Chapter Three
Arch
Monec had just left them, and Archer was about to get down to some serious planning with his officers when there was a knock upon the door. At a signal from Archer, Trip stood and opened the heavy oaken door. Outside stood a seneschal wearing what was doubtlessly the Sovereign's livery of red and gold, and his Arms, a refulgent sun upon the horizon. "Compliments of His Majesty. You are to accompany me to the Hall of Audience." Trip turned back to the others.
"You were right, Cap'n, they don't waste a lot of time here." The group, without specific instruction, sorted themselves by rank and followed their guide single file through the many corridors of stone to meet with the Sovereign. Malcolm would have preferred the rear, where he could watch everyone, but as she had no rank by default that position fell to Tia. He only hoped she could be as good a guardian as she was a biologist.
They finally reached a door Archer judged from their path and the outside view of the castle to be roughly in the center of the tremendous structure. He would not have been surprised to find it was exactly in that center. There was a pair of immense doors before them that each had to weigh over 200 kilos. Emblazoned upon the right one was the same Coat of Arms they had noted earlier, but rendered in greater detail, a refulgent yellow sun in a blue background, slightly above a brown horizon.
The seneschal led them up to the door and stood aside. "Knock." There was no knocker, and if the door was as thick as it looked a normal rap would not even be heard on the other side of the wood. Archer raised his fist and hit the door. It made a depressingly dull thud. He looked at the seneschal, whose face betrayed none of what he must be thinking about so wimpy a knock.
Raising his fist again, he pounded the door with the bottom of his fist as one might pound a table for emphasis, hit it hard, rewarded now with a series of seven booming reports. Lowering his hand, he resisted the urge to shake it out. It had hurt. "Too much time in the center chair?" Commander Tucker whispered so quietly no one else heard, but Archer was cheated of a chance to retort by the opening of the door.
Seeing its thickness, he revised his estimate to be more like 300 kilos, but it was so perfectly balanced that the man within handled it with one hand. It was either that of he had the muscles of a gorilla. Archer really did not want to know which.
x
"Who comes here?"
"Jonathan Archer, Captain of the Starship Enterprise, and five of my crew.
"What come you here to do?"
"We seek audience with Sovereign Akir," he replied, starting to get into the ultra-formal if antique wording.
"For what purpose?"
"My government has sent me to open a dialogue with the Sovereign."
"What does your government want?"
"To establish peaceful relations with yours."
"Go away." The door slammed in Archer's face with a thunderous boom.
x
Jonathan Archer turned to his surprised crew in consternation. But there was no way he was just going to turn around and fly off. Raising his fist, still aching though it was, he hit the door seven more times, even harder than before. A moment later, it swung open and the man within inquired "Who comes here?" as if he had not just finished a conversation with Archer seconds before.
The Captain recognized, however, what had gone wrong, and gave the same answers as before until he got to the last question, to which he answered "Dilithium."
"Wait until your request has been made known to the Sovereign." This time, when the door swung shut, it was not with a thunderclap.
"They're not big on prevarication, are they?" Tucker asked.
"No, they're not."
x
When the door swung open a moment later, the man inside was as friendly as he had earlier been suspicious. "It is the Order of his Majesty that you enter and be received under an Arch of Steel." The door swung wide to reveal a huge chamber which had to be at least twenty meters across its width and forty down the middle.
There were over a hundred people in the room arranged side by side before large and heavy seats along the two long walls, all dressed in fine formal raiment, clearly members of royal or noble houses. Banners stood in sections of the chamber, designating allegiances or nativities, Archer could not determine which. Most definitely everybody who was here was 'somebody'.
Forming two parallel lines extending from the center of the chamber to the steps leading to the dais, facing inward about two paces apart, black uniformed soldiers stood at sharp attention. At the far end of the chamber, brilliently illuminated, sat a man dressed in a robe of royal blue, the material trimmed in abundant gold at cuffs and hem. Upon his head gleamed a golden crown set at the front with a large clear gem Archer was willing to bet a month's salary was a diamond worth at least a year's. Telltale glitter upon the fabric of the purple trimmed thrones to either side told of the reflections of red to his right and green to his left; a ruby and an emerald of similar size.
