T'Pol woke up in a cold sweat, her body wracked with pain.
Breathing through the agony, she tried to control it and suppress it, but it threatened to tear apart her insides. Fire, white-hot flames, burrowing into her abdomen and filling her with nausea.
Pushing a hypo into her neck, she gritted her teeth and waited for the pain to subside. But it didn't. Instead, it intensified, threatening to turn her to ash.
Body shivering in heat, she attempted to enter a healing trance. But she couldn't enter it, her mind and body writhed in torture. Instead, she knew her bondmate tossed and turned - his pain becoming electric - as he reached out to her.
T'Pol.
Instead of answering his query, she dragged her body along the floor to reach the bathroom. She made it just in time before she spilled the contents of her stomach. Multiple times. A sensor beeped, the movement alerting her a physician would soon be on his way. As she hovered over the small bowl pushed into the Vulcan bathroom tile, she moaned even knowing Vulcans rarely did so. Torment.
Jonathan has a duel to the death today.
He tried to comfort her and tell her he'd be with her soon, but she knew that he might never see her again. Orions were vicious fighters, skilled beyond even Andorians. As he tried to explain none of that mattered, she again vomited.
It was then she blacked out.
When she awoke, her doctor hovered over her asking her questions, prodding her. It was the same doctor from yesterday. In Vulcan, he explained she needed to get to a hospital and that he had sent for an emergency shuttle. Even though he spoke her native language, it took longer for her to understand the words. Her mind tripped on the words trying to decipher the meaning.
"I need to stay here," T'Pol argued.
It wasn't logical, but she needed the comfort of her own home.
"You are losing your child," he said.
Fighting to stay conscious, she realized it was a losing battle. Unfocused, her eyes had trouble making out shapes and her teeth began to chatter. Again, she faced blackness.
The next time she awoke, she saw bright lights. Red and green filled every corner of the room, and she realized she was at a hospital. Hooked up to wires, she tried to understand what was happening.
"Jonathan," she called out.
As the doctor ran a scanner over her, she began to convulse. The beeping nearby, she wasn't sure where, created more of a stir as additional physicians joined her. They also were speaking to her, but she couldn't understand what they were saying.
"What?" she asked. T'Pol was uncertain whether she asked in English, a human language, or Vulcan.
Jonathan's voice rang in her mind. I will be there. Today.
She attempted to put up a wall between them, but was too weak to do so successfully. As she struggled, the physician nearest to her shot a drug into her neck - one that quieted her mind instantly and relieved a great deal of the pain.
"Her blood pressure has dropped considerably," a physician said.
"She will need additional plasma," another volunteered.
I'm coming. Hang on, T'Pol.
And then blackness retook her.
Archer awoke with a jolt, more determined than ever to kill - to protect his bondmate. It felt ancient, primeval like the fight some Vulcans undertook to challenge the bondmate. It was electric. Every muscle in his body tightened and his mind sharpened.
But the pain in his abdomen was so intense he could barely stand. Crawling to the nearest Andorian bathroom - all steel and nearly slipping along the way - he eventually threw up. Just last night, he'd eaten a bug dish that made him queasy. But, he figured he'd need the protein to fight. Now, he regretted that decision.
As he heaved into the silver dish embedded into the floor's tile, he felt hot - as if the Vulcan suns were bearing down on him, the gravity intense. Wiping his brow, he realized he was sweating. But the sweat was cold as if it nearly froze as it met the cool weather of the Andorian castle.
"T'Pol!" he said aloud.
He felt her bond, but knew it was weak.
As he looked at his watch, he realized he'd be fighting soon. If the Ushaan - the trial to the death - were decided to benefit the Orion Krag's, the Queen would undoubtedly need to send another to fight him. Archer realized he was just an expendable pawn in her plan. Not that he had a choice.
But if he won …. He'd have to determine who would take over the military as well as assist the workers. His thoughts were disrupted by retching again.
