been flattered that Hoshi had accepted her invitation and planned the session meticulously only to miss a crucial ingredient of room temperature. When T'Pol first came aboard Enterprise the engineering department had brought this matter up several times, Commander Tucker in particular complaining about the 'excessive heat' affecting essential ship's controls. The Captain however had informed him that it wasn't reasonable to expect T'Pol to wear warm weather clothing at all times onboard Enterprise.

A quick check of the database confirmed that her room's ambient temperature was more than twice what Humans might consider to be room temperature. Indeed it was currently warmer than a place the computer cheerfully referred to as 'Death Valley' in Eastern California. She suppressed a sigh. The rooms and corridors of Enterprise were so cold to Vulcan sensibilities, she really enjoyed the warmth in her quarters but it was clearly too hot for Humans...

"Thank you Doctor, I believe you have uncovered the reason for Ensign Sato's discomfort. Goodnight". She closed the intercom and contemplated an apology.

Chapter 2 - Like kids in a candy store…

A grey dawn broke over the monastery, clouds racing overhead while monks moved through the sanctuary corridors going about their religious duties in silence.

It had been bound to cause trouble and yet the Vulcan bargaining chip for placing one of their operatives on board the Earth Vessel Enterprise had to be enticing enough that the Humans accepted their conditions. Pandora's box came in the form of the knowledge necessary to enable interstellar travel between two known points. Without this crucial bit of information it would have taken decades for Humans to map out their local cosmic neighbourhood and centuries to map out the wider galaxy.

It is a little understood point that since space is so vast you must travel at speeds that would leave you a tiny fireball on the first unmapped planet or asteroid field that lay in your path. Similar to an out of control video game, obstacles could appear faster than the player can react. It was not possible to travel at warp without a course plotted in advance. Sure, you might cut down your velocity to light speed using long range sensors to feel your way, but without warp you needed to consider the expense of placing your crew into suspended animation or only skeletons would complete their journey.

Perhaps it would have been better to leave the vastness of space to blunt the Human's desire to explore but their merchants were already out in space, unsupervised and interacting with new cultures on long range cargo vessels. These traders lived on board their ships with their families in a nomadic lifestyle seeking out profit. Vulcan had initially tried to stop this random and unregulated expansion but the Human desire to travel between the stars had been too difficult to halt. To the rest of the galaxy the Humans were unknown, exotic, and alien profit was always available for new and exciting products.

Out of all the destinations Captain Archer might have selected he had decided upon P'Jem. It was a reasonable request and yet T'Pol was fighting tooth and nail to change his mind. Sat in the canteen opposite Doctor Phlox she pointing out to him the same arguments she had made to Captain Archer to make him rethink this venture.

A mug of her favourite tea, steam rising from the hot liquid, was in constant motion. It was indicative of her emotions, as they forced themselves into the open she unknowingly adjusted and re-adjusted the mug's handle to the mathematically correct angle, first perpendicular and then parallel to the table's edge. It was a habit which T'Pol had picked up from Lieutenant Reed. It was impossible not to be mesmerised by the man's obsessive compulsive behaviours which frequently appeared when his thoughts were distracted. As he put it he 'fiddled' while he was thinking.

Although Vulcans do not naturally suffer from OCD it is perhaps a surprise how many of the ambassador's cultural staff had returned to Vulcan with these little 'ticks' which they had subconsciously mimicked while on Earth. Vulcans are naturally predisposed to be attracted to these repetitive geometric movements and it was this fascination which unfortunately and unintentionally has introduced a variety of OCD actions into Vulcan society. The Science Directorate has been sufficiently perturbed to instigate a long term study into what in the future they describe to be 'Terran Syndrome'.

"There is another reason you have not yet mentioned, Sub Commander," he broke into her flow.

Her hands abruptly ceased as concentration was focused and T'Pol studied the Doctor. "Explain." When talking to Phlox she did not feel it necessary to modify her address or tone. He was sufficiently familiar with Vulcan culture that he shouldn't be offended by Vulcan directness.

Phlox put a forkful of the chef's special into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. "P'Jem is a Vulcan monastery and the monks would undoubtedly be offended by some of our host's behaviours..."

"Not at all, Doctor," said T'Pol somewhat defensively, "it would only be possible for a small party to visit and all bridge staff are trained in first contact situations."

Phlox smiled, the corners of his mouth extending towards his ears. He knew that the Sub Commander had been giving training on first contact to the bridge crew which, for the most part, had been well received although the Vulcan approach of strict rules and protocols thoroughly sanitised the experience.

"I would have thought a Vulcan monk would find the Human tendency to ask rather direct questions to be quite impertinent. And what about the smell?" He smiled again, quite missing the context, "Even with the benefit of your nasal numbing agent it has taken you time to adjust to this."

T'Pol's eyes narrowed. She knew when the psychologist was in session. She sighed internally. "Please come to the point Doctor".

"Might your objections to the P'Jem visit be related to the potential embarrassment at being seen in the company of a Human crew?" Phlox speculated.

Now that hit a nerve. T'Pol considered this. As unpalatable as Phlox's questioning could be on occasion it was usually worth listening to his opinion. "It could create a certain awkwardness" she admitted.

"I too often feel out of place on Enterprise," he said earnestly, "but I have found that interacting with their culture has distinct advantages as they are a truly interesting species. What is the Vulcan philosophy? Infinite diversity in infinite combinations."

"Kol-Ut-Shan" murmured T'Pol.

The Doctor was right of course but there was another reason for T'Pol's reluctance. After working for Vulcan Security as a V'Shar Agent for a number of years she had resigned her commission and visited P'Jem. This was on record however she held no reliable memory of the events leading up to her resignation nor what had happened at P'Jem. T'Pol had suspicions that she had undergone an obsolete Fullara ritual to suppress certain memories and emotions but she hadn't proof of the event. She had taken on a new commission with the Vulcan Science Directorate and asked for discrete enquiries to be made on her behalf. What they uncovered was not revealed but at a subsequent meeting her superiors strongly advised her not to investigate the matter any further. P'Jem held secrets that she did not wish to uncover.

Her thoughts turned to Hoshi. T'Pol had visited her quarters to apologise for the earlier misunderstanding but she did not understand how to deal with the red faced ensign's own repeated apologies. It had been mystifying but T'Pol had not appreciated at the time that Hoshi might be embarrassed by her own Human short comings - the Doctor had inadvertently provided the key.

She must have been worried that T'Pol would find her sweating distasteful. Hoshi was always freshly showered when they occasionally ate together in Enterprise's canteen, indeed it was something that T'Pol appreciated about Hoshi since strong odours tended to spoil her appetite. Other crew members were less considerate so she made allowances to minimise contact where possible… and of course Hoshi must have picked up on this and assumed T'Pol might avoid her also.

She considered this new information. Hoshi's face frequently changed colour if she noticed T'Pol raising an eyebrow at loud voices or sniffing the air at a strong odour. How could she make Hoshi understand that she had nothing to be ashamed about. T'Pol didn't want her, or her Human crew-mates, to be more Vulcan. That would be illogical.

Chapter 3 - Unwelcome visitors

In the farthest reaches of the Beta quadrant lay the planet of P'Jem, situated along an old trading route it was the nearest habitable planet to Andorian controlled space. On P'Jem, some 3,000 years ago, Master Haadok had decided to build a monastery retreat clinging high on a mountain precipice. It's red-rust coloured temple was a favoured destination for Vulcan travellers to receive a blessing, spiritual help or emotional guidance. Access was via a stone landing platform with a bridge connecting this to the sanctuary and temple beyond. Within the sacred halls there were said to be Katric Arcs which, although no proofs have ever been found, were said to hold the Katra or essence of the dead. It was a revered monastery and visiting the temple had been a Vulcan tradition for centuries.

