Chapter Three
Zephram Cochrane Memorial Spaceport
Near San Francisco, Next Morning
Sub-Commander T'Pol was the picture of Vulcancalmness and composure as she made her way through the bustling Zephram Cochran Memorial Spaceport towards the Starfleet wing of the sprawling complex. She paid no real attention to the throngs of sentient beings around her, beyond what was necessary to avoid colliding with anyone.
As she moved she thought about her mission to accompany the crew of the Enterprise during their mission to return Klaang to the Klingon Empire. Though it was not her place to question the will of the High Command, she couldn't help but wonder what there motivations were for assigning her to Enterprise. The Terrans didn't exactly need to have a Vulcan looking over there shoulders on even a temporary basis; despite what some in the High Command believed they were not children who couldn't take care of themselves. While it was true that they were a young race and were still relative newcomers to the galactic scene, they were more than capable of looking after themselves. They'd proven that when they'd stood up to the raiding parties of the Nausicaan Republic before chasing the thuggish aliens all the way back to Nausica Prime itself while destroying any military forces the Nausicaan's sent to try and stop them. After forcing the Nausicaan government to surrender they'd surrounded the planet with a blockade force of ships and high yield mines, a blockade that they'd maintained for the better part of twenty years now.
There had to be another reason for her assignment it if wasn't to act as a caretaker/observer. She wondered if the Klingons had something to do with it, but again that didn't make sense. Despite Ambassador Tos' warnings to Admiral Forrest and company during the meeting at Starfleet Medical, there was very little chance of war between the Terran Alliance and the Klingon Empire. The interstellar distance between the two powers was simply too vast for a war of conquest to be even remotely practical. The Klingons would be well aware of that fact and as illogically aggressive as they were they wouldn't want to risk overextending themselves, the most they would mount would be occasional raids. Especially now Vulcan Intelligence had reports indicating that there was considerable civil strife in the empire at this time - even by Klingon standards, the civil situation in the Empire was bad
So what was the real reason for the High Command pushing for her assignment to Enterprise? Did her Ministry of Security training have something to do with it? Did they want her to act as some sort of spy amongst them? The Terran Alliance had been friendly to the Vulcan Confederation for decades; it was illogical to believe that would change anytime soon. Maybe the fact that the Andorians have made formal contact with them has something to do with it, T'Pol mused thoughtfully, well aware of the fact that the Andorian Empire had recently entered into a number of different diplomatic overtures with the Terran Alliance. She was also well aware that some in the High Command suspected that the Andorians were trying to lure the Earth away from Vulcan for their own purposes.
After a moment, T'Pol gave the Vulcan equivalent of a mental sigh. She didn't really have enough information to form a logical conclusion to explain the High Commands behaviour. Whatever the reason was it was immaterial to her situation, she'd was to serve on a Terran starship, to live and work alongside a highly emotional species for a few months at the very least. It was going to be a challenging experience she knew, especially given how humans were a mass of bitterly confusing contradictions at any given moment, but at the same time it was one she was looking forward to. No Vulcan had ever spent a long period on a Terran starship before; maybe her doing so would give her people a new insight into the culture and nature of the frequently confusingly illogical humans, a species that even after seventy-one years of contact still defied the High Commands best efforts to classify them.
T'Pol pushed aside her thoughts on the matter as she arrived at the corridor junction for the Starfleet wing of the spaceport. It wasn't easy to miss, two duranium alloy doors inset with transparent aluminium windows with the arrowhead seal of Starfleet engraved in the surfaces, made up the entrance. Plus standing on either side of the entrance like status were two MACO's, though they were lightly armed with phased plasma pistols and shock batons and wearing perfectly tailored grey and brown uniforms as opposed to the more bulky and intimidating body armour they wore when engaged in operations. Glancing at the MACO's T'Pol found herself admiring their discipline as they stood perfectly still more like status than sentient beings. Neither batted an eye nor showed any reaction at all to her as she approached the doors, which opened automatically at her approach. Yet the movement of their eyes as they tracked her indicated that they were well aware of her presence and she was well aware that they would not hesitate to challenge her if they believed her to be a threat.
Leaving the MACO's behind her walked into the lobby of Starfleet terminal; it was considerably quieter than the rest of the spaceport where there was a near constant hubbub of voices talking in dozens of languages both alien and human. Here voices were muted, though T'Pol was aware that a number of a number of Starfleet personnel sitting around stopping talking to look at her in surprise. It was understandable. To her knowledge no Vulcan had ever been in the Starfleet terminal before, it was rare for them to even use this spaceport as the Vulcan Embassy had its own shuttle landing pad and few Vulcans beyond diplomats and scientists ever visited Earth.
After a moment, the shock wore off and all the humans in the room began talking at once, either resuming previous conversations or talking about her presence here. T'Pol paid them no mind as she approached the desk and the young officer on duty there. To his credit, he was all business the moment he saw her – despite his obvious surprise at her presence.