He had to win. Must. He knew he needed to leave Andoria the moment after the battle to be with T'Pol. To help her. Maybe even to save her life, her bond growing feather-light.
The wall she attempted to put between them fell, and he knew instantly she was drugged. Fighting the urge to sleep with her, he put on what the Queen had provided - a black leather Imperial Guard uniform. It was snug, too tight for his liking, but he wore it understanding the significance. The garment would provide additional protection, maybe even stopping the Ushaan blade from killing him.
Pulling at the leather that clung to his chest and groin, he winced.
"No wonder Shran is always cranky," he said to no one in particular.
After he was dressed and wishing for a little more breathing room, Krag entered without knocking or ringing any chimes. He seemed happy, his antennae stiffening.
"You look almost like an Andorian, Pink Skin!"
"Shran would've said the same thing," Archer replied.
"You're ready."
"I am."
"Well …." Krag tried to produce a smile. "Well, I'm sure you'll be fine."
Krag slapped Archer on the back and exited. Archer was about to follow when the ceremonial music started, a harp-like instrument, to announce the queen's arrival.
"Archer," she said. "I've read Earther literature. You're my lance say a lot," she told him.
"I think you mean Lancelot," he corrected.
But he didn't bother mentioning that really, Lancelot wooed the queen, running his purity and destroying Camelot. Telling her that story now seemed pointless.
"Lance lay a lot," she tried again.
"Close enough," Archer agreed.
Quietly she said, "Krag was successful. Our brood will be born soon."
"You just …?" Archer asked, trying to be delicate.
"I know I'm with child," she told him. "Maybe children. We can tell."
Archer wasn't sure about Andorian physiology but knew humans needed about three weeks to learn about pregnancy. He'd have to take it on her authority how she felt. She put a hand on his shoulder.
"I know this news comes as your child is being lost," she said.
"I need to get to Vulcan."
"I know," she agreed.
Soon, they exited the building and were escorted into what looked like a silver chariot. The creatures powering the silver vehicle reminded Archer of seahorses with wings. They splashed along the water, creating a wake behind them as they rode the waterfall down to the fountains.
The queen rode alongside him as the handmaids used animals resembling flying fish to accompany her. Each perched atop the creatures as if they were surfboards. A minstrel accompanied them, playing a tinny drumbeat that seemed to match Archer's heart's rhythm.
Finally, they arrived. The fountains themselves were glorious - more magnificent than any Archer had seen on Earth. They towered nearly twenty stories tall, with silver statues framing them - warriors, queens, religious figures, and even workers adorned them. Even for a fantastic structure, the mist was light and had a fragrance to it. It smelled like the queen herself - a cross between honeysuckle and vanilla. It was sweet and comforting.
A crowd had already gathered - a large one - as if all of Andoria had heard that an offworlder who dared to fight the great General Krag. Merchants sold trinkets, including dolls with their heads removed, Ushaan mining tools, devices that looked like handcuffs, and shirts that had the queen's emblem. Archer also heard what he imagined was gambling, with the odds favored overwhelmingly for Krag.
"Don't let that disturb you," the queen said, waving.
As she did, Archer saw the throngs of people cheer, and a few of them shout that Andoria was meant for Andorians, not Earthers. It was clear to Jon that each of the castes had a place at the fountains. The warrior caste, the fighters, were nearest the fountain. Those who made up the religious caste were outside. And then workers, the people who were merchants and miners, filled the back.
As Archer stepped off the chariot, he saw a shorter silver-skinned man arrive in his chariot. The people cheered him on as well.
"My brother," the queen said. "Taloong Shrewe."
"A prince?" Jon asked.
"No, my brother."
Even from Jon's vantage point, he could hear people talking about how he may need to change his gender to take over. If Jon heard it, he knew the queen did.
"It doesn't matter," she told him.
Then, among the warrior caste, the Orion broke through the crowd - the one they believed to be Krag. Also dressed in the Imperial Guard black leather, he strutted up to the front and smiled. The grin earned shouts of support from the military who hailed him for several minutes. He and Archer regarded each other for a moment.
