Chapter 7: These are the Voyages
"Buffy, Trip," Archer said after he arrived on the Enterprise and had been filled in, "doesn't all this strike you two as too many things going wrong?"
"What difference does it make what I think? What do you think?" Tucker said.
Buffy shook her head. "With the fact we're rushing to get this ship ready in three days' time. We have to cut a lot of corners …"
"Things are bound to tangle some—" Tucker added.
"This much?" Archer settled on the edge of his desk. "Doesn't this strike you two as excessive? Something going wrong with almost every shipment of ordnance of any kind? Messages garbled, timelines confused, shipments misdirected—maybe I'm just being overly cautious."
"Paranoid, you mean?"
"I want it to work, Trip, Buffy."
"We know," Buffy said as she smiled at Archer, "John. We all want that. By the way why do we have a Vulcan science officer. I have nothing against them, but I can do the job myself instead of flitting around the bridge because all the positions are taken."
Archer gave them the bald truth by way of an answer. "Since we needed their starcharts to get to Qo'noS."
Tucker rolled his eyes. "So we get a few maps ... and they get to put a spy on our ship."
Archer looked away from his exec and chief engineer out the viewport. "Admiral Forrest says we should think of her as more of a chaperone," he attempted.
"I thought the whole point," Tucker rasped, "was to get away from the Vulcans."
"That is the argument, Dawn and I made," Buffy said.
"Four days there, four days back, then she's gone. In the meantime, we're to extend her every courtesy," Archer said.
Trip Tucker groaned low in his chest. "I dunno ... I'd be more comfortable with Buffy here in that position. She's earned it and more. It surprises me that it took this long for Starfleet to give her and Dawn a commission."
Before Archer had a chance to respond to Tucker's comment the door chimed. "Here we go," he said, "come in."
The Vulcan in question walked into the room wearing a Vulcan commissar's uniform.
She offered Tucker and Buffy not so much as an elevator glance, and handed a padd to Archer. "This confirms that I was formally transferred to your command at 0800 hours. Reporting for duty."
Archer took the padd and gave it a cursory once-over, before handing it over to Buffy who did the same. He looked at T'Pol, her nose was wrinkled, her neck stiff, and her eyes shifting back from a brief shot around the room. "Is there a problem?" he asked.
"No, sir," she responded
"Oh, I forgot." He glanced at Tucker and Buffy, then over to the couch, where his dog, Porthos, lay sleeping with three of four paws in the air and his snout off the edge of the cushion. "Vulcan females have a heightened sense of smell ... I hope Porthos isn't too offensive to you."
"I've been trained to tolerate offensive situations," T'Pol announced.
Tucker perked up. "I took a shower this morning ... how 'bout you, Captain, Commander?"
T'Pol eyed Tucker, and held her breath as long as she could.
"I'm sorry," Archer began, pausing just long enough for her to think he might be apologizing for stinkiness. "This is Commander Charles Tucker the Third and Commander Buffy Summers. Sub-Commander T'Pol."
Tucker jabbed his hand out toward her. "Trip. I'm called Trip."
T'Pol took a slight breath. "I'll try to remember that. While you may not share our enthusiasm for this mission, I expect you to follow our rules. What's said in this room and out on that bridge is privileged information. I don't want every word I say being picked apart the next day by Vulcan High Command."
With that last sentence she looked straight at Buffy, she did not know who the woman was or why Soval had taken a liking to her and Dawn. But T'Pol knew that the pair might say something in idle conversation to Soval as one friend to another.
"You have nothing to worry about," Buffy said. "On this ship I am an officer just as you are. Mine and Dawn's friendship with Soval will have no bearing here."
T'Pol nodded. "My superiors simply asked me to assist you."
"Your superiors don't think we can flush a toilet without one of you to assist us," Tucker said.
"I didn't request this assignment, Captain," she went on, "and you can be certain that, when this mission's over, I'll be as pleased to leave this ship as you'll be to have me go."
She flinched suddenly. Porthos had moved off the couch and was at her leg, sniffing her knee.
