—Chapter 06—
With the aid of the Xindi vortex drive, the Athena reached the last recorded position of the Border Fleet within three weeks, rather than the thirteen months it would have taken at warp 5 aboard the former Enterprise, T'Pol's last extended point of reference for superluminal travel. Now that the ship had arrived at the proper coordinates, the crew of the Athena looked to their captain. As a trained scientist, T'Pol knew that the odds of finding any traces of the Border Fleet passage and direction would be slim to none, due to the passage of time, the natural degradation of energy signatures and the dispersion of physical clues, but it was logical to verify the facts.
"Commander Barlow," said T'Pol, naming her Science officer, "scan for anomalies."
"None noted, Captain," said Barlow.
"Sensor readings, Commander Hanshiro," said T'Pol, naming her Tactical officer. "Wide band."
"Nothing, sir," said Hanshiro who had taken the initiative to perform just such a scan a moment earlier, and T'Pol had no reason to doubt the man's findings.
"Lt. Salno, hail the Border Fleet," said T'Pol, addressing her Comm officer. "Repeat your hail periodically."
"Yes, Captain," said Salno.
"It may be hours, it may be days, before we get a response," said T'Pol.
Barlow, the Science officer, nodded his agreement with the Captain's estimate.
"Commander Jemez, my Ready Room, please," said T'Pol, and moments later, she and Jemez had left the Bridge.
Hanshiro looked at Salno, and then Barlow, and said, "Is the captain right? There's a wide variance between waiting hours, or days, for a response. Why?"
"For one," said Lt. Salno, "it's a matter of distance if we assume the Border Fleet is long gone from here, but it's also a matter of superluminal turbulence. I'm certain that Commander Barlow could explain it better."
"No, Lieutenant," said Barlow. "For all practical purposes you are correct. The Xindi vortex drive creates a high degree of energetic turbulence as the ship enters and exits subspace. That turbulence interferes with fairly weak energetic waves, such as those generated by our Comm transponders. They may or may not receive our first hails."
"Ok," said Lt. Salno. "The captain said to repeat the hail periodically. How often do you suggest, sir?"
"Once every hour will be adequate, Lieutenant," said Barlow.
Lt. Salno nodded, and said, "Yes, Commander."
T'Pol indicated that Commander Jemez should take a seat, once they'd made their way in her Ready Room.
"Let us discuss options, Commander Jemez, in case we do not hear back from the Border Fleet."
"All right," said Jemez. "Well, item one is that we can't stay here too long, Captain. It was here that the Orions ambushed the Andorians and the Border Fleet, and that's because we're in their space, and we're a lone ship. We'll be a tempting target, and they'll try to capture us, I'm sure."
"Understood," said T'Pol. "But keep in mind that the Orions don't have the Xindi drive. If we notice them gather round, we slip past them in subspace."
"Right, that's true," said Jemez. "Now other than making a calculated guess as to the location of the Border Fleet…"
"Do we any telepaths aboard the Athena?"
"Kesser in Engineering is a telepath, but he's a weak one," said Jemez. "I doubt he's strong enough for what I assume you have in mind, Captain."
"What do you think I have in mind, Commander Jemez?"
"I assumed you'd want Kesser to sweep the path far ahead of us, for signs of Human or Xindi sentience, as the Athena moves forward in space," said Jemez.
"You have seen this done?" said T'Pol, for she'd never heard of a Vulcan psychic doing such a thing.
"Yes, Captain," said Jemez. "On the Dauntless, my last assignment."
"Impressive," said T'Pol. "And Kesser can not do this?"
"He can, Captain," said Jemez, "but he's not strong enough to make it worthwhile. If we engage our Xindi drive, we move through subspace at the speed of three lightyears per minute, and we can do so for hours, so it makes more sense to make repeated jumps, and take scans between each jump, until we find them hopefully."
"True," said T'Pol. "Doing as you suggest is not optimal, but better than nothing if we do not hear back from the Border Fleet. I will try something on our behalf as well, if crewman Kesser is wiling."
"What is that, Captain?"
"I have some talent in telepathy as well, though no more than average for a Vulcan," said T'Pol, "but I will nevertheless attempt to contact the Columbia directly."
"I see," said Jemez. "What are your odds of success?"
"Nonexistent on my own, for Vulcans are touch-psychics, save for Bonded couples," said T'Pol, "but if crewman Kesser allows me to mind-meld with him, and subsume his psionic potential under my control, we can combine our abilities if you will, which will allow me to utilize the Human ability to use psychic abilities without the need for touch, and I can hopefully reach out to the Columbia and make contact."
"Interesting," said Commander Jemez, "and if that works, what are your chances of success?"
"Twenty to fifty percent, and we will make as many attempts as necessary. I happen to know two of the captains serving in the Border Fleet, from my time on the Enterprise," said T'Pol, "and that should skew my odds towards the higher end of the probability range. It is not so much a question of power but of focus, and trying to contact someone well known to me will improve my odds of doing so successfully."
"I see," said Jemez. "I'm certain that Kesser will do what it takes to aid you, Captain. He's eager to engage the Xindi Reptilians and Insectoids."
"Good," said T'Pol. "Relieve him of duty, tell him to rest for the next couple of hours. I will do the same, and afterwards he and I will make an attempt to contact the Columbia. See that I am not disturbed unless we're under attack. You have the conn."
"Yes, Captain."
Upon the Bridge monitor of the Columbia, two faces were displayed, Captain Reed's and Colonel Hayes'. Although the two had often butted heads in the past, they worked quite well together now.
"So we're all on the same page, right?" said Trip. "Because this will end badly if we fuck it up."
