A/N: I AM SO SORRY. Really. Words cannot adequately convey just how sorry I am, to leave all you loyal readers without an update for almost five months. But, wouldn't you know it, I had computer problems. My brand new laptop had a defective hard drive and had to be sent away for servicing for more than two months. Stupid Gateway. And once I got it back, it seemed as though the muse had taken a permanent vacation. But I'm back now, and hopefully the muse is back as well, so please enjoy this long overdue update.

I know the phrase is "add insult to injury", but it worked better the other way.

Next chapter will be told largely from T'Pol's POV, since we haven't seen much of her this story.

Makua hine: mother

Ko-fu: daughter (I found no translation for the word "niece")

To-zot: uncle

As always, I owe the Vulcan Language Dictionary a big thank you.

Chapter Eight: By Way of Andoria

The smell of sandalwood was rapidly fading as Kamea took in her surroundings. It took her a moment to remember that she was on Vulcan – that she had tried to attack Soval and V'Las with a pipe. The guards must have sedated her and brought her here, though where "here" was, she couldn't say. It was an empty room, filled only with people, who were all walking around dressed as though they were about to test the atomic bomb. As she struggled to sit, she discovered that she was strapped to the bed – yet another thing that she had grown tired of, along with losing consciousness and waking up in strange surroundings.

Tears sprung to her eyes unbidden. She tried her best to blink them away. She refused to show weakness in front of the Vulcans… But it had been so long since she'd seen her mother's face, heard her mother's voice. To be so inundated with memories only to have them ripped away just as quickly, it was almost too much for her already fragile sanity.

It had all seemed so real, like she was there, sitting at the table with her parents, eating whatever concoction her father dared to call food. If she were honest with herself, a part of her wanted to lose consciousness again just so she could have another dream.

Makua hine, she thought, how I've missed you.

Beside her, standing so close to the bed he may as well have been a part of the frame, Malcolm was gripping her fingers tightly. That small gesture must have been the reason for the massive condescension and disapproval she was feeling. Although it may not have been the only reason. His touch was reassuring, as it always was, but it only served to push those precious memories of her mother further from her mind. It had been so long – too long. Kamea had almost forgotten what her mother's voice sounded like.

Kamea's eyes burned with unshed tears as she turned to face Malcolm. She effected the general mask of indifference that seemed to work so well and forced herself to look him in the eye, though she was certain he would see the tears. "The restraints were your idea, I gather?"

Malcolm smiled nervously, and his laugh was even more so. He seemed apprehensive in the presence of so many Vulcans. Kamea could hardly blame him, though she wished he could put a clamp on those negative feelings while holding her hand. His anxiety was coursing through her, and it was doing nothing to assuage her own anxiousness. "I was rather hoping you'd notice."

"I notice everything." She glanced around. Malcolm was a different story. He obviously had not realized how very close she was to crying. "Was the audience your idea as well?"

The answer to that question came not from Malcolm, but from Soval, who stood off to the side, away not only from the two of them but from the other Vulcans as well. "The audience," Soval said, "was V'Las's idea."

She should have known. The administrator didn't believe her – he'd said so himself; to tell the truth, she hadn't expected him to. She kept telling herself that it was illogical to deny what was staring him in the face, but she couldn't be sure how she would have reacted, were she V'Las. And thank Surak that I'm not, she thought bitterly. He'd informed her, none too kindly, that he was going to have Vulcan doctors examine her, but did they really need so many? Wasn't one or two enough? She felt like the only fish in a giant aquarium.

To add injury to insult, she couldn't prop herself up on her elbows, and her shoulders were beginning to burn from struggling to hold that semi-upright position for so long. She glanced at Soval, positive that the restraints had been his idea. "Are these really necessary?"

Soval merely stared at her, not that she expected any kind of reaction. "Are you intending to become violent again?"

She attempted a shrug, which did not go over well. "I make no guarantees." She never intended on becoming violent; it just had a tendency to happen. Vulcans may have been able to control and suppress their emotions, but Kamea's human half made such self-control nearly impossible.

"Then yes, they are a necessity."

Kamea resisted the urge to roll her eyes, though she failed to stifle a sigh. She refused to be treated like some wild animal they'd just pulled off the streets. The restraints would have to go. She tried to move her arms, testing the strength of the material the straps were made of. They seemed to be built to contain humans, but then, she wasn't entirely human, was she? Amazing, that even after they'd seen what she'd done to the bars on her cell door they would underestimate her so. She lay down on the bed, took a deep breath, and surged forward with as much strength as she could summon. The straps slowed her, but only momentarily, tearing at the middle and freeing her upper body in seconds. Unfortunately, they also cut her arms fairly badly.

