Chapter 4
"Next you have a briefing with Ambassador Soval." The lieutenant junior grade rattled off the list as they sped down the halls of Starfleet Headquarters. "From there you're meeting with Captain Jefferies on the acceleration of NX Class construction, redesign and refit, followed by a briefing concerning the Vulcan/Andorian situation."
Admiral Forrest continued down the hall, moving at his now customary speed, which was twice the pace he used to walk before Enterprise started its mission. The itinerary never mattered this early in the morning, as it was bound to change a half dozen times before he even made it to his next destination. Checking the time, Forrest noted that technically his workday wasn't even supposed to have begun yet and he was already running fifteen minutes late.
"... Afterward you have a brief meet-and-greet scheduled with the newest group of cadets, and that brings us to lunch." The lieutenant looked as if he was already exhausted. Forrest had to give the kid credit. As keeper of the schedule, he was the first one in the office in the mornings and the last one out at night. Of course, most of the stress in the lieutenant's life came from the fact that he revered the schedule as if it were written on stone tablets as opposed to being a general guide to the day, merely suggesting things that the admiral was supposed to do.
Dismissing his aide and entering his office, Admiral Forrest took a deep breath, wishing he had an hour to relax before he was expected to be in his next meeting. Maybe he should look into asking Col…Captain Carter installing one of their Asgard derived Transporters in his office and he could just beam himself from meeting to meeting.
Thinking of the six newest citizens of United Earth and the wonders they had brought with them from outside the galaxy never failed to send a tremor of amazement and excitement down his spine. The sheer possibilities for the future that they heralded were breathtaking.
He stood, looking out the window at the San Francisco Bay, wishing that the damn window opened so he could at least get some fresh air. Although there was a ton of work on his desk, he didn't really have anything pressing to look over contrary to what he had told his aide. He simply needed to take a few minutes for himself before the day began to overwhelm him right out of the starting gate. But as he stood looking out at the beautiful vista, the voice in the back of his head kept nagging at him that he should get to work.
Sitting behind his desk, he did a quick scan through his computer to make sure nothing important had come overnight. Pleasingly, he found nothing more than the usual memos and reports.
Never one to sit idly, even when relaxing, Forrest took a moment to look over the latest ship reports. The NX-02 Columbia was well under construction, in Spacedock 2 – the pace had been increased almost by four hundred percent…all thanks to the Universal ME Constructor, a nice welcome home gift from the Odyssey. If all went to plan she would be finished by the end of the year – and would be capable of both Warp FTL and Hyperspace. Captain Carter had just last week joined and briefed the construction teams on the radical new concept of starship propulsion and a few other new experimental technologies that they would be integrating into Columbia. The reaction of the Engineers had been one for the record books apparently, and made Forrest wish he'd been there with a vidcam.
His desk com beeped. 'Sir, Ambassador Soval is here.'
"Send him in."
The double doors opened and permitted the entrance of the Vulcan Ambassador to Earth; dressed in his usual finery with a green outer robe over fine over sized tunic and trousers. Occasionally it reminded him of the traditional garb of wizards as shown in the Tolkien mythos. His features were lighter than most Vulcans – a product of twenty eights years' residence on Earth with its much more forgiving sun. It surprised Forrest that he was meeting without his subordinate.
"Ambassador Soval, welcome."
"Admiral Forrest," came the crisp, flawless pronunciation. "I am here today because of a routine report Sub-Commander T'Pol sent to me, that contained rather…fascinating information."
Forrest raised his eyebrows at hearing that descriptor from Soval. That's about as emotional as you'd ever get from him, he thought. "Odyssey," he nodded with a sigh, he'd been expecting this…it wasn't as though Archer could gag his own XO from reporting to her nominal superiors. "What is Vulcan interested in specifically? Although I can guess…"
"We request that Earth reciprocate in regards to the Odyssey technology."
"You want Hyperdrive," Forrest tented his fingers. "And access to the crew of Odyssey?"
"We merely want our scientists already on Earth to participate in Hyperspace development as well, so both our worlds can eventually benefit. The potential of this new technology is great and the consequences of using it will be equally great."
"Of that, I have no doubt," Forrest agreed. "I'll speak to the Command Council and the Prime Minister. I don't foresee that they will object."