Captain Archer and Commander Tucker walked behind T'Pol on their way to the shuttle pod. "They don' even know we're comin'?" Tucker spoke with disbelief. Captain Archer agreed leaving T'Pol wondering yet again about the wisdom of their visit.

"As I have explained before, it was not possible to hail them because the monks consider technology to be a distraction from their spiritual pursuits." She turned and ran through the visiting protocol again. After all this turmoil caused by the Human's pressurising to organise the visit, only now did they feel it was rude to turn up uninvited? There was an uncomfortable feeling in her stomach, a worry that was hard to ignore. Human's frequently referred to their 'gut instinct', British vernacular, a curious idea of an instinctive feeling as opposed to an opinion or idea based on facts. An illogical way to take decisions however if indeed it was possible that her gut was talking to her it was clamouring to be heard…

The shuttle made the short journey to the planet as Enterprise settled into orbit. The air was breathable on P'Jem, slightly oxygen rich but nothing for the Humans to be concerned about. The Doctor had warned that they might feel somewhat euphoric and T'Pol could see the excitement on their faces as Captain Archer and Commander Tucker looked around at the rocky surface and alien skyline. Lieutenant Reed had wanted to be part of the landing party however Archer had overruled him as the grounds that if you couldn't be safe on a planet owned by the Vulcans then where would you be safe? Bringing a security detail could be seen as insulting.

Like excited children they were slowly led over the bridge with T'Pol still briefing on protocol - do not speak loudly, speak only when spoken to, it was like a school field trip with the teacher scolding her class. Trip looked away with a smile when he saw Jon's face. It was a few days since Jon and the Sub-Commander had clashed but he could feel it heading that way again if she didn't let it go, after all who was Captain here? Trip also now knew that T'Pol wouldn't be picking up on Jon's expression. She was like a child at times, trying to make sense of their facial movements and hand gestures, context just going over her head.

Trip felt he understood T'Pol much better than a few weeks ago. For example, he knew that she meant no disrespect. It was simply that she hadn't considered her words might be patronising. In some ways he felt sorry for her which, considering their rocky start, was nothing short of a miracle. She had fitted into the Enterprise family, a younger member who needed a little understanding, a little guidance and a huge dollop of respect. Well it was pushing it to say a younger member… while she looked in her twenties she was probably the same age as his Grandma. Not that it stopped him from wanting to tease her when the opportunity presented itself. He glanced back. At least Jon wasn't letting the perceived condescension spoil their visit.

"Well this is nice" he remarked earning a glare from Jon. T'Pol regarding him as always. Blank expression, brown eyes fixing him with a steady gaze, framed within a bob of brown hair in that typically austere Vulcan haircut, elf-like pointed ears poking through the sides. Yes, it would be very easy to fall in love, not that Vulcans could ever return that love. No, she was more like a little sister. A little sister who could bench-press a hell of a lot more than him if the stories coming out of the armoury team were accurate.

There was no record of any Vulcan having a relationship with a Human or any other species for that matter. He knew. He'd checked. He hoped his search records weren't too obvious. That damned combat training course, the ease with which she had thrown him around, it had sparked an attraction which given his history with Vulcans had been a total surprise. He wasn't the only one either - Malcolm had a soft spot for T'Pol even though he tried to hide it under that stiff upper lip British veneer. Maybe there were some exotic Vulcan pheromones in play here but it was a non-starter. The database said Vulcans only wanted sex every seven years - now what was that all about? That's one hell of a dry spell!

When they reached the monastery gates they were open. Slightly damaged but perhaps it was difficult to repair them in such an inhospitable location, certainly the monks were unlikely to have been chosen for their DIY skills. T'Pol rang the bell and they stepped inside, the Humans smiling with open curiosity, trying to take in everything at once.

After a few moments a young monk appeared. He appeared to T'Pol to be somewhat hurried, as it he had been pushed into the hallway, but he gave the correct greetings and T'Pol requested that her companions be allowed to see inside the monastery. She could feel their eager eyes focused on them and had an irrational desire, swiftly quashed, for them to be impressed by her culture. The monk however had other ideas. He apologised and informed her that it was not possible because they had arrived at the time of kolinahr. Turning T'Pol explained, somewhat embarrassed, but the Captain seemed to be only half listening to her. His attention was focused instead on his immediate surroundings, looking around the hall at damaged artefacts and dust patterns where an object looked to have been hastily replaced.

"Do they suffer from earthquakes on P'Jem?" he asked.

"I am not aware of any recent volcanic activity in this region." She turned to ask the monk but then caught sight of what had been distracting Archer. Indeed the monastery had been violated. Cautiously she asked that they receive the stone of J'Kah for travellers - that at least should possible - but the young monk should have offered this immediately after his refusal... Her eyes narrowed. His robe did not sit on his shoulders correctly… was that pinch in the fabric made by another's hand?

Archer and Tucker were moving around the room talking to each other like tourists but highlighting each out of place object. Behind the monk, near the doorway, was a wooden lattice screen which created a deep shadow and a hidden shape. Movement caught her eye and in the mirrored surface of a nearby artefact she saw a hidden figure - a blue skinned figure. Andorian!

Archer drew nearer, still talking, Tucker watching his hands as they directed each other without words. T'Pol was torn. The Humans simply had no idea of what this hidden figure represented. Enterprise should leave immediately and inform the High Command but it was all too late. She watched in horror as Archer sprang into action pulling the figure from the shadows, a weapon tumbling to the ground, and revealing the interloper. Seconds later Andorian commandos burst into the hall, bristling with weaponry, and shouting loudly. Tucker was on his knees, hands in the air, Archer looking at the weapon aimed at his head promptly released his assailant who angrily struck him to the ground.

T'Pol and the monk stared emotionless at their captors. Tucker struggled as the commandos marched him out of the room… his resistance was illogical. It was a gesture - nothing more. She did not understand what he hoped to achieve with this bravado. Would the Humans accept captivity or would their volatile nature resurface possibly leading to their deaths? The High Command would not approve should any serious injury happen to the Humans, at least not on Vulcan soil, politically it would prove extremely embarrassing and of course she was responsible...

Chapter 4 - The commandos

Andoria had long held suspicions that P'Jem was being used by the Vulcans to scan deep into their territory. While currently not actively at war the two held a mutual distrust and dislike. Spies from both sides worked actively in each others territories, occasionally exposed, but always denied. Andorians were slightly smaller in stature to the average Vulcan, blue skin clashing with a shock of white hair and two antennae on their foreheads. Emotional and aggressive the Andorians were ironically similar to Vulcans of the past and the two empires had waged war with each other over the centuries, the Vulcan's physically superior in strength, the Andorians technologically advanced.

On the table in front of the lead commando was their communication devices. The Captain had received further injuries due to his inability to understand what was being said and the Andorian's belief that he was refusing to cooperate with questioning. T'Pol could feel her emotions overwhelming her control as they fought for an opening to relieve her inner turmoil. She concentrated hard. Clearly the Humans were now irreversibly interwoven into the Andorian conspiracy theory and her presence with them was seen as confirmation. To T'Pol's right was a tall Andorian, Tholos, who kept looking at her, drinking in the curves of her bodysuit and smiling to himself. She briefly wished that she was wearing more austere Vulcan clothing but she ignored him and concentrated on the leader.

"You are mistaken. I am simply assigned to assist a new species in their first contact interactions. Humans have only recently been capable of warp travel outside of their solar system." Her voice now sounding harsh to her own ears as her control caused it to become more monotone. "I am sure that we can resolve this situation peacefully if you would permit contact between our governments."

"Lies!" His blue skin had taken on a deeper shade making his white hair seem almost fluorescent. "You have involved another species in our conflict but we do not fear these Hu-mans!" His antennae twitched in agitation. He looked again at the communication devices and then staring at his captives he smashed them, one by one, beyond repair.