Quieting the crowd, Krag's imposter held his arms up as a hush fell. Even the merchants stopped selling for a moment.
The Orion said, "I know this offworlder has no sense. So I'm releasing him from his obligation to fight me."
A disappointment fell over the crowd. Even as it did, Archer felt his insides twist with T'Pol's pain. It nearly made him stagger back. Digging deep, with the grit he had in the Expanse, he held his ground by sheer force of will.
"Scared?" Jon asked, a grimace working onto his face.
"An Andorian has no fear," the imposter said, puffing out his chest. But Jon knew the Orion was afraid.
"Then let's get this over with," Jon told the queen.
Then the queen addressed the crowd, floating now above them on a disc. The disc was silver and had the emblem of the queen.
"For time immemorial, Andorians have used this fight to the death to show which Andorians are worthy of surviving. My consort - Earthman Jonathan Archer - and his rival - General T'klok Krag do so now. Should Krag win, he will be my consort. Should Archer win, he will earn the military and the respect of Andoria for the workers."
Jon figured at this point, the workers would've cheered. Instead, he heard only a few people in the audience clapped without enthusiasm. In fact, he thought he heard a light chirping like the ones crickets make. A few even yelled jeers, Andorian slurs against offworlders.
The queen's brother then addressed the crowd. "I will act as the observer, ensuring they follow the rules."
When Shrewe approached, Jon realized how tall he was for being an Andorian male. With that, the military hooted and the queen's brother walked toward the two of them. He added the familiar steel glove to Archer's hand first and then to Krag's. He even plucked the tether between both gloves, ensuring it was ready.
"It's not too late to call this off," the Krag imposter said.
"Why, do you?" Archer asked.
It was then he saw something like a nod coming from the queen's brother. And horror overcame Archer. He wondered how likely it would be that the queen's brother was working with the Orions in an attempt to gain power. He'd read of Andorians switching genders - as Tares, Shran's aide, did.
If the brother were able to switch genders, he would become the new queen.
"Now you know my dilemma," the queen said. "To see how far the treachery goes."
As if reading Archer's mind, the brother flattened his lips. "You don't know the half of it, Earther."
"This isn't a fair fight," Archer said.
And before even the brother could tell them to begin, the Orion swung his mining tool, cutting Archer across the stomach, ripping the black cloth immediately. Seeing it protected his stomach, Archer took a deep breath as the military cheered in support and the workers booed.
They circled each other, tethered on the device, as Archer scanned the area considering taking them both into the fountain. His plans were thwarted when the Orion slashed out, Archer barely blocking the Ushaan-tor blade. The crowd roared again in excitement as an announcer started speaking. He heard clicking and the translation catching up.
The announcer excitedly reported that Krag had been victorious having had seven duels throughout his life, one to avenge his brother and six more to avenge friends. Each fight ended in the death of the other Andorian, propelling Krag through the military ranks. He gave a few stats, including that his fastest kill was in less than two minutes.
As if the story urged the imposter on, he found a way to shove Archer to the ground and stabbed into his leg. This time, blood soaked his clothes as Jon realized although it hurt like hell, it hadn't hit a vein. Once again, the crowd cheered, chanting for Krag to finish him.
The announcer spoke, his voice dull, saying Archer had one victory. That victory, the announcer said, had only rendered an Andorian defenseless. Instead of chanting Archer's name, he heard some Andorian curses hurled at him.
Archer gave a swift kick to the Orion's stomach as the imposter's blade slashed again. It seemed to hit his mark, a spray of red fanning out to splash on the ground and the military nearby. Once more, there was cheering. Although the wound wasn't deep, it ached - made worse by the pains still reeling off T'Pol through his bond. Staggering, he saw the Orion laugh.
"You'll die, Pink Skin," the imposter said.
"Not today," Archer said.
Archer connected his blade, burying it into the imposter's arm. The Orion screamed in pain as the workers hollered. Instead of blue blood flowing out, a bright green substance spewed out. The Orion seemed horrified as some of the military surrounding them noticed.
