T'Pol stared at the leader of Vulcan, a woman draped in red silks with her black hair tied up. The suns of her planet were setting, almost illuminating T'Pau as though she had a golden halo surrounding her.
"The Romulans are our brothers?" T'Pol asked.
T'Pau leaned forward. "You have read the Kir'Shara?"
"I have … at least what's already been translated."
The leader poked an eyebrow into the air. "Surak writes about those who could not live without emotion; people who ravaged our planet with war."
T'Pol spoke quietly. "I believed they were Vulcan dissenters. And … there has always been speculation that they perished."
The minister agreed. "There has been speculation, but little proof. These people are Vulcans … Vulcans who left our planet and sought another - Romulus."
"It does not mention that in the Kir'Shara."
"No, it does not. However, that is what we have learned from Minister V'Las. He is a Romulan."
Surprise betrayed T'Pol's face as she dropped her jaw. "How can you be certain?"
"He told us."
"He is an emotional man; he could've been lying."
T'Pau sat back in her chair, and her eyes darkened. "We did not ask him. His thoughts … they revealed his identity."
The news was almost too difficult for T'Pol to accept. "You've known about this for some time?"
"Yes."
"Do they look like us?" T'Pol asked. "Was V'Las in disguise?"
"Unknown. Scans have shown their internal organs do not completely match ours, although the differences are minute; it may be difficult for the untrained eye to distinguish."
As T'Pol's jaw dropped, the woman continued. "I am unsure about their external features. However, it is probably that over the thousands of years, their bodies may have adapted to Romulus even their facial structure."
T'Pol shook her head, her throat closing as if it couldn't be true. "You saw no evidence of facial surgery?"
"No."
The two women looked at each other, T'Pau's eyes grew cold and unyielding.
"Now you understand the need to be clandestine," the minister said.
"You believe there are more who have infiltrated our government?" T'Pol asked.
"Yes. To what extent, I am uncertain. I have been rooting them out for some time."
"How will you determine who you can trust?" T'Pol asked.
"That, Ambassador, is an excellent question. The ring of those I can rely on is quite small – you, Minister Soval, Minister Kovak and two scientists who I knew from the Forge."
T'Pol was relieved to have the minister's trust, although she wasn't sure she'd earned it.
"Have you discovered what they want?" T'Pol asked.
The minister shook her head. "No. However, in the Kir'Shara, Surak writes of the Great War and a man named Tolak. Tolak's final words suggested 'his people' would return to conquer Vulcan. One might hypothesize, without further data, that is their objective."
"You melded with V'Las …?" T'Pol suggested that he should've given them the information they needed through that meld.
"I did. V'Las believed the goal to be a war between us, the Telarites and the Andorians."
T'Pol remembered the incident well; V'Las seemed determined to go to war with the Andorians. If they did, the Telarites would've joined tentative forces with the Vulcans, leaving room for further conflict. The Romulans must've, she deduced, been behind the marauder they destroyed several years ago – the one where Trip suffered radiation sickness; perhaps Archer was right about the Romulans attempts to destabilize the region.
T'Pau said, "And since there have been further attempts from the Romulans, one might come to the conclusion they have another objective in mind. For example, conquering Vulcan."
"Then why did they destroy the Columbia?"
"All of the threads to their deception, and their reasoning behind it, are not yet known to us."
T'Pol nodded gravely.
"You understand why I tell you this now?"
She'd been wondering that.
"I do not wish to deceive the Federation or Starfleet. However, I would like to prolong the truth as long as possible. At least until Vulcan has rooted out our … brothers … and determined the cause behind their infiltration."
"An omission of the truth is a lie," T'Pol said, quoting Surak.
"You need not omit the truth, only be silent."
"Minister--"
Using the ancient Vulcan tongue, T'Pau spoke to her. Although the woman sounded stoic, her voice shook the silence around her.
"Thee are Vulcan. Thee heart is Vulcan."
T'Pol understood those words; it was a calling … a chant used before Kal'i'far to prompt the one in Pon'Farr into action. Almost as if sparked by its power, her heart began to beat more quickly.
The ambassador said, "There are some we can trust. They may be able to assist us. And … for all we know the Romulans may have infiltrated more than simply Vulcan."