The man was tall and, as he rose, they could see that he had not overly indulged in any soft or casual lifestyle. He looked much like any of the soldiers under his command, save for a full brown beard which gave his visage so stern an aspect that one had to look into his eyes for anything to belie that impression. As Archer led his crew toward the base of the lines, stopping a strict six feet from the end, the Sovereign stepped down from the dais and approached.
Monec, at the far end of the right file, commanded sharply: "Guard!" With a snap like quiet thunder all of the soldiers came from the 'carry swords' position to 'on guard', right foot forward and gleaming silver blade diagonal across their chests, about eighteen inches out. "Form Arch of Steel. Cut!" Forty blades rang as one. The Sovereign had not slowed his advance, starting through the arch at the instant of its creation. The Sovereign stepped up to Archer. "Most noble sir, I welcome you to my castle and planet, and I invite you to join me."
Thus saying, he turned smartly and led Archer through the arch. As the captain passed, each rank of soldiers stepped back with right foot and came from 'Arch' to 'Present', blade held at a 45 degree angle, grip level with the chin and about six inches out. As directed, Commander Tucker drew his phase pistol and held it pressed to his chest, hearing the others do so behind him. He led them through and stopped directly before Monec, careful not to move an inch further until he saw what was going to happen on the dais, where even now the Sovereign had led Archer.
They faced one another, and Akir picked up a golden sword, still in its scabbard, from a table beside his throne. "I present to you this blade, once carried by Omar, in hopes of our peaceable conclave."
Archer took the sword by its middle and looked at it with, he hoped, appropriate admiration. He noted that he had not been told by Akir who Omar was, though Monec had already done so. He also noted that Monec had not told him just what he should do with the sword once he got it. He did, however, have a fair clue. "Your Majesty, this is a fine weapon; forged, I perceive, by a master craftsman and wielded with great honor." He extended it back, grip first. "May you ever wield it as such."
The Sovereign drew the blade from the scabbard, and Archer saw in the man's satisfied expression that he had done the right thing. The golden blade glittered in the lights as he held it. "Most noble sir, you are a fine Ambassador for your people, and as such we receive you. Pray be seated, that we may confer as equals." He extended the blade to the right hand throne.
Archer took the offered seat of honor, noting the expressions on the faces of many in the crowd. Most were pleased, but he noticed a few were less than enthusiastic. He knew he had to act with great care.
x
The Sovereign placed the drawn sword and scabbard back on the table between them and sat down. This seemed a signal for the other dignitaries in the room to be seated, leaving only the Honor Guard and the Enterprise crew on their feet. "Commander."
Monec returned his own sword smartly and led the crewmembers to a line before the thrones. As they cleared the lines, at an unheard signal the Guard came to 'carry', closed ranks, left and right faced toward the double doors and marched through them, whereby the inner guard closed them.
"Your Majesty, may I present my Officers?" Archer asked with polite difference. "Chief Engineer Commander Charles Tucker." Trip returned his phase pistol to his hip and saluted smartly, much to Archer's approval. "Tactical Officer Lieutenant Malcolm Reed, Pilot Ensign Travis Mayweather, Communications Officer Ensign Hoshi Sato and Exobiologist Crewwoman Tia Anlor." Each copied Tucker in turn, and then stood waiting at attention. The Sovereign scrutinized them minutely, then addressed Archer.
x
"I am told that you have representatives of many worlds in your crew. Are all these representatives of other worlds?"
"No sir. With the exception of Crewwoman Anlor, all are from Earth. Miss Anlor is from Aura."
He again looked carefully at them. "Of the same world?" Archer gave the countries of origin for each of his people, the Sovereign growing more surprised by the moment. "On our world, only the northern hemisphere is inhabited. We are, therefore, a more homogenized race. Not so, on yours?"
"No. Each of the places I named are separate from the others."
"I am sure the variety has proven very advantageous to all on your world. But do none of you represent the nobility on your planet?" They each deferred, and Archer did not bring up that Anlor had been declared an Ambassador in her own right. This is a time for not introducing complications.
