As Archer paced, he felt worry through his bond with T'Pol. Just as he was examining what troubled her, he saw someone opening the door to his room.
"Pink Skin," the man said.
The Andorian's garb wasn't the black leather material most Andorians wore. It was a silver material that seemed somewhat like what the queen wore - shimmering. A golden rope was draped about him. There was a serenity to him, and Archer wondered - for just a moment - if he from the religious caste. But his short stature seemed to come across and Archer knew who he was.
"My name is -"
Archer said, "Krag?"
"Yes. And I know who you are, Archer. A human who shared Vulcan consciousness, helping reform their society. Admired by the Andorians. Respected by the Tellarites. Your reputation is why our queen brought you here - because despite being an off-worlder, even Andorians trust you."
Archer was surprised to hear this. His interactions with Shran and even Sav made him feel as though being an off-worlder was an issue, despite what the queen said. As he sized up the Andorian in front of him, he thought this wasn't the Krag he knew. Sure, he was short and seemed to bluster some, but this Krag wasn't militaristic or quick-tempered. At least, he didn't seem that way.
"I may be short, but I am no longer any of those other things."
"How did you-?"
"I know why you're here - Thy'lek Shran. He's been a patriot."
Again, Archer was surprised. He'd known Krag asked Shran to steal the dilithium crystal, but he didn't expect such a favorable opinion. The Krag everyone else saw - the doppelganger - described Shran differently.
Krag said, "Yes. Last year, I used to be part of the elite military caste. I led it."
Krag said that after Shran was ostracized, and the mission completed, he heard a calling to move to the religious caste - accepted in the spires of T'Lon seeking the soothsayer. Krag described knowing that a war was brewing, and the religious caste knew they needed someone from the military. He was identified as a man needed to help change. As he took the sacred waters of the spring from T-ala, he knew his destiny.
The story was extraordinary, but it led to more questions.
"How do I know you're not an Orion?" Archer asked.
Krag handed Archer a scanner and reluctantly, Archer ran it over Krag. But the results confused Archer more than clarified things.
"Aenar?" Archer asked.
As if to ensure the accuracy, Archer scanned himself and then Krag once more.
Krag said, "It's accurate."
Being an Aenar seemed prohibitive to Andorian society. The Aenar were underground dwellers who wanted little to do with those above who walked the ice flows. But it was more than just being Aenar. Archer knew typically, it took years - very possibly a lifetime - for members of the religious caste to reach the height of Andorian society, interacting with royalty. At least, that's what he'd read. More than that, Andorians rarely, if ever, switched castes.
"It has been prophesied I should be here, helping the queen. It's why I have risen ranks quickly in the religious caste and left the military."
Archer finally understood the dilemma. Krag had never had scans because he was Aenar. It made proving the Orion Krag difficult. Yet the queen allowed him that imposter to continue the ruse.
"The Orions think I'm dead," Krag said. "It made the deception easy."
"Why?"
"They think they've killed me. But it suited our purpose. The queen is biding her time," Krag said. "We are amid Enlightenment."
It was clear unlike the other Aenar, Krag could see and the dark blue-ish tint of his skin made him indistinguishable from Andorians. Also, unlike the Aenar, he was shorter, stockier - as Andorian males often were.
Krag answered that question too. "Recessive genes. Many ice flows ago, Andorians and Aenar were one."
"Recessive genes make you look like an Andorian?"
Krag agreed, "Yes. The anomalies are uncommon. It's why as a boy, I was sent topside."
It seemed to suggest that Andorians were inferior. Shran wouldn't like hearing that bit of information.
"You said you were prophesied to help the queen. What's the prophecy?" Archer finally asked.
"That I will help the queen bring the castes together, unite Andorians and Aenar, and help our allies win the war."
Archer laughed a little.
"You don't believe me?" Krag asked.
"I don't hold much faith in prophecies."
"But they have come true when it applies to you, haven't they?"
