A/N: Glad to see there's universal hatred of Neville.

The tension in the air of the Federation Council Chamber was sharp and hot, causing goose bumps to cascade down T'Pol's arms. Even the Vulcan's mood was overly alert. It was an odd twinge of suspicion regarding her aid, Staron, a feeling that had been there since the very beginning … since her first meeting with the young man. Although she hadn't had a chance to call Soval before the Federation Council session reconvened, she'd made a mental note to contact him tonight at her apartment and out of his hearing range. She had to glean the aid's background and determine whether Staron was a Romulan passing himself off as a Vulcan as apparently some of the warlike race had done on her home planet.

Sitting down carefully at her place at the large oval table, she heard Sera talk quietly.

"By the gods, why would anyone allow Neville to do this?"

The Vulcan closed her eyes. "I don't know."

"I never imagined the Prime Minister such a fool," she said.

T'Pol remained stoically quiet, but agreed silently. Pelletier was an honest and decent man who'd spent his life serving his people. Although peaceful, he didn't seem like the type of man to back away from a fight.

"You've talked with your minister?" Sera asked.

T'Pol nodded slowly. "Yes."

"What did she say?"

T'Pol opened her eyes and then took a long breath. "When President Gral bring up the topic, I will convey our position then."

Sera said, "We recommend an attack, we are willing to dedicate our resources to do so, even if it's alone."

The Vulcan's eyes fell to her lap. "If the Earthlings have taken the first step, in some cases we are bound to see what will happen."

"But, you know it will be failure," Sera said.

"The situation certainly appears grim."

Staron came up behind them, interested in the conversation. "Ambassador T'Pol, I assumed you would wait for me."

"I wanted to ensure I wasn't late to the meeting," she said.

When he was about to answer her, Gral walked in with Shran. Everyone clamored for their chairs and sat quietly hanging on the edge of their chairs to give their planet's recommendations.

Stroking his belly, the Tellarite looked over the group. "I assume everyone has talked with their governments?"

A low agreement could be heard from every member of the Council.

"Let us hear from each ambassador," Gral said. "The Tellarites will go first. Although we consider the humans important allies, we are recommending sanctions against Earth for their impetuous behavior. Further action from Earth and we move to ban them from the Council."

Neville rose. "That is ludicrous! We created this Council." There was a small hubbub to that remark, but he continued. "Our ship was destroyed, not yours, President. The Columbia asked repeatedly for surrender. Everyone in this room heard it!"

"And yet you want to negotiate with these people on their terms," Shran said.

"From everything Starfleet has learned about these people, they are terrorists without mercy. It makes sense for us to take slow steps."

President Gral silenced Neville and pointed to Shran. "What do the Andorians think?"

"We like the Tellarites have always considered Earth an ally. We were the only planet to help them during the mission to destroy the Xindi weapon, no offense Ambassador Sera." She shook her head. "And still -- we are displeased with the actions taken. Andoria demands Earth reconsider."

"That's it?" Gral asked.

"Yes. Andoria frowns on further actions and believes Earth will stop these negotiations until they receive backing from this Council."

"Skinny, what does Vulcan say?" Gral asked.

T'Pol flattened her lips. "The Vulcans think peace is an alternative, but recommend the negotiation take place on neutral ground. We have several suggestions for appropriate locations. We also have a list of people we approve to negotiate this treaty."

"You're saying you don't recommend me?" Neville said, angrily.

"You were not our first choice."

Gral held up his hand to silence both parties. "Ambassador Sera?"

"The Xindi have had cargo ships fired on, just as the Andorians, Vulcans, and many of the races here have by these terrorists. We believe something should be done. We're ready to commit our own resources to retaliate. It's obvious we cannot achieve peace."

"Ambassador Bagdol?" Gral asked.

"The Rigelian are mixed. We've been allies with the Orions, and yet we have suffered in trade because of their actions. We, like the Vulcans, recommend peace on neutral ground. We also have a list of ambassador candidates, and although Ambassador Simon isn't our top choice, we would find satisfaction with him if one of the Rigelian were also allowed to attend."

"I would be honored to have a Rigelian attend," Neville said.

Gral grunted and then pointed to the Veral. "Ambassador Merah?"

"The Veral also recommend peace on neutral ground. I have not seen Ambassador T'Pol's recommendation, but I would like to review it. I believe we have similar concerns."

T'Pol raised her brows. "Of course."

"Ambassador Xemax?" Gral called.

The woman's face split into a grotesque smile. "The Denobulan haven't been warriors for many years and are somewhat out of practice. Denobula does not forget that Neville Simon helped Nathan Samuel to convene this Council. We had faith in him then, and we have faith in him now."

Simon smiled. "Thank you, Ambassador. I'm glad someone remembers."

