Chapter Seventeen
Author's Note: Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa, I'm sorry this is sooooo late, but my installation of Word crashed and I wasn't very happy with it. Again, may I extend kudos to my super-excellent reviewers, without whom this wouldn't
be nearly as fun. Without further ado...
"Shove 'em up. yeah, like that" Trip was taking advantage of the opportunity to instruct a Vulcan in the delicate art of adjusting eyeglasses.
Apparently her retinas had been damaged in the blast. It wasn't severe, easily repaired with some basic surgery. The problem was that Doctor Phlox didn't have the equipment aboard Enterprise to perform an optometric procedure. Neither did he want to risk botching the process by using instruments not designed for the purpose.
An elegant solution presented itself, actually from Mr. Tucker's corner. He suggested the use of transparisteel lenses set in a titanium frame as a temporary corrective measure. He easily had the machining equipment to adjust the concavity of the lens to compensate for her retinal imperfections.
"You look like my third grade teacher" he observed, smothering laughter, "Good 'ol Miss Penny, she'd look down them spectacles of hers and man you stopped whatever you'd been up to"
"Well. how do they fit Sub-Commander?" The Doctor was a little better at concealing his amusement at her expense, but not much.
"They are quite satisfactory, thank you Mr. Tucker." She slid of the bio- bed, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirrored finish of the computer display. The frames accentuated her face nicely, but still gave a studious, somewhat severe look to her face.
"You look fine," Jon took her arm reflexively, having become used to the need to escort her around, "C'mon let's go deal with your Vulcans, I'm Ambassador V'Lar is anxious to speak with us again."
"We have corresponded regularly since the incident with the Mazarites, she is a remarkable person." T'Pol felt the urge to defend her old hero.
"I know, but with the situation brewing with the Andorians the way it is, I really don't want to have to play referee between you two again" News of Enterprise's actions had spread quickly thanks to the Betazed cargo ships, representatives from the Vulcans, Andorians, every imaginable species were on their way at high warp to the old Orion space base.
"The Ambassador was the original negotiator between the Andorians and the Vulcans in the first territorial accords, I'm sure she can handle the situation without prejudice"
"I'm sure she can," Jon acknowledged, "But don't make me remind you about the ah, success of those territorial accords."
"The situation is under control," T'Pol said, somewhat defensively.
"And Ambassador Soval got shot to make that happen," he observed, "I'm just. not comfortable having this many species in one place."
"There is little we can do but endure the company," T'Pol observed, as the walked towards the airlock, "It will be dangerous, the Andorians aren't the only species that are . less than hospitable"
"Well we got ourselves into it" Jon paused as T'Pol worked the controls, "Speaking of which, how is Chief Spencer doing?"
"He is alive," T'Pol observed, "The Doctor does not, however, have the rehab facilities to nurse him back to his full capacity, if indeed it can be achieved."
"Damn" Jon sighed, they'd found Chief Spencer in what passed for the medical facility in the base, he'd apparently resisted. What they carted out of the med bay hadn't been pretty but the Doc had been working his magic on the Chief.
"I would recommend he be removed to Earth as quickly as possible and replacement crew sought" T'Pol let the airlock doors hiss and equalise, "For his benefit as well as the crew"
He understood her concern, having a visible, physical reminder of just how dangerous their job was wouldn't be good for morale, not to mention he owed the Chief the best medical care available.
"Where's the closest Starfleet vessel?"
"Nearly thirty light years, a science vessel, the Colombia"
"Maximum warp?"
"One point eight"
"Think of something T'Pol" he ordered sharply, she simply nodded. The Vulcan side of the hatch slid open soundlessly.
"Good afternoon Captain" the aged visage of Ambassador V'Lar greeted him warmly, "It is good to see you again"
He took her prominently offered hand with a smile, "It's good to be here"
"And T'Pol" they exchanged a warm, but formal greeting in Vulcan, "I'm sorry it had to be this situation that brings me back out to your vessel"
"It is as well as can be expected" they turned in the narrow space and first the Ambassador, then T'Pol and finally the Captain crossed the threshold onto the Vulcan ship, Sha'Ran.