"Name and rank," the officer asked.
"Sub-Commander T'Pol," T'Pol answered before fishing in her duffle bag and taking out her identification card, which also contained her orders to report to Enterprise. She handed it to the officer who took it from her without comment.
"Look into the retinal scanner for me please, Sub-Commander," he said while slotting the card into a reader and bringing the data up on his console. T'Pol did as instructed looking into a scope like device; she consciously worked to prevent both her inner and outer eyelids from closing as a blue scanning beam similar to a discos laser fan light shone in her eyes from the device. It only lasted a moment, which was all the time the beam needed to scan her retina and the unique pattern of blood vessels at the back of her eyes. Blinking rapidly to clear the yellow after image from her vision, she pulled back.
After a moment of checking the console, the Starfleet officer at the reception desk looked up. "Identity and orders confirmed, Sub-Commander," he said removing the card from the reader and handing it back to T'Pol. "The shuttle to the orbital shipyards leaves from platform a fourteen in ten minutes."
"Thank you, ensign," T'Pol replied finally noticing the number of rank pips the young Terran was wearing.
"You're welcome," the ensign replied while operating the control panels in front of him. Behind and to the right of the reception desk, a door slid open with a faint humming of magnetic power, a door that led to the rest of the terminal. Without hesitation, T'Pol walked around the reception desk and through into the rest of the facility. After checking the large plasma display screen just beyond the door to find out which platform A14 was, she started walking, heading for the platform and the shuttle that would take her to the orbital shipyards and Enterprise.
Platform A14 was not that difficult to find, though it was at the far end of the terminal from the reception area. The moving walkways in the terminal made short work of the distance, arriving outside the entrance to the platform T'Pol saw more signs that it was the shuttle to her destination. Standing or sitting around in the waiting area before the doors were a large number of Terran soldiers. Most were Starfleet personnel in there familiar blue uniforms – two piece uniforms for officers and coverall-like jumpsuits for enlisted personnel – but there were a handful of MACO's present as well, like her the different colour and style of their uniforms making them stand out in the crowd of blue.
As with at the reception area the hubbub of conversation stopped dead in its tracks when the assembled personnel noticed her, and as she had earlier T'Pol ignored them. Instead she settled down in a free seat, putting her duffle bag down in front of her legs, before extracting a Vulcan computer pad – modified to be compatible with Terran wi-fi and computer technologies – from a pocket on it and flicking the device on. Conversation resumed around her as she brought up the files she'd downloaded at the embassy over the last two days. Most of them were information files on Terran society and culture. What to expect from them in close quarters over a long period of time, and pointers from many a Vulcan diplomats personnel records on how to deal successfully with highly emotional species – and Terrans in particular – on a one-to-one, day-to-day basis.
However, a few were very different and related to one Commander Charles Anthony Tucker the Third. T'Pol clearly remembered how he'd reacted to Klaang when he'd seen him, the subtle almost unnoticeable change in body posture that came with tensing muscles, it was almost like he'd been preparing for a possible confrontation with the Klingon warrior – even though Klaang had been, and still was, unconscious. It had piqued her interest at the time and what she'd discovered so far had only increased her interest in him and the mystery he presented.
When she'd accessed Starfleet's personnel database and pulled his file it had not provided much of an explanation for his reaction. Instead, it had only given a few terms she didn't recognise and a lot of biometric and physiological data that made little sense as it seemed to be very contradictory and confusing. If she'd interpreted it right, then Charles Tucker was strong, very strong indeed stronger by far than any human should be, easily superior in strength to most other humanoid species. The data had also indicated he was intelligent, possessing an eidetic memory and a very high IQ even by Vulcan standards as well as having a projected lifespan that was more like a Vulcans average two centuries than the average hundred and thirty years that most others of his race did.
All in all her soon-to-be shipmate was a puzzle and one she would enjoy solving. Quiet database investigations on her part over the last two days – though she'd briefly stopped to get her few belongings ready when Ambassador Soval informed her of the High Commands orders – had revealed that Commander Tucker was not alone. In Starfleet, the MACO's and in the general Terran population there were a great many individuals and families with some or all of the exact same physiological traits and that there were more every generation. Overall, it told T'Pol that something was happening to the humans at a genetic level, changing them slowly, but the question was what and what were they slowly becoming? Whatever it was she was sure that the answer would be fascinating.
"So you're the Vulcan whose been assigned to our ship," a female voice said abruptly from beside her drawing T'Pol's attention. Not just by the question but by the fact that it had been spoken in flawless Vulcan. Looking in the direction the voice had come from she found herself face to face with a young female human of Asian descent who wore the two-piece blue of a Starfleet officer with the rank pips of an ensign.
"I am," she answered speaking in Terran standard. "I was not aware that anyone on the crew spoke Vulcan."
