Arch, you wrote: Take a close look at chapy 9 and even if it was hush hush in chappy 11 it dosent seem to be all that secretive hell even tpol is assitant knows of them.

Considering I wrote it, I remember. ;-) Of course T'Pol's aide knows, he sits with her in the Council room.

Then you say, "so tell me why does chapter 12 have archer telling harris about the romulans when we know reed works for the guys and by default all he knows harris knows and archer has to know this so as the wwe wresttler says

reed reports to harris harris has the same information reed and archer know hell perhaps even more harris wasnt even in a position to lie to archer"

Gardner only discusses this with the admirals and Archer shares the information with Reed. (By the way, Reed works for both Starfleet outright and Section 31). Hopefully you don't think Reed would just tell everyone information that Archer indicated was secret. Especially after T'Pol didn't easily divulge the information.

No one else knows, at least that was the idea. But, Archer, in this case, should've realized Section 31 kinda knows everything … even the things you don't think they would.

There's also this thing called: "the willing suspension of disbelief." I can't help you more than that.

----------

The moment Archer got through his door, he heard his console whir as if someone was demanding to speak with him. Running to the terminal, he switched it on and stared at the man on the other end with amazement.

"Prime Minister," he said, trying to decide whether to bow or just look respectful.

Pelletier, a man in his early sixties, had wavy gray hair and blue eyes. His smile was broad, white and a little crooked; his face looked like it belonged on an Irishman – large cheeks with the hint of impishness. The man tugged at his sweatshirt and stared at the computer, smoothing back his wild hair.

"I spoke with Gardner," the Prime Minister said.

Archer licked his lips. "I hope he didn't wake you."

The man provided a lopsided grin and adjusted his glasses. "He did, actually."

Archer continued to stand at attention.

Pelletier said, "I didn't know that Stan was Neville's replacement on the Council." The scholarly man glanced down at his shoes and gave a small laugh. "I recommended Neville pick someone, but … an intern?"

Archer had to agree, although he did so silently.

"Jon, I know we haven't seen eye to eye on everything. Although, I suspect we agree more than you and Samuels … or Samuels and I for that matter."

Jon grinned. "I can understand your difficulty, sir. And, well … I'm stubborn."

"Yes you are, Admiral. But, … I remember your speech the day the Federation was formed. I was moved by your words. I thought only a man of true conviction and experience could say what you did. I was struck, even then, that out of everyone at the lectern, you had the most experience with the coalition … the Federation … that had been assembled."

"Sir--" Archer began.

"I realized then you were a visionary. You and Enterprise created a tenuous peace with these people …."

"No--"

"And, you personally helped created the rules of the Council."

Suddenly Archer felt as if he was about to be assigned to a task he loathed. Just as he was about to disavow any knowledge of T'Pol's request, he heard the leader of Earth make a proposition.

"I know you and Matt think going to Romulus is a mistake, and don't try and deny it."

Archer wasn't about to.

"I … we've had a century of peace, Jon. I'd like to give that every opportunity before I commit our forces … before I commit your lives."

Now that Archer understood, at least in theory.

Pelletier said, "I'd like you to serve as temporary ambassador to Earth."

Archer was about to object, when the prime minister continued.

"According to article 52 of the Starfleet code, I can call you up for civil duty to your planet."

The code wasn't quite translated that way; it was intended if war had broken out and the leaders of Earth had been killed or wounded incapacitating them from service.

Pelletier said, "I've already spoken with Matt. It's been cleared."

Archer wanted to sigh.

"I'd like for you to begin tomorrow at 0700. I've asked Stan to meet you at Neville's office – your temporary office – at that time. I'd like you to debrief me on a daily basis at the end of the day; Neville used to do so at 1900 hours."

The admiral stammered for words.

"I know you think Neville is a damned fool, and … I have to be honest, he wasn't my first choice, but he passed the nomination of both the liberal and the conservative parties …. probably his affiliation to Nathan Samuels."

Archer was still speechless.