"It was called a Coalition." Shran rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath, just loud enough for everyone to hear, "Living on glory from seven years ago."

Gral coughed, suppressing a laugh, and then pointed to Darag. "My friend, Ambassador Darag?"

"We concur with the Tellarites," he said. He stroked his white beard and focused his amber eyes on Gral. "You have spoken wisely."

"Ambassador Demvar?" Gral asked.

The gentleman from Coridan shook his head. "We side with the Andorians. They helped us re-establish peace on our planet, freeing us from our oppressive government." His eyes inadvertently found T'Pol's, as if he meant the Vulcans.

"Ambassador Kator?" Gral asked.

His voice shook with age. "Negotiation seems wise. We would be interested in the Vulcan's plan."

"Ambassador Trin?"

The young woman stood demurely. "President Gral speaks well. Earth is not the only race to suffer. Although our government has found the work of Ambassador Simon impressive, we will agree to sanctions."

"And Ambassador Nezfar?"

He hesitated. "The Yalans would agree with Ambassador T'Pol."

Gral spoke up. "I have noted that there seems to be consensus with Ambassador T'Pol's proposal to negotiate on neutral ground."

There was murmuring, until Gral cleared his throat.

"Other proposals on the table are sanctions against Earth. I would, on behalf of Tellar like to see those added to the Vulcan's proposal. Are there any objections?"

"What would the sanctions be?" T'Pol asked.

Shran asked, "You would place sanctions against Earth, Vulcan?"

T'Pol gave an almost unperceivable frown. "Earth needs to remember they are not the ones who decide inter-galactic policy; the Federation does. Sanctions may help them recall this in the future and not react so hastily."

A sharp tongue clucking could be heard from Neville as he voiced his disproval.

Shran nodded as his antennae drooped. "Go ahead, Gral."

Gral started. "Tellar would like to see the following – 100,000 credits to be paid to the Council, a daily briefing from Starfleet Federation and … the removal of the current ambassador."

A hush fell over the room.

Neville pounded his fist in anger. "This is a disgrace!"

Shran shook his head. "You have no idea how much I'd like to agree to those terms, but Andoria can't accept."

Demvar, Xemax, Bagdol all agreed.

"The removal of an ambassador simply because we do not agree with the actions of his government sets a dangerous precedent," T'Pol said.

Gral nodded. "I know. This decision was difficult for the Tellarites."

"I am uncertain that Vulcan could approve of every sanction mentioned. We support trade and monetary sanctions."

Trin, Kator and Merah agreed.

"Shran could you support trade or monetary sanctions?" Gral asked.

"Andoria doesn't support any sanctions against our allies," Shran said.

Demvar, Xemax and Bagdol agreed again.

Gral nodded. "And the rest?"

Everyone else, other than Neville, seemed to support sanctions if they were limited to trade or monetary sanctions. Consensus was made, and Gral gave a little snort asking his aid to write the verdict down.

"Sanctions have been approved, pending amounts and trade embargos."

Shran's antennae drooped.

"Ambassador Shran, it looks like you lost your first fight," Gral said, a little too cheerily.

"Only because my heart wasn't in it."

"Ambassador Simon, you can take everything you heard today to your Prime Minister," Gral said.

"I will." Neville sneered. "But, it won't change his mind. Starfleet has a ship allocated to us and we embark tomorrow at 0700." He looked around the room. "We have no objections to other planets sending a representative along. Ambassador Bagdol, if you wish to come along."

T'Pol rose a sharp eyebrow. "Do you think that's wise?"

"Earth, unlike Vulcan, trusts its allies," Neville said.

Shran said, "Don't be foolish."

T'Pol said, "There is a prisoner in the Starfleet brig, one we thought was a representative of Andoria."

Bagdol frowned. "You're questioning if I'm me?"

T'Pol said, "Every one on this Council should be considered a spy. It is in the Council's best interest to treat each other with circumspect."

"I thought Admiral Archer was in charge of that investigation," Bagdol said.

"Because our attention is demanded here, there hasn't been time," she said.

"I didn't realize you were receiving personal updates on the investigation," Neville said.

T'Pol's brow furrowed.

Bagdol said, "My aid indicates you were questioned. In fact, you were questioned right before the information about Romulus came to light."

She stared at the young man fumbling for words. Shran spoke up, although for an instant, he seemed to question her falter.

"I've known Ambassador T'Pol for more than ten years. She wouldn't mislead this Council, if that's what you're implying, Ambassador Bagdol."

"Of course not," Bagdol said. "However, shouldn't we all be suspicious?"

"In this case it was merely coincidence," Shran said. "Isn't that right, Ambassador?"

T'Pol gave a brief nod, careful not to actually speak. How they interrupted that nod, she reasoned, was up to them.