"Vulcan is not in conflict with Andoria," T'Pol tried to recover a common ground, "our visit to P'Jem was merely to introduce Humans to Vulcan culture. We had no idea of your presence or we would not have attempted to land."

"Undoubtedly another lie," he growled, "our scans have picked up a warship of unknown manufacture in orbit. You plan to protect your precious listening station - we know all about the real purpose of your 'monastery'."

The Captain was struggling to understand what was being said because the universal translator only included languages which the Vulcan's had deemed necessary. Clearly Andorian wasn't on the officially approved list but he fully understood his captor's sneering responses from their body language alone. He resisted touching his head, which was still ringing from yet another blow, and looked in despair at the broken communication devices.

How could they get a message to Enterprise now and what action would Lieutenant Reed take? He had better not risk the ship or crew in some heroic rescue attempt. If only he had gotten the chance to understand him better but the Brit was just so damned reserved. He treated even a breakfast chat as a formal interview - a test with a correct answer. He trusted Malcolm but any reckless military cavalry charge, guns blazing, would end in tears. There must be a way to negotiate if only he understood what these blue skinned aliens wanted.

The whole system of language in all it's alien diversity invariably consisted of syntax, morphology (including inflection), phonology and semantics. Evolution ultimately came up with the solution for higher life forms to communicate between themselves enabling the sharing and storage of knowledge. The universal translator was perhaps the greatest invention of intelligent lifeforms throughout the galaxy. It enabled a simultaneous translation of language to be received by the wearer. It had many variations and solutions but the current Human universal translator operated through their communication devices, translating directly to micro receivers fitted into the ear. Unfortunately the effectiveness of universal translation was dependent on a known grammar structure and logic. New languages required repeated words with context for it to learn which was why Enterprise's communications officer was so valuable.

The commando group was led by Commander Thy'lek Shran of the Andorian Imperial Guard. He listened to the grunting noises the pink skinned Human made with mounting frustration, his universal translator trying to work out the new language. The Andorians had been frantically scanning the unknown vessel since it's arrival. Breaking through the protective firewall encryption they accessed Enterprise's main computer and found the proof of collaboration they expected - Vulcan star charts.

Irritatingly the Vulcan seemed to have no difficulty understanding the Hu-man language. He tried again. "Why are you here? Are you working for the Vulcans? Answer me!"

The Human stared blankly and then started grunting again, a lump in it's neck moving up and down as it did so. Finally language updates were fed through to Shran's universal translator and as he drew back his fist for another strike the words started to enter his ear. "…peaceful mission to learn more about other alien cultures. We mean you no harm."

Shran lowered his arm and looked at the Human more closely. It was leaking from a gash on it's face which dripped onto it's blue uniform. It's blood was red in colour, how strange they are, no antennae but then neither did the Vulcans. Were they telepathic like his enemy? Perhaps he should take a hostage - return one to Andoria for further interrogation. For the Human it would be a one way trip so he didn't take the decision lightly. "You are military, do not deny it, you wear identical uniforms. All apart from you…" He turned again to T'Pol. Her captor gripped her more tightly. "Are you in command of the ship in orbit? Is this a new design of Vulcan warship?"

T'Pol cooly responded, "I have told you before that this is a Human vessel of discovery, nothing more. They do not understand the conflict between our peoples."

Shran laughed mockingly. "More lies. A Vulcan would never SERVE aboard an alien ship" He gestured to her captor, "Put them in with the monks and continue the search. I will talk to this 'Human' vessel myself. They had better understand that the Andorian Empire is a far greater threat than they've been led to believe and cooperating with the Vulcans is an act of war - something they shall not survive!"

High above the them in orbit Lieutenant Reed sat in the Captain's chair quietly fuming. His frustration wasn't that his earlier advice had been ignored by the Captain but instead that Enterprise's weaknesses had been so cruelly exposed. Had T'Pol's long range scanning modifications been activated then Enterprise would have had the capability to detect this Andorian vessel long before they had entered P'Jem's orbit. It was pure chance that had placed the Andorian vessel on the opposite side of the planet effectively obscuring it from Enterprise's sensor sweep. Starfleet should have a protocol to follow - automated systems to scan, analyse and if necessary bring all defence systems online without the need for the Captain's express approval.

Reed struggled to maintain his temper as the Andorian Commander informed him that the landing party were being held hostage and any attempt to interfere with the Andorian Empire would result in their deaths. The warning clear… Well, he mused, he wasn't about to sit up here in orbit twiddling his thumbs. Firstly the Andorian vessel was not going to be allowed to leave P'Jem without his express permission and secondly a tactical team would be made ready to intervene the moment an opportunity presented itself.

"Hoshi?" Reed concentrated on the task at hand. It was best to keep the mind calm and think through all possibilities.

"Yes sir." Hoshi turned from her console white faced.

"Find out everything you can about this Andorian Empire from the Vulcan database and then I want a meeting with all department heads in 15 minutes. Don't worry - we'll get them back one way or another. Put me through to engineering please - I want to know exactly how much trust we can place in that newfangled transporter."

Reed considered whether he should contact Vulcan. They would undoubtedly take control of the situation, relegating Enterprise to an unwanted observer, but their superior technology would have benefits in confronting these Andorians. His only hesitation was that their database had revealed a centuries old conflict and while he was sure the Vulcans were honourable he couldn't put the hostages at risk should this become political.

Chapter 5 - Don't hog the blanket

The monks were crammed into a large stone room, some in prayer and some staring at the newcomers. Weapons pointed, the Andorians marched them into the room. T'Pol's captor lingered making his attraction clear. "Would you like one of them to fight me for you?" Tholos leered, "Would that excite you?"

Commander Tucker didn't understand what the Andorian was saying but he understood T'Pol's undisguised look of disgust. "You leave her alone!" He shouted moving forward threateningly.

Another Andorian commando struck him hard in the solar plexus with his rifle butt and Tucker fell to the ground winded. That seemed to break the mood and the Andorians exited the room laughing.

T'Pol looked at Tucker prone on the stone floor. Her own kind had not lifted a finger to help and yet these Humans were still trying to protect her. Not that she needed protecting - the Andorian was no match for her speed and strength - it was however a gesture of familial protection which T'Pol found quite puzzling. Despite their constant arguing there was a mutual respect with the commander which she would not have deemed possible from their earliest interactions.

T'Pol questioned the monks looking for a means to communicate with Enterprise. The Captain simply did not believe that there was no form of transmitter in the monastery. How an alien race so advanced would reject such technology seemed to him to be a lie. She tried to reason with the monks that there might be tools which the Commander could use to fabricate what they needed. She knew her repeated questions would antagonise them but the Captain was becoming frustrated with the perceived lack of response and she now felt herself being included in his criticisms.

A monastery elder engaged with T'Pol. "It is unfortunate that you visit P'Jem at this time with your Human crew. The Andorians come here from time-to-time but they never find anything so they leave. It is an inconvenience but nothing more. Your arrival will be seen as confirmation of their conspiracies - you have endangered us all."

"I am sorry however this could not have been predicted." T'Pol noted his emphasis on the words 'your Human crew'. "Why do you accept this intrusion. The High Command would arrange protection if you notified them."

"How long have you been aboard the Human vessel?" He probed further.

"Nine weeks and four days." It was a Vulcan record that nobody would celebrate. Her embarrassment deepened.

"How can you bear it?" The final coup de grâce. There was no sympathy for her here. Only distain.

"I use a nasal numbing agent." T'Pol said shortly and moved away, away from her own people, and back to the Humans.

P'Jem was a cold planet and as the sunlight disappeared the night temperature plummeted. The monk's thick robes gave them partial protection but they passed around warm blankets. Captain Archer found himself without a blanket as supplies were limited so T'Pol tried to give him hers.