T'Pau stared at the monitor, her eyes hot with flame as she changed back to the current language.
"No, V'Las' mind was clear on that point."
"Minister, he may not know."
"This is a Vulcan matter."
"I know someone we can turn to … someone we can trust," T'Pol said. "He's helped us before."
"This is not the same. If Starfleet learned of this infiltration, what do you think would happen?"
"They would help us discover a method to root out the Romulans."
"Our scientists are more advanced. The more people are involved, the easier it becomes for the truth in its entirety to be revealed."
"Surak says that secrets are like whispers in a cave – they echo. If we control how the Federation and Starfleet learn about this--"
"No."
"Minister--"
"No. You are our ambassador. You will do as I say, T'Pol. You will do so because you are Vulcan … because I am your appointed leader … and I have given you a command. You will do this because it is logical and because there is no other recourse. You will do this because you know if you do not, our entire society will collapse."
T'Pol was silent.
"We do not know enough about this to tell others. Keeping this to ourselves is the only logical course of action."
T'Pol didn't disagree verbally, although she didn't necessarily think T'Pau's course was the right action. Then again, she wasn't sure telling the Federation and Starfleet would help. The minister was right about a few things – if anyone on Vulcan found out, it would be devastating to the planet. Their society was still interpreting the words of the Kir'Shara. Priests only now were beginning to go back to the old ways – using mind melds as a way to heal, collecting katras and storing them in vessels, and performing rituals in the ancient tongue; and many of them were hesitant or rejected such practices. The scientific community was only beginning to understand the complexities of the Vulcan mind as they began to research, and debate, telepathy. People representing schools and temples were still arguing whether melding was a practice they should teach or whether they should leave it up to families. It was even still abhorred by some, those born into elite families.
Vulcan society was already thrown on its ear; change was difficult for her planet's people. This additional blow could cause further uproar in a time they needed, craved (even if the Vulcans would never use a word like this) unity and stability.
If they introduced this as well, people would grow mistrustful of everyone; it would introduce an emotion that Vulcans were unaware of: fear. Her people would grow mistrustful, looking for outsiders wherever they turned. There may be a backlash to exit the Federation, which some may consider the reason behind the Romulan invasion.
Anyone who was different would be automatically suspect, even if there were no initial proof; that was the essence of what fear did … even to the most rational of people.
Anyone who showed any emotion would be treated as a Romulan, persecuted even if he or she was Vulcan.
It was a subject T'Pol could relate to intimately. She timidly nodded her head in obedience.
T'Pau leaned in, breaking the silence. "When we know more … when we know the extent and the objective, we will tell them, but not until then."
"Yes, minister."
"I was wise to trust you, T'Pol." The Vulcan raised her hand and split her fingers into a "v." "Peace and long life."
"I hope that is true for us all. Live long and prosper, T'Pau."
With that, the communication ended. T'Pol blew out a long breath and leaned back in her chair staring at the blackened screen on the monitor. She'd have to meditate on this, if she could, to understand the ramifications. Although she would not betray her word, perhaps she could come up with various alternatives.
After noticing the clock indicated it was already past 2200 hours, she gathered up her things and headed to Archer's office. When she arrived, the oak door was closed – though she could hear his voice inside.
He would never say this, but he could probably use a friend.
So, she lowered herself into a chair next to his door and waited as she ruminated over the information just revealed to her.
Archer sat in front of his terminal and wearily brought up Captain Richards' face – a forty year old man with graying temples and dark brown eyes. The guy had been in the Academy directly after he and Erika graduated. At the time, he was a pesky kid who always asked questions and tried to fit in with the upperclassman. It was difficult sometimes to see him as a capable commander, a leader. But, the guy had already proven himself more than a few times and had earned himself a sterling reputation.
A grimace spread across his lips and he spoke with a quiet voice. "Admiral, I'm sorry I have bad news."
"My assistant told me, Chris."
The two were quiet until Archer finally prompted him. "I hear you've already determined who fired on the Columbia?"
He nodded. "Yes, sir. We traced the weapon's fire to the Orions and the Arali. Lt. Mayweather indicated you were aware of the Arali."