"I don't keep track," Archer said. This caused Krag to chuckle. "How do you intend to unite Andorians?"
"I'm the queen's suitor. Our offspring will be royalty, religious and military, Aenar and Andorian - a stronger race and a more peaceful one. Andoria needs the wisdom of the religious caste and the dedication and strength of the warrior one. I can also understand the plight of our workers, and why they defy the queen. Best of all, I understand off-worlders."
"You do?" Archer asked.
"Because I was in the Imperial Guard, I have fought the Vulcans and even been privy to Andoria's considerations to initially help the Romulans. I've met V'Las. I've dealt with Tellarites. And after all, I'm Aenar."
Archer considered his words as Krag continued, "Besides, if you help me, your role to help Shran and his family will be honored … as well your vow to his offspring as a protector."
As Archer was about to ask more questions, he felt incredible pain and held on to the nearest wall to keep upright. It felt as if his stomach was being ripped open and an incredible heat overcame him. It was enough to make him drop to the ground.
"Your wife," the Andorian said. "I can get you to her faster if you help me."
Archer knew T'Pol felt the same. As he struggled to keep conscious, everything went black.
[-]
T'Pol had been in the house her mother had owned, cooking plomeek soup, when she felt immense pain. It was enough to cause her to double over. Quickly, she stopped the electric fire used to cook the soup and hobbled over to her meditation mat. Barely able to sit down, she stayed there unable to concentrate - pain like wildfire along her stomach, back, and hips. Gasping for air, she used the Vulcan technique, pinching nerves to ease the overwhelming agony. It didn't relent. She tried breathing through it, yet couldn't control it. Instead, the pain intensified, and she couldn't help but share the feeling like her insides were being torn apart by the razor-sharp nails of a sehlat.
She had heard the proverb that a Vulcan never cried out in pain, but she couldn't stifle a moan.
Hot. Burning. It was hotter than visiting the volcanoes on her homeworld. The heat was overwhelming even for a Vulcan and T'Pol realized she was dripping sweat.
As she was about to contact her doctor, she heard her door chime.
"Gol'nev!"
The door opened and Skon rushed in. She heard him talking, speaking to her in Vulcan and then using the Terran tongue, but she couldn't understand the words. They seemed jumbled together in her mind.
"Gol'nev," she said to him.
"Yes," he agreed.
She must've blacked out because the next thing she saw was an aged Vulcan hovering over her in her bed. He was wearing the red robes of a doctor, the runes on his medical uniform showing he'd been in the profession some time and had gained some success in his career. He was shorter than Skon by degrees, and stockier with gray hair.
Gazing around her room, wincing at the light pouring in - her nictitating membranes unable to shield her eyes - she tried to sit up.
"Rest," she heard. Looking over, she knew it was Skon.
"What -?"
The doctor spoke. His Vulcan was sharp as if meant to scold her. "Your relationship with an off-worlder nearly killed you."
She felt at her stomach. "The child?"
"Your offspring will not survive," the doctor said.
Even to T'Pol's Vulcan ears, it sounded cold and cruel.
Skon must've understood how she would feel because he dismissed the man asking him to wait in the gathering room.
"Dr. Srav said your body was reacting to a child with iron," Skon said. "T'Pol, your body is rejecting the child."
"Is it …?"
"Your child lives. But Dr. Srav does not believe it or you can survive much longer. He has given you pain medication."
"Dr. Phlox had the same diagnosis."
"Then … it would seem a logical decision is before you, even if it is difficult."
T'Pol didn't think it was logical at all. Although she hadn't discussed it with Jonathan, she didn't think ending its life was right. Skon must've sensed her reaction because he did something humans would call changing the subject.
"T'Pau has asked me to represent Vulcan to the humans."
"Your sister has made a wise choice."
"I do not know the wisdom of such, but -"
"Only Soval may understand the humans as well as you."
"You understand humans better than either of us."