"Please take mine Captain, I do not need it." She adjusted her Vulcan bodysuit's temperature control knowing this would only drain the bodysuit's energy more quickly. It would be a very cold night. Her mind was cast back to the incident before she joined Enterprise, sharing body warmth with the Human Sergeant and then sheltering under the pine trees beside a wood fire.

Archer accepted the blanket but to her horror he then insisted that they share. "If anything I'm better equipped to deal with the cold. I don't come from a desert planet." He smiled and spread out the blanket on the ground. "This blanket is large enough for two. It's not logical that either of us should freeze tonight."

T'Pol could feel their eyes boring into her. The monks were watching, were listening, and she was being judged. Would it be warmth & distain or cold & respectability?

"Thank you Captain but I can assure you that I am quite capable of surviving the cold. Please do not concern yourself." She suppressed a shiver through force of will.

That didn't work and Archer stubbornly continued to argue. T'Pol felt trapped in the spotlight, to draw further attention on herself by continuing the conversation or accept the Captain's points were valid and 'take the pathway of least resistance' as Human's say. The matter needed closure so finally she accepted, trying to keep as far away from him as the blanket would allow.

Jon thought he could see a slightly green tinge to her cheeks as T'Pol accepted his offer with very little grace. She had been getting on his nerves right from the beginning and now she was embarrassed of him? Where was her Vulcan logic - if anything she was the illogical one here not him! He sighed loudly, a passive-aggressive gesture which was frankly beneath him but she was so damned frustrating! He felt the eyes of the monks and sitting up he reacted. "Problem?" he broke the silence speaking loudly. The eyes turned away and he settled back once again beside his unwilling blanket-mate.

Night covered the monastery in inky blackness. T'Pol was still awake pondering their situation and trying to ignore the secondary emotions which the Captain was emitting. She could feel his anger at her, no… not quite, she could feel his disappointment and hurt. That could not be helped she told herself. The situation was far more complex than he understood and it was unlikely that she could help him to understand her point of view.

Despite the warmth of the blanket Jon was feeling a slight coolness to the Sub-Commander's body beside him. Knowing how hot the planet Vulcan was he had expected sleeping near a Vulcan to be like lying beside a hot radiator but it was like there was a hole in the blanket. He drew the material tighter to his neck and tried to sleep. She wasn't a fidgeting companion for which he was grateful. He tried to hear her breathing but she was as silent in sleep as she was while awake. Did Vulcan's snore?

A Vulcan's body temperature is closer to 33 degrees celsius compared to a Human's body temperature of 36-37 degrees. That might seem a small difference however the body's regulation of temperature is very important because survival is linked to small changes. 1-2 degrees increase and the body starts to suffer from heat stress and exhaustion, 1-2 degrees decrease and hypothermia will ensue. At 33 degrees a Human will lose movement in their fingers, feel confused, drowsy and their skin will turn blue. T'Pol's lower body temperature was designed to withstand the intense heat of Vulcan.

T'Pol sniffed. Her initial worry that the smell would overpower the possibility of sleep was unfounded, indeed Archer's scent wasn't actually that strong. She could detect the usual body spray that Humans employed, perfume hung faintly in the air, but his natural odour which she had encountered in their earliest meetings was not objectionable. Since she had not taken a nasal numbing agent since the aborted meditation session with Hoshi, T'Pol realised that she must be less troubled by Human odours than before.

Her mind returned to his earlier comment. 'Don't let the bed bugs bite.' She had several alarming thoughts on what he might have meant but the reason she couldn't sleep was the intermittent rumbling noise that Archer was making. T'Pol was young in Vulcan years (in her early sixties), she had been bonded as a child to a Vulcan named Koss but they had yet to marry or live together. As was the custom she and Koss had led separate lives to this point and her experience of being this close to a male was negligible. If the Captain lay on his side, she pondered, would the noise be lessened… perhaps she might push without waking him however even fully clothed hidden under the blanket this seemed an alarmingly intimate act.

There was one positive to her predicament which was the copious amount of heat he was generating. Humans were quite efficient at warming up their surroundings and a warm blanket was infinitely preferable to trying to sleep without.

Chapter 6 - Dignity and respect

Shran had been surprised by his conversation with the Human vessel - it was puzzling. They had communicated almost childishly with his scout ship using a full visual display instead of audio only. On their bridge were bipeds of a variety of colours but mostly pink skins and all wearing the same blue military uniform. No other Vulcans were visible but they must be there. He had to be correct that this was a military mission but then why was their computer relatively unguarded? It held no useful data other than language and Vulcan star charts. His lip curled… This had to be a trap but what?

The Vulcan was another puzzle. Clearly she was in command - no Vulcan would serve beneath an alien culture - and the Humans had been particularly protective of her. Yes, she was in command and if beating the Human produced no better results then she would be next to be interrogated. He didn't relish the thought of harming a female, even a Vulcan, but in war these things must be done and done quickly. There would be enemy vessels racing towards their position to cut off any possibility of escape. Should he leave now with hostages? No! It was too soon to give up on finding the listening station!

The one called Archer was stubborn. Despite their efforts he remained uncooperative, almost unconcerned about his situation. How much damage would the pink skin absorb before he cracked? Interestingly the universal translator had connected his name with a specific type of projectile weapon used to fire bolts with barbed blades. Interrogating the database had showed tournaments between the rival 'Archer' clans - it looked very archaic - but Andoria also had it's traditionalists who used weapons in sporting challenges. He looked again at the images of flag waving crowds, war paint on some of their faces. Perhaps he might appeal to Archer that his clan might be best served changing allegiance to preserve this dynasty.

The Andorians had taken Captain Archer again for interrogation. T'Pol knew it was the logical action from their captors, that she should have prepared herself for the worst but her emotions were once more becoming difficult to control. She had tried to join in with the monk's meditation but there was an uncomfortable feeling that she was not welcome, trapped between the two cultures, not quite one or the other.

It was now two months that she had spent on board Enterprise and she despite their initial suspicions, and sometimes downright hostility, her Human crew mates now viewed her as one of their own. This acceptance had been unexpected but it had come at a price. On one side of the seesaw she had companions who made her feel valued but on other side her previous connections within the Vulcan High Command had become somewhat strained.

The more T'Pol succeeded with these Humans, the more she was rejected by her own kind. It was almost as if the High Command wanted her to admit her weakness, to put in a request to transfer off Enterprise, to prove herself more Vulcan. She knew how other Vulcan's had struggled to adapt on Earth vessels and perversely the longer she continued her mission the more she seemed to be viewed with suspicion by her Vulcan superiors. It was a conundrum which vexed her considerably - her application, her diligence, her endurance all seemed to be looked on with disfavour.

Enterprise had become a substitute, a surrogate, to ease the pain of her rejection. It was almost like a family unit and she had experienced several instances where Humans had looked after her - putting themselves second to protect her from harm. This was not relative to their respective positions in Enterprise's command structure but instead it seemed to be a moral code, a courteous behaviour, which was quite fascinating to observe.

T'Pol looked out of the monastery window trying to block out the muttered comments of the monks. While not condoning their behaviour she might have excused their indiscretion had the monks believed they could not have been understood - few Humans were capable of speaking Vulcan. The monks however made their comments in her presence and she was sure it was a pointed criticism of her too.

While she felt embarrassment it was not for herself but for the monks. Despite her earlier misgivings she felt a connection to her alien crew. Knowing of the Andorians presence a Vulcan crew would have retreated and monitored the situation from orbit. A Klingon crew would have considered the area compromised, contaminated and reduced it to rubble. A Human crew however wanted to help and, at great personal risk, had placed themselves in jeopardy in order to 'do the right thing'. While at times it was a frustrating, meddling characteristic, at this moment she felt a certain pride.