"Yes, sir," said Malcolm. "The Invincible will enter the system just outside the Xindi's sensor range. We will release our payload, then hide, and we'll remain on standby, with squadrons 3 and 7 waiting to join us, on your mark."
Trip had broken down the Border Fleet into thirteen squadrons of ten ships each, which could operate on their own, or join with other squadrons or Shran's thirty-seven Andorian battlecruisers, depending on the conditions they faced, and the forces required.
"Right. Make damn sure you crunch the numbers twice, Malcolm. The payload has to be on a precise trajectory, and moving at the proper speed."
"It will be moving as slowly as molasses dripping off a June bug's back," said Malcolm, and Hayes looked at Malcolm and smirked.
"Ok, you bastard," said Trip, "we don't all speak as poetically as that in the South."
"Yes, sir," said Malcolm.
"Colonel Hayes," said Trip, fixing his eyes on the man, "you play your part in properly preparing your men for this mission, but you are not to personally lead this mission. Whether it succeeds, or fails, I need you for what's coming."
"Yes, sir," said Colonel Hayes.
"Carry on then," said Trip. "I want to move on this in six hours."
Reed nodded, and Hayes said, "We'll be ready."
The video feed ended, and Trip stood, stretched and yawned, just about to head for the Mess Hall, when his Comm officer caught his attention with a slight wave, while listening intently into his earpiece. Trip stepped over to the Comm station and looked at the officer with a raised brow that would have done T'Pol proud.
"We're being hailed, Captain. StarFleet vessel named Athena. The communication packet passes muster - it has not been tampered with. The security code is current and correct. They've requested our location."
"Where are they," said Trip, and the Comm officer tapped her screen, which displayed the Athena's current location. "Hold off on your response, until I say otherwise."
"Yes, Captain."
T'Pol entered her cabin, juggling a bowl of stir fried noodles, a cup of hot Arabica coffee and a hazelnut biscotti dipped in espresso flavored dark chocolate. She deposited her goodies on the twelve inch coffee table, and took a seat on her plump, but firm, meditation pillow. She arranged her cup, plate and bowl to her satisfaction, then picked up the bowl, and the chopsticks. The first time she'd been presented with these utensils she was certain that Captain Archer was putting her on, but when she saw the man using the chopsticks to expertly handle his food, T'Pol took it as a personal challenge. For the next few frustrating weeks, T'Pol ate everything with chopsticks, much to Captain Archer and Commander Tucker's amusement, but she worked tirelessly to master these utensils until she could manipulate them as easily as if she'd been born with chopsticks in her hands. She fished out a mouthful of the garlic noodles now, then a tasty chunk of green jackfruit, the fruit caramelized by the intense heat of the wok acting on the sugars in the fruit, and then some Inoki mushrooms, and nodded appreciatively. Her ship was blessed with a good chef.
T'Pol polished off the noodles in short order, and then savored her coffee and biscotti. She diligently brushed her teeth immediately after eating, then took a long hot shower, and finally stepped back into the main room, bath towel wrapped around her head. A period of meditation was called for before she and Kesser made the attempt to mind meld, so T'Pol began rummaging through her closet for a pair of pajamas. The room was a bit chilly.
It was then that T'Pol felt a peculiar sensation which caused her to forget the pajamas and straighten up. A non-psychic being would feel something akin to the sensation of being watched, or having someone step inside your personal space, but T'Pol had experienced psionic contact before and knew that a telepath had just touched her awareness, and given that there was no physical contact involved, it was most likely that the telepath was Human. This impression was cemented in T'Pol, when she felt the sensation of someone caressing her cheek, then gently rubbing her left ear. It was him!
Recalling her mind meld with Soval, T'Pol had no doubt that if Captain Tucker could induce the feeling of a spike driven into her/Soval's skull, well, a caress on the cheek and a brief tantalizing rub of her ear was small potatoes. Furthermore, given the Human tendency to render psychic contact in physical terms, she thought it likely that rather than an abstract sending, Captain Tucker's attention was actually here, in this room, in the same way that government trained Human remote viewers of the 20th century perceived their targets as physical representations, rather than simply absorbing the information sought for as an abstract data set. That realization caused T'Pol to yelp in panic as she realized that she was practically nude, and with one fluid motion she yanked the towel off her head, and used it to cover her front while backing herself into a corner, in a proper show of Vulcan modesty. Trouble was that consciousness has no front, or back, and she realized this fact when she felt a hand slide down her back to her buttocks, and T'Pol blushed strongly.
"You are being rude, Captain Tucker," said T'Pol, eyes sweeping the room despite knowing better, and she felt a wave of amusement from the other end of the telepathic link.
A telepathic sending surfaced in her mind then, and she received an alpha-numeric sequence. The physical coordinates of the Border Fleet, as well as a 3D visual representation of the proper heading, then instructions on distance, warp speed and time, and finally, a mental image of the star system, and all that in a fraction of a second.
The sensation of a firm squeeze of T'Pol's left buttock and a last telepathic sending, the Commander's voice, tinged with amusement: "Good to SEE you, T'Pol."
T'Pol stepped onto the Athena's Bridge, and Commander Jemez slipped from the Captain's Chair to make way for her.
"Helm," said T'Pol, "set course for X8807.Y3431.Z9109K. Two Xindi subspace jumps, three hours each. Warp 6.5 in between the jumps, for a duration of six hours."
"Yes, Captain," said Helm, knowing that the six hours at warp 6.5 between Xindi jumps would allow time for the Xindi drive to recharge, and give the engineers time to give it a once over, for the Xindi drive was still new technology.
"That was quick," said Jemez.
"We got lucky," said T'Pol, then blushed slightly, as she realized that sentence had two meanings, at least as far as she was concerned.