"Vulcan!" shouted one.
"No, Orion!" Archer told him.
The words took his focus off the imposter for a moment, and the Orion sent a blade into his shoulder. The wound was again stabbing, and Archer felt blood gush from it. It was hard to hold the mining tool, the Ushaan-tor blade, but he managed to keep from dropping it.
This time, Archer used all his strength to launch at the Orion, sending him into the fountain. In front of the crowd, he pulled up the imposter's head by the antennae and in the process broke one off. The prosthesis fell into the water as the crowd gasped. It was clear they were in horror and realized the fraud.
The queen used that as the moment to speak.
"The General Krag that Archer - the offworlder - has exposed is Orion. He has infiltrated my palace and betrayed the Andorian people!"
Jon squirmed at the motion, his shoulder aching. Quickly the handmaids joined in and grabbed the Orion from Archer's hands. With his antennae broken and gushing bright green blood, the imposter snarled.
"Do something," he said to the queen's brother.
But the brother took that as his cue to pull out a weapon and point it at the queen. He seemed ready to pull the trigger when an Andorian from the crowd felled the brother with a phase pistol. As Archer peered into the multitudes, he saw Shran's brother appear - Sav.
The queen continued, "My brother has invited invaders here to take Andoria from us. But he and his conspirators will be punished."
"We should question them," Sav said.
But Archer noticed the Orion convulsing, white foam on his lips. Jon didn't need to scan him to know the effects of a poison, a quick-acting one. Within seconds, before anyone could do anything, the Orion slumped over. A handmaid announced what they all knew.
"He's dead."
The queen walked in front of her brother as he cowed slightly in her presence.
"You will pay," she said.
He shot back, "You have not been seeded. Andoria needs me to rule! I will submit to the change and give the planet offspring."
"That is where you are wrong. I am with child!"
This didn't escape the crowd's notice, and they yelled in her honor. Although Archer hadn't heard the term, it seemed like they were calling for her life long and long reign.
She turned to Archer. "You have won the day, Earther. We are in your debt."
Archer said, "I want Shran and his family forgiven, enabling them to return to Andoria."
The queen agreed, "Of course. From this day forward, Shran is welcome back to the Imperial Guard. His family is welcome on Andoria and all related colonies."
Archer added, "And now that you know how deadly the Orions and Romulans are, I want Andoria's full cooperation. We need all available vessels to assist in the front."
This time the queen was slower to agree. But she said, "Very well. You have our support."
She was about to address the crowd again when Archer cut in. "And I want Andoria to share all military secrets with the Vulcans and Tellarites."
"All?"
"Yes," Archer said.
This request gave her pause.
"We cannot," she said.
"I am the leader of the military," he said. Although feeling his shoulder complain, he mustered through the pain. "It wasn't a request. We need to start trusting each other. We can't win the war without it. And that means Andoria and your reign may never be safe."
At this, the queen seemed beside herself. "Very well."
Archer said, "Since I can't stay on Andoria, I'd like Sav to lead the military, reporting to you and Krag."
Sav was surprised. "Pink Skin, that's-"
Archer felt his legs start to buckle, but managed to keep upright, his hand steadied by the fountain. "Andoria needs someone they can trust. You may've been called a mercenary, but I've read your file - you're a good man. Andorian."
The real General Krag appeared as the crowd cheered again. It wasn't just the military who yelled in support; the religious caste did as well. This time, the queen slowly nodded before about to address her people.
"One more thing," Archer said, interrupting. "I want the fastest ship you got to take me to Vulcan. Now."
Sav volunteered and threw his arm around Jon to keep him upright.
It was then the queen agreed and addressed her people. As she did, Archer didn't wait around to hear what she had to say. He knew how urgent it was to get to T'Pol. Limping, he accepted Sav's help getting to a pod nearby as he listened to what the queen said. He didn't need to push through the crowd. Instead, they parted for him, some touching him. One even called him a hero. Jon wasn't positive, but he was pretty sure it came from one of the Andorians who'd cursed at him before.