Pelletier said, "He has more muster than you give him credit, though. Knowing you talked with Harris, I think you can summarize what I mean there."

Wide-eyed, the admiral continued to remain silent. Nothing apparently escaped the Prime Minister's notice.

"The moment Neville returns, and he will, I'd like you to resign."

Archer blinked.

"Have any questions?" the Prime Minister asked.

The first question out of his mouth wasn't the one he wanted to ask at all. "What will people call me?"

"Ambassador Archer."

"What's my first order of business?" he asked.

"Try and convince the Council not to file sanctions."

The first question he'd wanted to ask now came to his lips. "Why not Gardner?"

The Prime Minister took off his glasses and rubbed them with a cloth. "If … if … war is the outcome, I'd like Gardner to remain in charge. Although I have a lot of faith in Admiral McManus, it doesn't help to change jockeys before a big horse race."

"I have a strong alliance with Shran and T'Pol," Archer volunteered.

The Prime Minister smiled. "Not just them … and that's precisely what I'm counting on."

Placing the glasses back on his face, the Prime Minister waited. "Jon?"

The admiral clarified. "If I say 'no' …?"

"You can't really. Besides, you like the idea, even if you don't want to admit it."

Archer furrowed his brow.

"I'll talk with you tomorrow at 1900 hours," Pelletier said.

As he was about to close the channel, the Prime Minister said one more thing. "Wear a suit tomorrow, will ya?"

The connection closed and Archer found himself staring at it. Looking at the clock, 2320, he shook his head. Before changing and preparing for sleep, he contacted the Potomac, asking them to keep a close eye and ear on events in their sector for the next few days.

He then made a call to Reed – at Hoshi's, which amused him a little – asking him to continue investigating various ambassadors, including questioning Council members, without him.

Captain Reed sleepily rubbed his eyes. "Without you?" the Brit asked.

"I've been called up for civil service," Archer said.

When Malcolm stared on with confusion, the captain explained almost everything and then hastened to add that he didn't want Harris to know. The words hit the captain a little harder than expected and he explained with a shaking head.

"I would never betray your confidence, sir," Reed said.

"I know you never would."

-----

T'Pol began her day combing her hair and scenting it, as she would any other day. After sipping her Plomek broth and dressing in the most Vulcan of robes, she reminded herself to take Archer's jacket into work, but had somehow forgotten it by the time she left her apartment.

Walking into a dark office, Staron had left at 0700 with Simon and Bagdol, she stopped by her aide's desk and pondered whether he was alright. It was only 0720, which meant they were probably passing Jupiter now and far away from harm.

At least for now.

Suppressing a sigh, she sat down at her computer and logged to T'Pau that she'd approved Staron's request to go to Romulus and sent a personal message to Soval thanking him. After she'd approved the information to be transported over satellites, she made her way to the chamber of the United Federation of Planets and waited as the other delegated arrived. Hardly any of the aides showed up, in fact, nearly every ambassador alone represented their planet. That was definitely odd. Then, she reasoned, maybe like her planet others found it useful to send a representative on this fool's errand at least for information about what was happening … without the slant they may receive from the humans.

Ambassador Bagdol was the only representative, besides Simon, who was not seated. Instead, his aide – a young woman with long black dreadlocks – sat in his chair. Quietly, she introduced herself to those around (for some reason no one spoke to each other's aides) as Natar.

As T'Pol's eyes scanned the room one more thing stood out. To her surprise, and quiet thanks, Stan had not arrived to take his place. Shran must've noticed the same thing.

"Where's the kid?" Shran asked.

Instead of an answer, one of Gral's aides wandered into the room and asked that Archer be allowed into the chamber.

The little pig grunted. "We did not ask for a military report today."

The aide responded. "He has none to give."

Gral pointed to the door and bellowed to let him in. Archer, wearing a black high-collared suit walked into the room and gave a half-smile to the people at the table. Immediately, T'Pol felt herself lean in.