Archer leaned on the armrest of his chair and crossed his legs. Hell yeah he was aware of the aliens who were responsible for Trip's death.
"Yes," he said.
Richards continued. "There was another weapon that was difficult to determine. We checked the database and it matches the signature from two vessels you destroyed when you were captain … during the first interspecies campaign."
Archer furrowed his brow. "The marauders?"
"Yes, sir. Travis said you thought those ships belonged to the Romulans."
"I did, but we could never substantiate that. No hard evidence."
"I sent some samples to Starfleet. I'm hoping maybe they can give us a better analysis … maybe they'll prove you right."
"I'll talk with the tactical division there. I'd … also like Section 31 to review it."
"Sir?"
Section 31, the highly secret branch of Starfleet, was never discussed among officers and even among crewmen it was whispered. The mystery and austerity behind the organization was feared and revered simultaneously; they were extreme, but knew the secrets of the universe.
Archer responded. "I can understand your reservation, but …. Listen, if the Orions, Arali and Romulans are working together, there could be more at stake than just the Columbia or a few freighters."
"Agreed."
"I know this tough on morale. How's your crew holding up?" Archer asked. He didn't ask Chris personally, but hoped the man would gather he meant him specifically.
"We've known Erika a long time. What twenty five years?"
Archer gave a sad smile. "Longer than that."
"I remember when I made captain, she bought me a drink at the 602 and told me that 'Starfleet was promoting anyone these days.'" The man laughed and then quieted. "I talked with her just two days ago."
Archer swallowed deeply. Although his romantic interest in the woman had long vanished, she was his friend and knowing that she died in vain nagged at his soul; it wounded him.
"Admiral, let me say this: we're committed to sticking around as long as we need to in order to figure out exactly what happened, and if necessary rain hell on those that did this."
"I hope we don't need to."
"Me, too, sir."
"Thanks, Captain." Archer said. "I'll contact you first thing tomorrow. Keep up the good work."
"Thank you."
The screen faded to black and Archer found himself looking down at his lap for a few minutes before contacting the families of the Columbia. Each conversation was painful, but necessary. He had the privilege of having a few serve on Enterprise, so was able to comment on them in particular. He'd heard a few good things about a few, so he managed to mention that. When it came to contacting Mrs. Hernandez, a woman he'd met more than once, his stomach turned summersaults and his skin went cold.
"Mrs. Hernandez," Archer said. He'd called up the image of the woman on the other end. She looked almost exactly like her daughter except with short fluffy gray hair. Her eyes were deep brown and her mouth was turned down, as if she knew what he was about to deliver.
"Jon, my daughter?"
He licked his lips, but looked the woman in the eye; she deserved that much … if not more.
"Erika died in the line of duty tonight while protecting Earth against--"
The Latina woman covered her face in her hands and wept.
Almost as if trying to console her, Archer rambled on, his voice hoarse. "I'm sorry for your loss, ma'am. Erika was a model captain – the kind of woman everyone at Starfleet respects and admires."
The woman didn't acknowledge the words or even look up.
"Your daughter was special. She meant a great deal--"
The screen went black, her mother had cut it off, and Archer sighed deeply. He should've told her in person.
No, I shouldn't have asked Erika to take Columbia to fire at the Orion vessel.
Almost immediately after, Matt Gardner contacted him, insisting it was "important to get some sleep" and "they could brief the Federation on this in the morning," but Jon knew he wouldn't be able to rest his head or close his eyes.
After a couple more hours, Archer decided to head home. Picking up his briefcase and stuffing a PADD and a few other items into it he opened the door. On the other end, waiting with her hands folded neatly into her lap, was T'Pol.
"How long have you been here?" he asked.
"Not long."
For some reason, he doubted her words. "Why are you waiting here?"
"I wanted to ride home with you, Jonathan."
Before he could speak, she blinked at him and tilted her head to the side ever so slightly. "It's been a long day. And I wanted your company."
Walking slightly behind her, he answered her. "You didn't have to wait for me."
"I know."
"Were you checking up on me?"
"I would never do so. I know how you feel about that."
"Well, if you were … I'm okay."
"I understand that."
"I mean it."
"I know."
"It's just …."