As he stepped onto the Vulcan deck plates Jon's boots clunked unsteadily, like the mag-locks on an EV suit. He was hit by a sheer, hot wash of air. He gritted his teeth as he remembered; Vulcan was a high g, low oxygen environment. T'Pol showed no sign of discomfort, neither did the Ambassador, but Jon knew that if the environmental controls were set to Vulcan normal he was in for a fun day.
"I have someone here, that I believe is anxious to see you again T'Pol" the Ambassador teased, or at least it sounded like it, Vulcan teasing was subtle at best, "T'Lar's brother, Skon."
"Skon?" T'Pol actually slowed her pace, "I haven't been to that part of Vulcan in. many years. How has he been?"
"He is my assistant Vice-Consul and a very fair job of it he does"
"I would expect nothing less of the head of House Sarek" T'Pol countered, sounding very amused.
"Just as he would expect nothing but trouble from a daughter of Te-Vickram, I suppose?"
"Te-Vickram?" Jon was hopelessly lost, Vulcan gossip was not his forte.
"You didn't know?" Ambassador V'Lar slowed, sounding somewhat surprised, "Your science officer is one of a notorious House. The Warrior Priests of Te'Vickram are infamous for their. unconventional attitudes."
"The Ambassador is being kind," T'Pol said softly, "What my house is legendary for is its history of violence and illogical behaviour."
"That was millennia ago," V'Lar observed, "You're more . liberal than many of the larger Houses, but that's no shame, healthy debate is the cornerstone of any democracy"
Jon was fascinated by all of this, he really was, but the pace T'Pol and the Ambassador were setting was much too swift for a human in a Vulcan environment. He was beginning to feel a little light-headed and his boots felt full of lead. Fortunately enough they'd just reached a Vulcan turbolift and he had the opportunity to rest for a sec.
When they'd finally reached the 'conference' room, he was glad, sweat was beginning to bead heavily on his face from the heat and his legs had gone rubbery. How the hell had T'Pol lived seventy some odd years in this, it was like a frickin' oven, not to mention the lack of air, and the high g, he was mortally afraid he'd pass out in the middle of negotiations and do even more irreparable harm to Human-Vulcan relations.
"T'Pol.." The voice was deep and low, it came from a Vulcan he'd overlooked in his haste to sit down.
"Skon." she acknowledged, he was tall, tall even for his people, and dark. Young too, he couldn't have been a day under sixty. He had the bulkiest physique he'd seen on a Vulcan, thought that wasn't saying much, and a heavy forehead ridge.
"Greetings" he bowed, deeply, and just to her, "T'Lar also sends her salutations, I trust you've heard she's entered the temple at Gol."
"Greetings," her voice was a shade too familiar for Jon's taste, "It has been far too long since I visited the house of Sarek, give your sister my warmest regards, and yes we've been in close correspondence for many years, I am. gratified to learn of her dedication."
"And now that the pleasantries are over, Captain, Sub-Commander, I believe we must attend the situation at hand" Ambassador V'Lar sat as well, at the position across from Jon. T'Pol took her customary place at his side and Skon on the side opposite her, next to the Ambassador.
"Once again, you seem a knack for upsetting the Vulcan High Command, Captain Archer"
"Don't tell me they're going to demand we be recalled. again" he sounded more than a little frustrated and slightly out of breath.
"Nothing that drastic I assure you," the melodiously deep voice of V'Lar's assistant responded, "Even the High Command wouldn't be able to garner enough support, the Orion's aren't exactly popular among our people. However the phrase, 'wild and reckless abandon' I believe was used on several instances"
"They abducted a member of my crew" he gasped a little after that statement, T'Pol was distracted enough by her own thoughts not to notice, but the Ambassador took note.
"Are you feeling alright Captain," she asked, noting his sweating face and pale pallor.
"It's a little toasty for my comfort level Ambassador," he admitted, that was the biggest understatement he'd ever made; he was rapidly getting light headed and was starting to feel woozy. Maybe a Vulcan environment wasn't exactly his cup of tea.
T'Pol turned in her chair to look him directly in the eyes, under the table her shoe hooked around his ankle, giving them the necessary physical contact. What he felt then was a curious sensation, it was like getting patted down form the inside out, it wasn't painful but it was . different.
