A/N: Thanks to everyone! I hope this next chapter isn't confusing. Many of the finer points will be made clear in future chapters. And some of the whirlwind of activity is to show that T'Pol's day is crazy. Hopefully, you see some plot points coming along and explaining life after TATV. I really hope it'll be an interesting ride from here. I think you know what's coming: war.
I'm going to be out of town and wanted you to have this part. I apologize in advance for typos. I think I caught them all ...
Without further ado:
The Parkview: it served breakfast all day and sat at the end of the pier in San Francisco – giving a superb view of the water and Alcatraz. It was the kind of place tourists went to, but had such a stunning view that Archer went even when he didn't have guests in tow.
Though it had the feel of a diner, it had a little class and pomp, feeling as comfortable as sitting on a couch, but had the elegance of a suit. T'Pol, in green traditional robes, complete with sash, fit in beautifully … almost like the belle of a ball. It was appropriate all eyes were on her.
Hoshi, Malcolm and Phlox from Enterprise were there, as well as Jonathan who accompanied her. Each of them was eager to see her; Hoshi gave her a small hug, Phlox wrapped his hand around hers as was the greeting for Denobulans and Reed gave her a warm smile.
All of them caught up on the events that had happened over the past year – teaching assignments, medical posts, tactical training and next steps. When Reed finally asked what T'Pol had done, the Vulcan froze.
"Thinking about the job and how prepare," Archer said. "Reed, I hear you got promoted to captain."
With that, the discussion had miraculously been diverted and had given the young man an opportunity to brag about his new role, be humble and hear the praises of his friends.
Halfway through breakfast, T'Pol asked a question that she thought was apparent, causing her former captain to chuckle loudly and eliciting an overextended smile from Phlox.
"How long have you been courting Hoshi?" T'Pol asked Malcolm.
When the Brit choked on his toast, T'Pol realized the relationship was clandestine.
Hoshi was the first to answer. "Did Admiral Archer tell you anything?"
"No," she said.
"I didn't have to," Archer answered. "It's obvious."
Reed finally snaked his arm around his girl. "Two months. I had to get to Starfleet Command for a debriefing. We had lunch … and somehow lunch turned into dinner and dinner turned into breakfast."
Hoshi swatted his arm. "Don't tell them that!"
Malcolm shrugged. "Well, why not? It's true."
It caused Archer's laugh to rumble again.
"There was a spark sometimes on Enterprise. You know, we rubbed each other sometimes the wrong way and sometimes the right way. But, in the end … there was just this connection between us."
Reed agreed.
As breakfast wound down, all of them said their goodbyes, promised to talk soon – not everyone was invited to the upper echelon to-do held in T'Pol's honor that evening. When T'Pol stood, Archer touched her arm.
"I'll take you to work. It's on my way."
The buildings for the Federation and Starfleet were literally across the courtyard from each other.
"I would appreciate that," she said.
"Considering my first meeting of the morning is with you, I think it's the least I can do."
It was customary for new ambassadors to give two speeches their first day and the order was peculiar. The first speech of the day was given to Starfleet (not the Federation) where the diplomat usually promised to be fair and just; the diplomat would also pledge to order the military arm of the Federation (and that's what Starfleet had become) into battle only when necessary. A bunch of admirals would fake applause and then the ambassador would send Starfleet in unnecessarily.
The second speech was made to the Federation council, accepting the position of ambassador.
T'Pol knew her first assignment well. Archer, while still captain of the Enterprise, had complained about the phoniness of the whole thing, indicating he'd wished only once that ambassadors said exactly what was on their mind: they were there to represent the interest of their planet, but would try not to be "a bastard" because it was for the "common good."
She remembered those words as she stood at the front of a large, stuffy room full of middle-aged admirals, mostly men, all peering down their noses at her – all except one who seemed to beam up at her with pride.
When Admiral Gardner entered the room a few minutes late, the chitchat came a halt and everyone stood.
"Sit down." After noticing everyone take a seat, he continued. "I believe most of you have already met T'Pol. She'd be a captain now if Minister T'Pau hadn't offered her a fancier title."
T'Pol's eyebrows rose at the comment.
Gardner continued. "She's the new Ambassador of Vulcan. She'll be sitting on the Federation Council as a replacement to Soval, as if you didn't already know. You have the floor, T'Pol."
"Thank you, Admiral. Starfleet has been a home to me when none were available. And, it's a privilege to serve here with you – people that I already know and respect."
