Chapter Five – Of Definitions and Decisions

Archer was sitting on his bed, trying not to think, when the door chime rang. Porthos didn't stir; a glance at the clock told Archer that it was past two o'clock in the morning. It couldn't be an emergency. The officer of the watch would simply have commed him. Maybe Trip needed some company. He opened the door.

Esilia stood there, unsmiling, stiff. Without preamble, she said, "I would like to speak with you, Captain, please. May I come in?"

The captain glanced back over his shoulder to his dim quarters. Three years ago, he would have courteously, if reluctantly, let a visitor into his cabin, apologizing for his attire, a tee-shirt and pajama bottoms. But Raijin had changed all that. It had taken some doing, but he had finally realized how vulnerable he was, how dangerous it was to have a stranger in his quarters. Phlox and Reed both had security override codes to his door, but, in all reality, if they ever had cause to use them, it would likely be too late to save him.

He held up a hand. "Wait here," he said, backing into the room to grab an overshirt and shove his feet into his track shoes. Stepping into the corridor, he gestured down the hall. "Let's walk."

They strolled in silence through the half-lit corridors for awhile, Esilia matching her steps to the captain's long strides. Neither seemed prepared to broach the uncomfortable subject hanging between them. Eventually, they found themselves in the deserted Crew's Mess, where Archer poured a cup of coffee for himself, and a glass of pineapple juice, to which Esilia had become absolutely addicted, for his guest. Sipping, he leaned forward, elbows on the table. "What's on your mind?"

Esilia's discomfort didn't stop her from looking him straight in the eye. Her steady gaze, with her black eyes, had an unusual effect; Archer felt himself growing very warm. "I'm told I owe you an apology, Captain," she said.

Archer raised an eyebrow in his best Vulcan manner. "Oh?"

"Yes. I spoke with Ensign Sato and Crewman Kelly this morning while we were working on repairs to my ship. I related to them our conversation, the one we had over dinner several nights ago. I was, well, disturbed to discover that I may have embarrassed you with my questions, or even hurt your feelings. For that, I apologize. It was not intentional."

Archer almost couldn't get past the fact that now two of his junior staff were involved in the ongoing discussion about his sex life. Not since he had inadvertently encountered three female crewmembers in the middle of a mid-corridor chat, describing the finer details of his firm tush – complete with hand motions – had he been so mortified. He scrubbed his face with both palms. "You may have noticed that humans are a bit less open regarding certain topics. And it's certainly not considered polite dinner conversation." He sounded like a prude, even to himself.

"I hope this hasn't damaged your professional relationship with Sub-Commander T'Pol or Commander Tucker."

"T'Pol and I resolved this issue a long time ago," Archer answered. "And Trip, well, we've known each other a long time. He gets it."

"Hoshi also told me that you are not of so advanced an age that you cannot still procreate." Archer spat a mouthful of coffee back into his cup and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "She said you probably still possess a healthy sexual drive. I had been under the impression from examining your ship's database regarding human interaction that a person of your advanced age would no longer feel sexual urges."

I think I need that drink now, Archer thought.

Esilia toyed with her glass. "All of the literature seems to indicate that sexual activity occurs between persons in their third or fourth decades."

"What the hell have you been reading?" Archer demanded, thinking Phlox's medical database must really need an overhaul.

"Hoshi gave me some examples. I must say, it's interesting information." She pulled a padd out of her trouser pocket and handed it over.

Archer scrolled through the titles with disbelief. "Passion's Fortune? Starlight Obsession? You're getting your information from bodice-ripper romance novels?" He began to laugh, despite himself. "These aren't exactly encyclopedic."

Esilia chuckled along with him. "I have to say, I had started to wonder about your species. These accounts leave me with many unanswered questions."

If he had thought about it for even one second, he would have avoided the quagmire. But his mouth moved faster than his brain, and before he could call the word back, he had asked, "Like?"

The alien frowned. "Like, the text keeps using the word, 'kiss,' but never defines what it is."

The drink dispenser did not produce alcohol, or else Archer would have sprinted to the machine. He looked desperately around for a distraction, but the room was still empty. He rubbed his cheek. "Well, a kiss is where a person touches his or her lips to another person to show affection. Mothers can kiss children; husbands and wives can kiss. It's very common among most human cultures."

"It is pleasurable?"

Archer sighed. "Yes." And then, as Esilia opened her mouth to continue her line of questioning, some deity somewhere took pity on the poor captain. "Bridge to Captain Archer." He was out of his seat and across the room in a heartbeat. "Archer here."

"Sir," said the watch officer, "we've located the Tanaar."

x x x

There it was, on long range sensors, a massive transport ship. Archer had brought Esilia to the Bridge to identify her ship, and now she stood staring, transfixed, at the viewscreen. Unfortunately, the Tanaar seemed to be in trouble. Five smaller ships surrounded it, and, if the tactical sensors were correct, they were gearing up to fire.

"Those are Wyric ships," Esilia offered tensely. "They are not supposed to be in this sector. They're violating the treaty."

"Set an intercept course," Archer ordered, sliding into the command chair. "When we're in range, open a hailing frequency." He wished Reed and Sato were on the Bridge, but both were off-duty, as was he, technically. By the time Enterprise had covered the several thousand kilometer distance, the smaller ships had begun peppering the Tanaar with very effective phase cannon fire. The larger ship fired back defensively, largely missing the more agile attackers. Ensign Carpenter, covering the tactical station, monitored damage.