T'Pol wasn't sure that was exactly true, but she felt - even if she disagreed - T'Pau had valid concerns about her representing Vulcan now, especially in her state. Instead, she reassured Skon that he had her support and would be there if he needed assistance. That reassurance seemed to give him some comfort, although a Vulcan would never admit to such.
He then brought up a request his sister had - to meet T'Rama. The name held importance to Vulcans, it was the name of Surak's bondmate. According to the Kir'shara, she was instrumental in Surak leading the clans to end warring among them as the leader of a Southern tribe. Once wed to Surak, she adopted his ways. T'Rama was also essential to their ancient brethren leaving Vulcan for Romulus. Although, the Kir'shara made it appear as if the Romulans were banished, rather than leaving as Jonathan once described it according to Surak's mind.
On Vulcan, one was usually named after their clansman. Seeing as T'Rama's importance was only recently discovered, it meant - no doubt - T'Rama was part of their clan.
"I assume related to the mother of Vulcan?" T'Pol asked.
"It seems so, yes. No doubt why my sister believes she would be a good match - a display of our clan attaching ourselves to Surak and the old ways."
"Intriguing."
His finger twitched as Skon called up a picture of a woman with pale skin, dark hair, and dark eyes. She was thin, even by Vulcan standards, and she wore the sand-colored robes of science. A light in her eyes reminded T'Pol of V'Lar - there was experience, knowledge, wisdom, and something Jonathan would call mischief. Though T'Pol would never say a Vulcan was mischievous, she had to admit that some Vulcans had an insatiable curiosity.
She generally found those Vulcans the most interesting.
"T'Pau is obsessed with clinging to the old ways," Skon said. Still, T'Pol could tell he was interested in T'Rama.
"I have come to believe that Vulcans need traditions to change."
Skon flicked an eyebrow at her. "My sister said much the same thing."
"Your sister is wise."
Skon folded his arms, a gesture T'Pol had come to realize was amusement. "I suppose for a younger sibling, she is wiser than most."
The doctor made his way back and told T'Pol it was time for another dose of pain medication - something Vulcan doctors were hesitant to give, favoring nerve techniques. It made T'Pol realize even the doctor understood she was in grave pain.
Dr. Srav described her body was rejecting the baby and suggested to T'Pol that it would be easier and more logical to end the life. T'Pol indicated she would meditate over a decision, but knew even she could not.
[-]
When Archer awoke, he was in the palace throne room on what seemed like a slab of ice. It was warmer, though, but just as hard and white. Eventually, getting to his feet he saw the queen and Krag talking. The handmaids were further away, still protecting the queen without the ability to eavesdrop on the conversation.
It took a second for his translator to catch up, the clicks and squeaks of Andorian language filling his ears, even the musical tones that emitted from the queen.
As he was waking, he wondered about T'Pol. He got the sense she was all right now, but something was on her mind. He also got the impression that whatever was wrong would take some time to discuss. He tried not to think about, despite his worry for her and their child.
Krag eventually noticed Jon was awake and smiled at him. "The Pink Skin is up."
"Has he agreed to help us?" the queen asked.
Archer took a step back, his body aching and his senses slightly dulled.
Jon said, "I already agreed to pretend to be the queen's suitor. What more do you need from me?"
"You haven't told him?" the queen asked Krag.
"His mate fell ill - there was no time," Krag answered.
"Andoria is ready for Enlightenment."
Archer had heard Krag mention that before and now Jon knew that meant uniting the castes and the Aenar with the Andorians.
The queen said, "General Krag, the Orion, does not know we are aware he is an imposter. If he dies by my hand, the castes will rise up. But if he is killed in combat …."
Archer was starting to get the picture he was the one they wanted to kill him. "Ushaan?"
Krag said, "As the avat to Shran's child, you have the right to challenge Krag. If he dies, you can expose him as an Orion."
"If he dies?" Archer asked.