The crowd smiled. She licked her lips and continued.
"I'll be blunt. As the Ambassador to Vulcan, I'm here to represent my people. Although I have friends and allies on Earth, protecting Vulcan and its interests are my primary concerns."
The room grew quiet as Archer leaned forward in his seat, grinning.
"Vulcan has been one of the most vocal supporters of Earth and Starfleet. We've assisted you with technology at times. We've given aid to Earth in times of crisis – like the Xindi War. And we did so not because we had something to gain, but …. because it was the 'right thing to do.'"
She clasped her hands behind her back. "But, there is much more to the humans. I know from having served with them for ten years. Humans are unique. You change and adapt to the landscape around you. Quickly. Your emotions, though they rule your thoughts and actions, are filled with compassion and trust. And it is because of all these things that you brought the Federation into existence."
She looked around the room. "I will be asked to serve Vulcan and my people's interests, but will support humanity and Starfleet not because I once served with you, but because it is for the common good and in the best interests of the Federation, and the universe."
Archer's grin widened.
"Thank you," she said.
She stopped, thinking that was a sufficient way of wrapping up her true intent with the one that benefited the common good. Most admirals were silent, except Archer who managed to clap first. When the applause died down, Matt Gardner stood.
"Thank you for coming, Madame Ambassador."
And as was customary, she gave a bow, righted herself and was about to walk out the door to join the Federation Council when she saw Admiral Archer wink at her in support.
Her lips twitched at the gesture and she felt a spring in her step as she bounded down the hall.
The regulations of the Federation were more formal. An aid, a young Tellarite, was sent into the Federation Chamber to ask the Federation President for T'Pol's permission to enter.
Unfortunately, the Vulcan could hear everything.
"President Gral, the Ambassador from Vulcan is here. She'd like permission to enter."
T'Pol imagined the silence to include the Tellarite wrinkling his snout. "Yes, yes. By all means, she's late. Send the skinny thing in here."
She waited for the aid to tell her, it seemed the polite thing to do, and drew her robes around her. Entering, she walked tall and hoped to portray a regal stature; being petite sometimes meant to other cultures she couldn't be imposing.
That wasn't the image she wanted.
"I thank you for your permission to join you, President," she said, bowing.
Looking around the room, she noticed the chamber was the opposite of what had been established on her last visit to Earth. In fact, it was nearly the antithesis of what she expected. The room was long, extremely warm (which didn't bother her) and had low lighting. The walls were white, stark, and a Federation seal hung behind the president's pig-like head. At the table were two of every species from the Federation: an ambassador from the planet and his or her aid.
After straightening, she turned to the man who'd been assigned as her aid. His black bowl haircut and brown eyes held a long stare. He'd been with Ambassador Soval for nearly ten years and in the back of her mind she wondered if his loyalty would transfer to her or remain with a man who was on Vulcan.
Swallowing deeply, she stood before them, waiting for Gral to say a few words; however, the Tellarite despite knowing her, made no introduction. Instead, he snorted as if prompting her to get on with it.
"I am Ambassador T'Pol of Vulcan. Minister T'Pau has asked me to come and represent the Vulcan government and her people. I, like all members of this council, pledge to protect the universe and bring long-lasting peace."
No applause echoed through the room; instead she heard the Tellarite who couldn't hold his tongue.
"Thankfully that was the shortest speech a Vulcan has ever given in these halls."
She poked her eyebrow up.
Without going around the room to introduce anyone, he pointed to her seat – as if that was her cue to sit.
"Funny you should mention peace. Take your seat. We have much to discuss."
Gral brought up a picture on the viewscreen and showed evidence – picture after picture - of an Orion battle cruiser committing acts of piracy against various species including a Tellarite, Earth vessel and a Vulcan vessel.
She'd been briefed about this before she left. Gral pointed up at the screen.
"Outrageous! I've asked Admiral Gardner to send someone from his staff to our afternoon session and present military options."
"Military options?" asked one of the delegates from Parong. His spiky hair and reptilian face was serene.
"Yes!" Gral said. "We've been over this."
T'Pol's aid, she knew his name to be Staron, leaned into her. "Madame, we must explore more peaceful options."
She furrowed her brow slightly. "We've explored that option. The Federation has sent various communications asking the Orions to stop – to their warlords, to the syndicate and to the ship captains themselves."
"And our only recourse is to fight?"