"I've been asked by Prime Minister Pelletier to substitute for Ambassador Simon. I … I'm pleased to serve with you and hope that you find me a fair replacement."

Shran stood and yelled over the excited commotion of the room. "Andoria would like to commend Earth on its choice."

T'Pol, who'd stood only seconds after Shran, had nodded stoically in agreement. "Vulcan also approves of the replacement."

Gral laughed over the noise and then ushered everyone to his seat. "Archer, you continue to surprise me."

Jon headed to his seat with an angry aide, Stan, at his side. "I'm surprised myself."

Gral, musing on the announcement, spoke carefully. "You'll forgive me, but … the Prime Minister made a much better decision today than he did yesterday."

Archer bent his head, humbled. "The Prime Minister has learned of the sanctions you've taken against us. I'm hoping that we can discuss them."

T'Pol looked at her long-time friend and couldn't help but feel her eyes twinkle.

"Ambassador Archer, Vulcan is displeased that Earth made several decisions without consulting this Council."

Archer nodded thoughtfully. "Earth has had only a century of peace. Only one. The Vulcans have had a millennium before their disagreement with the Andorians. The Xindi, before attacking Earth, enjoyed 300. The Denobulans almost 800. Ambassador T'Pol, because we are newcomers to peace, we treasure it and go out of our way to safeguard it … even when it may appear foolhardy."

The Vulcan raised a single eyebrow.

"When the Xindi attacked our planet, we still managed a tenuous peace with them, and if we hadn't strived for it this Council wouldn't have been formed."

Sera, the Xindi representative, shook her head. "But, you did not consult us before deciding on a plan. That is the customary procedure. You helped create the bylaws. No one should know that better than you."

Gral agreed. "Ambassador Archer, the Council has a mandate to discuss all military options or negotiation avenues here. First."

Archer nodded. "We did ask for people to attend. And, I understand that everyone here sent someone on their planet's behalf."

Ambassadors glanced up and down the oblong table and when they finished murmuring filled the hall. The room was emptier than usual; Archer's words rang true.

Gral shook his head after looking briefly at the vacant chair near him. "Asking us to attend afterward doesn't assuage your responsibility for not following procedure in the first place."

"I'm not arguing that we didn't follow the process of this Council. I'm saying that we shouldn't have sanctions held against us for an oversight … one we tried to correct."

Shran volunteered. "Not everyone agreed with the sanctions, Pink Skin."

A few timid heads nodded, so Archer used his sway to open up discussion. "President Gral, I'd like to ask that the Council take a vote again on sanctions against us."

T'Pol watched as nearly everyone shook their heads and agreed to stay their demand for sanctions. When the vote was over, only two had continued their disagreement and had done so not because they felt compelled to, but because their government was unhappy. Jonathan hung his head, sighing, and then looked back at the Council.

"Thank you," he said.

Silently, the Vulcan thought that her previous commander, the one that hated politics, had become quite politic.

Gral grunted. "Archer brought up a good point. All of us have sent our aides in our stead on the Excelsior presumably for updates on the peace negotiation."

Shran nodded, his antennae squirming. "I still think it's an idiot's errand, but … Andoria couldn't risk not sending someone in case something actually came of this."

Sera chimed in. "The Xindi had similar feelings."

T'Pol spoke up. "As did the Vulcans."

Archer quieted their unease. "We'd be suspicious if you didn't. I think we're all concerned about the mission's success."

Gral gave a mild snort and then led the ambassadors through various motions and orders that were now customary – new aliens asking to join the Council and mostly being denied because the set of principles that had to exist on the home world. After hours and hours of work, including working through lunch, the little pig broke early. Everyone was antsy, wanting to talk with their aide, and they had a banquet to attend to that night.

"We have an event to go to tonight. Perhaps we should break early," Grail said.

All eyes went to Shran.

He gave a confident grin. "My wife will be pleased to hear it."

Gral nodded. "My wife as well. Meeting adjourned."

As soon as they all stood, T'Pol's gaze met Archer's. She huddled to him at once and nervously – with excitement – began peppering him with questions.