Malcolm leaned over to examine the cuts while the Vulcans conversed among themselves. Kamea would have said that they were talking excitedly, but excitement was an emotion, so that was a lie. She assumed that they were discussing her rather impressive (if she did say so herself) display of strength. They obviously hadn't been expecting it, and she knew that this would not bode well for her. If they couldn't physically restrain her, they would need to search for other methods with which to keep her under control.

Malcolm sighed heavily and gazed up at her, his blue eyes full of concern. "Can't you go one day without doing yourself bodily harm?"

She smirked. "Where's the fun in that?" She winced as his finger came into contact with one of the scratches. Then he ran the pad of his finger lightly over the scratch, and she experienced a different reaction entirely, which she managed to do a good job of hiding.

"Those don't look good," said Malcolm. He wiped her blood on his pants.

"They're fabulous," Kamea said. They hurt like hell. She set about undoing the restraints around her legs. Her movements squeezed more blood from the cuts. "Leave them. They're battle scars."

The Vulcans were still talking to each other in hushed tones, and did not appear to notice that she was injured, so Malcolm wandered over to the nearest tray of medical supplies and began rifling through them. She swung her legs around so that they dangled over the side of the bed. He returned a few moments later with a bottle of antiseptic and a clean rag. He obviously intended to disinfect her wounds. She could feel herself starting to smile and bit her lip to keep from doing so. What had she done to deserve such a protector? He applied a hefty amount of antiseptic to the rag and dabbed it gently against one of the cuts on her upper arm.

It stung. Apparently Vulcans had a ridiculously high pain threshold, because this was just about the most uncomfortable thing a human being could experience, with the exception of childbirth. She'd endured more than her fair share of pain throughout her life, but this was just cruel. She hissed in a sharp breath as Malcolm moved to a different cut. "That stings."

The corners of Malcolm's lips tugged upwards in the trace hint of a smile. "Oh, don't be such a baby."

Kamea felt herself smiling, recognizing that Malcolm was practically throwing her words back in her face. This smile she allowed. "I wasn't being a baby," she said, trying to ignore just how close Malcolm was to her. "I was merely saying that that stings. It's a statement of fact."

Malcolm said nothing at this, just shook his head. He leaned forward farther and lightly blew on the cuts to which he already applied the antiseptic. Kamea shivered as his breath danced across her skin, feeling the familiar waves of arousal begin to take hold of her. Goddamn that man. He certainly knew how to get her juices flowing, though she sensed that this was unintentional. The knowledge that he could do this to her without meaning to was refreshing – and slightly disturbing. She rooted herself in place and said, "Please don't do that." She said it a little more curtly than she intended to.

"Sorry," Malcolm said, sounding a little insulted. He resumed disinfecting her wounds – not quite as gently as before. "Does that hurt?"

"No," Kamea said truthfully. It was quite the opposite, actually. But she would never admit that to him. At least, not in the presence of close to a dozen very disapproving Vulcans.

Kamea had a feeling that Malcolm could not have suppressed the smile that threatened to split his face in two if his life depended on it. "Duly noted," he said.

She cocked an eyebrow at his unusual response, but before she could say anything, the Vulcans' conversation abruptly ended and they wandered back towards her bed. Malcolm did not seem to notice and continued his ministrations. Only when Soval loudly cleared his throat did Malcolm even look up to acknowledge his presence.

"When you're finished, Lieutenant," said Soval.

Malcolm raised his eyebrows but otherwise ignored the ambassador completely. He turned instead to Kamea. "That one on your forearm looks pretty deep. I'll get you a bandage."

Soval, surprisingly, gripped Malcolm's shoulder to prevent him from leaving. He released it quickly and proceeded to ignore the lieutenant. "That was an impressive display of strength," the ambassador said.

Kamea nodded. "Glad you enjoyed the show. I aim to please."

"I aim to please"? What the hell? It was official. She'd gone insane. It was inevitable, really, after everything she had been through.

"Indeed," Soval said. "Am I to assume that attempting to physically restrain you would be fruitless?"

She shrugged with one shoulder. "Not unless you got something stronger than those straps."

Soval cocked an eyebrow. "Am I also to assume that you would find staying here unacceptable?"

Kamea narrowed her eyes. Just where was he going with this? She considered her response carefully; she didn't know what game Soval was playing, but she would not fall victim to it. Vulcans were masterful manipulators. She glanced around, taking in the room. It was cold and uninviting, much as she imagined most buildings on Vulcan were. She would prefer to be in the sanctity of her quarters – or, more accurately, Malcolm's quarters – back on Enterprise. But she knew that was not going to happen anytime soon. "That would be correct."