"If there's nothing else ..." she said stoically.
"Porthos!" Archer scolded—but he had waited five seconds longer than he would have with anyone else on the business end of that soppy nose.
The dog cast him a glance, and then moved back to his couch.
"That'll be all," Archer said.
T'Pol seemed for a moment to be unsure whether he was addressing her or the beagle. Then she turned and left the ready room, heading to the bridge.
The door slid shut. The ready room fell to silence, except for the faint whirring of the vents with a gush of fresh air. When Archer turned, Tucker was watching the vent port with an accusatory glower.
"What do you both think?" Archer asked.
"I think I ought to lube that fan."
"About her, Trip. What do you two think about T'Pol?"
"You know me, John. Just because I like Soval a little. Doesn't mean I like her," Buffy said. "But that can change. But I doubt she likes us anymore than we like her."
"What Buffy said," Tucker agreed.
"You think she's really a spy?" he asked.
"Probably," Tucker said. "If you think she's not going to go back to whomever and tell them how we handled ourselves, then you're more naive than I know."
"It is very possible she will report to Vulcan High Command," Buffy agreed. "That is where her loyalties lie. She won't botch the mission, but she might just make sure we're held back for another hundred years if we botch the mission."
"It's not enough of a mission to botch," Archer agreed. "We're delivering a guy from here to someplace else. Returning a Klingon national to his home space. It's a gesture of good will, and also to show what we can damned well do on our own, with or without anybody else's favors." He reached down to scratch Porthos on the top of his head, in the little bump where the dog brain was kept, and wished himself the same kind of peace. "The Vulcans may be queasy about helping us, but I honestly don't think they're out to hurt us. I don't think they'd actively wreck our advancement, once we prove we can get there—"
"Maybe you're naive after all," Tucker interrupted. "How many times have you heard them say how we're 'not ready' to go out into the galaxy, or how they're waiting for us to 'prove we're worthy' of the company of others, and all? What if they don't think we're 'worthy' yet and they decide to slow us down some for our own good? I mean, John, I'd be lying if I told you that woman doesn't make me nervous, being here all of a sudden, out of nowhere. Serving as a senior officer! Why would she have to be a senior officer if they just want to keep an eye on us? Don't think there's nothing to that. I'd be peekin' over my shoulder if I was you."
Archer's expression changed. He felt his face grow tense. "Is that a serious recommendation? You think my life could be in danger?"
"With her in that position and the Vulcans thinking we're bad news, hell, yes. Vulcans can be just as devious as anybody, and you'd have to be a sponge to think they couldn't."
"Trip's right," Buffy agreed. "Just because Vulcans suppress their emotions, doesn't mean they don't have them or even in reality feel them."
Archer nodded charitably. "Any intelligent being can deceive. It goes with the braincase. Sue me if I'd rather think better of them till proven otherwise."
"Not me. I'll look over your shoulder for you," Tucker said.
"But if we don't give them the benefit of the doubt, then we're doing to them what they do to us, always assuming the worst. I'm not ready to do that yet."
"Guess I'm not as nice as you." Tucker shook his head. "You don't know her, John."
"True, we don't know her," Buffy said. "But she does not know us either."
With a sigh, Tucker indulged in a grim, daring smile. "Not yet."
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
Buffy and Dawn sat next to Archer and others of his command staff on the spacedock observation deck. The space was awash with dignitaries, invited guests, officers, ambassadors, muckety-mucks, and would-bes. Starfleet brass rubbed elbows with Vulcan emissaries, clusters of pundits, powergrabbers, and publicity wonks, all here on a day's notice. Some showed obvious signs of jet lag and more than a little confusion at the sudden acceleration of launch.
Admiral Forrest was speaking already, even though not everyone was seated yet. They were really hurrying this along.
Archer glanced at Buffy, Dawn, Tucker, Reed, Mayweather, and Hoshi and the Vulcan, T'Pol.
"When Zephram Cochrane made his legendary warp flight ninety years ago," the admiral was saying, "and drew the attention of our new friends, the Vulcans, we realized that we weren't alone in the galaxy."