"We're getting no where." Gral snorted. "It's been a long day and our nerves are all frayed. Ambassador Simon, since you leave tomorrow, do you have a replacement?"

"My aid will stand in my place."

Gral gave a grunt at the red-haired, freckled kid that sat beside Neville. "Stanley Madison?"

The young man's voice gave a nervous crack. "You can call me Stan."

Shran shook his head. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-three."

T'Pol looked at him and then at Gral. "I recommend Earth rethink their delegate."

"I have plenty of experience," Stan said. "I majored in inter-galactic affairs from Georgetown where I was a teacher's assistant. I'm in all the staff briefings with Ambassador Simon and--"

"Mr. Madison, those things don't qualify as experience," T'Pol said, gently. "Experience means you've actually performed the job."

The young man's face turned down.

Neville intervened. "Stan is Earth's choice."

Before any more could be said, Gral adjourned the meeting. T'Pol decided a well-placed call to Gardner was in order to stop whatever travesty Earth was about to unleash. As everyone stood, Sera leaned into T'Pol.

"I haven't heard from the Ambassador almost since I've been here, but … suddenly he's been very vocal."

It had already raised T'Pol's suspicions and she couldn't help but nod. "I'm concerned as well."

Sera narrowed her eyes, looked at Neville once more, and then turned to leave the room. T'Pol's eyes stayed on the man as well. Something about his manner seemed too pleased to risk his life; for such a mouse, as Admiral Archer would've called him, one would think he wouldn't be so eager to go.

If Neville was leaving the next morning, perhaps Admiral Archer would have time to question him before he left. As the Vulcan stood, Staron asked her a question.

"I think we should send someone from Vulcan along with Ambassador Simon."

T'Pol shook her head. "Staron, Ambassador Simon's plan will never succeed."

"I volunteer to go."

"It will be your doom. Rethink your offer."

Stubbornly, he shook his head. "I overheard Minister T'Pau indicating it would be wise for us to send someone to watch the proceedings and provide reports."

"How do you know?"

"I overheard your conversation earlier."

"Staron, my conversations with our minister are private."

"You know, as well as I, male Vulcan hearing is difficult to muffle. I did not intend to eavesdrop."

"I will not assign you."

"Then, I volunteer."

"It's denied."

"Then I will make my request to Minister T'Pau. Perhaps she will grant it."

T'Pol blinked as her aid, so Vulcanly, strode away with purpose. Giving a frustrated sigh, she heard Shran behind her.

"The young are always impetuous – Vulcan, human, Andorian. It doesn't matter the species."

She leveled her gaze at him. "Vulcans are not impetuous."

He smiled. "You were. And it wasn't, for your species, that long ago."

"Do you want something?" she asked, almost irritably.

"I … I understand why Minister T'Pau chose you. Although I like Soval, I think you're a better choice."

She was silent.

"I …," he said. His antennae wiggled as if the words were hard for him to say, so he spit them out quickly. "I was impressed with you today." With that, he walked out as if he'd said nothing at all.

"Such hubris," she said to herself under her breath. And yet, she was pleased at his compliment.

Admiral Archer spent the early morning in his office reading and re-reading a report on his PADD, the one Shran sent as a "courtesy," while sucking the remainder of his coffee in one final gulp.

The report read:

"Ambassador Kirva'Tamor had served General Krag, the leader of the Andorian people, for approximately two years in the capacity of ambassador. Tamor served aboard the Kirama for three years, eventually earning a medal for his act of heroism during the Battle of Karan. His family all lived in the largest city on Andoria - Leran. He has no wife or children."

Archer thought, Either Orions are really committed – passing themselves off as the Tamors for decades, if not centuries, or the "Ambassador Tamor" in the brig is an imposter.

The imposter theory surfaced from Malcolm, and studying the facts it seemed the most plausible. Reed also suggested that Tamor, the real ambassador, was killed at some point between receiving the accommodation on Andoria and arriving on Earth. Living in a new place where no one knew him, at least very well, was a real boon to this spy. It meant he had a certain freedom.

Why did an Orion want others to think he was Andorian?

Easy. Phlox had already told him that the Orions could pass themselves off as Andorians.

Then, there was the hollowed antennae Tamor had. They were an simple way to transmit and receive information. Malcolm already formulated that the spy sent communications via his transmitters to various communication buoys, which would relay the signal to its final destination making it harder to trace. In addition, these satellites he used were normal channels and weren't likely to cause a blip on anyone's radar; they were seen as low-level chatter mostly low security data streams. They weren't monitored or scanned.

It was the perfect communication vehicle.

If finding out why Tamor was passing himself off as an Andorian was easy, what he was communicating was much more difficult to determine. Because of the high volume of traffic to and from these satellites, their data was wiped clean daily. None of Tamor's communications were left; everything was gone. No records.