"Under what circumstances were you appointed as ambassador?" she asked.

Archer's lips flattened. "There's a know-it-all science officer I had aboard my ship once--"

Although she sensed he was being somewhat truthful, that he found the business of being ambassador less than fulfilling, she also knew he was teasing her.

"This know-it-all science officer was correct. You helped Earth evade sanctions, something Ambassador Simon would never be able to do."

He frowned. "I sensed everyone scrambling for their notes today."

"People are used to relying on their aides too frequently."

"Stan's a little pissed off."

"Your aide should be thankful someone with experience is representing your planet."

Archer chuckled, his eyes glimmering. "I don't think he sees it that way."

Something in T'Pol's stomach tickled and she felt her eyes glow with the same warmth. It was how she felt when friends with her, people whom she could relax and be herself – not Vulcan and not emotional, but somewhere comfortably between.

"You left your jacket last night," she whispered.

He gave her a lopsided smile. "I thought I noticed it was colder going home than I expected."

Leading her out the door, he started to walk to his temporary office. As they rounded one corridor after another making small talk, he eventually stopped in front of Simon's place.

"Feels strange not to have my office or Diane waiting to greet me," he confided.

"It felt odd this morning that Staron wasn't waiting for me."

"Have you heard from him?"

"Not yet. I was hoping to contact him before the event tonight."

"Speaking of …" He nodded. "What time you heading over there?"

"2100." It was an hour past the hour of the occasion, something she knew living amidst humans that was being socially on-time.

"Good thinking. I hate these stuffy formal dinners."

"We live so close to each other. Perhaps we could share a taxi?" she asked.

"Sure. I'll see you at your place at 2075?"

"Very well."

Turning his back, he walked into his office and she stared at the door as it closed and headed back to her office to make to calls – one to Staron and then one to T'Pau.

--------

T'Pol brushed her hair and rubbed lipstick onto her mouth, puckering it as she did. The Vulcan was never vain enough to call herself attractive, but she believed tonight her appearance was acceptable. She decided against wearing Vulcan robes and decided to put something on that looked like it could be from Vulcan – a red slim-fitting Chinese dress with a mandarin collar. For the event, she event wore a barrette, one she'd seen in a history book of the United States from the 1940s. She'd always imagined quite illogically that despite the barbaric war, it was a somewhat idealistic time in history.

Adjusting a piece of hair, brushing it away from her face, she gathered the silk in her hand, slipped into her red shoes and met Archer at the door. Dressed in a tuxedo, he gave a broad smile. This was the first time she'd seen him in a fancy civilian tuxedo.

"You look nice," he said.

"I believe your saying is – you take showers."

A guffaw burst out of his mouth. "I think you mean, 'you clean up well.'"

"Hmmm. Perhaps."

She furrowed her brow and he held out his arm. Rather than take it, she questioned him, wondering what exactly he wanted her to do before he nonchalantly placed it back at his side.

"I contacted Staron," she said.

"And?" Archer asked.

"Thus far the mission seems successful. They've contacted Romulus and have been welcomed to their home world. They should be arriving in less than a week."

He sighed. "I guess we'll be waiting for the other shoe to drop until then."

She agreed, but did so silently.

They made their way into a shuttle taxi and headed over to the banquet – being held at the banquet area of the Star Room (a fancy rooftop room that had been a popular hang out since the 1900s). It was a large red room with windows that spanned the entire area that looked out over the city. The carpet was red and plush and mirrors lined the walls as if to make the place look larger. A few buffet tables were scattered along the room filled with food and drinks.

As soon as Archer and T'Pol stepped from the elevator, they spied Shran glad-handing everyone who came through the door. When he saw them, his face beamed and his antennae squiggled with glee.

"I see you came together," he said. His lips curled up churlishly.

At first Archer nodded and then at the eager smile the Andorian gave, he corrected the statement. "We didn't really come together."