"Yes. And if you are the victor, Andorian society will accept you. You would have the land and rights of Krag, including military control."
"I'd be able to lead the Andorian military?" Archer asked.
It dawned on him that in fact, he would be able to send them to help the alliance. Jon understood that was one of the reasons they wanted him to kill the imposter.
Krag agreed, "You could also enable Shran and his family to return to Andoria."
Archer said, "And if I'm not successful, it wouldn't be linked to you."
"Yes." The queen anticipated his next question. "There wouldn't be additional questions, either, as you are an off-worlder."
"Thanks," Jon mumbled.
The queen said, "Krag and I have been unsuccessful in mating so far, but the moons are high, and the time is now. He has foreseen we will be successful soon."
Archer didn't want to know this, but he suddenly wondered if Andorian society allowed Ushaan to kill Krag, why no one had done so before. His stomach twisted. It probably had happened before; everyone else was unsuccessful. When he looked over at the queen and Krag, they seemed to dodge his gaze, confirming it.
A sigh left his lips. The Ushaan would definitely enable Archer to leave Andoria earlier and get back to T'Pol sooner.
"I believe he'll do it," Krag told the queen.
"It appears so," the queen agreed. "You should ready him."
It seemed, really, if that was the plan all along and having him enter the palace pretending to be a suitor was a cover to enable him to challenge the imposter. If it meant they could smuggle him away, let him know their plan, and train him all while the queen attempted to have children.
Shran once made the comment that the queen would eat her mate. He wondered if that was really true. But he didn't have time to ask. Krag was already taking him down several corridors to a training room to prepare.
[-]
Skon didn't like leaving T'Pol, especially in her state, but the appointed time had come to meet T'Rama. T'Pol's doctor also indicated she needed rest. So, he took a shuttle pod and headed to T'Tauk Academy of Sciences at the heart of ShiKahr.
The building was sand-colored, as many buildings downtown were. The spires were smaller than many. The academy was elite, where some of the brightest thinkers worked, taught, and learned. T'Rama was no different. He walked onto the grounds, pacing - a human trait, in front of a water feature that trickled near red plants that had spikes. As he was about to take another lap around, he saw a woman dressed in robes the color of dunes approach.
Like T'Pau, she wore her hair long and piled on her head with a ringlet hanging down. It was a fashion females used to signal they welcomed the teachings of the Kir'Shara - the old ways. It was to honor T'Rama and Surak.
He raised his hand and greeted her, his hand forming a "V." She returned it.
"T'Pau indicated you want to see the academy," she said.
"Want - desire - is an emotion," he said, coolly.
Her eyebrows knitted in response, but he acquiesced. "Seeing the academy would be … interesting, T'Rama."
"Very well," she replied.
She took him on a tour. Young Vulcans - some children and young adults - were there among teachers. Some were outside, learning various defense skills as well as strumming a ka'athyra. Inside, the building was bland - metal colored and quiet, like many of Vulcan's buildings.
What piqued his curiosity was that T'Rama's laboratory seemed vibrant. Tapestries of artwork in nearly every color, including sea blue - a luxury, draped the room. Vulcans would call the decorations impractical and wasteful. On the wall were artifacts from Andoria, Tellar, and even Earth. He approached the Earthen one. It was a sketch of a lighthouse near the water.
He turned back to her.
"I procured that at a bazaar. A trade merchant had been to Earth. I find lighthouses … fascinating. To think there is so much water you need a device to assist you in finding land. Such a concept would never exist on Vulcan."
T'Rama also had a picture of what Skon knew as the t'iri or on Earth, the golden ratio. It was a concept that seemed to exist on both planets. As if she was reading his mind, she pointed to it.
"The t'iri is an advanced math concept," she said. "But then you are also a mathematician."
"It exists on Earth as well. It is called the golden ratio." He reached into his robe and pulled out his PADD. Typing a few commands, he showed T'Rama a picture of what it was on Earth.