A dead end.

Frowning, Archer remembered there was a call he'd been putting off for some time to someone who, unfortunately, might be able to shed some light on the situation. Harris. Reluctantly, he punched the buttons at his console until an image of middle-aged man with dark hair and a MACO build appeared on his monitor.

"Archer," he said. The comment didn't sound like surprise.

"You were expecting me?" Archer asked.

"In a way. I figured you'd be hot on the trail, but run into some walls." Harris smiled. "And to answer you next question, our mutual friend didn't tell me."

It was obvious he meant Reed. "Meet me at the Arrow in thirty minutes."

"I only trade information, Admiral. I have what you want. What are you going to give me?"

Jon frowned. "I think we can work something out."

Harris smiled. "I think we can, too."

Thirty minutes gave Archer just enough time to get out of uniform, so he didn't draw any attention, and get across the bridge to the pier. Walking along the bayfront, he headed toward a sculpture of a golden bow and large red, feather-tipped arrow – Cupid's Arrow – in the middle as if harpooning the ground. The statue was built sometime in the late twentieth or early twenty-first century and had a certain nostalgia to Archer. As a boy, he'd been to that park a few times while holding a girl's hand, hoping to steal a kiss near the arrow. In truth, he'd always found the pier romantic – with the fog rolling over the bay and the brisk sea air. The girls he'd known usually found the sculpture to be dreamier. Hence it was the perfect place to take a date, not to mention that on a pilot's salary, being free meant it was affordable.

It was ironic this time he was meeting a man he detested.

When he got there Harris was already seated under the gigantic sculpture, beaming. Extending his large palm toward Archer, he stood up, and although Archer didn't want to greet him so warmly, he felt obliged to shake hands.

"What information do you want?" Archer asked.

"That was fast."

"I don't like to chit-chat."

"I want information about T'Pol."

Archer rolled his eyes. He'd been down this road with Malcolm before. "No."

"What was T'Pol doing before she came to Earth?"

"It's personal. Why are you so interested?"

"She used to be Starfleet. We like to keep tabs on our officers."

That was disturbing.

Harris added. "We don't keep tabs on all officers, just the aliens."

That meant only T'Pol.

"She vanished from your operative?"

"Out of our sight for almost a year. We didn't know she was here until after you did."

"Is that why you told Reed she was a spy?"

Harris shrugged. "It's hard to remember what we discuss."

Archer's lip curled.

Harris asked, "You want this information about the spy in the Starfleet brig?"

"I'm not telling you information about T'Pol."

"Then I suppose this meeting is over," Harris said.

Archer grabbed his arm. "Wait a minute. Maybe I can give you something else."

"Oh?" Harris asked. "I'm listening."

Archer sighed. "We know who attacked the Columbia."

"Who?"

Archer leaned in. "You tell me what I want to know about the spy."

Harris blinked several times over and licked his lips. Pointing to the concrete ridge that surrounded the statue, he sat down. "Make yourself at home, Jon."

Archer cringed at him using such a familiar tone, but sat down nonetheless.

"The spy in your brig is an Orion."

"We already know that. He's been using his antennae as a transmitter to send and receive communications."

Harris nodded. "The secret guard of the General found the real Ambassador Tamor's remains in an ice field on Andoria."

"Let me guess, Shran found him?"

"Good guess." Harris leaned back. "You want to know the scariest thing?"

Archer hesitated, but Harris spoke anyway. "We think that the Arali and Romulans have men disguised as aids or diplomats in the Council."

"Do you know which ones?"

"Tell me who attacked Columbia."

"We've known everything you'd told me so far. I want a short list, not the one Reed gave me, of the people you suspect."

Harris shook his head. "I'll tell you our number one suspect."

"How can I be sure you're telling me the truth?"

"One way to be sure is to tell me who attacked the Columbia first."

Archer sighed. Scanning left and right, he leaned in close. "The Romulans."

Harris' eyes went wide. "You're telling the truth."

"Tell me what I want to know."

"You played straight up with me, so I'll do the same for you. We have several suspects. The one we're looking at most closely? Xemax."

"Why the Denobulan?"

"Ask Dr. Phlox. He helped you with the Orion. I think he can help you here."

"How do you know--?"

Harris smiled. "I know a lot, just like I already knew about the Romulans."

Archer furrowed his brow. "Then why all this?"

"Because now you owe me."

"What--?"

"I'll call in that favor one day," Harris said.

Archer's heart pounded in his chest with foreboding and anger. He'd been played. In a way, he knew he would and yet he was surprised when it happened. Harris clapped him on the back and then wandered off, losing himself in the tourist crowd that had gathered at the edge of the pier on their way to the market less than a half-mile away. The admiral hung his head and wondered what his next step was.

TBC