"I'm taking you to sickbay" she said in a voice that brooked no argument. He tried to voice a protest; it died at the expression in her eyes.
It was fortunate too; because he needed support just to get there, his legs went to rubber as soon as he stood. T'Pol, surprisingly didn't put herself under his arm, she gestured to Skon, the bulky Vulcan actually staggered a bit under his weight.
In sickbay the Vulcan doctor gave him a canister of oxygen and a mask; he looked a little perplexed, but as T'Pol explained what was going on, understanding dawned. Jon heard the words 'altitude sickness' and 'anoxia'.
Jon'd reacted to the low oxygen environment just like a man who'd spent all his life at sea level, then tried to run a marathon at high elevation. It was certainly possible for a human to live in a Vulcan environment; he just wasn't acclimated to it.
"Captain, on behalf of the entire crew, I apologise most profusely," V'Lar fussed over him like a mother hen, "I didn't even think about the difference between your atmosphere and ours. We usually have the opportunity to recycle the air before our guests pass out."
"It's alright," he smiled, trying to reassure her, but his attention was caught by Skon, who'd taken T'Pol's arm and dragged her off to a corner of the med bay. They seemed to be in a very. heated conversation.
"Here," the Doctor was a female Vulcan, older than T'Pol, with the classical Vulcan features, aquiline nose, prominent brow, and short, slanted brows. "A Tri-oxygenated compound should alleviate the symptoms until you acclimate to the environment."
"Thanks" she took back the oxygen mask, and he started breathing slowly and deeply, the injection seemed to be working.
"Come Captain, let us go back to the Enterprise," V'Lar stepped back while he slid off the bio bed, "It's inexcusably rude of me to not think of your comfort. Then we can discuss the Andorians and the Orion situation."
"Really, that's." he trailed off as T'Pol and Skon seemingly aware of his scrutiny, broke away from their 'discussion' and left the medical bay.
"Ah, yes," V'Lar's voice held a note of almost warmth, "I didn't realise the two of them were so closely acquainted, I believe.. oh, what is that human expression. yes; they have a great deal of catching up to do"
"I'm sure they do," he murmured, and allowed the Ambassador to lead him back to the airlock.
Author's Note: Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa, I'm sorry this is sooooo late, but my installation of Word crashed and I wasn't very happy with it. Again, may I extend kudos to my super-excellent reviewers, without whom this wouldn't
be nearly as fun. Without further ado...
"Shove 'em up. yeah, like that" Trip was taking advantage of the opportunity to instruct a Vulcan in the delicate art of adjusting eyeglasses.
Apparently her retinas had been damaged in the blast. It wasn't severe, easily repaired with some basic surgery. The problem was that Doctor Phlox didn't have the equipment aboard Enterprise to perform an optometric procedure. Neither did he want to risk botching the process by using instruments not designed for the purpose.
An elegant solution presented itself, actually from Mr. Tucker's corner. He suggested the use of transparisteel lenses set in a titanium frame as a temporary corrective measure. He easily had the machining equipment to adjust the concavity of the lens to compensate for her retinal imperfections.
"You look like my third grade teacher" he observed, smothering laughter, "Good 'ol Miss Penny, she'd look down them spectacles of hers and man you stopped whatever you'd been up to"
"Well. how do they fit Sub-Commander?" The Doctor was a little better at concealing his amusement at her expense, but not much.
"They are quite satisfactory, thank you Mr. Tucker." She slid of the bio- bed, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirrored finish of the computer display. The frames accentuated her face nicely, but still gave a studious, somewhat severe look to her face.
"You look fine," Jon took her arm reflexively, having become used to the need to escort her around, "C'mon let's go deal with your Vulcans, I'm Ambassador V'Lar is anxious to speak with us again."
"We have corresponded regularly since the incident with the Mazarites, she is a remarkable person." T'Pol felt the urge to defend her old hero.
"I know, but with the situation brewing with the Andorians the way it is, I really don't want to have to play referee between you two again" News of Enterprise's actions had spread quickly thanks to the Betazed cargo ships, representatives from the Vulcans, Andorians, every imaginable species were on their way at high warp to the old Orion space base.
"The Ambassador was the original negotiator between the Andorians and the Vulcans in the first territorial accords, I'm sure she can handle the situation without prejudice"
"I'm sure she can," Jon acknowledged, "But don't make me remind you about the ah, success of those territorial accords."