Soval bowed his head slightly in thanks – it was an Earth custom that Forrest noted the Vulcan had picked up in the last few years. He would never say…'Thank you' out loud, as that implied he felt grateful and Vulcans aren't supposed to feel anything.
"My next concern is with regards to any weapon technology you might derive from the Odyssey knowledge base. Vulcan hopes that you and Starfleet will not…I believe the Terran expression is…get a big head…and interfere and impose in affairs that doesn't concern Earth."
"We are not the Klingons, Ambassador," Forrest retorted immediately. "Any weaponry we develop will be for defensive purposes only. We don't want to get involved in conflict. But as you well know, Ambassador, the Quadrant is a volatile place." Forrest didn't have to elaborate on that truth further. Enterprise already had three First Contacts that were hostile right off the bat, all of whom the Vulcans had never encountered before. The ship had barely escaped intact on all three occasions.
Soval seemingly accepted that and the meeting turned to more mundane matters; it surprised Forrest somewhat. He'd been expecting Soval to be more…vocal in his concerns. He, like Jonathan Archer held a deep seated resentment of Vulcan 'guidance' or 'interference'. The only difference was that unlike Archer, Forrest was more reserved in his opinions and rarely gave voice to them. It would've alienated him from the Command Council – who Forrest was finally thankful to see were growing some backbone and didn't have the blind trust in Vulcans anymore – it was ironic that it was primarily Archer's exploits that was the cause of that.
When their meeting concluded and the Ambassador had left, Forrest stood at the windows pensively.
'Will we grow arrogant?' he thought to himself. Privately, he knew the chance was very, very slim. To be out there, among the stars, exploring was something every member of Starfleet wished he or she could be doing. Not conquering, or telling others how to live their lives. It made him think of a conversation he'd had with Archer earlier in the year, when Enterprise had encountered the pre-warp Valakis – a post industrial age species suffering from genetic degradation. Archer had been initially inclined to help, but then the discovery of the Menk (another species evolved on the same planet and who were not suffering from the degradation) complicated things.
Drafting some form of directive to guide Starfleet Captains in their decisions as they affected other species seemed all of a sudden like a very good idea…not to mention a priority, with the advent of Hyperdrive; which would open up the Galaxy to Starfleet and now the Vulcans as well…perhaps he could consult with Soval on drafting it…
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Enterprise
T'Pol of Vulcan lay on her bed in her relatively large quarters on board the Earth exploratory cruiser, reading an old favourite Vulcan literary classic. It was one of the few 'illogical' things she allowed herself. Her eidetic memory was very good as it was rated amongst Vulcans, and once she learned or read something she never forgot it, but reading the book about the Time of Awakening, always served to fill a 'longing' of a less complicated time, before she left her home, before her training, and navigating the intricacies of Vulcan society.
The computer terminal at her desk suddenly bleeped an alarm. She snapped the book closed, placing it on her bed, and fluidly rose from it towards the desk in the corner of the room. Her fingers began to tap on the control keyboard, engaging the encryptions that had been issued to her by the High Command. For that is who was calling her – she had set the computer to give a specific auditory tone when such a signal came.
The screen which initially showed the ship crest of Enterprise, was abruptly filled with the flowing top down script of written Vulcan. It happened very fast, but it was enough for her to discern that it was in fact the Ministry of Security calling.
The screen was then abruptly filled with the grave stoic face of an elder Vulcan woman. T'Pol recognized her as one of the Security Minister's direct adjutants, T'Meena.
"Sub-Commander."
"Yes?"
"Did I wake you?" Clearly indicating T'Pol's state of dress; a green sai-vel, simple pants and long sleeved shirt – the human term was 'pajamas'.
"It's all right. Is something wrong?"
"We've located Menos." T'Pol had to rigorously push down her flaring anger at hearing the name.
"Where?" she asked. Her stoicism was even more pronounced now, and T'Meena raised an eyebrow at it.
"Less than two days from your present location."
"Are you certain it's him?" T'Pol had been fooled before by Menos, not to mention the entire Ministry of Security. It was entirely plausible he had left another false trail for the Ministry to chase after.
"Yes." T'Meena spoke with no doubt in her eyes.
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T'Pol tapped on the door chime of the Captain's ready room, just before Alpha shift was due to start. She would be remiss in her duties and in her promise to Captain Archer if she didn't do this.
"Come in."