"To understand the most logical course of action, one must understand the Orions. They, like the Klingons, view battle as stimulating. They look for arguments and war. Unfortunately, they must be defeated to understand the impact and consequences of their actions … and why they can't attack vessels roaming the universe."
"Sanctions?" he asked.
Although many of the council member's planets traded with them, ending trade wouldn't stop the Orions from trading with people who weren't at the table.
"They'd continue to raid vessels," she said. "They've done so before."
The Vulcan remained quiet, but she could feel a hint of emotion. He was unhappy with her decision. Against her better judgment, she asked him to speak.
"Soval usually listens to my suggestions."
"How old are you?" she asked.
"Fifty nine."
He is young, she thought. "Do you know why T'Pau asked me to take this position?"
It was obvious he couldn't fathom it. And just one night ago, she'd wondered herself. Reaching into the essence of herself, she answered, hoping to at least explain her experience and background.
"I have interacted personally with every species at this table. I have visited nearly all their home worlds. I know a few of the councilmen, including the president, by name. And I have strong ties with the humans."
He was silent.
"She offered this to me because of my experience and knowledge. I understand your support of Soval, but he chose to leave; he was never asked to."
The man bent his head and his voice was low. "You can choose to listen to me or ignore me. No matter which decision you make, I am still assigned as your aid."
She blinked.
He continued. "And excuse me, Ambassador, but everyone on Vulcan knows of your 'strong ties to Earth.' Had I not heard of how you'd served among them for so long, I would have hypothesized your connection based on your accent and the way you smell."
His delivery was cool and emotionless, which made the information more difficult to accept. She chose to answer just as stoically.
"Surak says: a mistake is often the opportunity to learn. Let's assume this is an opportunity to learn. Should you make such a mistake again, I will no longer require your services."
The two stared at each other. Remembering how she'd met the humans – how they'd hated her and how she'd detested them – gave her hope that eventually Staron would come around.
The President, who'd been on a tirade about how the Orions dare to defy the Federation, eventually quieted after one of the Veral spoke up.
"The Orions trade heavily with us – including providing medicine from the Megran Colony. If we take sanctions against them … or engage in a war …."
An Andorian stood up and pounded his fist on the table. "We act together. The Verals can't choose to back out because it's not convenient."
"What medicine do you require, Merah?" T'Pol asked the Veral speaking.
The woman bowed her head. "Many of my people suffer from Klihams. The root of Gladon helps them."
"This is a waste of time!" Tamor, the Andorian Ambassador, replied.
Gral grunted.
Turning to her aid, T'Pol indicated. "Find out where Gladon grows and let's figure out who can trade that."
Staron puffed out his chest.
"I do not wish to send you back to Vulcan, but I will by noon if you are unable to help me."
His eyes met her eyes.
"Give me a report by noon," she said.
He stared and walked off to what she hoped would be the answer to her query.
"Gral, you were wise to ask for a recess. Let us discuss our predicament with our government before we act," T'Pol said.
The Tellarite snorted. "Very well. We are in recess until 0100."
As T'Pol stood, he walked to her. "Don't think because I know you and you helped me once that I owe you any special favors."
"You've never acted as if that were true."
He snorted – his version of a laugh. "You are the one Vulcan I can stomach."
With that, he left.
T'Pol looked at the chronometer and determined they had two hours. She thought she'd remembered exactly where her office was and headed in that general direction. After three wrong turns, an administrative assistant set her in the right direction and she eventually made it the area - thirty minutes later.
When she walked in, she saw a figure in a chair near her desk.
"I was wondering when you'd show up," Archer said.
"Jonathan."
"How'd you first meeting go?"
"Gral – I'd forgotten about him."
He chuckled. "The ambassador takes some getting used to."
She nodded slowly. "Did Soval ever mention his aid?"
"Not specifically."
"What did he say?"
Archer flung his eyes to the ceiling as if scanning his memory. After a few minutes he looked at her and shrugged. "That he was his aid?"
T'Pol pointed at eyebrow to him. "Did you come by for a specific reason?"
"Thought maybe you'd have time for lunch."
She walked over to computer, which she had yet to check and determine her schedule.
"I don't think so."
He nodded. "No problem." With a pause he glanced around the room. "I also wanted to warn you I'd be the admiral you talk to later today."
"The one to provide military options?"
His smile was sardonic. "Ironic isn't it?"