The blue man didn't change his expression. "It's all right." Leaning in, Shran said a few things into his ear as Jonathan's face gave way to a frown.

"You have the wrong idea," Archer said, shaking his head.

T'Pol was about to inquire further, when she noticed a light blue hand wrap around her arm. It was Jhamel, seeming a little out of place with her blind blue eyes staring into space, and a shimmering grown wrapped around her protruding belly.

Jhamel said, "It's good to hear old friends."

The Vulcan noticed the woman had grown from the child she'd seen in Sickbay. Although she was still the same height, she seemed wiser and more mature as if motherhood and being married to the impetuous Andorian was good for her. The Aenar held the hand of a child who grinned mischievously.

Jhamel said, "Thank you for coming. I hear, you recommended my husband for the position."

T'Pol was about to negate that comment, when Archer spoke up.

"Couldn't think of a better candidate," he said.

"Pink Skin!" the girl beside her said. With a demanding tug on Archer's sleeve, the little girl looked up and her antennae poked up curiously.

"Hello," he said. "You've grown."

Nodding, she grinned. "Five centimeters!"

"You're a big girl."

She nodded. "I'm almost big enough to join the Imperial Guard."

Archer sighed. "Do you remember T'Pol?"

"I remember the Vulcan," she said.

Jhamel scolded, "The ambassador is a friend of your father's. You should show her respect."

"Father calls her that all the time!"

T'Pol intercepted, dismissing the reprimand with the wave of her hand. "I met you aboard Enterprise a little more than a year ago, Tallah."

The girl smiled, showing her white teeth in an over-exaggerated manner. "I know. I remember. Andorians have excellent memories!"

She is definitely her father's daughter.

The two made their way to a table filled with various drinks as more people crammed into the Star Room. T'Pol retrieved something that looked like fruit punch, deciding it was a special occasion, while Archer grabbed a beer. They were both silent, looking at the already full room become more cramped.

"What did Shran whisper to you?" she finally asked.

Staring into his glass he shook his head. "Nothing."

"Nothing?"

He rolled his eyes. "You don't want to know."

Staring at him, as if she could bore a hole through his skin, she contradicted him and after a minute of being under her gaze he exhaled noisily.

"He said if I were a smart man that I would …."

She waited.

"He suggested the two of us should …."

A single eyebrow poked against her forehead. "Yes?"

As he was about to answer, Captain Reed and Lt. Sato walked over hand-in-hand, both grinning from ear-to-ear. Their eyes were shiny and there was a spring in their step, as if their gait had lightened.

Malcolm straightened his uniform on approach and Hoshi swept a dangling piece of hair away from her face despite her mane had been pinned up.

"Seems strange seeing you out of uniform, sir," Reed said to Archer.

He agreed. "It feels weird to be out of uniform."

Reed then turned to T'Pol. "You look quite nice."

"Thank you."

Hoshi leaned over to pick up a glass of wine sitting on the table behind them and then sipped on her beverage. Archer face began spreading into a large smile.

"What's this?" Archer asked, pointing at her hand.

Reed chortled and Hoshi blushed for a few seconds.

"He asked me last night," Hoshi said.

Reed nodded with a sheepish grin. "It's funny. I know we haven't been dating that long, but … sometimes you just know."

Hoshi agreed. "Besides, I think being on Enterprise … you got to know people better than you expected. Like their quirks and foibles."

As T'Pol watched the scene unfold, she wasn't entirely sure what they were discussing. Although she'd learned quite a lot about human customs and idioms, occasionally she was reminded that she was still an alien. After Archer dragged Hoshi into a hug and slapped Reed hard on the arm, T'Pol finally spoke up.

"What happened?"

Archer laughed. "Hoshi and Malcolm got engaged."

Just as the two were about to tell all the ins and outs of their engagement, the music kicked up a little. Leading his wife out onto the dance floor, Shran took Jhamel in his arms and swayed awkwardly to what T'Pol was presumed classical music, prompting others to join them and do the same. Within an instant Reed took his bride to be for a spin around the floor leaving Archer and T'Pol, and MACOs, which appeared to be stationed throughout the room, as if they were the only ones not partaking in the ritual.