T'Pol had noted the young monk was different to the others. More than once she had noticed that the elder had glanced at him before speaking. The superior-subordinate dynamic was all wrong. The elder was checking for approval. Her training as a security operative had marked him out of place from their very first introduction. The Captain might not be aware of the deception but T'Pol was beginning to worry that P'Jem had been a mistake on a much larger scale. He was a spy and there was a undercurrent here that spoke of espionage.. secrets not to be disturbed.

The Captain should not be taking these risks with his safety. T'Pol moved away from the window and began pacing the room watched by Vulcan eyes.

"Your concern for the Human is illogical," T'Pol ignored her accuser but he continued, "living on this Human vessel has tainted you. Your emotions are visible."

T'Pol spun around to stare at the spy in shock and anger. His eyes, emotionless, looked back. She knew she was being baited and concentrated hard to control her facial muscles and breathing rate. "You are mistaken. Exercise is necessary for clarity of mind. I should not need to remind you of Surak's teachings. Perhaps your attentions might be focussed more appropriately." There was a flicker behind those eyes, quashed instantly, and then the door burst open.

Two Andorian commandos carrying the limp body of the Captain between them marched in and threw him to the stone floor. Tucker was immediately at his side glaring at their captors as they contemptuously turned their backs and left.

"Jesus Jon, they've really worked you over. What do they want from us?"

The room was silent. The monks knelt down in prayer, eyes closed, hands clasped in front, fingers & thumbs connected into a triangular shape. T'Pol was not fooled, she breathed in, Vulcan male pheromones only detectable to a female faintly perfumed the air. Their earlier stubbornness was gone and she could smell their fear. A Vulcan, a monk, should not be fearful of death. It was a natural consequence of life and to fear the inevitable was illogical. No, their fear was not driven by the Andorians no matter how violent they had became, it was something else and the spy was connected somehow.

T'Pol controlled herself and slowly walked over. Captain Archer lay on the stone floor where the Andorians had thrown him. She bent down and touched his arm gently.

"Captain?" Archer raised his head and peeked out of a half shut and rapidly swelling eye. She studied the battered face, patches of dried blood matted his hair. "Captain, may I help you?" She looked at Tucker who was seething with anger. He was a coiled spring, dangerous, and all that energy might unwind at the wrong moment. He needed something to do…

"Commander?" then louder, "Commander?" She hesitated and then spoke firmly, "Trip!" Tucker looked up at her in surprise. "Commander, the Captain needs water. Please request a bowl for drinking, a bowl for washing his face and a towel to clean his injuries."

Trip nodded and stood up. "On it." He knew he was on the edge of losing it with the commandos, he would get beaten and for no purpose other than to release his frustrations. T'Pol was right - a job was exactly what was needed. He frowned. "They've gotta have something hidden here. All that crap they've been talking - I don't believe a word. How would they have communicated when they originally set up the monastery? How would they have arranged for building materials, for supplies, they've got something here and right now we need to know where it is."

T'Pol watched Tucker move away and then turned her attention back to the Captain. He was now much more animated cursing the Andorians and their search for a sensor array. His injuries looked colourful but superficial. From what she had learnt from Doctor Phlox they would be painful but not life threatening. Clearly the Andorians intended to work him over, leave him to recover and wait for the fear of the next beating to loosen his tongue. Classic field interrogation. "Captain, the Commander will be back shortly with some water to clean your wounds. If you will excuse me I shall talk again with the monks."

Straightening she stalked over to the spy who had been watching them closely. "There are catacombs here." It was a statement not a question. He stared back at her. "In these catacombs will be a transmitter, however old, which can be used to signal Enterprise. You will show the Commander to this transmitter when he returns." Her hands, hidden behind her back, tightened into small fists. She reflected with a little satisfaction that her face was more tightly controlled as was her voice. "If you do not I shall be forced to find the access point myself."

That got the desired reaction. "The catacombs are sacred, contain priceless relics, you forget your heritage! These Humans cannot be allowed to desecrate them. The transmitter is ancient, unused in over a century, incapable of communicating with your vessel." His eyes glanced at the returning Commander who had just finished shouting at his brethren.

Yes, she thought, you have emotions too. T'Pol continued. "Please do not underestimate these Humans. The Commander is quite capable of restoring your transmitter to full working order. I shall inform him that you know of it's location." She paused as her words sank in. "He is a very angry man…"

The spy looked back at the Commander weighing his options.

Chapter 7 - Progress

T'Pol's gamble paid off. The spy had a hurried conversation with the elder monk and the Commander was taken into the catacombs deep beneath the monastery. The entrance was well hidden, as one might expect, and that secrecy looked to have been built in from the monastery's construction. A suspicious mind might have raised questions at it's original purpose some 3,000 years ago.

Tucker came back dusty but jubilant. The transmitter was old but functional - built to last. He had arrived back only just in time as the Andorians came in to make a headcount. The spy snatched a blanket off a nearby monk and threw it at him so that the dusty uniform was hidden. The commando completed the headcount glancing only briefly at Tucker as he feigned sleep and poked a tousled head from under his blanket.

T'Pol's eyes had not moved from the spy. A Vulcan skilled in deception and most probably trained as a V'Shar agent. He didn't look physically strong but agents were picked for a multitude of reasons and at first glance he did indeed match the profile of a monk. What was his purpose here? In seemed unlikely that he would not be in regular communication with the Security Directorate but how? He must still be under the impression that his cover was intact.

As the last Andorian left she whispered the news to Captain Archer and Tucker came over followed closely by the spy. For some reason T'Pol wished she could keep the spy ignorant of their plans but that would exposed her own knowledge of his duplicity.

"They've gotta subspace transmitter Cap'n. It's old but it has a krellide power cell base and I reckon I can get it working again. Are we bring'n help down or beaming us the hell outta here?" Trip had a fear of the transporter scattering his molecules across space.

"I want you to establish communication with Malcolm first to make sure he knows we're safe." Jon glanced at T'Pol, "Will these Andorians be able to pinpoint our transmissions?"

"Yes Captain. Communication must be of short duration to prevent the locations discovery. It will undoubtedly add further paranoia to the Andorians and we must anticipate increased pressure to reveal the transmission's location."

"More beatings?" The Captain's bruised face looked painful.

"I am sorry Captain but we should anticipate a more violent reaction from the Andorians to regain compliance." Her face was unemotional, matter of fact.

The spy spoke up, "You have already done much damage to our monastery. You must cease your interference and allow the Andorians to finish their search and leave."

"You can't seriously believe they're just gonna just walk away can you? After all they've done to the Cap'n, they'll just pick another target. Maybe T'Pol. Maybe you." Trip noticed that T'Pol was keeping the monk under close attention. Although the monk had initially seemed reluctant to help he had done so. She must have her reasons.

"Captain." T'Pol decided to bring the matter to a close - they needed a decision. "If the Commander can signal Enterprise we can have a security detail transported down to protect the hostages. We should have sufficient deterrent to force the Andorians to withdraw and the High Command can be notified."

"How long will it take for Malcolm to gather a team together and transport down?" Jon was still a little unsure.

"The Lieutenant is quite efficient. I anticipate that an armed security detail is currently awaiting your signal and can transport to these coordinates immediately." She understood his hesitation but her analysis of Reed all pointed towards a thoughtful and logical approach. He would have been ready to evacuate or attack within the hour having analysed his opponent, his resources and the terrain. "Captain, I have no doubt the Lieutenant will be organised and ready."

Jon nodded convinced by T'Pol's certainty. "How many do we need?"

"This may be limited by Enterprise's transporter but it will be at the Lieutenant's discretion. The resources at his disposal provide a greater perspective on the situation than our own - he will be in command."