"Yes. Thank you for the information. If you excuse me, I need to contact Minister T'Pau."
He nodded. Before he left, he turned his head over his shoulder. "Tell her I said 'hi.'"
T'Pol shook her head, perplexed at human social behavior and contacted her superior. After greeting the woman, she decided to mention the Admiral had said hello. Although the minister was perplexed, T'Pol felt better for having done so.
It was a promise she'd fulfilled.
As 1257 approached, a crowd gathered outside the hall. Archer strolled up, wearing his uniform. On seeing him, Gral gave a piggish smile.
"I see they let anyone come up here these days."
Archer stared down the little Tellarite. "I was about to say the same thing about you."
Gral snorted. "Don't tell me you're the one they sent?"
"All right, I won't tell you."
Everyone walked in and as a formality, Archer grabbed an aid from Tellar.
"I've been asked to speak with the council. Tell them I'm here."
When the aid entered, the entire room erupted bidding him entry, except one lone voice.
"I think we should discuss the representation of our government before we ask him to enter," T'Pol said.
The heads whipped around to her and Gral stroked his belly.
"Go ahead, Skinny."
She nearly frowned. "I understand that Andoria trades in the medicine your people are looking for Merah. Tamor, is that correct?"
He turned to his aid and the two talked. When he finally came up to face the group, his antennae wiggled.
"I guess, Vulcan. Do you have an allegation?" he asked.
"Merely making a comment. President Gral, if we take action, I would like to give the support of Vulcan and propose that Andoria assist the Verhals."
Merah, the Verhal rep, smiled and then pledged her support. Everyone backed it, except for the Andorians.
"We're not allowed to provide the trade," Tamor said. His voice sounded defensive and his antennae were squirming under the strain.
"You have not spoken with your government," T'Pol said.
"I don't need to. You're new, you must not understand the--" Tamor began.
She corrected him. "I know that everyone at the council serves at the leisure of their government. Are you indicating you do not?"
"No!"
"Then, you knew I would inquire and had already determined a response?" T'Pol asked.
The Andorian sneered.
"Perhaps you don't want to trade?" she asked.
"You're out of line, Vulcan!" Tamor shouted.
"Out of line I may be, but you have not answered my question." She turned to her aid, and silently hoped all the data he eagerly provided proved the Andorian's intent.
T'Pol stood and walked to a nearby kiosk. After programming a few simple commands, she saw Tamor himself making a deal with the head of the Orion syndicate.
"This was three days ago," T'Pol said.
Gral was to his feet with anger, and an immediate uproar came from everyone involved.
"Order! Order!" Gral shouted.
It didn't prevent the Andorian delegation to storm out of the meeting room. When the room settled down, T'Pol looked at Gral.
"I believe we are ready to discuss military options without fear of betrayal," she said.
The Tellarite, no friend of the Andorians, furrowed his brow. "Those blue demons have proven themselves loyal."
"I believe the Andorians' intentions are good. I wonder about Tamor's …."
Gral's elongated fingers pressed the comm. "Security. Hold Tamor for questioning."
A voice answered back, "We'll track him down, sir."
Gral then turned to his aid. "Inform General Krag that his diplomat may not be working for him."
His aid gave a brief nod. Before he walked out of the room, the pig-like man gave him one more instruction.
"Send in Archer."
Before the captain entered the hall, the president glanced at T'Pol. "This is your first day, Vulcan. And you've rooted out what seems like a spy. Maybe you'll do some good here afterall."
She raised an eyebrow.
"What happened with Tamor?" Archer asked.
The President fell silent. "We'd like you to provide us military options against the Orions."
He nodded and pulled up a few schematics showing starships flying in the region, tactical formations against the syndicate and the ability to guard perimeters.
"We need to show force. We need to catch the Orions trading illegally and commandeering vessels that don't belong to them," said Lera, a female Xindi delegate.
Gral shook his head. "We'd have to wait for weeks. Humans have a saying: strike while the iron is hot!"
T'Pol leaned in. "There must be a pattern to this piracy. If we were given time, we may be able to find it."
"I don't think we have much time," Staron said to T'Pol, loud enough for others to hear.
"Why do you say that?" asked Gral.
The Vulcan spoke louder. "Excuse me, President, but we do not have time. Tamor knows we will retaliate."
That remark seemed to sway the group, except T'Pol and the Xindi, and the vote was made to retaliate without much discussion, something that frustrated the Vulcan. Before she could speak up, Gral instructed Archer to present options only involved in that.