Jonathan leaned over to her. "I don't know if you'd be interested or not--"

"In dancing?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Do Vulcans dance?"

"Bondmates – married Vulcans - do."

"I see."

They watched as people twirled by and she heard him quietly ask another question.

"So, does that mean you don't want to?"

They stared at each other and for a second and T'Pol felt the moment become thick as if he wanted to say more. Suddenly, he spoke to her and grabbed her arm.

"What the hell."

Leading her out to the black and white tiled floor and under a large crystal ceiling, he grabbed her around the waist and took her hand in his and began to lead her through the crowd. She found the steps difficult until he leaned down.

"Put your feet on mine," he said. "It's how my mom taught me."

Hesitatingly, with a raised eyebrow, she did. Once her feet sat on his, the movement felt more fluid and she enjoyed the sensation more despite the odd feeling of touching. She could also tell that he enjoyed it more. The smile on his face broadened and he chuckled occasionally remarking that the two of them must look ridiculous, and yet for some reason she thought he reveled in looking absurd. When the song came to an eventual end, T'Pol momentarily felt the gaiety of the moment vanish and when the two looked at each other, she noticed his face blushed slightly.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Nothing," he said. And the two, before the next song began, made their way back to stand next to a table.

As Archer leaned in to comment about how happy Shran seemed, as the blue man waved his arms in the air, T'Pol's attention was taken elsewhere. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Phlox hurry to Captain Reed. Instead of wearing a tuxedo or even a Denobulan robe to signify the importance of the occasion, he rushed in wearing a long white lab quote and wild hair. Something was definitely amiss. Straining her hearing she could barely make out what they were saying.

Phlox said, "I have to speak to you at once. It's about the ambassador we interviewed today."

Reed nodded and then two huddled off without a word.

"Something's amiss," she whispered.

"What?" Archer asked.

She recalled the event she'd just witnessed when Hoshi approached them and they all walked off the dance floor.

"I wonder if they found their spy," he said, more to himself than anyone.

T'Pol was about to respond when the music came to an abrupt end and Shran walked to a table to clink a glass loudly and then finally shouted above the roar of the room.

"Can I have your attention!" Shran yelled. His antennae reared back.

When silence broke up, he broke into a smile. "Much better. I wanted to thank you for coming tonight and for honoring me. I am proud to serve Andorian during these exciting times and I'm pleased you all wanted me on the Council."

Gral heckled. "Not everyone, Shran!"

The crowd broke into laughter and the blue man at the front let his smile dip only for a moment.

"I'd like to thank that fat wise guy who just spoke up, President Gral, for everything he's done. I'd also like to thank Archer and … Ambassador T'Pol."

The Vulcan was startled that the Andorian would mention her.

"I've grown close to these people throughout my years. And on more than one occasion they have proved loyal friends even in the most difficult of circumstances," he said, wrapping his arm around his daughter.

"Thanks also to my wife Jhamel and my little one Tallah. I know Earth is much warmer than our planet, and I know you made a lot of sacrifices for me to come here."

Lost in the moment, his daughter wrapped her arms around his legs as if whispering into them how much she loved him. Even T'Pol was touched.

"Anyway, let's get back to the party," he said. "Takala gravada! Enjoy the moment!"

The music began to play again and people flocked to the dance floor or to get another beverage. T'Pol, Archer and Hoshi stayed in the same area and the Vulcan turned to her companions.

"Interesting speech," T'Pol noted. It wasn't one of the most eloquent, but it was heart-felt. At least she believed that would be the term the humans would use.

"I thought it was very sweet," Hoshi said. "It's funny to think of Shran married and with a family. Come to think of it, it's funny to think he's a key figure for his government."

Archer chuckled at that. "Yes, it is."