"I have read," she said with something akin to excitement. "There are many commonalities among our cultures and planets."
"I have read your hypothesis."
Seeing as what humans would say the "pleasantries were out of the way," he decided to bring up the idea of an alliance between their houses.
"You have spoken to my sibling about a bond. I presume you want to pursue that?" Skon asked.
"Want is an emotion."
He wondered if she was using his logic back on him. "I have been on Earth too long."
"Your bondmate is gone as is mine. It seems logical to find another bondmate when the mindfire comes."
Skon reasoned it was. Finding a suitable partner for the mindfire was a necessity. Logical.
She continued, "Besides, it seems beneficial to Vulcan that our houses join. Mine is connected to Surak. I am T'Rama, daughter of Sikar, Sulak, Sonik, Sarev, Satar, Savan, and Svat. And yours is the continuation of Surak's teachings. You are of Solkar, Spar, Stev, Salak, Setar, Solok, and Sok. You are related to T'Pau, our new mother."
He found that title strange, but had heard others call her that, replacing the importance of Surak's wife, T'Rama.
"I do not think she is the new mother," he said.
"As a child of Surak, I disagree. She is bringing Vulcan to the old ways. They were gravely needed." At Skon's furrowed brow, she said, "Under her leadership, we are retracing our way back to logic."
"Ministers Kuvak and Soval are important to that journey as well."
T'Rama agreed, "They are."
"So, we should bond to quench the mindfire and align our houses," Skon agreed. "Logical. I will contact you later so we may arrange for the ceremony."
"I have a few matters to discuss first."
"Oh?"
"I would like to keep my domicile. It is convenient for my studies."
"Of course," he agreed.
He'd heard of such arrangements before where bondmates didn't combine houses. On Vulcan, most bonding was based on convenience rather than what Earthlings would call love. It seemed like a triviality.
She said, "And should our mindfire produce offspring, I would like to name a son Sarek."
When learning about T'Rama, he'd discovered that her brother perished in a sandstorm several years ago. He was an archeologist named Sarek. No doubt she wanted to honor him.
"I think the name Sarek is logical. It would honor both of our families." This seemed to please T'Rama. "Then it is settled."
"I have another request: I would like to live on Vulcan, not Earth."
"I do not live on Vulcan," Skon said.
"You do at this moment."
"But if I am called to Earth, I expect it would be advantageous for you to come with me."
T'Rama asked, "Advantageous in what way?"
Skon didn't have a logical response and T'Rama used the silence to provide further logic. "My studies are here on Vulcan."
"You have an interest in seeing Earth," he said. He pointed out the lighthouse. "Your artwork."
"Visiting - yes. Staying - no."
"I do not know what the future will hold," he told her.
"Vulcans who mate with politicians sometimes give up their field of study."
"Not all," Skon said.
"Many."
"The needs of the many -"
T'Rama said, "Then we agree that my studies are more important," she said.
Skon was about to quote that being a diplomat and a spouse of a diplomat outweighed the importance of her study. He flicked at eyebrow at her.
Skon said, "No, we did not agree to that at all. There is a war that requires our help."
"T'Pau does not believe in assisting the Earthers."
Skon said, "That is not entirely accurate."
"My ancestors believed in peace."
"As does T'Pau, Soval, and Kuvak. As do I."
Unconvinced, she drew her robes around her. "It seems that perhaps a bondmate is ill-advised if you cannot agree with me," she said. As if to dismiss him, she returned to her studies.
"Perhaps there is room for negotiation?"
"Your war is happening now, Skon. But my studies may very well influence the future. I have already determined races come from one species. That may rekindle Vulcan religion. Already we have those who are practicing melding as well as transferring katras."
Skon said, "I do not know if I can promise that you can stay here. If indeed I am called away to Earth, I would want a bondmate with me."
"Surely, you see the logic of my argument, though. After all, you are a mathematician yourself. I must stay on Vulcan."