Although the admiral wasn't asked his opinion, T'Pol noticed he had the urge to weigh in.
"Tamor doesn't know when you'll attack. And the Orions are greedy; even if they're pressured to stop, they won't. You could attack then. We'd have plenty of time to--"
"Give us an attack option that we can carry out in the next twenty-four hours against the N'Gara."
The N'Gara was the ship that had been spotted committing acts against the Federation. Destroying it would send a message. Giving a small sigh, T'Pol's eyes wandered to Archer's. She sympathized, but as her previous commander would've said before: that's politics.
Archer's hands flew against the panel. "One ship is close to the N'Gara – the Columbia. She has an array of torpedoes and phasers and has been retrofitted to travel at warp 6. It'll take her 8 hours to get into range."
Gral snorted. "Eight hours?"
"That's the closest any vessel can reach her … unless you're prepared to offer a Tellarite vessel."
The pig-like man scowled. "Will the Columbia be detected?"
Archer brought up a holographic map of the area. Pointing at a moon, he suggested this might be their cover until they're ready to target them.
"They'll be safe behind the moon's rotation for two hours. After that, they could be spotted – the sun's rays in that system are--"
Gral interrupted. "We'll send a note to the Orion Syndicate in ten hours then, letting them know the shots we fire on the Orion ship is because of their traitorous acts."
Archer furrowed his brow. "You're going to wait until after the Columbia has attacked, right?"
"Yes, yes," Gral said.
T'Pol reinforced what Archer must've been feeling. "Letting them know before could mean death to the people aboard that vessel. It could mean Columbia's destruction."
The little pig grunted. "I know. I'm not going to put their lives in danger, Admiral."
Almost satisfied Archer nodded. "I'll alert Captain Hernandez right away."
Gral said, "Good."
Turning on his boot, Archer's eyes swept over to T'Pol's again and then he left the hall.
"I hope we haven't acted to rashly," T'Pol said.
"I know you'd rather we wait forever, Skinny. But not everyone lives to 200," Gral said.
A beeping interrupted the discussion and a security guard spoke up. "We have the ambassador."
Gral smiled and wrinkled his snout. "Ahhh. See? Today is a good day."
As Archer walked back to his office, his stomach flopped. Occasionally the man would have a reaction, a sinking feeling, something was going to go wrong. Silently, he decided that though he'd order Erika to head into the edge of Orion space, he'd think about alternatives in case the council changed their minds, which they were apt to do.
When he reached his office, he heard his aid say a few words.
"Uh, oh – looks like one of those days?"
"Get me Captain Hernandez, Diane."
"Yes, sir."
Striding into his personal sanctuary, he gazed over the model ship he created as a boy and touched its nacelle, noting that the paint was chipping.
"She's on the line," Diane said through the intercom.
Archer sat in front of his monitor and typed in the few commands to bring her visage up on his screen.
"Erika," he said.
"Hey, Jon. I suppose this isn't a social call?"
He smiled. "No. You've kept abreast of everything with the Orions?"
She smiled. "Everything you've told me and Gardner's weekly reports of piracy and attacks on civilian vessels." For a second, she paused and a light caught in her eye. "Well, Jonathan Archer, I think you're about to order me to do something about it."
"I'm afraid so. Nothing fancy, just a shot to the N'Gara's engines. We'd like to minimize the collateral damage."
"I didn't know the Federation 'sent messages' like this."
He scoffed. "I guess they do."
"I'll ask my team to get on it."
"No questions?"
She sighed. "Permission to speak freely?"
"Go ahead."
"I don't like it. Sending in one vessel against an Orion battle cruiser--"
"You'll have the element of surprise. The N'Gara is slow and the weapon's yield is only 20 of what you have."
"I thought Jeffries said these people have 30."
"No. I talked with him about it this morning. Besides, you've been in worse scrapes before. This seems easy for you."
"Maybe that's the problem."
Exhaling, he leaned into the monitor. "Yeah. Between you and me, I'm looking into other alternatives."
"So, this came straight from Snowball?"
Archer laughed. The captain of the Columbia was a pistol and from time-to-time, mostly when she didn't agree with Gral's decisions, she called him that name: it was the lead pig in Animal Farm.
"Yeah," he said.
"Go figure," she said. After a few seconds of dead air, she gave a smile. "I hear T'Pol took over for Soval. That true?"