"I know. Are you ready?"
He nodded grimly. "Yeah."
A long time ago, while working for the admiral, T'Pol had learned to allow the man to vent. It was exactly was he was doing now. As she shuttled the car back to his apartment, what started as a comment – why the council couldn't wait a few days - grew into a loud monologue, including cursing.
She glanced over to her right, where Archer was sitting, to see him red faced and his hands waving emphatically in the air. He was in the midst of a full bellow after having worked himself up.
"God damnit! Why didn't they just wait for one day? We know the Orions. We know what their modus operandi is. We've encountered them more than a few times. I mean, this is exactly why I was promoted and was suggested to debrief the council. Why couldn't they listen!"
He didn't wait for a response, and she was well aware the question was rhetorical. So he continued, answering himself.
"God, T'Pol, without the Vulcans, the Council would be an utter disaster. Did you notice that Neville … you know the supposed ambassador representing Earth … didn't speak up once? Not once!"
Sometimes T'Pol understood that when humans yelled it was to blow off steam. She also realized that humans sometimes yelled as if they were railing against themselves. As she listened to Archer grumble and rant about Federation politics, how he felt about the members and why the Columbia was sent in at all, she understood that at the core of the issue was he felt responsible for the ship's destruction.
As she parked the vehicle in the lot assigned to him, she climbed out.
"The Orions were bound to attack another freighter! They've been attacking one nearly every week! If we studied the patterns, maybe we could see some sort of sense. Hell, if Gral was so damned interested in the attack, we could even bait them into doing it!"
The two walked into the elevator and she pushed the button for his floor as he continued.
"I could've come up with something, something, in two days that would've appeased them. But, they couldn't even wait one damned day!"
When the elevator came to a halt, she walked down the corridor to his apartment and entered the code she'd been given as the man behind her continued to fume. He didn't stop even as he put down his briefcase and took off his coat, hanging it on the rack.
"Jesus! Politicians! I'll never understand it. Thirteen people on the Council and only two agree that waiting is the right thing to do. It seemed like a choice even an idiot would make! Why couldn't they have waited!"
Pushing a button on the inside, she closed the door behind her and finally took his arm. When he looked down at her, the expression on his face was pained and his breathing – which was heavy – began to slow. Finally, he turned away.
"Why didn't I fight harder, T'Pol?" he asked. "Why didn't I do what I knew was right?"
That was the very issue she'd been waiting for him to express.
"Why do you blame yourself?" she asked.
"I gave the order that killed more than ninety people."
"You relayed the order by the request of the Council. I share your blame."
"You spoke up against Gral's recommendation."
"As did you." The Vulcan paused and released her grip on the man. "I know she was a personal friend."
His expression didn't change, and he didn't confirm or deny the remark.
"Your assistant told me you'd known her since the Academy."
He took a long, steady breath. "Yeah."
T'Pol drew her robes around her and sat down, hoping he would do the same. With the slightest hint of disappointment, she noted he crossed over to the kitchen and poured himself a shot of whiskey.
"I also understand that she reported to you," T'Pol said.
She heard the glass behind her smack against the wooden counter. "That's right."
"I didn't know her well, but her reputation was one as a formidable captain."
He cleared his throat. "First woman to receive that rank."
T'Pol turned her head and watched as he mused.
"Starfleet considered changing the rules so that the physical tests would match a woman's stamina and strength. Pretty much everyone was in agreement, except Erika. I remember survival training with her; we had to cross a desert in two days – walking and running every day with only one canteen of water. She was the second person to cross the finish line and was three hours before me."
She raised an eyebrow.
"As soon as she finished, an ambulance took her because she was suffering from heat exhaustion." After giving an ironic chuckle, he swallowed his drink. "Despite a fever, she still managed to beat my time."
"You said she became a captain three years after you?" she asked.
"Yeah. She was a year younger and had a tendency to overcompensate for being a woman. I may've finished behind her, but I was in good shape."
The two stared at each other until Archer watched his lap.
"You know … she was always trying to prove she was tough enough. At least at Starfleet."
The remark caused her to wonder the nature of their relationship. She knew the two had been close, but didn't think they were romantically involved.
"Want anything?" he asked.