It was hard to pass responsibility onto someone else's shoulders. It was something that weighed heavily on Jon ever since he realised that peoples lives depended on his judgement. This was the difficulty of merging a civil and a military role into one. He had gotten by on adrenalin when dealing with the Suliban and Klingons but it became harder when you had time to think and worry that a wrong decision had an ultimate price. He needed to let go - Malcolm's military career probably meant that he had faced these decisions before.

Trip spoke up. "Cap'n, when I was in the tunnels I could hear Andorian voices. I found another passageway which had a flow of fresh air. It comes out at a giant face carved into the wall and I reckon it's on the other side to the atrium… The mouth is an open hole. An explosive might knock out some of the opposition and we could attack from this side.."

The spy was furious. "Your soldier deviated from the agreed route to the transmitter. He deliberately lied to access some of our most priceless relics!"

Jon ignored his outburst. "Trip. You say you could hear the Andorians. Is this face thing carved into the rock?"

"No Cap'n. It's been added recently to block up a tunnel. I reckon we can set charges to remove it with minimal damage and it may stop us from being trapped in this room." Trip was enthusiastic. "If Malcolm transports into the tunnel we could split our forces and attack the Andorians from two directions. Its the only way to be sure we can get outta here without chancing that damn transporter and I've no intention of using it unless it's a direct order."

The spy turned on T'Pol and said something short in Vulcan. T'Pol's face remained impassive but Jon thought he could see a touch of embarrassment in her face again. She was taking a lot of low blows from the Vulcans recently.

"How long does it take to get from the transmitter to this room?" he asked.

"I reckon no more than 20 seconds. We can get back with phasers before the Andorians know what's happened." Trip was warming to the task now. A chance to do something, a chance to relieve his built up feelings.

T'Pol was doing the calculations in her head. "Captain, I do not believe that the Lieutenant's team will have sufficient time to be briefed and arrive here before the transporter beam has been discovered and soldiers are sent to guard the hostages. The Andorians cannot be underestimated. Although there will be initial confusion I anticipate that we shall be under armed guard at the point that our reinforcements arrive."

"Keep yer shirt on Sub-Commander," Trip was having none of it, "those damned Smurfs will be far too busy what with the explosion going off to worry about us hostages." He smiled broadly. "What d'ya think Cap'n? We gotta try something."

Jon smiled, wincing as his smile tore open a cut on his lip again, "We can deal with anyone they send here T'Pol. It's worth a go." The spy abruptly walked off and began an animated conversation with the elder monk. Jon turned to Trip. "We can't be overconfident. It's going to be close if T'Pol's right. If Malcolm's not ready then you abort and keep the away team in the tunnels, understood? There's to be no firefight in here. We can tell them that you transported to Enterprise."

Trip nodded, feeling a flood of endorphins lift his spirits as the excitement of action course through his body. T'Pol resigned herself to accepting the increased risk. The Captain and Commander could be quite stubborn once an idea was set in their minds.

Chapter 8 - No-man's land

The transmitter had taken a good half an hour of nursing, then cursing, before Trip had a stable enough signal to talk to Enterprise. It was almost 24 hours since Lieutenant Reed had heard from the landing party and Trip could hear the relief in Malcolm's voice the moment he answered his transmission.

"No questions," Trip ordered, "can you lock on to these coordinates and send down an armed security detail immediately? We need to protect the hostages before dealing with the Andorians. Priority number one is to make the area secure."

"Understood Commander," he replied and confirming T'Pol's assumption he barked an order at the ensign operating the transporter controls, "Energise!" Since the start of the crisis he had transferred his command post from bridge to engineering to be instantly ready. Sleeping arrangements had been basic but the military mind didn't factor in comfort.

There was a dull light as the air's molecules started to vibrate beside Trip. The air hummed with anticipation, short hairs on his arms and body started to stand erect with static energy, his whole body screaming danger. Seconds later the transporter signal locked on and the away team arrived armed to the teeth, a slight rush of air inwards and then outwards as air was displaced by their bodies.

Trip found a phaser rifle pointing into his face and looked up to see Malcolm's grim but relieved expression. The plan was going to work! Two tactical crewmen were behind him, one carrying a backpack of additional communicators, weaponry and what Malcolm liked to call his special little helpers.. micro-chargers.

"Good to see you Commander, can you bring me up to speed please? I'm afraid we're at the transporter's full capacity so this landing party is a little on the thin side. Do the numbers still add up?"

Trip looked at their weapons and serious expressions agreeing that they did. He hadn't fired at anyone since basic training and once they handed him a phase pistol he felt butterflies in his stomach. "T'Pol and the Cap'n are down this passage with the monks." He paused, uncertain, but the opportunity was there and fortune favour's the brave… "But this passage," he pointed to his left, "this leads to a dead end and on the other side is where the Andorians are based. We'll attack from both sides simultaneously to drive them out." He carefully explained the plan and they split the party into two, Malcolm & Trip hurrying back to the hostages.

Commander Shran's scanner was going berserk - the energy spike had to be a transporter. He angrily ordered two commandos to investigate the source which was near to the hostages but slightly below - hidden tunnels! He ordered another to check on the monks and stay there. "Shoot anyone who gives you trouble!" These wretched Vulcans and their Human puppets! They were to blame for everything that happened now.

Tholos ran to the hostage room brimming with anticipation. He wanted to see the Vulcan woman again, to prove to her his strength, perhaps killing that irritating Human would bring out her emotions. He burst into the room just before Tucker and Reed made it back.

T'Pol had heard the Humans discussing how the Andorians were looking at her, one Andorian in particular. It was illogical for them to be concerned since she was clearly much stronger than them. Their natural instincts must drive them to act in this way, a biological need to protect her, in the way they would a Human female… For this reason she blamed herself for not being prepared for the Captain's reaction. As the Andorian burst into the room, Archer leapt to his feet, placing himself directly between her and Tholos, his body protecting her but crucially blocking her attack. Archer lunged for the rifle but his beatings had taken their toll. He received a rifle butt to his stomach and collapsed to the floor. T'Pol could now see the Andorian's intent, his antennae fixed in a forward direction, predatory behaviour!

But as Tholos moved around the prone Captain, a tapestry was pushed aside and the head of Tucker poked into view. Tholos bared his teeth and swung his rifle around in triumph. The next moments happened as if in slow motion. For the second time in quick succession Trip found himself looking down the business end of a rifle muzzle which seemed to swallow his entire vision. Trying to move backwards he met Malcolm's body going the other way but, as he raised his hand impotently to ward off the expected energy blast, he felt air rush past his face.

T'Pol saw Tholos' attention transfer from her to Tucker and she surged forward. Moving faster than he could react, she threw a nearby figurine with pinpoint accuracy, sending the rifle tumbling from his hands. Tholos yelped in pain as his finger broke and looking back he saw T'Pol arriving like an avenging angel. Grasping his falling rifle in one hand she swung her foot with great force into no-man's-land, bringing tears to the eyes of all males watching, then, gripping the front of his jacket with her free hand, she used her forward momentum to lift him bodily off his feet and slam him hard against the stone wall. Tholos fell to the ground concussed. Reaching down T'Pol placed a hand on the side of his neck, applied pressure, and he slumped unconscious.

Jon stared. It was all over so quickly. They had seen her demonstrating in training, controlled and restrained so that they could study her movement, but seeing T'Pol at full speed was on a different level. Jon knew he would be having nightmares about that kick and what the hell was that neck-pinch thing all about? He would have to ask the Lieutenant about that - maybe a Vulcan 'death grip' - he knew she had received some kind of specialist training. Did it work on Humans?

T'Pol watched calmly as first Trip and then Malcolm emerged from the tunnel. "It is agreeable to see you Lieutenant." She didn't sound out of breath.