He grinned. "You should be reading a release in the next few hours. Off the record, it's true."
"Feel good to know where she is?"
He blinked. "Feels …. Feels strange."
"Yeah, well. Like it or not, Admiral, she outranks you. Has to be a blow on the ego."
He didn't flinch, instead his grin broadened.
She chuckled. "Anything further, sir?"
"Use the moon as cover until 1100 hours. And … let me know when you've succeeded."
"Aye, sir."
He winked at his long-time friend.
"If I pull this off, I want you to take me to the 602 on my next shore leave."
"Just don't order the fancy stuff."
"Cheapskate."
With that he ended the transmission. Pressing the button of his intercom, he talked to his aid.
"Diane, could you order dinner for me here … it's going to be another long night."
"The party tonight--"
"I'll make an appearance."
She didn't answer, but he could tell what she was thinking.
"I'm not trying to get out of it, I promise."
"Must be something serious."
"It is."
"The meatloaf sandwich at Carlos'?"
"Sounds good. And could you--"
"I'll pick up a dress uniform for ya. I think you should show up by 2000 hours."
"All right." His lips tugged up at the silver device he was speaking into. "Thanks."
"Uh, huh."
Pulling up information on his screen, he tried to cover everything he could – intelligence reports, reports from the field, information about the Orions – to put his mind at ease.
T'Pol paced her office – something she normally wouldn't do. It felt strange – her first day and already life and death decisions were being made and an ambassador was caught as a spy. Hardly the typical first day. Hardly the first day for someone who doubted she'd be able to be an ambassador.
Her strolled into the room, hands behind his back, causing her to stop.
"Is this a typical day?" she asked.
"What?"
"Never mind."
Staron raised his brow. "You wanted to see me?"
"I understand Soval was more trusting, encouraging you to speak. However, I'm new to this position. I'd prefer if you were silent, until I asked for your assistance or input."
"Attacking the Orions was Gral's idea."
She crossed her arms. "You were against it originally."
"If one was going to attack the Orions waiting would not help."
Her eyes narrowed. "You're a Vulcan. Surak says that patience solves most problems."
"He also says that one can wait too long. It is the wise man who understands opportunity."
She'd read that passage; it was about Surak's quest for peace. This hardly seemed a fitting time to discuss it.
"Staron, I have no doubt you are an intelligent young man. You may think you have all the answers, but you do not have the experience--"
"And you do? Soval was more than one hundred and sixty. You are --?"
"Old enough."
He was silent.
"Your quick work to find the root of the issue with the Andorians was quite effective."
"It was."
She wanted to frown. "It is why I would like you to stay."
"Very well."
That wasn't quite the answer she was looking for. Although she didn't expect the Vulcan to apologize, for some reason she wanted him to show remorse or at least respect.
"However, I don't want to have this conversation with you again. You will be silent in the council chamber, or you won't come. You'll do as I ask, or you will look for work elsewhere. Need I be more plain?"
"No."
She crossed over to her desk and sat behind it. "Is there something you find distasteful about me?"
"Should I be silent now?"
Her lips flattened. "No, I would like your input."
"Your reputation is that you are human-like. That reputation has thus far proved accurate."
"Like a human?"
"Emotional. I can feel your emotions, your lack of control, even now. I do not respect that. I do not respect one who seemingly cannot complete the most trivial of tasks."
Without nodding, she rested her chin on her chest. "My control is none of your concern."
"Yes. That, Ambassador, is anger. You have felt fear and anxiety that you are making the wrong decisions. You have experienced anger when I speak. Controlling your emotions is what any Vulcan is expected to do."
Balling her fists to fight the rage, she barely whispered his next instructions. "Leave."
He turned, lifting his chin slightly in the air, and then walked out, closing the door behind him. The moment he did a wave of pain came over her, sweeping up her spine and making her extremities tingle.
Perhaps if I meditate.
Gathering to her knees, despite being in the middle of her office, she attempted to concentrate. A white light, soft and gentle, clouded her senses. Floating, her limbs felt light and free. As she stared into the bliss, she heard an explosion – shattering steel and causing bone to crush - and noticed voices calling out. It was a cry … a moan. Someone had been left alone to die.
When that voice had quieted, she heard Archer's begging Trip to respond and she heard Phlox's explaining nothing more could be done.
That image wasn't her imagination, she'd been there to hear it herself. It's when she'd crumpled to the ground and felt hands around her shoulders to lift her up. It's why she'd ended up in Trip's room only a few hours later.