The young woman smiled. "I'm a linguist," she replied. "I can speak a couple of alien languages along with most human ones."
"Impressive," T'Pol commented. "And you are?"
"Oh right," the ensign got a chagrined look on her face. "Sorry I didn't mean to be rude. I'm Ensign Hoshi Sato; I'm the senior communications officer and linguist on Enterprise."
"Sub-Commander T'Pol, it is agreeable to meet you, ensign," T'Pol answered.
"Likewise," Hoshi replied. "I'm sorry for interrupting you but I was just curious about you. I've never met a Vulcan face-to-face before."
"It's quite alright," T'Pol assured her. "Maybe you can help me."
"I will if I can," Hoshi said with a warm smile. "But first we better board the shuttle."
"Indeed," T'Pol agreed mentally berating herself for getting lost in the pads contents and not noticing that the doors to the shuttle platform had opened. Naturally, none of her inward irritation showed on her face the iron-hard control she maintained on the tempestuous emotions that were every Vulcans secret curse prevented that. Instead, with the picture of normal Vulcan calm she stood up, picked up her duffle bag and headed through the doors, with Hoshi following closely behind her.
The shuttle that would be taking them up to the shipyards appeared to be a variant of the Skylark-class interplanetary shuttle T'Pol noticed as she boarded. She wasn't surprised, the Skylark-class was a highly versatile and successful shuttle design, one that Terran astroengineering companies sold on dozens of worlds both inside and outside Terran controlled space. However, unlike the Skylark's she'd ridden on occasionally in the past this one was clearly a military variant. The two rows of seats were considerably less comfortable than on civilian operated Skylarks. The viewing ports were smaller, and a glance through them revealed that they were both multilayered and that the shuttles hull was thicker – presumably the ship had at least one additional layer of hull plating presumably of the duranium-carbon nanomesh composite alloy that Starfleet used in the hull of its spacecraft. T'Pol suspected that if she looked at the outside of the craft she'd see that the craft was armed as most Starfleet craft were, only worker bee inspection pods were unarmed or even armoured.
Paying the shuttles obvious military nature no further thought she went to the closest available seat, stowed her duffle bag in the overhead rack, before sitting down. After a moment Hoshi sat down next to her.
"What can I help you with, Sub-Commander," Hoshi asked.
"I have discovered something of a mystery regarding Commander Tucker, perhaps you can help me understand it," T'Pol replied before explaining some of what she'd found out about the commander. As she detailed the physiological information she'd uncovered a faint smile and knowing look appeared on the younger woman's face.
"He's an augment," Hoshi explained.
"An augment," T'Pol questioned raising an eyebrow in surprise she'd never heard the term augment applied to a living being before, let alone a sapient one like a Terran.
Hoshi nodded. "It means he's someone who has been genetically enhanced," she explained, "augments are smarter, stronger and usually live twice as long as a normal human."
"I was not aware that your species practiced that kind of genetic engineering," T'Pol exclaimed in a quiet Vulcan fashion she was stunned. No species she knew of practiced that sort of genetic engineering/enhancement, it was considered by almost every sentient species she knew of to be distasteful. Even the Denobulans – who were known to be skilled in genetic engineering – considered such extreme genetically manipulation or alteration to be fundamentally unethical. The fact that Terrans practiced it – and no one had ever caught onto them doing it – was deeply disturbing on any number of levels.
"We don't at least we don't anymore. These days genetic engineering is only used to cure illness or prevent it by turning off or repairing faulty genes in utero, though I've heard it's occasionally used on some of our colonies to help the colonists cope with the environmental conditions of the planet in question more easily," Hoshi answered before looking embarrassed. "However that wasn't always the case, there was a time when genetic engineering and genetic augmentation was practiced on a large scale. Modern augments like Commander Tucker are a legacy from that era, one that will never go away given how many of them there are and that augment genetic traits are dominant over normal ones."
"Interesting," T'Pol commented with a raised eyebrow. That explains why there are more Terrans with some or all of these enhanced traits with each generation, she thought, this augment DNA being dominant is spreading widely through the races gene pool and thus manifesting in more and more individuals as time goes on. She made a quick mental note to recommend that the Vulcan Science Directorate make it a point to monitor Terran genetics over the next few generations to see what the long term effects would be and what change the augment traits would bring about in the species. She was sure it would make a most fascinating study for her people's xenogeneticists.
"I would like to learn more about this," she added after a moment. "How exactly did these augments came to exist? What made your ancestors use genetic science in a fashion that every sentient species in the known galaxy considers extremely unethical?"
"It's a very long story and one that we generally don't talk about even among ourselves let alone with other species," Hoshi admitted. "But if you review the historical database files on augments then you'll get the answers you seek, you should also look at the files relating to Khan Noonian Singh and the Eugenics War and the Optimum Movement."