Save agreed, "He's a unique offworlder."
Archer heard the queen speak. Her voice echoed off the cliffs of the lower palace grounds.
"Andorians, we have entered a new age - Enlightenment. We have joined with our Aenar brethren to give birth to a new breed of Andorians. We unite the castes as never before - our fearsome warriors, our sacred monks, and our diligent workers. My true consort, Krag, is of Aenar blood and has both military and religious caste in his veins. And with the alorot of Andoria, we have united the workers."
Sav told Archer, "Alorot - that's you. It's like an honor. Your name will be written in annals of history and displayed at the wall where the Great Thaw began."
Archer didn't care. Instead, he asked Sav to hurry to the shuttle.
As they reached the pod, Archer heard the queen continue. The words she said now, this resonated with him.
"We will fight those who threaten to destroy us and our way of life. For once in Andorian history, we will fight for lasting peace, the kind that will be enjoyed for generations. Our children will remember our race as once barbaric. Our enlightenment will create growth and opportunity."
Archer turned back to see Krag join her on the floating disc. The crowd, thrilled, again rallied and called her name.
She said, "I will ask Krag to rule by my side and instead feed off my brother - the traitor who nearly gave our planet to the enemy."
"I wouldn't look," Sav said.
But Jon did as he stepped into the pod. The sight was gruesome. Mandible-like jaws sprung from her collarbone and clamped down on her brother's body. The act seemed to wake him and he screamed. Krag joined in the ritual and soon the Andorian, once royalty, was reduced to a pool of blue blood. Eyes lit like fire, the queen threw her hands up in the air - her dress stained with blue blood - as her people roared with a sound Archer could only describe as blood lust.
She said, "His body will feed our peace!"
"Hail to our queen!" one shouted.
A chorus began, sounds like trumpets blared along with the tinny drums played before, and the religious caste hummed in monk-like gratitude. Aenar emerged from holes in the ground, confused by the sunlight. And the workers raised their fists in excitement.
It was clear Andoria was - as the queen and Krag would say - reaching a new pinnacle. Archer hoped it was indeed enlightenment. Uniting Andoria and Aenar was necessary, he agreed. He was glad the castes all joined together in a bond as well. He just hoped this meant Andoria would fight harder against their shared enemy.
Feeling more of his wounds and maybe the agony from T'Pol, he nearly crumpled as he fell into a chair in the pod. Sav hurried behind the controls as Archer looked around. The shuttle was better than the vehicle he'd reached Andoria in.
"I've plotted a course for your bondmate. We should reach there soon," Sav said.
The shuttle left, zooming into the sky, as Archer heard the audience's absolute glee below. Unsure whether it was the fast takeoff, his wounds catching up with him, or being affected by T'Pol, he began to lose consciousness.
As the black took over, he heard Sav tell him, "Pink Skin, we owe you one."
Skon and T'Rama met at her house again. This time, a Vulcan monk, Master Vakar, was there. Clothed in a gray hooded cloak, he placidly waited. A few male bell ringers were also shaking tiny ancient cymbals to signify the ritual's importance to join minds. Skon's sister was there as well as T'Rama's family - her mother, father, and younger brother.
Master Vakar began the ceremony at the allotted time, as the first sun started to set, turning the sky pink. It was the allotted time when monks performed the art of joining two katras. He placed his fingers on T'Rama first, joining with her mind, and then Skon. Then the two performed their meld.
Seeing into T'Rama's mind was fascinating to Skon. He expected it to be orderly as most Vulcan minds were. But instead, it felt somewhat cluttered like a house that wasn't well managed - too many decorations and pillows, not swept often enough, and possibly containing multiple animals. It amused him rather than repulsed him. He also noted as their minds joined that she was more emotional than many Vulcans. Granted, she didn't have the depth of confusing emotion that T'Pol had, but nonetheless she had multitudes of feelings.