As soon as Enterprise was in range, one of the small ships opened fire on her. Enterprise barely rocked, even without the hull plating polarized, but it got Archer's attention. "Tactical Alert," he snapped, and the Bridge dimmed slightly. "Open a channel."

After a moment, the communications officer reported, "Hailing frequencies open, sir."

He took a deep breath. "Tanaar, this is Captain Jonathan Archer of the Starship Enterprise. Do you require assistance?"

A surprised voice answered immediately. "Enterprise, our vessel is under attack. We – "

Two of the smaller ships fired, hitting the Tanaar on the starboard side. The other three wheeled around to harass the newcomer, their shots bouncing almost harmlessly off of the polarized hull. "Their shields are down to twenty percent," Carpenter announced. "No damage to us, yet, though."

From behind him, near the turbo lift doors, Esilia gasped. In full battle mode now, Archer ignored her. "Evasive," he tossed to the helm. "Carpenter, prepare to fire." He walked over to the Communications station and nodded to the crewman there. He mentally crossed his fingers and hoped he wasn't going to pay for his meddling. He also hoped he was picking the right side. "Tanaar, we stand ready to help. Please indicate which ship you would like us to destroy first."

Into the stunned silence came a different voice. "Enterprise, we have no quarrel with you. We do not wish to engage in hostilities with your ship."

"Then I suggest you quit shooting at us and move off. Power down your weapons. Now."

Abruptly, all firing stopped. Carpenter looked up and nodded; all five ships moved into formation and immediately went to warp. Archer let out the breath he'd been holding.

"Tanaar's hailing us," the communications officer said.

"Onscreen."

The female face that appeared bore the same delicate ridge down the nose as Esilia's, but appeared decades older. Any doubt that they had found Esilia's people vanished. "Captain Archer, I'm Captain Leev-Sran of the Ikaaran vessel, Tanaar. I am grateful for your assistance. I'm at a loss, however, as to why you would come to our aid." The eyebrowless forehead wrinkled.

Archer smiled. "Maybe this will clear things up." He turned to look at Esilia, and gestured for her to come around the command chair, closer to the screen. Captain Leev-Sran's eyes widened in shock. "Esilia-lavaoss-saanaa," she said, "how – ?"

"If you would care to come aboard, Captain," Archer said, "I'd be happy to explain it all to you."

x x x

Archer felt terrible for calling T'Pol back to duty before her three days – leave that he had insisted she take – had even begun, but he needed his senior staff with him as he greeted the Ikaraan captain. The First Officer was unfazed; the mere fact that it took less than twenty-four hours for the captain to embroil himself in a conflict between two unknown alien species only solidified her belief that he could not be left to his own devices for long. So she had no complaints about being summoned from her quarters at seven o'clock in the morning to welcome Captain Leev-Sran aboard.

They assembled at Docking Port Two (Docking Port One being already occupied with Esilia's scout ship), Archer, T'Pol, Tucker, Reed, and Sato, and waited for the green light. The airlock scan signalled clear, and the door slid open.

Captain Leev-Sran was taller than Archer by a few inches, and at the same time, more stocky. She gazed at Archer for a moment before cocking her head to the side. "My greetings, Captain Archer. It appears that I have many, many reasons to thank you."

Archer offered his hand, which, after a pause, Leev-Sran took and pumped once. Evidently, she had glanced over the short informational packet Hoshi had transmitted, standard operating procedure now for first contact. Even as she smiled at Archer, her gray eyes slid to the side, seeking Esilia. Archer quickly introduced his crew, then stepped a pace to the right. "If you would come this way, we'll escort you to your crew member."

He nodded to the MACO standing guard at the door of the conference room, and allowed the Ikaaran captain to enter the room where Esilia waited nervously.

Leev-Sran studied Esilia closely, from the top of her head down, then walked a tight circle around her. She spoke in Ikaaran, and the UT translated. "You are unharmed, niece?"

"I have been well taken care of, Captain," Esilia answered.

Leev-Sran's expression softened, and she lifted a hand to lightly stroke Esilia's hair. "We thought you were lost to us," she said simply. "We mourned you."

"I owe my life to this crew."

Archer felt uncomfortable intruding on what he now realized was a family reunion. He nodded briefly to the two women, then let the door slide shut.

"These humans, this captain, tell me about them." Leev-Sran could already see the signs, but she wanted to hear the words from Esilia herself.

"Actually, they are from the future. They were on a mission that failed, and they can't go back to their planet." She shrugged, a foreign gesture that was not lost on the Ikaaran captain. "They've adapted. I feel. . . safe here."

Leev-Sran hardened her voice. "You must come home. The Wyric have become more aggressive, as you've just seen. Ikaar needs all the ships and pilots it can get. You'll likely be assigned to scout the trade routes." She knew from Esilia's expression what was coming next, and waited.

"I don't want to go home."

The captain frowned. "If I order you, you will come home." Esilia turned away, gazing out of the window. "Has Archer asked you to stay?"

"No," Esilia admitted. "But I want to. I want him." She thought about what that would mean, remaining on a human vessel with humans. Ikaarans had been intermarrying with other species for generations; they were open and accepting. But humans, as far as she could see, were not. Their only prolonged exposure to other species, it seemed, was to the Vulcans, who, in her opinion, had succeeded in stifling much of the natural curiosity evident in human literature. She might want Archer, but there was no guarantee that Archer would want her.

The older woman sat down, pouring herself a glass of pineapple juice. "Tell me everything. Then I will decide what to do."

From the expression on her captain's face, Esilia already knew what the answer would be. But she was a woman under authority, and so she obeyed.