"I see," T'Pol replied. "Thank you, ensign."
"You're welcome, one last piece of advice however."
"Oh?"
"I'd suggest you not speak about the Optimum Movement to other humans," Hoshi advised. "Like the Nazi's of the early to mid twentieth century they're not people we really like to talk about, especially as they were one of the biggest contributing factors to the Third World War and the eight hundred and fifty million people who died in that conflict. Though it's been over a hundred years since the Optimum Movement fell they still stir strong emotional reactions in many of my people. Especially as there are some people still alive who remember what they did."
"I will bear that in mind," T'Pol answered, though inwardly she was a little startled. She hadn't realised that it had only been just over a hundred years since the nuclear war that had killed so many humans and devastated their homeworld as one had her own world before the Age of Awakening when the great philosopher Surak had finally ended the savage times – and the rule of those who walked under the raptors wings – with his teachings of peace and logic. To look at the Terrans and their homeworld now you would not think that such an atomic horror had occurred here, so complete was the reconstruction – the only lingering affect being slightly higher than normal background radiation levels in many of the planets great cities. What had taken her people nearly a thousand years to accomplish the humans had done in less than a century, which was by anyone's standards a very impressive achievement. Though it was one that was wholly in the character of the species, they possessed a drive, energy and determination that few species her race had encountered had ever possessed.
"That's all I can ask," Hoshi replied a moment before an increasing humming sound echoed through the shuttle as its engines powered up. After a moment a faint shiver ran through the deck as the shuttle lifted off and began its journey up to orbit.
"Here we go," Hoshi said softly before taking a small reader pad out of one of her uniform pockets and starting to read the book she'd downloaded onto it this morning. She'd never been a good passenger on a shuttle, the knowledge that there were literally only a few centimetres of duranium between her and the unforgiving, bitterly cold vacuum of space conspiring to turn her into a nervous wreck. It had almost gotten her thrown out of the academy on more than one occasion, until one of her exasperated instructors took pity on her and suggested that she find something to distract herself during shuttle flights in the future. The history of linguistics book on the pad would provide that distraction.
T'Pol observed Hoshi for a moment as the young human got into whatever it was she was reading, before turning her attention to the information on Commander Tucker. Thanks to Ensign Sato she now understood the odd physiological differences the man had, though that did not explain his reaction to Klaang. Maybe further investigation of augment humans will reveal the answer, she thought. Whatever the explanation turned out to be she was sure it would be fascinating.
TAS Enterprise
A Short Time Later
Captain Jonathan Archer had to work hard to keep a goofy grin off his face as he walked down the corridors and hallways of Enterprise. For the first time since he'd first seen the interior of Enterprise several months ago there were no open panels, no incomplete bulkheads filling the corridors of the ship. At long last Enterprise looked like a ship and not a building site. It was nice to see that everything was ready, that all the hard work Trip and the engineering teams, with assistance from the yard dogs had paid off. Against all odds Enterprise was as ready for launch as she would ever be. He was looking forward to stretching her legs and his own; it would feel good to be travelling at warp speed again after being stuck in the Sol System for the last several months.
Now all we need are for the last of the crew to arrive, he thought as he passed through an open bulkhead door – one of many that divided the ship up into sections. Sections that could in an emergency be completely sealed off and isolated from the rest of the ship. The last of the crew – including Sub-Commander T'Pol, whose appointment to this vessel still grated on him somewhat – were already on the way here. The officer of the watch had called him in his ready room to report that sensors had detected a Skylark-class personnel shuttle coming up from San Francisco, matching orbits with the orbital shipyards. Jonathan was well aware that that shuttle would soon dock with the station and that a short time after that the last of his crew would be aboard. Once that was done they would only have the formalities of the christening ceremony to get through – which wouldn't take long – before slipping moorings and heading out into the galaxy.
Rounding a bend in the corridor his destination came in sight. The transparent aluminium and duranium doors of sickbay – easily noticeable both by the extensive use of the transparent material and medicines traditional symbol – the caduceus – engraved in the surface of the super-strong, glass-like material. The doors opened automatically at his approach and he slipped into the brightly lit compartment beyond.
It was a surprisingly contradictory compartment, somehow giving the impression of space and being cramped at the same time. The walls were all a soft off-white composite panelling that was designed to be soothing to the eye. Around one wall stretched a bench on which sat a variety of medical instruments – as well as an array of cages in which were creatures of all manner of descriptions. Now I know what Trip meant when he mentioned at breakfast this morning that there was something of a menagerie in here, Jonathan thought looking at the bizarre array of creatures, some truly weird looking, before gazing around at the rest of the room.
