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Chapter 10: Sabotage Loves Company

Kovar didn't look very comfortable, T'Pol reflected. But then, he was Vulcan, and Vulcans prided themselves on being able to endure physical discomforts through a number of effective mental disassociation techniques. No, she decided, she would not shift her weight in order to ease the pressure on his lower back.

Pinned somewhat pathetically to the floor of her cabin, Kovar had been attempting to explain his presence there and his decision to violate Captain Archer's orders that he be confined.

"I wished to explain about P'Jem," he was saying with some difficulty. T'Pol wasn't sure if the difficulty stemmed from the bare foot she had squarely planted in his spine, the knee that held down his shoulders, or the deck plating he was practically grinding his teeth on.

"You designed the listening station. What else is there to explain on that subject?" She flexed her foot, digging in deeper. "I would like you to explain, however, how you ended up on the Shomar Mining Project and what part you've played in its demise."

He opened his mouth to answer her when all hell broke loose. The ship jerked and rocked, tumbling T'Pol off balance and throwing both of them hard against the far wall of her quarters. T'Pol landed on her bedside table, cracking her skull painfully. For a moment she saw stars and had a delirious moment of thinking it might be the one human figure of speech that was correct when she realized she was looking out her own window—and that the ship had stopped. The lights went out, replaced a moment later by the ship's emergency lighting.

Kovar rolled smoothly to his feet; T'Pol clambered up, readying herself in a defensive posture. To her surprise Kovar simply sat down on her bed. His lip was split and he gingerly dabbed at the green blood clotting there.

Still dizzy, T'Pol warily circled him, moving toward the door. He noticed and stopped dabbing.

"It isn't me," he told her. "You of all people should know that a Vulcan would never do this."

"I would have thought Vulcans would not spy on people we made a peace treaty with—yet you did that."

He looked at her, confused. "You are agitated. I believe you may have suffered a cranial injury and it is affecting your emotional control."

T'Pol's nostrils flared slightly. "I am in perfect control. I merely suggest that Vulcans are capable of many things," she said darkly.

Kovar's shoulders dropped and he stared at his hands for a moment. "Yes, they are. I have found, for example, that although we do not allow ourselves to feel emotions, we may still experience…regret."

T'Pol leaned back against the wall, unsure what she was hearing.

Before Kovar could continue there was a strange fizzing sound followed by a loud pop outside T'Pol's door. Quizzically, both Vulcans watched as the door plate began to slide open, accompanied by a very loud grunt and some softly muttered human swearing. The faint smell of electrical burning told the science officer that the outside door locks had been forcibly overridden by someone.

"Commander!" T'Pol leapt forward to assist him with the door.

"T'Pol!" He burst into the room and grasped her shoulders, looking her over. "Are you okay? Your head!" He turned her head to examine the wound and touched it gently. She hadn't known she was bleeding until his hand came back smeared with green.

She nodded reassuringly anyway. "I'm fine." Her eyes swept over his shoulder to where Kovar still sat on her bed. Trip turned and started, placing himself between Kovar and T'Pol.

"I assure you, I did not come to harm her," Kovar told him, raising his hands.

"What the hell did you do to this ship," Trip growled. "The comm's down and the engines are out." If this Vulcan had tangled with the two things he loved on this ship, T'Pol and the engines, he was going to have a very, very long ride back to the homeworld. Then hopefully the captain would authorize Trip to beam the guy into one of those famous Vulcan volcanoes.

T'Pol placed a hand on Trip's shoulder. "I believe he was just as surprised as I was when the ship came to a halt."

"It could be an act! He's supposed to be confined to quarters, what's he doing here in the first place!"

T'Pol felt his anger like a physical entity and subtly shifted her hand on his shoulder, searching for a neural node to calm him. "He was about to explain that."

Kovar nodded. "Yes, I wanted to tell T'Pol about P'Jem…I see I should tell you as well. Her safety seems paramount to you." He raised one eyebrow and stared out the window at the immobile stars. "When I was young, just starting out as an engineer, I believed my career would span many years and would be spent furthering the advancement of Vulcan. Now I realize what a fragile, naïve dream that was…" Had he been human, Trip was sure, he would have sighed. Being Vulcan, however, his face was devoid of expression.

Kovar continued. "When I helped create that…observation post…at the monastery, I thought I was doing my duty as a citizen of Vulcan. I was hand selected for that position—a young engineer with a bright future, a Vulcan from a good family, a loyal citizen…To be honest it never crossed my mind that the project might be morally questionable. That was far too subjective for my analytical mind to grasp. It was not until later, when I saw the implications of what I had a hand in being realized that I understood what I had done.

"First there were the lies—Andoria wanted to know if Vulcan had built to listening post. We denied it. That made me uncomfortable…I began to question what I had done. The real change came when the Andorians discovered the station, but that story you know of course."

Trip stiffened. "You bet we do," he almost spat. "T'Pol got to be Vulcan's sacrificial lamb for both Vulcan and Andoria."

"Yes, I know," Kovar got up from the bed and moved to the window. "I know. That is what I regret most. I petitioned with the High Command to reveal my part in the charade and was denied. Our government was not ready to be open on that subject."

Trip and T'Pol shot one another startled glances at this revelation. "So they sent you out here, in the middle of nowhere, where you couldn't stir up any trouble?" Trip asked.

Kovar was silent for a moment, considering something before he answered. "Something like that."

"But the government has changed now, you could—"

"Our government may have reorganized itself, Mr. Tucker," Kovar interrupted, "but our new goals of peace with the Andorians and the humans, our ambitions of working together in the future, would not be served by reopening old wounds. No, best to let…what is that phrase? Something about…dogs sleeping?"

"Sleeping dogs lie," Trip and T'Pol supplied in unison.

"Fascinating linguistic devices humans use," the Vulcan shook his head. "Anyway, I came here to apologize, T'Pol. I feel a great deal of responsibility for the troubles you have experienced both on Vulcan and Earth. I wanted you to know that there are many who know you were not to blame for what happened at P'Jem."

Neither Trip nor T'Pol said anything. Both, in fact, seemed too stunned to even move.

"Now," Kovar went on slowly, "I believe I am about to experience some of what you went through, as your captain believes I am a saboteur and even a murderer—"

"The saboteur!" Trip snapped out of his trance and smacked himself in the head. Kovar seemed startled and took a step back. "We're sitting here talking when there's a saboteur loose on the ship! C'mon!" Trip grabbed Kovar and propelled him through th still-open door.

"Where are we going?" T'Pol asked, following him.

"We're bringing him," he thrust a finger at Kovar, "to the captain. You tell him what you just told us. I don't know that I believe all of what you just said, but I think I do. And if you're lying, I'd rather have Malcolm watching over you, just in case."