The crowd obliged with applause, stretching moments into minutes.
"Today," continued Forrest, "we're about to cross a new threshold. For nearly a century, we've waded ankle-deep in the ocean of space. Now it's finally time to swim. The warp five engine wouldn't be a reality without men like Dr. Cochrane and Henry Archer, who worked so hard to develop it. So it's only fitting that Henry's son, Jonathan Archer, will command the first starship powered by that engine."
Archer looked at Buffy and Dawn and leaned in to whisper to them. "History always seems to forget you two have been a part of this from the beginning."
"We know," Dawn whispered back. "But that is the way we want it. The only reason you even know we've been a part of it from the beginning is because you met us when you were seven."
Forrest nodded to Archer. The crowd applauded as Archer, Buffy, Dawn and the rest of the command staff stood up and moved away from their seats.
Archer led his crew toward a set of doors while the admiral kept talking.
"Rather than quoting Dr. Cochrane, I think we should listen to his own words from the dedication ceremony for the Warp Five Complex, thirty-two years ago. ..."
A large screen took over the crowd's attention as it came alive with archival footage of a very elderly Zephram Cochrane giving a speech in front of a throng of scientists, including Henry Archer, a seven year old Jonathan Archer, Buffy and Dawn, a long time ago.
"On this site," the crotchety Cochrane began, "a powerful engine will be built. An engine that will someday let us travel a hundred times faster than we can today. ..."
Archer led his crew through the breezeway to the airlock attached directly to the ship. As they moved, the speech was piped through to the bridge.
The bridge was a compact command center, austere and spartan, mostly steel-walled, with a source of light from hidden panels overhead. There were no carpets or amenities, just various stations with bucket seats, and a maze of gauges, dials, and little scanner screens. In the middle was the captain's chair, to which Archer dutifully moved while the universe watched.
"Imagine it," Cochrane's voice thrummed. "Thousands of inhabited planets at our fingertips ... And we'll be able to explore those strange new worlds, and seek out new life, new civilizations. ... This engine will let us go boldly where no man has gone before."
Barely conscious of it, Archer noticed his own lips moving to the words. He stopped and cleared his throat. Everybody was waiting for him now.
"Number one," Archer said with a glance at Buffy
"Detach mooring umbilicals and gravitational supports," Buffy ordered. "Retract the airlock and disengage us from the Spacedock. Confirm all break-offs. Impulse drive, stand by."
"Impulse drive standing by, ma'am," Mayweather responded. "All sublight motive power systems ready."
"We really should think about finding me a place to sit," Buffy whispered to Archer.
Archer looked up at Buffy and smiled remembering when he had first seen her and Dawn, when Cochrane had made the speech they now heard from the speakers. "And last I checked you and Dawn were the ones who couldn't die."
"True," Buffy replied. "Doesn't mean I want to be jostled about either."
"Point taken," Archer said as he leaned forward in the command chair.
Dawn sat at the engineering console and looked at Tucker who was on the tie-in screen. She smiled as he stood before the throbbing warp core, looking like an eaglet about to fledge. And she thought back to Zefram after the Phoenix's maiden voyage.
"Take her out," Archer said. "Straight and steady, Mr. Mayweather."
"Ladies and gentlemen," Admiral Forrest's voice overlaid Archer's words. "Starfleet proudly presents to the galaxy ... the faster-than-light long-range cruiser, Enterprise!"
Applause rang and rang in their ears. A shiver went down their arms.
The lean and masculine ship, rugged in construction and blatantly field-ready, undecorated and proud of it, began to move slowly forward, throbbing with power to her innermost bones. Spacedock peeled back from the ship.
"How're we doing, Trip?" Dawn asked sensing that Archer wanted to know.
Behind Tucker's voice, the warp engines pulsed at full power. "Ready when you are," he responded. Sounded both excited and nervous.
"Prepare for warp. Mayweather, lay in a course," Archer said, and glanced at T'Pol. "Plot with the Vulcan star charts ... direct course to the planet Qo'noS."