Standing in the centre was the main biobed and diagnostic unit – which vaguely resembled the ancient magnetic resonance image scanners of the late twentieth, early twenty-first century, though the resemblance was only cosmetic. The diagnostic unit was far, far more advanced than a simple MRI scanner. Strangely a panel was open at the base of the unit – with a pair of blue clothed legs sticking out of it, with a toolkit open next to them. As Jonathan watched a hand appeared, groped around for a pair of wire cutters before disappearing back into the unit. Must not be working, that or with everything the engineers have been doing they haven't gotten around to wiring it into the power grid until now, he thought, before completing his examination of the rest of the room. There wasn't much to see beyond a handful of biobeds – that could be curtained off for privacy – and a door in the wall that would lead off to the doctor's office, isolation rooms, medical storage room, main surgical bay and a ward.
At that moment Doctor Phlox appeared out of that corridor, the Denobulan blinking when he saw him.
"Greetings, captain," he said warmly. "Is there anything I can do for you?"
"No, no nothing," Jonathan replied. "We're only a few hours from launch now. So I thought I'd drop by to make sure that you were settling in okay, and to check if our 'guest' is comfortable."
"I have, Klaang secured in one of the isolation chambers," Phlox replied. "He's resting comfortably in a medically induced coma. An orderly will be monitoring him at all times, though I do wish, Major Reed hadn't insisted on assigning a guard – at least he assigned one with field medic training so she'll at least be useful if the need arises. As for myself, I'm settling in quite well."
"I'm glad to hear that," Jonathan answered ignoring the comment about Malcolm Reed assigning a MACO guard to sickbay – the good major had cleared it with him first, stating it was a sensible precaution and one he'd agreed with, given the information he'd read on the Klingons as provided by the Vulcans. "I hope you don't mind me asking for you to be assigned to this ship."
"Not at all," Phlox assured him with one of the impossibly wide smiles Denobulans were capable of. "Yours is a fascinating species, captain. There is much to be learned, my being here will only accelerate the learning process for both of our peoples. That is after all the whole point of the Interspecies Medical Exchange."
Jonathan nodded in agreement and was about to open his mouth when the diagnostic unit hummed to life catching his attention. Its plasma display screen flicked on showing computer code for a moment as the system went through its start up procedures, before changing to the main diagnostic screen.
"There you go, doc," Trip's muffled voice abruptly said a second before the engineer himself appeared from the access panel. He blinked in surprise when he saw Jonathan, having not heard his friend's voice as he'd been surrounded by the humming of power conduits for the last ten minutes or so wiring the diagnostic unit up. "Oh hey, cap."
"Trip," Jonathan acknowledged. "What are you…?"
"Just wiring this thing into the ships power grid," Trip explained as he stretched to loosen up muscles that had cramped in the limited space of the access panel. "With everything else that's been going on it kind of got forgotten about. So I left, Kelby in charge of warming up the reactor in engineering and came and sorted it out myself."
"And I am grateful, commander," Phlox replied. "Would you mind hopping up onto the bed for me a minute, so I can run a test scan."
"Sure," Trip answered before putting his tools back in the toolkit and hopping up on the bed. He laid down flat as the Denobulan doctor moved to the diagnostic units control panel and instructed it to run a basic physiological scan. Immediately the main biobed retracted into the unit and the silver door slid shut.
For a moment nothing happened then an amazingly detailed image of a human body appeared on the display screens along with a number of biometric readings, including Trip's weight, height, body fat percentage, muscle density, resting heart rate and so on. Phlox's eyebrows shot up at some of the readings as they were completely different from what he would have expected them to be.
"This must need recalibrating," he said a frown appearing on his face at the thought of the work involved in recalibrating something as complex as the diagnostic unit. "Some of these readings are way outside of the normal range for a Terran of Commander Tucker's size and weight."
"Its perfectly fine doc," Jonathan informed him, glancing at the readings and knowing what they meant, he'd seen Trip's bio-readings a few times in the past. "Any diagnostic scanner anywhere would give the same readings for, Trip. It's because of what he is that its spitting back those readings."
For a moment Phlox looked at him in confusing then understanding dawned as he remembered the details that he'd been given on Terran biology and genetics when he'd joined the IME. Details that had given extensive physiological information about both the standard run-of-the mill humans and the genetically enhanced ones who formed there own sub-species. He hadn't realised that Commander Tucker belonged to that sub-species, but then he hadn't finished reading all the crews physiological details yet. There were a lot to go through given that Enterprise had a total crew compliment of two hundred and twenty-five.
"I see, I haven't read all the crews physiological profiles yet," Phlox replied before pressing another control, "my apologies."
As he spoke the door to the diagnostic unit opened and the biobed slid back out. Immediately Trip jumped off before shivering. "Man I hate it in there," he said. "Feels like being in a coffin."
"They do at that, Trip," Jonathan agreed having been put in diagnostic units before. It was never a pleasant experience, even for people who didn't suffer from the psychological condition known as claustrophobia. "At least you didn't freak out in there like some people I've known."
"True," Trip acknowledged before turning to Phlox. "Anything else I can help you with, doc?"