"The situation is under control," T'Pol said, somewhat defensively.
"And Ambassador Soval got shot to make that happen," he observed, "I'm just. not comfortable having this many species in one place."
"There is little we can do but endure the company," T'Pol observed, as the walked towards the airlock, "It will be dangerous, the Andorians aren't the only species that are . less than hospitable"
"Well we got ourselves into it" Jon paused as T'Pol worked the controls, "Speaking of which, how is Chief Spencer doing?"
"He is alive," T'Pol observed, "The Doctor does not, however, have the rehab facilities to nurse him back to his full capacity, if indeed it can be achieved."
"Damn" Jon sighed, they'd found Chief Spencer in what passed for the medical facility in the base, he'd apparently resisted. What they carted out of the med bay hadn't been pretty but the Doc had been working his magic on the Chief.
"I would recommend he be removed to Earth as quickly as possible and replacement crew sought" T'Pol let the airlock doors hiss and equalise, "For his benefit as well as the crew"
He understood her concern, having a visible, physical reminder of just how dangerous their job was wouldn't be good for morale, not to mention he owed the Chief the best medical care available.
"Where's the closest Starfleet vessel?"
"Nearly thirty light years, a science vessel, the Colombia"
"Maximum warp?"
"One point eight"
"Think of something T'Pol" he ordered sharply, she simply nodded. The Vulcan side of the hatch slid open soundlessly.
"Good afternoon Captain" the aged visage of Ambassador V'Lar greeted him warmly, "It is good to see you again"
He took her prominently offered hand with a smile, "It's good to be here"
"And T'Pol" they exchanged a warm, but formal greeting in Vulcan, "I'm sorry it had to be this situation that brings me back out to your vessel"
"It is as well as can be expected" they turned in the narrow space and first the Ambassador, then T'Pol and finally the Captain crossed the threshold onto the Vulcan ship, Sha'Ran.
As he stepped onto the Vulcan deck plates Jon's boots clunked unsteadily, like the mag-locks on an EV suit. He was hit by a sheer, hot wash of air. He gritted his teeth as he remembered; Vulcan was a high g, low oxygen environment. T'Pol showed no sign of discomfort, neither did the Ambassador, but Jon knew that if the environmental controls were set to Vulcan normal he was in for a fun day.
"I have someone here, that I believe is anxious to see you again T'Pol" the Ambassador teased, or at least it sounded like it, Vulcan teasing was subtle at best, "T'Lar's brother, Skon."
"Skon?" T'Pol actually slowed her pace, "I haven't been to that part of Vulcan in. many years. How has he been?"
"He is my assistant Vice-Consul and a very fair job of it he does"
"I would expect nothing less of the head of House Sarek" T'Pol countered, sounding very amused.
"Just as he would expect nothing but trouble from a daughter of Te-Vickram, I suppose?"
"Te-Vickram?" Jon was hopelessly lost, Vulcan gossip was not his forte.
"You didn't know?" Ambassador V'Lar slowed, sounding somewhat surprised, "Your science officer is one of a notorious House. The Warrior Priests of Te'Vickram are infamous for their. unconventional attitudes."
"The Ambassador is being kind," T'Pol said softly, "What my house is legendary for is its history of violence and illogical behaviour."
"That was millennia ago," V'Lar observed, "You're more . liberal than many of the larger Houses, but that's no shame, healthy debate is the cornerstone of any democracy"
Jon was fascinated by all of this, he really was, but the pace T'Pol and the Ambassador were setting was much too swift for a human in a Vulcan environment. He was beginning to feel a little light-headed and his boots felt full of lead. Fortunately enough they'd just reached a Vulcan turbolift and he had the opportunity to rest for a sec.
When they'd finally reached the 'conference' room, he was glad, sweat was beginning to bead heavily on his face from the heat and his legs had gone rubbery. How the hell had T'Pol lived seventy some odd years in this, it was like a frickin' oven, not to mention the lack of air, and the high g, he was mortally afraid he'd pass out in the middle of negotiations and do even more irreparable harm to Human-Vulcan relations.