"Would you prefer taking up residence in a more secluded area, somewhere the doctors could attend to you without arousing suspicion from the public?"

Still unsure what Soval was trying to do, Kamea said, "It makes no difference to me, but I suspect the administrator would prefer I be kept away from the public." She nodded towards the ceiling, indicating the floors above their present location. "I expect he'd like it best if I were locked in one of those holding cells for the duration of your 'tests'." She used air quotes to emphasize how ridiculous she found this whole situation. "Did you have a particular place in mind, Ambassador?"

Soval took a step closer to her. "I'm sure you have been made aware that T'Les has gone missing?"

Kamea hung her head but did her best to maintain eye contact. Of all the things happening on Vulcan, the disappearance of her aunt had her most worried – not for T'Les, but for T'Pol. She knew that T'Les would not simply have vanished without sending word to her daughter; Kamea suspected foul play, but she could do nothing to prove it – not under the current circumstances. "I had heard that, yes."

"Then you are also aware that her domicile is currently vacant."

Everything clicked suddenly into place. Kamea kept her voice and face neutral, lest she alert the other Vulcans as to what Soval was doing. "I am."

"Perhaps," Soval said, raising his eyebrows, as though to indicate to her that what he was about to say was extremely important, "you would feel more comfortable staying there."

Kamea nodded thoughtfully. I would feel more comfortable on Enterprise, she thought, but I know that hell will freeze over before that happens. "A familial residence would be most appreciated," she said. She used her head to gesture towards Malcolm. "May I say goodbye before you transport me?"

Her stomach clenched painfully. She did not like this, not at all. Being forced into examinations with a dozen different Vulcan doctors who didn't believe she was who she said she was, and to top it off, she wouldn't even have the benefit of having Malcolm there to help her sleep at night. She would be awake for the next three weeks, or however long it took for the doctors to do their work.

"Lieutenant Reed," Soval said, "has elected to stay with you and…keep you company during the examinations."

There was no way V'Las would allow this. Kamea was sure the administrator intended to discredit Phlox's findings; how could he do so with Malcolm keeping such a close watch on her? He would surely never want to be out of her presence for extended periods of time, and it would be extremely difficult to tamper with the doctors' findings with an audience. "And how does the administrator feel about this?"

Soval averted his eyes, and Kamea was immediately on guard. Vulcans never averted their eyes. It was prevarication; most Vulcans got directly to the point, had their answers ready. "He insisted on it."

Danger! Danger, Will Robinson!

"He did?" Kamea found that hard to believe. V'Las was up to something; he had to be. There could be no other explanation for his sudden willingness to adhere to Captain Archer's demands, because Kamea was positive the captain would not have allowed Kamea to remain planetside alone. However, Kamea could help but be pleased that Malcolm would be staying with her. She had no idea how she would have gotten on without him. "How accommodating of him."

Soval cleared his throat. "Shall we go?"

Kamea cocked an eyebrow. Something was rotten in the state of Vulcan, and she was determined to find out what, even if she died in the process.

"By all means."

Archer had had enough.

Once Soval had disappeared with Malcolm, presumably to take the lieutenant to where they were holding Kamea, Archer had resumed his frenzied pacing around the conference room. Travis kept his eyes on him all the while; Trip had retreated back to the window and absently stared out of it. All discussion had ceased. Archer wanted to think, and he wanted to think to himself. He needed to work this out.

Something was going on, of that he was certain. If only he could locate these Syrannites that were apparently the cause of all the trouble. If only he could get them to talk, hear their side of the story. Then he'd be able to make an educated decision about where his loyalties should lie. On the one hand, it was quite possible that the Syrannites were violent individuals bent on revolution and would stop at nothing to get their people into positions of power. On the other hand, it was highly probable that the High Command was lying, that the Syrannites posed no serious threat except to the credibility of those in government, and that this whole civil war was just a way to rid themselves of the problem.

Archer had never trusted the High Command. After everything that had happened with his father and the warp project, after the incident with the Andorians on P'Jem, after their platform of non-involvement with the Xindi, he had no reason to trust them. He hadn't trusted them before, and he didn't trust them now. He saw no reason why they should lie about the Syrannites, but then he didn't understand a lot of things that the Vulcans did, and the only two people who could give him any clue as to their motivations had been shuffled out of his sight as soon as possible.