"Not right now, thank you," Phlox replied. "You can go now if you wish."
"Anything you need, cap?" Trip asked looking over at his old academy friend turned commanding officer and seeing the excitement in Jon's eyes. Most people would have missed it, but he'd long ago learned how to read one Jonathan Archer's body language, just as Jon knew how to read him. He knew that despite the outward calm, Jonathan was practically bouncing with excitement at the knowledge that they'd soon be underway. He couldn't blame him – he himself couldn't wait to hear the pulsating humming of the warp reactor as it harnessed the awesome energies of matter-antimatter mutual annihilation, and feel the thrum of warp speed in the deck plates.
"Not at the moment, Trip," Jonathan replied.
"Okay," Trip answered before picking up the composite panel that normally covered the access to the diagnostic units systems and easily fitting it back into place. Once that was done he rounded up the last of his tools, picked up the toolkit and left to return to engineering.
"Bridge to Captain Archer," Lieutenant Paulson's voice abruptly said from the comm. panel on the wall beside the diagnostic unit. Jon took a step around Phlox and pressed a button on the offending device.
"Archer, go."
"Shipyard Security just hailed us, sir," Paulson replied from his position of officer of the watch on the ships bridge. "The last of the crew and Sub-Commander T'Pol will be at our number one starboard airlock in five minutes."
"Understood, Archer out," Jon answered before flicking off the comm. and turning to look at Phlox. "If you'll excuse me, I'll take my leave of you now, doctor."
"Of course," Phlox replied with another of the seemingly jaw breaking smiles his race was famous for. Jonathan gave a more modest, typically human smile back before leaving the Denobulan alone with only his little menagerie of creatures for company.
Starboard Airlock One
TAS Enterprise
A Few Minutes Later
Major Malcolm Reed stood in the parade rest stance as he waited patiently in the antechamber of the ships number one starboard airlock. Standing with him off to the side stood Master Chief Petty Officer Johan Borgerson, the senior non-commissioned officer – or non-com for short – on board Enterprise, and the man whose job it was to keep enlisted crew in line.
"Where are they," Johan muttered irritation in his thick, Norwegian accent as he gazed at the thick, reinforced duranium door between them and the airlock chamber itself.
"Very likely still on there way here from shipyards shuttle docking bays," Malcolm replied. "Remember chief the station is over fifteen kilometres across, even using the internal maglev system it would take some time for the people we're waiting for to get to our airlock. Assuming they haven't gotten lost, as you know as well as I that the shipyard is a maze – especially to those who've never been onboard before."
Johan sighed. "I suppose you're right, sir," he admitted as doors to the rest of the ship opened with an almost inaudible humming sound. "Its still frustrating that they're not here yet."
"Problems, gentlemen," Jonathan Archer asked as he joined them. At the sound of his voice MACO and non-com alike snapped to attention. "Stand easy," Jonathan instructed and watched both men slip back into the parade rest stance. "Now is there a problem?"
"No sir," Johan replied. "I was just…"
"…waiting for the last of the crew to come onboard," Jonathan finished. "It will only be another few minutes chief if that. We both know how big the station is and how it can be difficult for first timers to find the correct slipway."
"That's what, Major Reed said," Johan admitted with the ghost of a smile on his habitually serious face.
Jonathan smiled faintly back. He kind of liked the big, Norwegian senior non-com; the man was efficient and very good at keeping crewmen and the other non-coms in line only involving officers in disciplinary matters when absolutely necessary. If only he would learn to lighten up a bit around me, he thought, sometimes talking to him is like talking to, Malcolm. He calls be sir even off duty.
"Well he's right," he said aloud a moment before a light appeared on one of the airlock status board. The airlock was cycling; even though they were docked with the shipyard station the airlock would still not allow both doors to be open at once. Safety systems built into the airlock from the moment of manufacture made it physically impossible for both sets of doors to be open at once. "Talk of the devil, here they come."
"Yes sir," Malcolm agreed moving into position to his commanding officers right side, noting with approval that Chief Borgerson was doing the same to Archer's left. None of the three of them were small men; they'd present quite the welcoming committee to the people coming through from the station. Just to be on the safe side – though it was unlikely the people coming through would be hostile – Malcolm's hand drifted down to the holster of the phased plasma pistol he wore in a thigh holster on his right leg. It was a habit he hadn't even tried to break as bitter experience had taught him to be both cautious and ready for absolutely anything.
The heavy duranium door opened with a humming sound and a hiss of pressure as the door was designed to form an airtight seal should there ever be a malfunction with the airlock that could lead to the airlock chamber decompressing. As soon as the door finished opening the last crew members they were waiting for piled through. Immediately seeing the greeting party the Starfleet and MACO personnel snapped to attention. The only one who didn't was the one who obviously stood out most in the crowd, and that was Sub-Commander T'Pol.