Malcolm smiled. Well, that was a red carpet greeting from a Vulcan if ever there was one. From his position within the tunnel he wasn't sure what had just happened but he could see the unconscious Andorian body behind T'Pol and noted their shocked expressions. If only he could have seen her in action too. "Good to see you too, Sub-Commander, Captain. I was beginning to feel a bit left out." Passing out phase pistols and communicators he turned to Jon, looking over his injuries. "Captain, can I persuade you to sit this out? By the looks of things the Doctor should take a look at you first."

"Not a chance Lieutenant." Jon checked his phaser and looked back to Malcolm. "Ready?"

"Of course Sir," Reed was now all business. He quickly zip-tied the unmoving Andorian body and straightened up. "Micro-charges going off," he glanced at his watch, "in three, two…" there was a muffled boom. He checked his scanner again and motioned them towards the door. "No one outside."

T'Pol caught Reed's eye. She nodded slightly in the direction of the monks and then turned her back, arms folded behind her, with one clenched fist, thumb extended pointing downwards. His eyes narrowed. What was she saying? If she knew military hand signals that might mean intruder or unidentified person. He glanced around the room and then at the hostages, in particular an older monk being harangued by a younger one. They were both staring at T'Pol but, feeling his gaze, they looked in his direction. So, not an Andorian… a spy perhaps?

T'Pol had turned around again and Reed nodded back at her. Understood, caution was in order. Interesting, he thought, that T'Pol knew hand signals. It would be typical of her thoroughness but what had tipped her off to suspect that monk? "Right, shall we join the party?"

They were about to leave when the spy ran forward. "Although I have been against your plans as a pacifist, it is my duty to protect the monastery. I will go with you and lend whatever help that I am able to give."

Captain Archer was still a little groggy but he smiled. "Thank you. The more help the better."

"Give me a phaser." There was an eagerness in his manner but his eyes betrayed nothing.

Reed didn't need to look at T'Pol but simply pretended that he hadn't heard the request. Motioning the others to follow he cautiously made his way down the corridor towards the main entrance. T'Pol was just behind him, the spy undeterred, bringing up the rear.

When they reached the atrium it was chaos. The explosion had not taken out the Andorians as expected because they were searching for the source of the transmission. Instead Reed's men exited the tunnel and found themselves in a fierce firefight with the returning commandos. Shran led the attack, driving the Humans away from the tunnel opening. Then, as quickly as it started, the firefight ended and the Andorians ran through the rubble disappearing into the catacombs.

Reed was first to the scene. One Andorian was lying motionless on the ground, his weapon beside his outstretched hand, and one of Reed's men had a plasma burn injury to his shoulder. He ran over to his men. "What's the situation?"

"Sorry Lieutenant, they were on us the moment we came out. Three Andorians have gone into the tunnel."

"What have you done? They would never have discovered the catacombs without your meddling!" The spy seemed to grow in strength, pushing the Humans aside as if they were insignificant, he glanced once in T'Pol's direction and then disappeared after the Andorians.

T'Pol and Reed exchanged glances. The Andorian weapon was missing. This monk was no pacifist...

Chapter 9 - A debt is owed

The tunnels were part in darkness and part in an eery half-light created from an ingenious network of pipework reflecting light down from the monastery rooms and hallways. Tight in places the passageways twisted and turned, back and forth, to disorient the unwary. Webs, on a much larger scale than those in Earth, hung across the ceiling and draped over the mummified remains of ancient Vulcans. There was a musty odour of stale air mixed with dust whipped up by the passing of hurried footsteps.

T'Pol was shocked when she saw the remains. If the Andorians were correct that Vulcan was using P'Jem as a listening station, to spy deep into Andorian territory, then this would indeed be an appalling betrayal of Vulcan culture, subverted to perpetuate a secret war against their neighbours. A war the existence of which the High Command denied.

When the Humans caught up with the Andorians they were in a firefight with the spy. Plasma blasts zipped through the air, striking the tunnel walls or scorching objects caught in their path, a faint trail of ionised particles with a burnt odour perfuming their wake. The Andorians had the spy pinned down against the far wall, his head periodically appearing as he inexpertly fired his stolen phaser. From their position the Andorian flank was exposed and Reed immediately took to the opposite wall, his rifle making dull thuds as he laid down round after round of suppressing fire.

Shran saw the reinforcements come in and his heart sank. Their search was still incomplete. No sign of Vulcan technology and now trapped in what appeared to be a storage room for religious paraphernalia. The walls were lined with tapestries, the space taken up by statues, urns, storage chests and their mummified dead. He needed more men but the scout ship wasn't designed to carry more than six, instead it was intended to be a quiet assassin, slipping undetected though enemy territory. Four commandos in the attack team and two remaining behind to operate the scout ship. That damned monk had halted their advance, fighting with the demented fanaticism of a religious zealot. Why the monks hadn't tried this before was a mystery because it would have been impossible to breach the monastery with such resistance.

A plasma blast hit some metal work above Shran's head, showering him with sparks and metal filings. He quickly patted down his smouldering hair and returned fire. Trapped. Their exit now guarded by the pink-skins who were proving a much more difficult opponent. Once they had escaped P'Jem, he told himself, they would make sure that the Human homeworld felt the full force of Andorian anger!

Another series of rifle blasts covered his men with dust and rubble. He took a quick look above and saw what the new pink-skin was trying to do. Clever… firing his rifle at the rock ceiling to bring it down on their heads. The situation was hopeless. They had to get out by any means. Shran signalled his remaining men to concentrate on their new enemy. If they could reach the passageway there might be a way to circle round and make their way back to the ship. First to get the opportunity… and then it happened.

T'Pol was struggling to cope with her overstimulated emotions, her self-control, or lack of, was more obvious to her as the situation spiralled out of control. To her left was the spy, energetically bouncing up and down, firing without consideration for the blasts coming in the opposite direction. His discipline had all but disappeared. Beside her was the Captain and Commander, both firing phasers more out of self defence than with the controlled focus of a soldier, and to their right, working their way closer to the Andorians, was the Lieutenant and his tactical officer. She could see the Lieutenant's plan was working and had to bite her lip hard to stop herself baring her teeth in ritual challenge to the Andorians.

As the rifle blasts thudded again and again into the ceiling, splinters of rock and dust showering the commandos, an Andorians got lucky and his blast caught the Spy's robe spinning him about. As he fell backwards, flailing hands trying to catch his balance, his fingers tightened on his weapon and it discharged towards Tucker. Trip flinched as the blast struck a tapestry behind him. Jon ducked and looking back he saw part of the tapestry fall gracefully to the floor revealing what looked to be a metal hatch in the rock.

For Jon time seemed to slow. He felt the phaser blasts still pounding around him but his attention was glued to the hatch. After all these protestations of innocence it would appear that Vulcans could lie and lie convincingly. The Andorians were the victims here, it hurt to admit that after all they had dished out to him, but he wanted to know the truth. His hand reached for a corner of the tapestry and using his weight as a lever he pulled it to the floor. A large circular hatch was now in full view to all present.

"Lieutenant! Cease fire! Cease fire - that's an order."

T'Pol looked over at him and then saw the hatch. She couldn't process what it meant at first but then the blood drained from her face. Deception! She looked at the spy who was picking himself up off the floor. What would be his reaction…

Shran listened to the Human calling for them to stop firing. This was not how the Imperial Guard waged battles - another trap perhaps but what could they gain? He ordered his men to hold their positions and fire only if the Humans moved closer. There was a muttering among his men. There was no honour in submitting but they had not surrendered yet. Tentatively the Human they had been interrogating stood, testing whether or not he would be shot, and once he felt secure he turned his attention away from the Andorians and towards the hatch.