In her mind, he saw the death of her brother and husband - events that impacted her. He saw her rite of passage; it was an event where she killed a desert rodent to survive. Skon noted the pride, an emotion, she felt when she won endless mathematical awards. And he saw the disappointment that the Science Academy hadn't selected her thesis for a prestigious award. There were minor hiccups in her life, too. She had a shuttle accident as a young woman. As a young girl, she'd knocked out a front tooth playing with a ka-rah. She had a recital where she played and suddenly forgot every note, her teacher admonishing her as she ran off stage.
Skon showed her his mind in return. She saw how he had failed his rite of passage on his first attempt. He remembered skinning his knee and breaking his arm after climbing a harak. His sister laughed and then mounted it easily. He too recounted pain - the death of his parents. It was especially painful because their katras could not join the Great Hall. His mother - a brilliant scientist - was seen as a loss to Vulcan. He called, too, when his wife died. It was agony to him, sparking him to change careers and explore. There were good times, too, such as seeing T'Pau ascend to one of Vulcan's highest offices. He felt pride being picked by the Vulcan Science Academy to teach. He also showed enjoying his time on Earth. T'Rama saw his depth of feeling for T'Pol and his human friends, including the Ithanite Ki'ar. He could tell the small copper fellow with the fez hat tickled her. And it thrilled him that she wanted to meet him, Shran, Gral, and even Archer.
Skon never wondered if the ceremony was rushed. Instead, sharing their minds confirmed this was right. His sister had picked the perfect mate for him. She was kind, even warm for a Vulcan. And within her was the heart of an explorer, something he knew they had in common. Now, he saw that although she wanted to continue to work, she wanted to see Earth, Andoria, Tellar Prime, and as many worlds as possible. She reveled in learning first-hand, with her eyes, as he did. She even wondered if being the bondmate of an ambassador would enable her to prove her theory, all species were related, by studying other cultures just not the golden ratio.
After the ceremony, the families ate together. Skon could tell T'Rama's family was awestruck that their relative was "the mother of Vulcan." They talked about the next ceremonies - typically, Vulcans had more than one. T'Rama's name came up as Skon expressed how it fit her; something he could tell gave her pride. The families also discussed practical matters, such as houses and furniture to be passed on as well as sold as they were seen as unnecessary. Seeing into T'Rama's mind, Skon knew how much her abode meant to her, so he offered to move some of his things in with her.
He could tell it pleased - Vulcanly of course - her as well as her family.
It surprised Skon that the family also talked about visiting Earth, seeing the abundance of water. That he had not expected, but he welcomed them to stay, including T'Rama's younger brother. Skyree, her brother, was a young man still learning to suppress his emotions and he couldn't help but grin when Skon told him he was welcome. That simple gesture tugged at Skon's heart.
When the meal was over, the families departed providing the traditional Vulcan greeting. This time, Skon didn't leave. It wasn't necessarily custom to start cohabitating right away, but he saw no reason to wait. Neither did T'Rama. He took a few things from his bag and placed them around her house. Then, he readied for bed as did she.
"We are well matched," he said to her. It didn't need to be told, as he knew she could hear his thoughts.
"We are," she agreed.
Skon told her, "Humans have a peculiar custom - a honeymoon."
He could tell she was gathering his thoughts. They were still unequipped to let them mingle so entirely. So he explained, it wasn't a ceremony that involved the honey made from bees. It usually involved travel and mating.
"Honey," Skon told her, "is a term of endearment among humans."
"It is a sticky substance, is it not?"
"Yes, but also sweet. Humans put it on various things, including tea." He admitted to her he liked it in tea sometimes.
"Interesting," T'Rama said. "But why would humans want to travel during this time? Would it not be more beneficial to do so later after the couple has solidified their nuptials?"
He felt a purring laugh in his mind. "As with so many human customs, I do not believe it is based on logic."
The thought amused T'Rama, too. "In your mind, I saw a kiss - a human custom. It seems unsanitary."