These Syrannites… He wondered what made their interpretations of Surak's teachings different from the High Command's. He didn't see that there could be all that many interpretations, but he supposed it was similar to how many different denominations of Christianity there were on Earth. He was Episcopalian; Trip, he knew, was Southern Baptist. Malcolm, he suspected, was Catholic. He also had reason to believe that Kamea was also Catholic. On Earth, among the different denominations, there had been much conflict before. Some conflicts had escalated to the point of spilling blood. The Spanish Inquisition sought to eliminate all those whose beliefs differed from the teachings of the Catholic Bible.

It was very human behavior that the Vulcans were exhibiting. Each side was adamant in their beliefs, neither was willing to compromise, and those who had little or no involvement with either – like T'Pol – were caught in the middle.

He didn't know what to think about any of this, but he did know that all of the answers to his questions were on Vulcan, and that as soon as Soval returned, he would be escorted off the planet.

Hence the pacing.

"How long has it been?" Archer asked no one in particular, not even bothering to glance up from the path he was treading on the tile floor.

"An eternity," said Trip. The muffle of his voice could only mean that he had not turned around to respond, and a glance toward the window confirmed it. Trip was acting incredibly sullen and moody as of late, and Archer knew it had everything to do with T'Pol. Archer had known that she would need to report for briefing, but he had hoped that they would at least be permitted to say goodbye, since they had no idea when or if they would ever see her again.

"It's been at least an hour, sir," Travis said. His eyes never left the captain.

"How did they get there?" asked Archer, again to no one in particular. "By way of Andoria?"

"Certainly seemed like it," said a familiar voice near the door. Archer turned to find that Soval had returned, Malcolm and Kamea in tow. "I don't think I've ever walked that far in my entire life."

Archer's eyes widened as he noticed the multitude of scratches on Kamea's arms that had most certainly not been there when she'd been taken. But her blue eyes were sparkling with the smile that played on her lips, and his lieutenant did not appear concerned about them, so Archer said nothing. However, seeing those cuts only fueled his mistrust of the High Command.

"Surely you're exaggerating," said Malcolm, leaning against the doorframe.

"I never exaggerate," Kamea said. "I'm Vulcan."

"I don't understand," said Archer. "I thought Malcolm and Kamea were staying planetside."

"And they are," said Soval. "I am to take Kamea and the lieutenant to T'Les's house, where they will be staying. When the doctors have finished their examinations, the two of them will be permitted to return to Enterprise."

"And T'Pol?" Trip asked, still not turning from the window.

Soval straightened. "T'Pol will remain in service to the High Command until this conflict with the Syrannites has been resolved. Afterwards, she may return to Enterprise, should she choose to do so."

Archer opened his mouth to say that of course she would choose to return to Enterprise, but something stopped him. Maybe it was the look in his chief engineer's eyes, or maybe it was the quiet finality of Soval's tone. Whatever the reason, Archer kept his opinion to himself.

"So why didn't you just take Kamea and Malcolm and then come back for us?" Archer asked.

"Kamea expressed an interest in saying goodbye," said the ambassador. "It seemed most logical that we use your shuttle pod to transport her and Lieutenant Reed and leave for Enterprise directly from T'Les's."

"I'm all about logic," Kamea said. She grabbed Malcolm's wrist and pulled him out of the room. Her voice carried into the open door as she dragged Malcolm down the hall. "Let's get going."

Travis walked over to Trip and gently laid a hand on his shoulder. The commander followed the ensign out of the room, looking as though he had just lost his dog. Archer left next, and Soval brought up the rear. Kamea and Malcolm were already specks in the distance when Archer moved into the hallway.

"She seems in good spirits," Archer said, more to himself than to anyone else. But to his surprise, Soval responded.

"I believe that she is anxious to get out of this building," said the ambassador. "She has a strong dislike for doctors, which I find fascinating, as her father was a doctor."

Archer raised his eyebrows. Were they actually having a civil conversation? "I thought Lorian was a scientist."

Soval shook his head. "He was first and foremost a scientist, as many Vulcans are, but his profession on Vulcan was that of a physician. He was a neurobiologist." Soval looked at him. "Did you not wonder how he was able to perform such an operation on his daughter without doing significant neurological damage?"

"So you do believe her?" Archer was under the impression that Soval thought Kamea was full of it. The ambassador had given him no reason to suspect otherwise.

"Lorian documented his experiments well – both the fertility and the neurobiology." Soval paused, as though debating whether or not to continue. "There is little logic in his actions, but the science is sound." Soval shot him another look, a very deliberate look. "It will be difficult to discredit."

Archer thought he saw where Soval was going with this. "But not impossible."