Jon could feel their weapons trained on his back. It took considerable willpower to ignore his instincts which were telling him to dive for cover. These Andorians respected strength so he had to act the part. He pulled out his communicator and scanned the hatch. "Too much shielding to tell what's behind here but it's emitting a hell of a lot of energy." Jon looked at Trip. "Care to lend a hand?"

Trip cautiously got up and joined the Captain. "Gotta admit Cap'n that it looks like we've been lied to…" He looked for an opening mechanism and finding a likely lever he pressed it and stood back. Silently the hatch glided open and artificial light flooded into the room. Beyond the hatch door was a viewing platform and beneath it was a vast station filled with busy Vulcan technicians going about their business.

Shran slowly stood clear of his protective cover, weapon in hand but held loosely by his side, anxious to see what the pink-skins had uncovered. Maybe he was wrong about them. Maybe they were exploring as they had said. The Human was now beckoning him closer to the hatchway. Looking at the other pink-skins he could see their readiness but the roof collapser smiled and spread his hands in a curious non-threatening gesture. He snorted and straightened up imperiously. It would not do to allow his men to see caution as a weakness. Andorian command was all about strength. Holstering his weapon he told his men to wait and marched arrogantly to stand beside the Human. "What do you intend to do pink-skin?" The challenge was set.

Jon felt no anger towards his tormentor. Instead he focused in on another Vulcan lie. Lies upon lies. The High Command would just dismiss their story as a misunderstanding, a misinterpretation or even a fabrication. It would be yet another reason to halt Enterprise's mission but not if there was proof. He looked across to the appalled T'Pol. "You finished helping us?"

There was anger in his voice. T'Pol knew it was not against her personally but she was the nearest available Vulcan for him to release that anger. She concentrated hard, ignoring the emotions he was emitting, ignoring the gleeful Andorian. "Sir?" she spoke quietly with dignity.

"You Vulcans have been spying on the Andorians," Jon looked again at the vast network of listening equipment, "There's probably nothing they could keep secret from you. What's the Vulcan end-game huh? Where do you draw the line?" He looked the Andorian commander in the eyes gauging his reaction. Shran returned his gaze wondering what the Human intended to do. Jon sighed. He looked at the scanner in T'Pol's hands. "Does that thing have imaging sensors?"

"Yes." T'Pol's voice was quiet, so quiet it was difficult to hear her over the hum of the machinery.

"Scan the area. Take all the pictures you can." Jon was holding onto his temper but barely. Then he felt a prod into the small of his back.

So completely was their attention focused on the busy station before them that the spy had been overlooked. He had moved silently behind and his phaser was now pointed into the Captain. "Place your weapons on the ground," he ordered the others, "I will kill him if necessary." Turning to T'Pol he gestured to her scanner. "You will hand that to me."

T'Pol wondered whether the Captain remembered his training from the week earlier. She dropped her scanner to the floor, it's metal body clattering on the ground, drawing the spy's attention. That split second of distraction was all that was required. Archer was turning, rolling the gun barrel away from his back and using the spy's arm and his close proximity to his advantage. The next part however detoured considerably from Vulcan methods as his closed fist struck the spy on his jaw sending him spinning around to collapse on the floor.

"Violence in a sanctuary Captain?" Malcolm was smiling with admiration, the Andorians staring in surprise.

"Very disrespectful," he shook his hand to ease the pain, "but boy did it feel good."

T'Pol completed her scans and looking up at the Captain she offered it to him. Archer shook his head and nodded in the direction of Shran. It was tantamount to treason but the chain of command was clear. She looked across at the Andorians, her mind feeling clouded, uncertain of what to do. Reed on the other side of Shran shifted uneasily. She placed her future in the Captain's hands and wordlessly offered the scanner.

Shran snatched it from her suspiciously. A cursory check showed the scans to be there - this was not how matters were dealt with. He, and his team, should be dead on the floor by now. The advantage was with the Vulcan's puppets but theirs was clearly not a vassal arrangement. His enemies held the upper hand and yet they were coming away with more than he could have hoped…

"Pink-skin," Shran stopped and corrected himself to be more respectful, "Human, I am in your debt."

Chapter 10 - Sauna-time, part two

The heat in the small room was bearable. Warm, but in deference to Hoshi T'Pol had lowered the temperature to what might be considered on Earth to be a hot summer's day. They sat opposite each other while T'Pol went through the meditation speaking in Vulcan. Enterprise glided serenely through space onto their next destination, the hum of her engines a muted noise in the background.

As Hoshi listened to T'Pol's voice she felt tension and anxiety dissipating as her mind drifted completely at ease. She had never felt so relaxed and hoped this meditation might become a regular shared exercise. She smiled at the memory of her previous sweaty attempt. Who knew that a Vulcan would notice her discomfort or would make allowances so that she might be more comfortable. There was so much more to T'Pol than other people saw on the surface.

She had a sense of humour. Well Hoshi thought she heard T'Pol make a very dry comment earlier which might be considered to be humour - it was difficult to tell whether she had meant it to be funny or if it was just a coincidence. T'Pol had definitely thawed though and, while she wasn't obviously more friendly or sociable, they had definitely formed a friendship. Well Hoshi thought of it as a friendship… She knew enough of T'Pol to understand that whatever this was it was certainly on Vulcan terms. It would not do to allow her own high spirits to show. Well, not too much. She concentrated on the flickering light as directed, feeling drawn into it's warm embrace.

Enterprise's presence at P'Jem was unfortunate. The High Command would not tolerate their intervention and if attempts to end Enterprise's exploration were unsuccessful they would undoubtedly look for a scapegoat. This was deeply political. The Andorians were understandably furious and demanding the right to destroy the monastery and all the long range listening equipment buried deep below. It was a disaster. T'Pol knew she was being blamed for the exposure of the monastery. She would be recalled to Vulcan and stripped of her rank and position and so it puzzled her why her first thought was of the Humans and their opinion of her.

Captain Archer's anger at the High Command and then herself, as he made her take recordings of the listening station, was understandable. But afterwards, once he had calmed down, he had been most kind to her. He knew... He knew the politics involved and he knew how she would be treated. That empathy drove his actions.

Enterprise's shuttle had made an unscheduled trip into Vulcan space and while she had monitored the launch she had not been informed of its flight plan or mission. Indeed she thought she might now be excluded from command information because of P'Jem but when she returned to her quarters a few days later there had been a package awaiting her. A gift… Vulcan candles!

Her own candles, which were back on Earth at the Vulcan compound in Sausalito, were not as fine as these. How the Captain had known what to look for was a mystery but she suspected that Hoshi had been involved in their choice. The candles would be a most treasured possession. She had received permission to break Starfleet regulations regarding an on board naked flame from no less than Admiral Forest himself! It was astonishing but this was definitely not information which she would include in her report to the High Command, she felt slightly uncomfortable withholding this, but they wouldn't be interested in any of her opinions now.

The candles illuminated her bathroom casting flickering shadows in the darkness. It was a cramped space for two people but it was nearest the air extraction unit and right now she couldn't be more satisfied. T'Pol felt the warmth on her face, the pleasing sound of the spluttering candle wick, but most of all the scent. She breathed in deeply, her mind and body totally centred in meditation. She was now entering her third month as part of the Enterprise crew. The work was satisfying, albeit frustrating and difficult at times, but she was content. Her initial disappointment and anger at those orders to join Enterprise was a distant memory. She could not have predicted how much had changed in such a short period of time.

Meditation was practiced for numerous reasons and one benefit is the connecting of the conscious and subconscious mind. Sometimes, not often, the subconscious reveals a truth that the conscious mind cannot access. The result of tonight's meditation surprised T'Pol. As she sat quietly in the dark, teacher to a Human student, it had revealed that which had previously been hidden...

She felt at home.