"T'Pol.." The voice was deep and low, it came from a Vulcan he'd overlooked in his haste to sit down.
"Skon." she acknowledged, he was tall, tall even for his people, and dark. Young too, he couldn't have been a day under sixty. He had the bulkiest physique he'd seen on a Vulcan, thought that wasn't saying much, and a heavy forehead ridge.
"Greetings" he bowed, deeply, and just to her, "T'Lar also sends her salutations, I trust you've heard she's entered the temple at Gol."
"Greetings," her voice was a shade too familiar for Jon's taste, "It has been far too long since I visited the house of Sarek, give your sister my warmest regards, and yes we've been in close correspondence for many years, I am. gratified to learn of her dedication."
"And now that the pleasantries are over, Captain, Sub-Commander, I believe we must attend the situation at hand" Ambassador V'Lar sat as well, at the position across from Jon. T'Pol took her customary place at his side and Skon on the side opposite her, next to the Ambassador.
"Once again, you seem a knack for upsetting the Vulcan High Command, Captain Archer"
"Don't tell me they're going to demand we be recalled. again" he sounded more than a little frustrated and slightly out of breath.
"Nothing that drastic I assure you," the melodiously deep voice of V'Lar's assistant responded, "Even the High Command wouldn't be able to garner enough support, the Orion's aren't exactly popular among our people. However the phrase, 'wild and reckless abandon' I believe was used on several instances"
"They abducted a member of my crew" he gasped a little after that statement, T'Pol was distracted enough by her own thoughts not to notice, but the Ambassador took note.
"Are you feeling alright Captain," she asked, noting his sweating face and pale pallor.
"It's a little toasty for my comfort level Ambassador," he admitted, that was the biggest understatement he'd ever made; he was rapidly getting light headed and was starting to feel woozy. Maybe a Vulcan environment wasn't exactly his cup of tea.
T'Pol turned in her chair to look him directly in the eyes, under the table her shoe hooked around his ankle, giving them the necessary physical contact. What he felt then was a curious sensation, it was like getting patted down form the inside out, it wasn't painful but it was . different.
"I'm taking you to sickbay" she said in a voice that brooked no argument. He tried to voice a protest; it died at the expression in her eyes.
It was fortunate too; because he needed support just to get there, his legs went to rubber as soon as he stood. T'Pol, surprisingly didn't put herself under his arm, she gestured to Skon, the bulky Vulcan actually staggered a bit under his weight.
In sickbay the Vulcan doctor gave him a canister of oxygen and a mask; he looked a little perplexed, but as T'Pol explained what was going on, understanding dawned. Jon heard the words 'altitude sickness' and 'anoxia'.
Jon'd reacted to the low oxygen environment just like a man who'd spent all his life at sea level, then tried to run a marathon at high elevation. It was certainly possible for a human to live in a Vulcan environment; he just wasn't acclimated to it.
"Captain, on behalf of the entire crew, I apologise most profusely," V'Lar fussed over him like a mother hen, "I didn't even think about the difference between your atmosphere and ours. We usually have the opportunity to recycle the air before our guests pass out."
"It's alright," he smiled, trying to reassure her, but his attention was caught by Skon, who'd taken T'Pol's arm and dragged her off to a corner of the med bay. They seemed to be in a very. heated conversation.
"Here," the Doctor was a female Vulcan, older than T'Pol, with the classical Vulcan features, aquiline nose, prominent brow, and short, slanted brows. "A Tri-oxygenated compound should alleviate the symptoms until you acclimate to the environment."
"Thanks" she took back the oxygen mask, and he started breathing slowly and deeply, the injection seemed to be working.
"Come Captain, let us go back to the Enterprise," V'Lar stepped back while he slid off the bio bed, "It's inexcusably rude of me to not think of your comfort. Then we can discuss the Andorians and the Orion situation."
"Really, that's." he trailed off as T'Pol and Skon seemingly aware of his scrutiny, broke away from their 'discussion' and left the medical bay.
"Ah, yes," V'Lar's voice held a note of almost warmth, "I didn't realise the two of them were so closely acquainted, I believe.. oh, what is that human expression. yes; they have a great deal of catching up to do"
"I'm sure they do," he murmured, and allowed the Ambassador to lead him back to the airlock.