A/N: Firebird, really? Sorry, I thought I'd already revealed that T'Pol was pissed at Shran. She blames the blue guy for, basically, killing Trip. I thought it made sense given her mistrust of him already in TATV and the fact that … well … Trip died.
Hmm, I'm wondering if readers aren't terribly confused. Don't be afraid to chime in if so.
Dennis, don't worry!
Twenty admirals were crammed into the conference room where T'Pol spoke only days ago. This time, the business at-hand was more serious. After determining the Romulans were behind the attack on the Columbia, Gardner had convened an emergency meeting to discuss. The topic was vague enough to include military ones.
As Archer crossed his legs, ankle on his knee, he looked at his watch. Gardner was twenty minutes late, and the air in the room smelled stale – like the sweat from fifteen men mixed with the perfume from five women. And yet it felt electric; at first, they silently convened – almost all afraid to breathe – huddling to a chair keeping their mouths clamped as if holding onto a secret. Now, the room rumbled, growing noisier by the minute. Admiral McManus, a Scot who'd been in Engineering all his life, managed to shout just slightly louder than Admiral Gray who typically never raised her voice to anyone. Even Archer felt compelled to add his two cents as he heard Duvall expound on the virtues of sending more military vessels into space.
Finally, just as the decibel of the room reached a deafening thunder, Matt Gardner walked in and suddenly, the room went completely still; it even took a few moments for them to remember protocol – standing for a superior officer. When Admiral Grady finally shuffled in his chair to stand, Matt pushed his hands down before the man could finish the task.
"No need," Gardner said.
A grimace spread across Matt's usually congenial face. Standing erect, chest puffed, he widened his legs and shoved his hands behind his back in a military pose. His speech was clipped; it meant to Archer his superior was pissed.
"By now you've heard that we've confirmed that the Romulans, the Arali and the Orions were working together to attack the Columbia.
"I just got back from a meeting with Prime Minister Pelletier and Ambassador Simon. The Prime Minister has chosen to dispatch Simon to Romulus to meet with them, the Arali and the Orions leaders."
Archer immediately uncrossed his legs and squirmed in his seat.
"Jon, you wanted to say something?"
Archer said, "Meeting on neutral territory would be the best --"
"Admiral, your Commander-in-Chief is the Prime Minister. When he gives an order, you're bound to follow it."
Unfettered, Archer asked one more question. "What are they hoping to gain?"
Matt gave a quiet sigh. "I think they want to hold onto peace just a little longer. Ambassador Simon has a good track record with the Council. He's helped negotiate key treaties with several other planets."
Although Archer wasn't questioning his expertise, now that it was brought to light, he thought Simon was the last man he'd send. The guy was mousy and the mission was too critical. This was an effort in futility.
Gardner continued. "I've looked at the docked ships we have in the fleet to escort Neville Simon. Sarah, is the Yorktown ready to launch?"
A 60-year old woman with long blonde hair shook her head. "Just got a report this morning. Engine trouble. She won't be ready for another month. I could--"
"No, it's okay. Are there any ships within a day's range?" Matt asked.
"We could recall the Endeavor," Sam Franklin said. "Although the data they're researching in the Thozan sector could prove beneficial for scientists in the advancement of various cancers."
"Thanks, Sam. I'll keep it under advisement. Jon, what about the Potomac?" Gardner asked.
Archer froze; that ship fell under his chain of command.
Gardner said, "We have our culprit, which means she's done with her investigation. She's got plenty of speed and a good weapon's array." Reviewing his PADD, he added, "According to Captain Richards last calculations, she could get here in a little over a day."
Jon was silent.
"Admiral Archer?"
Admiral Duvall spoke up. "The Excelsior is only 22.8 hours from Earth. I'd like to recommend them."
Gardner turned his attention to the barrel-chested red head. "The captain's Mallory, right?"
"That's right, sir."
"We just promoted him. I'd like a more seasoned man to handle this one."
"Sir, I was going to recommend for a task of this magnitude that one of the admiral's accompany him."
"Who?" Matt asked.
"Me, sir."
Gardner raised his eyebrows. "All right. Give the orders right away." Looking over at the crowd, he concluded the meeting. "Dismissed."
As everyone filed out, Archer heard his name being called and turning, he saw two fingers calling him over. Halting his step, he waited as Matt met him, closed the door and frowned.