Soval arched an eyebrow but said nothing, and by this time, they had reached the exit. A glance out the window told Archer that Kamea and Malcolm had already boarded the shuttle pod; Travis and Trip were climbing through the door just now. Archer looked back at Soval. "Are you saying that someone intends to discredit Kamea's claims?"

Soval held the door open for Archer. "We should leave soon. We have already been delayed too long."

Archer wondered if Soval was afraid to talk while in the building. Vulcans had supersonic hearing – maybe he was worried about being overheard. It certainly seemed as though the ambassador had more to say and was unwilling to do so. Perhaps that was why he was shepherding them all to T'Les's empty house, where they would most likely not be disturbed. But that didn't make any sense. What would Soval want to tell him? What would Soval tell him, other than, "That information is classified"?

The trip to T'Les's house passed in near silence. If anyone found it odd or awkward that Malcolm and Kamea were going to be staying in the house of the missing and presumed dead mother of their science officer, no one said anything. Trip was just as sullen and moody as ever, seated in the copilot's seat staring forlornly out the window of the pod as Travis piloted it to the outskirts of town. Kamea and Malcolm had taken their seats in the back but were also quiet – for once. Kamea seemed to be anxious about something; she kept tapping her foot incessantly. Archer was half tempted to tell her to knock it off.

In what seemed like an eternity, though it was probably no time at all, Travis was maneuvering the pod in front of a large stone wall with a wooden gate – presumably the entrance to T'Les's house.

Trip raised his head slightly as the house came into view, and Archer remembered belatedly that his chief engineer had been here once before – but the last time, T'Pol wasn't married, and T'Les wasn't missing. It had to be uncomfortable for him, but he didn't say anything – just continued to look depressed.

Malcolm helped Kamea to her feet. He opened the door to the pod, then helped Kamea out of it. The others also spilled out, walking in the direction of the stone wall surrounding T'Les's house. Kamea hesitantly approached the gate, obviously uncomfortable with the idea of staying at her missing aunt's. But she pushed the gate open with very little effort and walked into the courtyard, which Archer had to admit was beautiful. The whole house reminded him of the architecture of the American southwest. Archer had always admired the haciendas he'd seen in Texas and New Mexico.

Kamea looked at Soval. "No one will bother us here, right? We'll be left alone?" Soval merely raised an eyebrow, and Archer realized just how provocatively Kamea's seemingly innocent comment could have been taken. Kamea seemed to realize it, too, because she said, "I mean, I won't have to deal with gawkers or reporters, right? Just the doctors?"

"The High Command would prefer to keep your existence under wraps until the administrator is satisfied with our doctors' results," said Soval.

Kamea smiled slightly and turned to Malcolm. "That's Vulcan for 'yes'." She turned back to Soval. "V'Las doesn't come anywhere near me."

Soval cleared his throat. "The administrator will no doubt want to – "

"V'Las doesn't come anywhere near me," Kamea said again, with a touch more malice in her voice. "Swear it to me. Swear it on my father's grave."

The ambassador sighed, almost imperceptibly. "Ko-fu, I can make no guarantees."

Archer had no idea what ko-fu meant, but Soval's use of it seemed to please Kamea. "I'd appreciate anything you're able to do, to-zot. I don't trust V'Las's intentions."

"Nor should you," Soval said. "He has been in a position of power for years and is obsessed with his power. He is willing to do anything in order to retain his position in the High Command."

"Why are you telling us this?" Archer asked. Soval had never willingly divulged information before. Now he was practically spilling his guts. None of this was making any sense, and Archer had never been more confused than he was at this moment. Everyone was acting out of character, no one was behaving as he should, and he was about to release Kamea and Malcolm into an empty house with virtually no supervision for who knew how long.

It was Kamea, not Soval, who answered Archer's question. "V'Las wants to discredit my father. He doesn't want news of a Vulcan/human hybrid to reach the public's ears. It would severely weaken the stability of the High Command; it would invalidate a lot of 'truths' that the High Command has been preaching since its inception. My father knew this. It's one of the reasons he left Vulcan."

"How could you possibly know that?" Archer asked.

Kamea stopped. She turned to face him, looking genuinely confused. "I don't know."

"Speaking of not knowing," said Malcolm, "what happened to Commander Tucker?"

Archer looked around. He, Soval, Malcolm, and Kamea were all standing in the middle of the courtyard. Travis had wandered off and was peering through the windows into the house. Trip was nowhere to be found. Archer could see the shuttle pod through the still-open gate, and Trip wasn't there either.

"He was right behind us," Archer said. "Where could he possibly have gone?"