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Chapter 8: No One Likes the Messenger

"I don't like having things kept from me, especially by people I'm trying to help!" Archer knew his voice was straying from the evenly modulated tone he tried to keep when addressing a problem, but his nerves were frayed. The Vulcan seated before him gave no response whatsoever, which did nothing to improve the captain's mood.

This was his last "conference" of the evening—he was beginning to feel like a principal with naughty schoolchildren seated on a bench outside his office, awaiting his reprimands. He had already talked to Strel and Medec earlier, and that had not gone well, not at all. He cast his mind back over the highlights of that delightful chat.

"You can't simply exhume a body…with—without reason, without permission—it's…it's…" Medec's normally pale face had flushed a deep cobalt as he spluttered angrily. Archer had been afraid he was going to have to get Phlox in with a sedative.

"It's being allowed by command of the Andorian Empire," the captain finished for him. "The Andorian Empire" sounded pretty impressive, even if for Archer's purpose it had consisted of one very put-upon bureaucratic records officer who had granted him permission to dig up a citizen of the Empire and conduct an autopsy. "Phlox is already preparing Sickbay and the body should be here within the hour. Then we'll confirm or deny our doctor's initial findings."

"Which are what? That one of us is a cold-blooded killer?" Medec stood abruptly. "This is preposterous, I'm not standing for—"

"Calm yourself," Strel, who had been silent to this point, put a hand over her husband's. She turned to Archer. "Conduct your tests as you see fit. We only want this to be over. Every hour we are here we lose valuable time we could be working in the mines." Despite her neutral voice and reasonable words, her eyes had been cold—that is, until he informed her that production was going to be delayed for quite some time.

"Commanders Tucker and T'Pol have identified several key technical components on your station that they believe were sabotaged. They've been beamed aboard along with several pieces of mining equipment. We'll be taking them apart and analyzing them to find the person responsible for the damages. You may not be mining again for a while."

At this Strel's face went pale and her jaw slack. "You…transported…our equipment…" She seemed unable to finish…indeed, after that revelation she was unable to focus and Archer had dismissed them both only minutes later.

That had been almost an hour ago. Between that talk and this one a great deal had taken place—Phlox reported that Tola's body was now safely in Sickbay, Trip and T'Pol had returned to the ship, and Malcolm and Hoshi had uncovered…something very unexpected. Archer stared once more at the subject of the tactical officer's "very unexpected" news as he sat, motionless.

"You weren't just at P'Jem," Archer spat at the Vulcan. "You helped design it!"

Kovar inclined his head a fraction of an inch—a concession. "Yes, I did. My government came to me and requested my help. I could not refuse."

"You were a spy—and now there's a saboteur and probably a murderer running around that mining facility. You have to know how that looks."

"I would imagine…circumstances do not favor me at the moment."

"You're damn right they don't!" The Vulcan's expression did not changed but he swayed ever so slightly, as though hit by the force of the captain's words. Archer dialed it back a notch, taking a deep breath.

"Captain, whatever you may believe my past dictates about my present actions, I did not interfere with the station, and I certainly did not kill anyone. Vulcans do not—"

"Vulcan's aren't supposed to do a lot of things, but I notice they find loopholes when they need to," Archer cut him off acidly. "Of all the people on that station, you are the only one who has been both an engineer and a spy. Give me one good reason I shouldn't suspect you."

Kovar thought this over for a full minute. "I can't," he finally said. "I can only tell you that I have not harmed anyone or anything since I've been on that station." He spread his hands on the table in front of him and looked the captain squarely in the eye. "But ask yourself this: if I am, as you say, the only person who is both an engineer and a spy—why would I do such a poor job of sabotage? Why would I make it so obvious, and why would I call attention to it?"

Archer had no immediate answer for this, and said so. "I don't know yet," he leaned forward, "but I can assure you that I will." He paced behind the seated Vulcan, obviously pondering something else. "Why did the High Command send you here? Do they know about your past?"

Kovar was silent.

Archer leaned over Kovar's shoulder, facing the young Vulcan's profile. "I could just call them and ask, you know."

Kovar turned his head to look at the captain. "The current government does not know about my involvement at P'Jem. I would…prefer they did not."

"Why is that? How did you get assigned to this project, anyway? Did you have plans to sabotage it from the very beginning? Are you working for someone?"

Kovar seemed almost put-upon, which infuriated Archer. "I did not disrupt the mining operation," he said patiently, "and I am not working for anyone other than the SMP. I thought the project sounded interesting and simply signed up for it."

Archer was suddenly very tired. He could feel a stress headache coming on—the kind that required at least two cups of coffee to quell. "I'm confining you to quarters," he told Kovar. "We'll talk about this more tomorrow."