The three chatted more about Shran, remembering his actions on P'Jem and reminisced at the progress he'd made since that day. They each discussed a small amount of surprise that he and Jhamel wound up married, mostly because the woman seemed so young and naïve then. Then they concluded that in the end everything had turned out well for the Andorians – all of them. Jhamel was lovely and patient – a nice balance for her hotheaded husband. Tallah was cute, though she had her father's arrogance and stubbornness.

The conversation made a quick detour, at Archer's finagling, to Malcolm and Hoshi and their impending wedding. The three talked about where the wedding would be located, when it was being held and asking for more details about how he popped the question. Hoshi giggled at how he asked for her hand noting it couldn't be told in mixed company, which made Archer nearly choke on the beverage.

As they continued on about the wedding, the words faded into the background as T'Pol looked across the room and spied two small legs kicking under a table. Without excusing herself, she meandered over there and crouched down.

"Looking for something, Tallah?" T'Pol asked.

The Andorian poked her head out from under the table.

"I'm looking for more jewelry," she said.

"More? Did someone lose an earring?" T'Pol asked.

"Must've," Tallah said and then shimmied back under the table.

"Would your mother appreciate you underneath here soiling your gown?" T'Pol asked.

Keeping her body under the white tablecloth, she spoke defiantly. "I am the daughter of one of the Imperial Guard and now ambassador to Andoria!"

As if on cue her mother wandered over and leaned down, out of the little girl's view. "You are quite a handful, young lady."

Immediately Tallah rustled out from underneath the table wearing a small pout and two droopy antennae. "Sorry."

"May I see the jewelry you retrieved?" T'Pol asked.

The Andorian girl looked suspicious until she noted her mother's sour expression and then opened her hand with guilt. In her blue hand were three small silver discs.

"May I?" T'Pol asked, reaching to see one in more detail.

The discs were infinitesimal, but they seemed like no jewelry the Vulcan had ever witnessed before. Without asking permission or explaining her actions, she threw the disc onto the floor and stepped on it until it cracked underneath her heel.

Tallah and Jhamel's mouths hung open in shock at what the Vulcan had done. Crouching again, she picked up the pieces.

The discs when broken revealed intricate wiring, as if these devices were either listening devices. Looking around for MACO security, she found none in sight; the room was already filled to near capacity; it could be that the security guards were lost in a sea of people. Besides, one person at the event would know if these were communication devices: Hoshi.

T'Pol made her way quickly to Archer and Hoshi with Tallah and Jhamel in tow. Opening up her hand, she interrupted their conversation.

"Tallah found these under several of the tables."

Hoshi peered into her hand and then slowly retrieved the broken one. "This is a bug. The wiring here is used for picking up and receiving information. But, it's not Starfleet issue." Correcting herself, she glanced at Archer. "They're not even Section 31 issue."

The woman then turned and then looked at T'Pol. "Why would someone bug this event?"

T'Pol raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps it has something to do with why Dr. Phlox came from his lab looking for Malcolm?"

As if on cue the music ended and more MACOs filled the banquet room weaving quickly through the crowd as if looking for someone – guns at the ready. And as if to combat the onslaught of security, a figure pushed through the crowd and finally the lights flickered off. A panicked room began to murmur loudly until a few voices, most likely MACOs, tried to tell everyone to "calm down." T'Pol could feel Jhamel close in on her daughter, bringing the child closer to her body. And she could tell Archer was growing anxious at the action, or lack there of, taking place.

Suddenly Reed's voice could be heard above the crowd. "Please everyone remain calm. The lights should be restored in a few minutes."

And then a beam of light sliced through the air and several people began screaming.

Shran yelled, "Get down!"

A window shattered and a cold breeze began to blow through the room.

T'Pol hit the deck, along with Hoshi, Jhamel and Tallah. Archer stayed up as if he somehow was going to help until T'Pol tugged at his sleeve.

Beams started ripping through the air, reflecting in the mirrors to T'Pol's confusion, and a weakened British voice yelled for the security guards to "Get Amabassador Xemax."

"Malcolm," Hoshi whispered.