Mayweather's eyes flicked toward T'Pol, but he studiously managed not to look at her. He worked his navigational controls, which only now, as they cleared the solar system, received clearance from the access-classified star charts brought by their new science officer.
"Course laid in, sir. Request permission to get underway?" Mayweather looked at Archer.
Archer looked at T'Pol and asked silently for confirmation of the course.
She sensed his eyes and looked up. "The coordinates are off by point two degrees."
Mayweather glanced at her, embarrassed and angry.
But Archer wasn't about to let her spoil the moment. "Thank you," he said quickly, and looked up at Buffy. "Number one."
"On behalf of mine and Dawn's grandmothers who helped Cochrane build the Phoenix. I'd like to say this. May the wind be at our backs. Engage, Mr. Mayweather."
"Warp power," Mayweather uttered aloud, though he didn't have to. "Warp factor one ..."
The ship surged physically. There was a snap of light, and the crescent of Earth was left behind as if by magical invocation. The whole solar system was suddenly no more than a whim.
"Warp one accomplished," Mayweather confirmed.
Archer made eye contact with everyone around him ... first Buffy, then Dawn, then T'Pol, then Reed and finally Hoshi.
Archer smiled, then looked at Dawn's station and in particular the screen that showed Tucker shepherding the engines. "Trip? You okay?"
"Ready and willing," Tucker responded, but never looked away from the glowing warp core.
Archer looked up at Buffy who nodded. "Go to warp factor two," she said.
"Warp two," Mayweather choked.
Another flash, another surge, and the ship shouldered into a multiplicity of speed. Stars blurred. Space itself began to bend to the ship's will.
"Warp two accomplished, ma'am."
"I like the feeling," Archer offered. "Everybody stable? No jumps in the readings?"
No one spoke up.
"Warp factor three," Buffy said.
Though Mayweather didn't respond, his hands worked on the helm. Another flash. The surge this time was smoother, and in a moment they had made warp three.
"Good," Archer commented. "Everybody take a breath. Check your stations. Hoshi, do a ship wide sweep."
"Shipwide, aye," Hoshi responded, her voice tight. She was terrified. Giving her something to do was sound operational practice.
"Let's have warp four, helm," Archer said.
Somebody gasped.
"Respond to me, Travis," Archer steadily insisted.
"Oh ... yes, sir. Warp factor four, aye. Sorry."
"No problem at all. Doing fine. Feels pretty good, actually. Hear that warp hum? I like that."
"Warp factor four," Mayweather uttered, "accomplished, Captain. All systems report stable. Helm is steady."
"Trip?" Dawn asked.
On the engineering monitor, Tucker finally turned to meet Dawn's gaze. "We're all-go down here, Dawn. Flow over the dilithium crystals is even. No flux on the power ratios. She looks good."
"Trip reports all good," Dawn relayed to Archer.
"Congratulations, Trip ... everybody. Let's cruise at warp four for a while and see how she does. All hands, standard watch rotation for the next twenty-two hours. T'Pol, how would you like to try the con on for size?"
T\Pol looked up, startled. Clearly she hadn't expected to take command at all.
Archer looked up at Buffy. "That's assuming you have no objections, Commander."
"None," Buffy replied as Archer stood up, offering T'Pol the hot seat.
T'Pol's eyes narrowed. She sensed a trap. Perhaps it was. Under the cloying eyes of the crew, she stood up and moved to the center of the bridge and took the command chair. What choice did she have?
"Good," he said. "Why don't you join me, Buffy and Dawn for dinner at change of watch? We can all get to know each other. Put the crew at ease, if nothing else."
She eyed him. "Thank you," she said.
Choreographing his movements carefully, Archer stepped away from the center followed by Buffy and they moved to the exit hatchway where Dawn joined them. They paused before leaving the bridge, turned, and looked at the expanse of space spilling out before the newest Earth ship, named Enterprise, as she flashed along on her invisible racetrack.
"We made it, Dad," Archer said as the door slid shut behind him, Buffy and Dawn. "Couldn't have done it without him and the two of you."