She shook her head, and after pouring himself another belt, he sat down next to the Vulcan. Nursing his drink, he started to open up a little. He gave a small smirk and then scratched his head.
"We had a lot of classes in the Academy together and managed to strike up a decent friendship. I think if I wasn't interested in someone else at the time …. It wasn't until four years later when we were both serving on the NX project that we seemed to strike up something."
"You two were … involved?"
Archer looked at her. "For a couple of years – on and off. I don't even remember exactly how it all started in the first place. I guess we were both lonely and were convenient. All I know is I was jealous of an intern, and the next day I made her breakfast."
She raised both eyebrows; the story sounded somewhat familiar. "Only two years?"
"I got a promotion. Instead of working with me occasionally, recording flight times, she was on my team."
"You didn't want to have a relationship with someone who reported to?"
The man leaned back on the couch. "I don't think we would've called ourselves in a relationship. And when it ended, it didn't seem to upset either of us. It seemed easy for us to go back to being friends. Maybe what made it easier is we both found someone else."
Human relationships are interesting. The one he spoke of reminded her of what happened with Trip.
"She helped me a lot thought. Somehow she'd managed to enter my life just when I needed her."
He looked into his glass and his lips turned down. "I failed her, T'Pol."
"You didn't."
"The one time she needed me, and I wasn't there," he said, hoarsely.
T'Pol's hand snaked around his own. As it did, she could see him trying to fight back remorse.
"I wasn't there for Trip either. I should've been. He would've been there for me," Archer said.
She grew quiet and released his hand.
"When the Arali came, I thought they were bluffing. I was cocky … too cocky." He paused. "Trip was right; they had every intention of killing me and anyone on Enterprise who interfered. He tried to tell me, but I wouldn't listen. He … he thought I was too important. He thought his own life was less valuable."
T'Pol felt herself frown.
"So, he gave up his own life," Archer said.
That's when T'Pol witnessed something she hadn't ever seen before, not even in the most dire of circumstances on Enterprise. His voice had sometimes quivered and there were times she could see his eyes become glassy. But never, ever, had she seen tears stream down his face. Embarrassed of his own emotion, he looked down, as if he could hide his feelings. She something she thought he needed; wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders, she pressed him to her and gave him a hug.
"Jonathan, you are many things, but you're not omnipotent," she whispered in his ear. "No matter how much you think you are."
After a few seconds she released him and his eyes looked both sorrowful. Ducking away from her gaze, he spread his fingers through his hair and exhaled.
"You're a good friend, T'Pol."
"You would do the same for me."
It made his lips twitch almost into a smile. Pushing his lean body up, he wearily walked to his bedroom and threw a few more words over his shoulder.
"I need a little time to be alone," he said.
"I understand." As he was about to shut the bedroom door, she spoke up. "I know Trip would've done anything to protect you. Just as I know you protected him many times before. Friends do that for each other. You've done it for me."
Archer turned around and leaned on the bedroom door's frame. "And you've done so for me."
She spoke again. "I know it's in your nature to blame yourself and brood over events as if they were your mistakes--"
She could see him about to interrupt, so she continued. "However, that isn't true for Erika, nor was it with Trip."
He swallowed and looked down at the ground.
"You can hold onto people you care about, and move on at the same time," she said, quoting something he once told her. "Apparently, there's nothing wrong with that."
Giving the very smallest of smiles, he kicked at the carpet underneath his feet. "Ironic," he said. "I think I said the same thing to you a few nights ago."
"You did. At the time I thought it was … perceptive."
He nodded. "Thanks."
Her eyes twinkled. "You're welcome."
When the bedroom door closed, T'Pol stared at it and then walked over to the kitchen to view the San Francisco skyline. There was too much to process in the last twenty-four hours. Although Vulcan, she'd always felt she was more flexible and willing to change. For a moment, she longed for the time when life was full of stability and clear answers: black and white. Ever since joining Enterprise, she hardly saw a solution to a problem that seemed easy or clear-cut. For a second, she longed for the days before she admitted she felt … before she knew what emotion was and had it ruminate in her brain and scurry around her stomach.
"There is much to meditate on," she said to herself. I only hope I can.