"Stand easy," Archer instructed. "Welcome aboard, Enterprise."
"Thank you sir," all the Starfleet and MACO personnel chorused in unison. Amid the crowd T'Pol fought the impulse to wince at the sudden noise as it was irritating to her ears, given that Vulcan hearing was considerably more acute than most humans.
"I could give a speech here," Archer continued. "However I dislike such things so I won't force you to stand here and listen to me waffling on – unlike some people we all know," as he spoke most of the humans chuckled or snorted in amusement, "and I know your all eager to get settled in and to your posts before departure. So here is what is going to happen. All Starfleet personnel will follow Chief Borgerson here; he'll see that you all get to your assigned billets. All MACO personnel go with Major Reed who will do the same for you. Is that understood?"
"Sir, yes sir."
"Good, Sub-Commander T'Pol?"
"Yes, captain," T'Pol answered stepping out of the crowd.
"Come with me please," Archer answered. "We have a great deal to talk about and there is not much time."
"Of course sir," T'Pol replied, hoping she was giving the correct response to an order, one veiled but an order nevertheless.
Archer gave a small smile and made a mental note to explain to T'Pol Terran military etiquette and how to correctly respond to an order on a Starfleet ship. Since they were both stuck with each other for awhile, she might as well learn how to interact correctly with the rest of the crew, and especially himself. There will be time for that later, he thought before turning to Major Reed and Chief Borgerson.
"Carry on here, gentlemen," he ordered.
"Aye sir," Malcolm and Johan responded in near unison.
"Come along, T'Pol," Archer said before turning around and leaving the compartment. T'Pol for her part immediately adjusted the duffle bag on her shoulder and followed her new commanding officer into the corridors of the Enterprise.
A Few Hours Later
Sub-Commander T'Pol had to work to suppress a most un-Vulcan feeling of nerves as she stepped out of the turbolift and onto the Enterprise's bridge for the first time. She'd spent the last few hours in her quarters, settling in and reviewing the duties she would be expected to perform onboard. To say that she was surprised that Captain Archer had assigned her both the chief science and first officer positions would have been understatement. In all honesty she'd expected to spend a lot of her time onboard in her assigned quarters given how the High Command had used politics to badger Starfleet into agreeing to her assignment here.
Though she didn't mind the additional duties, despite her intelligence training from the Ministry of Security she was at heart a scientist and diplomat. Though the sensors on this ship were primitive by Vulcan standards she was looking forward to getting to use them and being second in command was going to be an interesting experience to say the least. But one she welcomed as it would give her a good opportunity to observe and interact with the crew, which could only help Vulcan interactions with Terrans in general. Though what she'd observed already was strange – like the ships christening ceremony, the purpose of breaking a bottle of a carbonated alcoholic spirit – Champaign she believed it to be called - over the ships bow just before launching was somewhat bemusing. It seemed to have no real logical purpose, but then humans weren't the most logical beings in the galaxy.
Putting aside the thoughts on the christening ceremony she glanced around the bridge. It was surprisingly logically designed. Circular in design with five primary crew stations, down the starboard side of the bridge were the tactical and engineering/damage control stations, directly opposite them on the port side were the science and communications stations. The combined helm/navigation station sat at the front of the bridge just below the view screen and in a slightly lower level. Directly in line with the view screen in the centre of the bridge was the command chair on a slightly raised dais so the commanding officer or officer of the watch could have a commanding view of the entire bridge. Behind the command chair against the wall were three backup stations that could be configured for different tasks as the need arose.
T'Pol took it all in, in the literal blink of an eye before turning her attention to the command chair as it rotated to look at her, revealing Captain Archer – his attention having been drawn by the sound of the turbolift doors opening. A faint smile teased the humans lips before he addressed her.
"Right on time, Sub-Commander," he said. "I like that. Are you ready for this?"
"I am, sir."
"Very well, attend your station," Archer ordered.
"Aye sir," T'Pol replied recalling what she'd been told on her journey from the airlock to her quarters on how to respond to an order on a Terran ship. Though she wasn't a Starfleet officer it was logical to follow the Terran military etiquette for such things now that she was aware of what that etiquette was. Without speaking further she moved to the science station and began familiarising herself with its layout.
Jonathan Archer watched her for a few moments, as the Vulcan familiarised herself with the console and adjusted the settings slightly more to her liking. She certainly seemed to be efficient; maybe having her onboard would not be so difficult after all. After a moment he turned his attention to the bigger picture.
"All stations report," he ordered.
"Helm ready," Ensign Travis Mayweather responded from the helm.
"Communications ready," Ensign Sato answered.
"Science ready," T'Pol said in her turn.
"Engineering ready," a young lieutenant whose name Archer still didn't know answered from the engineering/damage control station.
"Tactical ready," Major Reed answered from his own station.