"I'll be back," Archer said, stalking away.

The Vulcan was about to tell Jonathan not to be foolhardy, when she lost track of his movements. She was about to go after him until she heard the scuffle get closer to their location.

"Under the table," T'Pol said to the Andorian family and Hoshi.

T'Pol ushered Shran's family to move safety and kept her eyes wide hoping to glean more information.

The next few minutes were nerve wracking. More scuffles broke out closer to their location and more phaser blasts sizzled around the room zapping nearby tables and felling a few MACOs in the process. Hoping to crawl to one to provide aid, she suddenly heard Archer's voice and then Shran's as a phase pistol sounded again and a body hit the ground hard.

"We got her!" Shran said.

Xemax, the Denobulan ambassador, spilled muffled curses into the floor.

Finally the lights flickered on and T'Pol crawled out. The scene was incredible. A few MACO bodies covered the ground, announced dead to the Vulcan's dismay. A tussled Archer and Shran, both wearing their own blood on their white shirts, picked up the ambassador from Denobula. Shran looked like he took a few fists to the mouth; his lip dripped a dark blue color. Archer's nose was just beginning to bleed.

Also, harrowing, she could vaguely see – while people were still on the ground – Captain Reed lying on the floor in a pool of crimson. He'd obviously been hit by a phaser beam, but to where she couldn't tell.

Scanning the room for Dr. Phlox, she made her way to him while calling behind her. "Hoshi!"

The Japanese woman gave a startled scream and sped her way to her fiancé. His eyes were beginning to flitter as if trying to stay conscious and Hoshi crouched to scoop his face into her hands.

"Malcolm, hold on," she said.

T'Pol asked sternly. "Is there a doctor here?"

The moment she did, Phlox made his way through the crowd, which was starting to crowd around Reed. The Denobulan got to him and announced harshly that they needed to get him to a medical facility right away.

Admiral Gardner appeared next to them and opened a communicator, ordering three people at his location to be transported to Starfleet Medical right away on his mark. Giving the communicator to Phlox, the doctor nodded and gave the order.

A beam of light whirled and T'Pol hung her head, hoping quietly that they'd made it in time. Xemax was led out of the ballroom in handcuffs with several MACOs at her side as she accused them of every diplomatic violation she could mutter. And Shran made his way over to his family, throwing his arms around them with relief.

Additional security guards rushed in to help escort the partygoers out, including many of he ambassadors and their families (like Shran's) and others grabbed their comrades to usher them to the morgue. The room had thinned out incredibly, leaving a few of Starfleet's top brass to discuss the situation in disgust and Archer wandered over to T'Pol, holding his nose in his hand.

"How's Malcolm?"

"I don't know. They took him to Starfleet Medical."

"I hope Malcolm's okay."

"I do as well." The only comforting thought was that Captain Reed was with Dr. Phlox. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, although she hits pretty hard for a girl." The way in which he'd mentioned it made her think he was teasing her.

"Denobulans have more than twice the strength of humans. Even the females."

"Shran okay?"

"Yes, he and his family left."

"Good," he said. He dabbed at his nose, which was still flowing. "One downside of having a prominent nose," he said, tilting his head back.

She'd noticed it bled more rather than taper off. Walking over to a table, she picked up a few napkins and held them out to Archer who snagged a few.

"Thanks." Mopping his nose, he said a few things. "One thing bothers me. Shran and I couldn't find a device that rigged the lights to go off."

"You think she had conspirators?" she asked.

"Maybe she dropped it somewhere. If she didn't whoever was listening to us managed to override the power grid. A grid that was secured by Starfleet."

"That would be quite a feat," she said.

"Yes it would," he said, darkly.

"Your blood hasn't coagulated yet."

"I had a water polo injury at the state finals. Took about three hours to get it to completely stop."

"I have something at my apartment that may help," she offered.

Nodding, he made his way out the door, saying a few last words. "It'll be nice to be near a com unit. I want to find out how Malcolm is."

TBC