"It is," he agreed. "But … it has its place."
"Show me," she said.
And he did. But he did much more than show her that kiss, he displayed lust even outside the confines of pon farr. The two eventually snuggled into each other in positions that made it difficult to sleep. He didn't mind. She didn't either.
Home.
Shran couldn't believe the news. He'd read it several times over, silently, before calling in Jhamel and his children. Archer hadn't just won the right for Shran and his family to visit Andoria, but had joined Andorians with the Aenar and united castes. The Pink Skin had even managed to usher in something that the queen called the Age of Enlightenment. The rule of the warriors was ending as each of the castes reached equality.
In the process, Archer had exposed an Orion masquerading as General Krag.
The queen broke a life-long Andorain tradition and instead of eating her mate, had devoured her brother - a traitor to the realm.
"Good Grendal!" Shran shouted as he read the story for the fifth time, aloud.
"He has united Andorians and Aenar," Jhamel said. "I never thought it would happen. Our children … they'll be among the first, but they won't be the last."
The children, especially Shras, seemed nonplussed but somehow understood it was exciting.
"The Pink Skin has completely upended Andorian society," Shran told everyone. "Completely."
"For the better," Jhamel said.
"Yes." He swore and then picked up his wife, twirling her in his arms. "For the better!"
Shran wasn't surprised when the door chimed. Gral was at the door, squealing in what Shran could only assume was Tellarite glee.
"Did you read the news?!" Gral asked.
"It's remarkable!" Shran said. "I didn't think the Pink Skin could do it. That tarpig is the luckiest ape alive."
Gral grunted a laugh. "And your queen has shared military secrets with the Vulcans and my people. I received word from Tyr that the Vulcans, Andorians, and Earthers have our complete cooperation."
The two jumped up and down with what Shran would've called human schoolgirl giddiness, but he didn't care. He wished Starfleet hadn't confiscated his blaster so he could shoot into the air and thank the great gods of luck.
"Martog has contacted me. She's joining me soon," Gral said. "It's good. I've missed the bearded love."
Shran offered his hand and the two of them gripped up to their elbows, a sign of Andorian respect. The moment wasn't lost on Gral. He grinned, his pointed teeth showing. A light beeped on his console, disrupting their joy. It was Neville. He jammed his blue thumb to put him on screen. Even this stoic Pink Skin seemed happy.
"We have word the Andorians are sending more ships to help us, as are the Tellarites," Simon said.
"It's thanks to Archer," Shran said.
The comment seemed to suck out some of Neville's enthusiasm. "Archer will still need to stand trial for going AWOL."
Shran, this time, turned angry. "He changed the tide of the war!"
Neville said, "I shouldn't be telling you this, but Captain Reed has been asked to apprehend him."
"His old security guard would never do such a thing," Shran said.
"Reed doesn't have a choice."
Victory was so close at hand. For the first time in several months, Shran knew real progress could be made. With Andoria being an equal partner to the humans and the Tellarites stepping up their response, the Romulans and Orions could be defeated. But it seemed clear to Shran that the price was Archer's freedom.
So Shran told Neville of everything the Pink Skin had done for Andoria, sparing no detail. He even read the report from Andoria, explaining they were not quick to give credit to offworlders. He even read Archer's name, would be written into the ice - an honor given to few, and never to offworlders. And though Neville seemed skeptical that Archer had done all those things Andorians gave him credit for, he admitted that the once admiral had helped the alliance.
"I should talk with Pelletier," Shran said.
"It's not his call - it's Admiral Gardner's."
"Then I should speak with him," Shran said.
"It may be too late. Reed's en route to Andoria."
Gral said, "It's never too late!"
Shran thanked Neville for the information and turned off his viewscreen. Gral turned to Shran and it was clear they both now had the same mission - convince Gardner to let Archer go. Jhamel offered to contact Reed's wife, Hoshi Sato Reed, to ask for help.
"If that doesn't work, my family should protect him," Shran said. His antennae lurched forward. "However we can."