"Yes, sir?" Archer said.
"Everyone in the room could tell you don't agree with the Prime Minister."
"I'm sorry, sir, but I don't."
"And I don't care. Hell, I don't like the order."
"I could tell," Archer said quietly.
Matt shook his head, sneering. "You don't like politics. But, you'll learn soon enough that's the way it is. I advised the prime minister and he made another call. I have to follow my orders, and so do you."
"Sir, permission to speak freely?"
Matt reluctantly nodded. "Go ahead."
"We have an Orion spy in our brig. They fired on a vessel with the intent to destroy after she hailed them repeatedly to surrender. These people don't want peace."
"So you'd have us blindly head off into war?" Matt asked.
"No, sir. If we're going to negotiate with them, though, we have to act like we have every right to go to war. We have to act like we're also going to win it. It's the only, currently, tactical advantage we have. Asking them permission and going to Romulus on their terms!" Archer lowered his voice. "The Excelsior will be lucky if it makes it back with its crew."
Matt scowled and Archer could tell he hated sending anyone in there. "You didn't want the Potomac to go, did you?"
"No, sir," Archer said.
The answer obviously surprised Gardner, and he exhaled slowly as if restraining some anger and yet, Archer wondered if the man felt the same way.
Matt said, "Dismissed."
Turning his back, Archer marched out of the conference room and into his office. When he threw himself into his chair, he leaned forward nearly contacting the Vulcan ambassador. There was nothing to share, other than his complete disagreement with his own government's stance. But, that wasn't his role and he didn't dare reveal his true feelings, even if she was his best friend.
T'Pol walked into the Federation Council room at noon and rather than seeing the mild chitchat between the council members, she saw exuberant smiles and heard excited voices chatting with a small blue man dressed in black leather. His antennae wiggled, reacting to the happy diplomats, and the smile he wielded indicated he loved the attention.
It figured.
Sitting at the table, ensuring she was separated from the commotion, her eyes perused Shran. He wore an emblem on his black jacket – the Order of the Tarmera. It appeared Jonathan was correct: he'd been in the secret organization to serve the General. That mission, having been done, had earned him a medal and very probably a job as the Andorian Ambassador.
During her meditation last night, as she'd tried to find solace about Shran and his appointment, she'd called up one single image: his cocky grin – a smirk that seemed to swallow his entire face. It had been the one he'd worn many times in the past when asking for Archer's help. It had been there when they'd met him in the Expanse. It'd been the same one he'd worn during the punishment he'd given the Vulcan priests on P'Jem.
She decided it was permanently etched onto his face as if he considered himself the most important man alive – always had been.
As she stewed quietly to herself, she noticed he made a beeline for her while the smirk grew, spreading across his features. It raised her ire almost immediately.
"Vulcan!" he said. The warm greeting was met purposefully with an icy stare.
"My name is T'Pol, Shran," she said.
"You're mad at me," he stated. His antennae drooped pathetically. "Archer warned me you might be mad."
An eyebrow barely flinched. "Both of you are incorrect. You cannot anger a Vulcan."
"You and I both know that's not true," he said. "I've ticked you off many times before."
She was quiet, so he responded again losing some of his vibrato. "The Pink Skin has forgiven me for everything. I was hoping you could, too."
She didn't comment, but became annoyed that his entourage, the other ambassadors, began circling her to pay him homage. He looked around and with one sweep of his gloved hand shooed them away. It was a bizarre sight, and she'd never have guessed that women like Sera, the Xindi ambassador, could be so awestruck by one man.
"Archer told me how much Tucker meant to you," he said. "I didn't know the Arali would cost him his life. If there's anything I can do--"
She released a slow breath. "Everyone on Enterprise was important to me. It was my duty as first officer."
"When Talas died, I'd lost all hope. But, I forgave Gral and eventually found Jhamel and took her as my wife; I've been happy ever since. Besides, Gral wasn't responsible for pulling the trigger to the phase pistol that killed her. It was an accident, and some of it was my fault."
"Are you suggesting that Trip's death was my fault?"
"No."
"Then what is the point to your story?"
His eyes narrowed. "If I were still mad at Vulcans for the years of torture that I'd endured in one of your prisons, I wouldn't be here. If I were still irate that you and the Pink Skin overloaded the Xindi weapon in my cargo bay, I wouldn't have shown up. And if I still held a grudge against Archer for cutting off my antennae, I wouldn't be here talking to you."