Skon replied, "I do see the logic in your argument. Unfortunately, you do not see the logic in my argument. You have made your position plain, but cannot budge on the one thing I ask. We have nothing further to discuss."
With that, Skon left. As he walked the fifteen minutes back to his shuttle, he thought that some female Vulcans could not be reasoned with. In fact, he believed that even many Tellarites had better negotiation skills than T'Rama did. As he reached his shuttle, he received a communication. He already knew who it would be.
He was right. A stern Vulcan woman was on the other side with a look of what Earthlings would call irritation and disappointment.
"T'Pau," he said.
"I hear it did not go as planned," she said. He was about to correct her when she continued, "I heard you were obstinate."
"Me?" Skon asked. He couldn't help but feel incredulous. Taking a deep breath, he knew he'd need to meditate soon. "She produced several demands for a bond to take place."
"You knew she would. That is custom," T'Pau said.
"Yes, but so many demands? I had agreed to all but her staying on Vulcan if I need to be on Earth. If we are to have offspring, it is especially important for the family unit to stay together."
"That is not a logical argument."
Skon felt his eye twitch.
"Brother, T'Rama is a scientist. To continue her work, she must be on Vulcan."
"Scientists can work anywhere."
"Our families merging would help further unify Vulcan."
"I believe T'Rama has a younger brother," Skon said.
"Her brother, Skyree, is ten."
"Then you need only wait thirty years until he is of age," Skon said.
Even he knew it was ludicrous to think T'Rama's brother would be an appropriate bondmate, but Skon had to admit to feeling emotion: annoyance. Meditation was definitely in order. T'Pau waited for a few moments and he used that time to get back into his shuttle.
"Did I mention T'Rama knows the son of the minister of Coridan?" T'Pau asked.
Skon nearly dropped his PADD. "No, you did not mention this."
"Perhaps knowing now, you can find terms to negotiate with T'Rama. According to her, the minister's son is in favor of Corridan joining the alliance."
"Why did you not mention this sooner?" Skon asked.
"It did not seem pertinent to a bonding. But now it does. I also know you find her appealing."
T'Rama, he had to agree, was appealing. She had T'Pol's build - thin - but was shorter. Her eyes were the color of volcanic rocks - dark with a hint of fire in them. And her hair was jet black. Rather than admit she was attractive, he placed his fingers in a steeple under his chin and closed his eyes.
Although Skon was not necessarily trained as a diplomat, T'Pol said he was what humans called a quick study. She had always called him fair-minded and eager for a Vulcan. He indeed was curious about new situations and people. When it came right down to it, he enjoyed being on Earth. It was cold and sometimes damp, water clinging to him. People's emotions were crawling over him. But it was new. Unique. Interesting. Nearly daily he had an experience he had never imagined - from eating with chopsticks to swimming in the ocean.
In a bondmate, he didn't expect much, but he did want someone who liked Earth and new experiences as much as he did. But for the alliance - to save Vulcan and so many other planets from his ancient brethren - he was willing to sacrifice what he wanted.
"The needs of the many," he said aloud.
"T'Rama is in her lab, should you rethink your position," T'Pau said.
"I will leave it for today and try again tomorrow," Skon told his sister.
"Come to my house tonight for evening meal, and I will make your favorite - pok tar."
His stomach tingled, as if warm tea tickled the inside of it. He may not always have had the best relationship with his sister, but they were a family unit nonetheless. And the way she made pok tar was indeed his favorite.
"I must meditate first. Then I will join you," he said.
"Wise decision."
"Thank you, sister."
"No thanks are needed. Besides, I can show you how to make it - it is T'Rama's favorite as well. See you soon."
The PADD went black and he took another deep breath. There was an old Vulcan saying - peace was best served with good food. It's why fighting clans nearly always negotiated over meals. In fact, Surak and his wife apparently made some of the most delicious food.
He headed back to his house, glad meditation was just ahead.