Gral agreed. "What did the news say happened to him?"
"It said the new head of the military took him to Vulcan."
"I hope that means he's with Skinny," Gral said.
"If we know he's headed there, surely Reed will as well," Shran said.
The Andorian contacted T'Pol, but got no answer. He frowned at Gral, knowing that the last time they spoke to the Vulcan, she looked unwell. Sighing, he figured it was time to call another Vulcan. That one answered quickly.
"Shran," Skon said.
"Skip," Shran returned. "I need to tell you what happened on Andoria."
Skon said, "I learned a great deal. T'Pau has already committed more of our forces and has begun talking with your queen again. It has been some time since our leaders spoke."
Shran knew it was more than some time. He doubted that the Vulcans and Andorians had real communication for possibly one hundred years, maybe more. Instead, most of the allies spoke to the humans who coordinated among them. It sounded indeed like real progress was happening.
"Archer is headed your way, Skip. And so is Starfleet. They're set to hold him accountable for leaving the military."
Skon raised an eyebrow. "That is a serious crime, even among Vulcans."
"He did it for me and has helped Andoria in ways … in ways I can't even fathom at this moment. His help there enabled Minister T'Pau and my queen to begin to speak to each other. I owe him one. Good Grendal, I believe you owe him one, too."
Skon seemed to reflect on this a moment, his fingers forming a steeple under his chin.
"If not to help Archer, maybe you would consider doing this for T'Pol," Shran said. "I know you two are friends."
"It is not merely T'Pol who is my friend. So is Archer. So are you," Skon said. He noted Gral behind him. "Both of you."
Shran smiled. He knew it was sentimental for a Vulcan to admit to such friendships. Gral must've known as well because looking over at him, he thought he saw the little pig's eyes well up.
"Let's not get weepy like a bunch of human females here," Shran said.
The very tip of a corner on Skon's mouth twitched. After all these years, Shran knew it was as close to a grin as a Vulcan would ever get.
"I will speak with Minister T'Pau about offering Archer refuge, at least for now," Skon said. "You will speak with Starfleet?"
Gral grunted, "Oh, we will speak with Starfleet."
"Then it is agreed," Skon said. He hesitated for a moment. "My bondmate knows the son of the Corridan leader. She has already begun trying to open a channel so we may negotiate with them."
"Your wife?!" Shran asked. "It's not T'Pol is it?"
"Her name is T'Rama. I think … I think you would like her," Skon told him.
"Congratulations, Skip! Anyone who had the good taste to marry you, that's not T'Pol, is someone I like."
Gral agreed, "You must bring her to Earth so we can feast in your honor."
"I believe she would find that agreeable," Skon told him. "I will contact you as soon as I hear from T'Pau."
Skon gave the Vulcan open-palmed greeting, his fingers splayed out, and Shran noticed Gral provided one back. After the transmission ended, Shran grumbled he couldn't quite get his fingers to move like that, but secretly vowed to practice. If anyone was owed the Vulcan greeting, it was his friends T'Pol and Skon.
A beep alerted Shran his PADD had a new communication. It was a message.
Brother, Archer and I are on Vulcan. I will contact you again soon. - Sav
Shran's mind flashed on the news report, how the new military commander took Archer to Vulcan. It was clear now that the military leader was his brother, Sav. Overnight, his family had gone from mercenaries and outcasts to one of the most prominent in Andorian culture. It was a significant shift in fortunes.
"Good Grendal!" Shran yelled. "My brother is in charge of the Imperial Guard and the rest of the Andorian forces."
Gral scurried over to the viewscreen and contacted Admiral Gardner immediately. The admiral was out, but his assistant claimed he would get them back at the nearest possible convenience. Shran noticed Gral tried to argue, but the transmission was cut short.
In the meantime, Shran hoped Archer would be able to evade Reed. Antennae wilting, he doubted it. He had never met a more capable security guard than Captain Malcolm Reed. In fact, he remembered telling Archer he'd pay for him to join the Andorians.