She knew the two men held an irrational admiration for each other. Rather than give in to his ego, she bantered with him. "It is unsettling that for such a large universe our paths continue to cross."
"T'Pol, you know we're going to have to work together."
She didn't respond.
His antennae reared a little and as he turned, under his breath, he mumbled how stubborn Vulcans were.
Bewildered, she stared at him almost incredulous that those words had come from his mouth. Instead of yelling across the forum, she fumed quietly in her chair.
Staron finally joined her side.
"Your emotions," he whispered, leaning in.
"I am aware," she said. She eyed Shran who was sitting across the table. He'd given her a smirk, the one she hated in an obvious attempt to charm her. When she turned her nose up to him, denying him the privilege, he began conversing with the other ambassadors.
Staron started speaking, shaking her from her fury. "If I may be so bold, you seem to have two incidents that upset you: comments about your deceased friend Commander Tucker or about Admiral Archer."
"They are my friends."
Staron was about to say more when Gral entered. Instead of greeting the ambassadors as he normally did, he immediately stopped and stroked his belly as he shouted the new Andorian ambassador's name.
"Shran!"
The blue man tried to look humble, and failed by the narrowest of margins.
"Shran, the Council is supposed to invite you in, but … we can overlook that."
His antennae wiggled jubilantly. "I appreciate that, President."
"You have a speech?"
Shran gave a sharp nod as T'Pol felt her eyes inadvertently roll.
Unfolding a piece of paper as he walked to the front, he squinted at it and then beamed at the group.
"My name is Ambassador Shran. I've served in the Imperial Guard for more than forty years, have a wife, one child and … one on the way. I'm pleased to accept my role as ambassador. It's an opportunity that I, as a soldier, never thought I'd fulfill. Of course, I'll do my best to uphold Federation law while serving my planet."
As everyone was about to clap, his hand crumpled the paper as he spoke from his heart. One of his hands inadvertently made his way up to where the human diaphragm would be and his voice choked.
"If anyone had told the young boy from Temek that he was going to serve his planet to one day work on behalf of his government, he would've laughed in your face!"
T'Pol shot a glance to Staron who also seemed perplexed.
"Of course, I was a criminal then – petty crimes like theft mostly. But, around the age of ten, my Uncle Shev introduced me to the life I know now – one that accepts the harrowed existence of war while embracing the serenity of peace."
Gral put his hands together – almost to clap, when Shran interrupted, warning him the speech wasn't over.
"Not quite, President."
"Shran …?"
As if skipping ahead to the meat of his message, he finally sighed. "Very well. If you're so insistent to get on with business, I'd like to thank everyone who brought me here – you, my wife Jhamel, my signet (which T'Pol gathered was the nickname for his child) and the General."
Gral clapped as Shran reluctantly took his seat.
"That was longer than the parting speech Soval provided," he said.
Shran frowned.
"Welcome, Shran – Ambassador to Andoria." Gral's smile left his face. "We have news to discuss."
The delegates all settled in and Gral leaned over the table, his small legs kicking helplessly under him attempting to touch the floor.
"The humans have confirmed that the third vessel that attacked on the Columbia was – the Romulans."
A commotion immediately emerged, but it was Shran who stood up first. His hands leaned on the conference table heavily.
"Something has to be done," he said. The assuredness of his voice, and yet the hesitation to do something too bold almost impressed T'Pol.
"Of course something should," she said. "The question is what is an appropriate measure?"
Gral grunted, as if pleased that his long-time friends both spoke so wisely. "Ambassador Simon has more to say on this matter."
The skinny, almost frail ambassador pushed up his glasses and made his way to the front.
"The Prime Minister and I spoke, including Admiral Gardner. We discussed many options. Since this is an Earth matter, we choose to negotiate this ourselves. I will negotiate the treaty myself on Romulus."
Chaos erupted and each of the ambassadors began talk.
Almost immediately, Sera, the Xindi, stood. "Neville, your path is futile!"
Even T'Pol felt herself tense.
Shran made the loudest argument, silencing the others. "I understand that Earth has suffered greatly, but each member here today has suffered from the Orions and the Arali. A measured response must be taken, or they must negotiate on our terms. To go to Romulus is a fool's mission!"