There was business yet undone.
Flinging her eyes open, she stared at the cream colored wall in front of her, hoping she could calm her heart.
Two hours had passed, and she needed to change into her gown and accept the attention over more than 200 people, most of which she didn't know. Taking a deep breath, she set about returning to the apartment.
A band played softly in the background. This one, much to her delight, was a jazz band, complete with trumpet, saxophone, drums and guitar. The music sounded like Django Reinhardt – the gypsy.
She realized the admiral must've suggested it and wondered how many "strings he had to pull," as he would say, to get the group here in such short notice.
Silken banners in rich reds, brilliant greens and deep browns – colors that Vulcans cherished - were displayed in the ballroom in Vulcan which read: Welcome, Ambassador T'Pol of Vulcan. Vulcan food lined the tables, none of which smelled like its original counterpart. And diplomats, military and dignitary were milling around talking about politics.
I dislike these events, she thought.
"Ambassador," Gardner said. "Pleased to see you. I understand you had a busy first day."
"Yes," she said.
His voice lowered. "Tamor is being held for questioning."
"I'm … relieved … that security was able to find him so quickly. Had he escaped --"
"You don't have to tell me. Listen, I know this might be jumping the gun, but … is the council going to recommend someone to replace Tamor?"
"We've contacted General Krag. He seemed … surprised and apologetic by the turn of events. It is his responsibility to recommend someone."
Matt nodded. "I have someone in mind."
"Who?"
"Before you say no, hear me out. He's been instrumental to Earth, offering his aid on more than one occasion."
Her eyes widened. "You're going to suggest Shran?"
"Actually it wasn't my suggestion, even if I agree with it."
"Admiral Archer?"
"Yes."
She shook her head. "I would think Admiral Archer would be the last one to suggest him."
"His name came up with President Gral as well."
"I find that … interesting."
"I'm going to make the recommendation to General Krag."
Her brows slid up. "You may make that recommendation, it doesn't mean he'll agree."
Matt shrugged. "Never hurts to try."
Archer finally appeared sipping a glass of iced tea, wearing his dress uniform as if it had been recently pressed – something, despite his usual neat appearance, he wasn't likely to do.
"Diane must've picked up your uniform," Matt said.
His eyes narrowed at the ribbing. "I've had a busy day today," Jon replied.
"Don't worry about Erika. The Columbia's in good hands."
After slapping Archer's back, Matt wandered away to talk with the Xindi ambassador most likely about the same topic. Archer's comment about Gardner once seemed more than correct: the admiral knew how to play politics and for a military commander, wasn't afraid to.
Archer nodded. "Did you find your way back to the apartment okay?"
"Yes, thank you." She read his face as he stared into his glass. "You are concerned, aren't you?"
In a hushed voice he agreed. "Something doesn't feel right. Why was security able to capture Tamor so quickly?"
"You think he wanted to be caught?"
"Yeah."
"Why?"
He sighed. "I don't know."
"Did you find anything to indicate there was a security breech?"
"No."
"Then, what do you base your concern on?"
"My gut."
She tipped an eyebrow at the statement. Under normal circumstances, she'd chide his dependence on instinct. Now wasn't the time, and … she'd seen his "gut" right more than once.
After a few minutes of silence, she touched his arm.
"The band was your idea?"
He smiled and put his glass down on a nearby table. "You could've had a string quartet. I didn't think you'd appreciate it as much."
"You were correct."
His grin widened.
"I would say 'thank you,' but I understand you are also convincing others to recommend Shran join the Federation Council."
"I'm not, Matt is."
"You recommended him to Admiral Gardner."
"Yes, I did."
She stared at him.
"I know you don't like him, T'Pol, but think of it – he already knows Gral and actually gets along with him. Having you, Gral and Shran together --"
"Trip died protecting him."
Archer frowned. "No, Trip died protecting me."
The two watched each other for a few minutes. There was a quiet sorrow that sprung onto Archer's features. It reminded her that the pain of death … Trip's … wasn't hers alone to bear. No doubt the admiral blamed himself for the engineer's passage.
"Shran would balance the council. You may think he's hot headed, but--"
"You're right."
"About Shran?"
"Yes, he's ill tempered. Jonathan, what Andoria needs is someone with patience."