"Ensign Sato, contact the station and traffic control," Archer ordered "request permission for departure."
"Aye sir," Hoshi answered keeping the nervousness she was feeling inside out of her voice with a great deal of effort. She could hardly believe this was happening at last, that she was going into space again, this time as a fully qualified officer. With a professional calmness drilled into her over the last few years of training she relayed the departure request to both the shipyard control room and system traffic control. For a few moments nothing happened then responses from both parties came in.
"Departure clearance granted, sir," she reported. "Station control says good luck. We're clear for outbound departure on bearing two-two-seven mark three-one-nine, transferring outbound vector to helm."
"Confirmed, I have the vector," Travis answered.
"Very well, Mr Mayweather disengage all umbilical's and clear all moorings," Archer ordered. Travis complied pressing a couple of buttons on his console, and watched his screens. One by one the screens showed the umbilical, mooring lines and arms holding Enterprise immobile in the slipway retracting allowing the starship to float freely in the dock.
"Umbilical's and moorings retracted, sir," he reported.
"Then lets get moving," Archer answered. "Aft thrusters to one quarter, Mr Mayweather port and starboard thrusters at station keeping until we clear shipyard space, once we're clear engage the impulse drives and take us out to warp clearance."
"Aye sir."
On the rear edges of the aft sections of the engineering and saucer sections of the Enterprise small blue ion manoeuvring thrusters flared into life. For a few moments nothing happened but then the ship began to move, slowly at first as the thrusters had to fight inertia caused by the sheer mass of the vessel but with increasing speed. Observed by space suited yard dogs that'd spent so long building her the Enterprise slipped out of the slipway that had been her home for so long.
Within two minutes the starship was floating freely in open space, her main impulse drives powered up, the advanced magnetoplasmadynamic engines expelling ionised plasma particles into space at a significant fraction of light speed. Propelled by the enormous force of her engines Enterprise shot forward accelerating rapidly to her maximum sub light speed of .6c. Under the skilful hands of her helmsman the newly commissioned starship threaded her way through the busy space lanes around Earth and her moon. Following the course vector subscribed by system traffic control Enterprise cleared the worst of the shipping and slipped into clear space as she headed out system.
Over the next twenty minutes the great ship headed outwards, moving further and further away from Earth towards the outer regions of the solar system where she would be safe to go to warp speed. Though it was fully possible for ships to go into warp in the inner regions of a star system it wasn't recommended as the stronger gravitational influences in core of a star system affected subspace, causing extreme drag on a ships engines, drag that could at its worst rip warp nacelles clean off – with catastrophic results.
Bridge
TAS Enterprise
Captain Jonathan Archer had to work hard to keep a goofy grin off his face as he observed the solar system flying past outside. It felt good to finally be underway, heading out system to the location beyond Jupiter where it would be safe to engage the warp engines. The high resolution display of the screen made the great gas giant and the heavily volcanic Io – the only moon they could see on this vector – look completely spectacular.
"Captain we're approaching our warp clearance coordinates," Travis reported.
"Understood," Jon replied before toggling the comm. unit build into the arm of his chair. "Bridge to engineering."
"Engineering, go ahead," Trip's voice answered immediately.
"Trip we're approaching the warp clearance threshold, what's the status of our warp drive?"
"Warmed up and ready to go cap," Trip answered and Jon could hear the smile in his friend's voice "though I recommend that we don't exceed warp three for the next few hours, until we can complete a couple of tests."
"Understood, bridge out," Jon acknowledged before closing the channel and once again addressing Travis. "Mr Mayweather, set course for the Klingon border engage at warp three."
"Aye sir," Travis replied keeping his features and voice calm while inwardly he was jumping for joy. Since coming to Earth to attend Starfleet Academy he'd missed the sound and feel of a ship at warp, something that had been such a fixture of his life on the Horizon. Such a fixture in fact that he hadn't realised how much he liked it until it wasn't there anymore, the training flights he'd been on had only given short refreshers of the feeling of FTL travel.
Calmly he aligned Enterprise onto her course before inputting the command to engage the warp drive. For a moment nothing happened then a faint humming sound and a very faint vibration in the deck plates began to make its presence known. For a millisecond the humming and vibration continued as the ship gathered her power. Then with breathtaking suddenness the ship leapt forward, turning the view screen feed into a blur of colours that momentarily gave way to a brilliant flash of light as the Enterprise broke the warp barrier. The light faded and gave way to the streaks of light going past as the ship continued to accelerate to speeds many times that of light.
"We're at warp two," Travis reported. "Two point three, point five, point seven, warp three, holding steady at warp three."
"Very good," Jon said leaning back in his command chair and feeling a profound feeling of triumph and vindication. This was proof that all the hard work over the last few days had truly paid off, Enterprise was fully functional and on route to the Klingon Empire. They'd completed one challenge another was now beginning.
And he was so looking forward to tackling it.