Neville leveled his gaze. "Ambassador, I understand you're new to the art of negotiation, but the idea is to actually … discuss advantages."
Shran's antennae squirmed out of control. "You don't know the Romulans. Surely, you've discussed this with Admiral Archer--"
Neville's lips curled up into a snarl. "Archer is not like his father. He's not a scientist, he's a military commander."
Shran pointed to the man. "He's experienced with these aliens. You aren't."
Gral smiled at the debate.
"Archer is a blowhard. Policy isn't decided on his advice; Earth has elected Pelletier."
T'Pol felt herself rise. "You would be wise to listen to the counsel of Admiral Archer. As the only human who has encountered the Romulans--"
"I grow tired of your blind devotion to your boyfriend."
As she stumbled for words, she was amazed Shran rushed to her defense. "Ambassador T'Pol has the second most experience with the Romulans. Her experience is invaluable, Neville."
The wiry man tried to explain his position when Shran cut him off again. "Just be clear on one thing, ambassador, your way is folly and you'll pay for it with your life. By dismissing the experience of the people you've made responsible for suggesting protocol and discussing alien culture to you, you mark yourself as an idiot. If you die, we have no use for you."
T'Pol's mouth dropped. Gral's curled into a smile. Quiet broke out into the forum and T'Pol thought she could hear the two men pant, breathing so hard they could hardly stand in place.
Neville shook his head. "You were a mistake, Shran."
Shran laughed. "You are an idiot."
Before more could be said, and T'Pol suspected the President let Shran have the final word, he threw his hands in front of him.
"I'd like to take a vote on whether the Federation condones Ambassador Simon's actions."
As T'Pol stared into Shran's eyes, she was the first to speak out. "I do not agree."
Shran smiled. "Neither do I."
Sera, Merah, Bagdol and nearly the entire Council chimed in and in the end only two people agreed with Simon – Simon himself and Xemax, the Denobulan ambassador.
Gral grinned and snorted. "So noted," he said.
Simon added almost right away a few words. "We didn't ask for the Council's approval."
Shran frowned. "I suggest we discuss the predicament with our governments."
"I concur," T'Pol said.
Shran gave her a sardonic smile and for the first time she could remember, she held his gaze and nodded. Although she hadn't forgiven him, it made sense to act as allies.
Gral nodded. "It's decided. We'll adjourn until our meeting with him at 1500. It should prove to be a late night. Thank you."
T'Pol and Staron made a beeline for her office. The aid, following closely at her heels, said, "You seem distressed by the news."
She was glad she seemed surprise; she didn't want anyone to know she delivered the information to Archer herself.
"I am distressed by the news."
"The Romulans. I am unaware of who they are."
"They are a warlike culture – intensely private and territorial. If they are allied with the Arali and the Orions it means they could present a challenge to the Federation."
"Why would they have reason to attack us?"
"That, Staron, remains to be answered. Perhaps they are looking to gain territory."
Staron pointed an eyebrow and she felt the need to explain as they made it into her office. "Not everyone desires peace. There are some who profit from war. During war great improvements are made in technology, sciences, communications--"
"You sound like you agree with them?"
T'Pol removed her outer cloak. "Of course not. But having seen how advanced the Romulans are, I wonder if they are in a constant state of improvement through hostility."
"You have seen the Romulans?"
T'Pol's head tilted to the side. "Why do you ask?"
"Pardon me?"
"Why do you ask whether I've seen the Romulans. Does that matter?"
"You said they were intensely private. I assumed no one had seen them."
Suspiciously, she made her way over to her desk. "I have seen their ship. It looks like a ka'rav'ta."
"A ship that looks like a bird?"
"Yes. One with giant talons." Staron stood in his spot and she tried to alleviate any signs of distress. Looking toward her monitor, she asked her assistant to pardon himself so that she may contact the Minister.
When he did, and the door was closed, T'Pol placed the call and reported to T'Pau the news about the Romulans was out. As they continued their discussion, T'Pol found herself peppering her leader with questions about Staron – none of which she knew. Almost like a broken record, she pointed her to ask Soval indicating he'd served with the young man the longest. Closing the communication with T'Pau, she wondered whether Admiral Archer agreed with the assessment to send Neville. She could only hypothesize he didn't.
For just a moment, she almost called him to ask. Clenching her fist, she decided to ask him at the end of his day … if at all.
TBC