He shook his head. "Look at the council. You have Gral. You need someone with the same fire to stand against him sometimes. I know you didn't agree with his decision this afternoon. If Shran--"
T'Pol's eyes left his to watch a woman in a long blue gown burst through the doors. Archer's administrative assistant's perfect gray hair became disheveled and the taffeta fabric of her dress was bunched into one of her hands . Her eyes were wide and slightly teary.
"Admiral--"
"What's wrong?" he said.
The Vulcan wasn't sure he'd understood the urgency of the moment.
Suddenly, he grabbed Diane's shoulders. "Columbia?"
"The Potomac heard a distress call from Columbia at 2010. When she got there, the ship had … been destroyed."
"Are there any--?"
Diane shook her head, a few tears falling. "No, sir."
T'Pol watched a mix of emotions overcome her former captain, and for a moment he seemed too stunned to say anything.
"Is there any evidence who destroyed the vessel?" T'Pol asked.
"The Potomac said there were three weapon types – Orion torpedoes, Arali phasers-"
Aral. It was a name T'Pol had heard before; they were the aliens Trip had killed on Enterprise. A venom overcame her, welling deep within her stomach and threatening to burst.
If these are the same species ….Diane continued. "--And a vessel who's weapons signature they haven't been able to determine," Diane said.
"Are you sure the Columbia was destroyed?" Archer asked, his eyes glassy. His large hands had already left her shoulders and he grabbed the table near him to steady himself.
Diane looked up at him, her blue eyes piercing. "Yes, sir. I'm sorry. I wanted you to hear it from me first."
Archer nodded. His voice, a little hoarse, said something that should've leaped to mind before. "Is Captain Richards still on the line?"
"Yes, sir."
He nodded. "Tell him I'll be right there. And, you notified Matt?" he asked.
"Yes." T'Pol looked up, and could see the admiral walking out the door. His aid behind him privately began gathering the other admirals for a meeting.
"Sir, I hope--"
He shook his head. "I'm okay, Diane."
With that, his assistant rubbed her fingers against his arm and gave a look between a smile and a sob. He blinked and showed the same expression. Only marginally satisfied, she walked out, looking over her shoulder more than once to see if what he said was true. Archer began to follow her, when T'Pol wrapped her hand around Archer's bicep.
"Jonathan-"
"Ninety-six people aboard that vessel. Ninety-six. I made the wrong call."
"You were asked to follow those orders."
"Doesn't matter does it? I've got to call ninety-six families."
T'Pol bent her head, keeping her hand on him. "It does matter. And I know that one person in particular meant a great deal to you."
He looked into her eyes. For once, she saw sorrow – almost more than at Trip's funeral. His eyes were on the brink of tears and she wondered whether he'd let a single drop fall … allow him to feel the sway of grief. Just as she saw him about to cave in, he straightened.
"I'm tired of people dying," he whispered.
"This wasn't your fault," she said.
"The hell it wasn't," he said, walking away from her grasp and out the door.
There were times when the Vulcan knew human etiquette. Just this once – no matter what T'Pau would want -- she followed it, waiting for the news to be told to her officially before reacting. It would give Starfleet a slight advantage and provide her an opportunity to silently wish the families of those killed, well.
Staron finally spoke behind her nearly twenty minutes later. "Ambassador, there's been an attack."
Quietly and with composure, she asked for more details and heard fewer than she'd already known. With that, she walked back to her office, to contact Minister T'Pau with the most recent information and find out from a Vulcan perspective the next moves.
As soon as the minister was called up on the screen, the little Vulcan leader leaned into it, speaking only in Vulcan.
"We should have attacked the Orions when they committed another act of piracy."
T'Pol nodded. "I understand, Minister, but the council did not agree with me."
T'Pau's lips formed a thin line. "I thought Starfleet would agree."
"They did."
T'Pau's eyes darted to the right and then to the left. "Is this channel secure?"
T'Pol tapped a few buttons and nodded. "Yes."
"I heard of the attack already."
The ambassador wasn't surprised. Vulcan intelligence was faster and more vast than nearly anyone's, despite having been mostly disbanded after the rule of Minister V'Las.
T'Pau said, "You mentioned there are two known enemies – the Orions and the Arali."
"Yes."
"There is another."
"Who?"
"There is something you should know about our distant brothers, T'Pol. The ones that left us during the Awakening. There is something you will learn, that you must never reveal to anyone. We believe the third attackers to be Romulans. They are our brothers."
TBC