"Then it is with your Captain that I may deal, as representative of your government. Commander, seats for our honored guests." Monec led them to five vacant seats on the right wall, seating Tucker closest to the dais. "Captain, as Ambassador we receive you, and invite you to take full advantage of our hospitality."
"Then, your Majesty, if I may speak freely, I would like to say that while I have been sent by my government in their hope of obtaining a valuable resource from your people, that is the secondary interest. We primarily seek to establish friendly and diplomatic relations with your world, in spite of the … confusion … at the door."
Akir smiled. "Ambassador, I believe you are a man I can deal with. I think you would be surprised how many simply let that pass."
xx
The preliminary discussions progressed well, primarily as an exchange of information about cultures. They learned that the Beta Aragons were a progressive people with a strong tie to the traditions of their ancestors, something that the crew had picked up on thoroughly. However, there was little talk of negotiations for mineral rights, something that Archer was quite content with. Despite Starfleet's orders, he was more of an explorer, and was perfectly willing to lay the groundwork, and then let others talk about the drilling.
xx
After about an hour, the conclave was adjourned, and the crew invited to join the nobility for dinner after a brief period of refreshment. Commander Monec was detailed to be their guide to the suite which they would use during their stay.
Thus it was that Archer and his crew were walking down a hallway on the second floor of the castle, and were just meters from an intersecting corridor when they heard a piercing shriek! Phase pistols were in hand even before a young woman tumbled across the intersection before them to come up hard against a stone wall. She was disheveled, her long blonde hair wild, and she wore nothing more than a wide band of beige about her chest and another about her hips. She lay stunned on the floor for a moment, and Archer was about to hurry to help her when Monec raised his arm, blocking him.
The woman turned over and looked up at them, extending an imploring hand. "Help me, please!" she cried. Large and small bruises desecrated her almost bare body. She looked down the corridor from whence she had tumbled, flinching when she saw something, crying out to Monec again for help. A large man came up to her, grabbed her long hair and dragged her to her knees as she screamed in agonized terror. "No, please!" She screamed again.
"Let her go." Archer pushed Monec's restraining arm away and stepped forward. The man looked up at him in fury tinged with surprise, while the woman's expression was of pained hope.
"Who the hell are you?" The man, dressed in black pants and white shirt, demanded.
"Captain Jonathan Archer of the Enterprise. Now let her go."
"This is no concern of yours, is it Monec?" Archer was surprised to see the Commander of the Sovereign's own Guard shake his head. The man, his hand still tightly wrapped in the woman's blonde tresses, addressed the Captain. "This wench has stolen, and deserves all she gets."
"I'm no thief," the girl, apparently in her late teens, protested painfully.
"Silence!" The man hit her across the face and she cried out, knocked to the floor where she lay sobbing. Archer was on the man in an instant, turned him sharply and how he ever restrained himself from punching the other he never knew.
"Captain!" Monec called, alarmed. The others readied themselves to support Archer, but the Captain's attention was diverted to Monec. "You do not understand. Do not interfere." Archer returned his attention to the man in his grip.
"I don't like bullies," he said tightly. "Don't touch her again."
"I do what I will with my charge. Now remove your hand or I will remove your arm."
"Captain, please." Monec urged. "You don't understand."
"Then explain it."
x
The man brushed off Archer's grip, grabbed the crying girl by her long hair and yanked her to her feet as she screamed in pain and he dragged her backward by her hair. Blood flowed from her nose, smearing most of the lower half of her face. He pulled her along the corridor to a door at the left and slammed it shut. A moment later there was a piercing shriek and the door shook violently, the scream cut off and then there was silence.
Archer turned on Monec in white fury.
"The girl is guilty, and had a choice. She willingly turned herself over to Strater."
"What crime do you have that justifies this?"
"It is unlikely you will ever be guilty of it."
"That doesn't answer my question."
"I'm afraid it will have to satisfy. Now, if we may, I will escort you to your suite, where you may all retire prior to dinner."
He led them down the corridor, but looks exchanged by the landing party showed that for all of them the taste of this world had soured.