She entered and saw the Captain was seated on the small couch and busy carefully eating his breakfast. The plate of various Earth foods which she recognized as scrambled eggs, a steaming sausage of meat, and toasted bread rested on the flat area of the couch that was seemingly designed for such a purpose. The installation of the UC had seemingly made the Protein resenquencers near obsolete; the crew only used them for drinks now.
Enterprise's Chef was now working with 'technically' real and fresh ingredients now; and was a daily visitor to Engineering to have those ingredients 'replicated' – a term one of younger Engineers had come up with.
"Good morning," Captain Archer smiled at her, after swallowing some eggs and wiping his mouth with a serviette.
"Captain." She greeted, striving for pushing down her raging emotions.
"Toast?" he offered gestured to the remaining slice on his plate.
"No, thank you," she declined, she had barely touched her Plomeek broth in the mess hall. Her appetite was one of first victims of her recent…troubles.
"What can I do for you?" The Captain returned to his meal.
"Admiral Forrest will be calling you this afternoon, sir."
"Oh, will he? And how would you know that?" The Captain's mild question was accompanied by a slight narrowing of his eyes.
"I was contacted by the Vulcan High Command last night. They've requested my services regarding a matter of security."
"And they've already asked Admiral Forrest?"
"He should be contacting you this afternoon."
"Matter of security?" Captain Archer sat back into his couch, clearly wanting elaboration.
"The Admiral will inform you that Enterprise will be asked to alter course to the Pernaia system, where I will need a shuttlepod and a pilot for three to five days."
"You didn't answer my question. What kind of matter of security?" The Captain observed, a frown now marring his face. T'Pol now had to suppress her self-loathing for having to obey High Command classification procedures first and her Captain second…Menos was not a subject that they liked to broadcast to anyone, let alone an ally like Earth, or even to the general Vulcan populace.
"A Vulcan ship will rendezvous with the shuttlepod when my mission is completed."
"They're sending you to get somebody. Somebody you'll be handing over to the Vulcans. Why you?" Captain Archer deduced his eyes now mere slits.
"Admiral Forrest will be contacting you this afternoon." T'Pol repeated, now having to push away misery at what this would do for the trust already established between her and her Captain.
"Thanks for being so enlightening. Dismissed." Captain Archer saw that he would get nothing further from her, turned away from her coldly and returned to finish his meal. T'Pol turned and exited the Ready Room, 'wishing' she could bury her fists into the door to vent her frustration.
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The Situation Room on Enterprise, was not really a room per se, so much as it was an extension of the aft Bridge area. Two meters by three, it was dominated by a large console in the centre with a large display screen which would be used to display any data, graphics and pertinent images to the command crew during a briefing. Currently it showed a top down graphic of the system where Methos was believed to be in.
T'Pol found the open plan room a rather efficient design concept – Vulcan ships had separate Briefing Rooms to be used by specific department heads, and could be sealed off for confidential meetings if needed. Enterprise didn't cater for that, and she had seen the benefits this 'openness' had for the crew. 'Espirit' des Corps' Commander Tucker had called it when she had asked.
"Did you find the coordinates?" Captain Archer asked whilst pacing around the assembled command staff clustered by the display table.
"Pernaia Prime. Yes, sir. " Ensign Mayweather confirmed.
"Set a course. When we arrive, you'll be piloting the shuttlepod."
"Where exactly will we be going?" The Ensign asked with a note of uncertainty.
"Somewhere in the Pernaia System, no doubt," the Captain explained dryly, coming to a stop at the head of the display table. "As far as the exact location, Admiral Forrest doesn't even know that. It seems the Sub-Commander's on a highly classified mission."
"Is this Pernaia Prime inhabited?" Commander Tucker queried.
"The Vulcan database says it has a methane-based atmosphere," Hoshi reported, meaning in all likelihood that it didn't have native species or inhabitants – or at least carbon based life.
"So, she's going to another planet in the system. Are we supposed to play some kind of guessing game?" Tucker drawled, his Terran Floridan accent deepening significantly. T'Pol noted it only happened when he was being sarcastic or angry.
"No, we're supposed to wait at Pernaia Prime for T'Pol and Travis to finish their mission," Captain Archer explained.
"And do what in the meantime?"
"I could use a few days to recalibrate the torpedo launchers." Lieutenant Reed declared.
"I could polish all the handles and rails in Engineering," Commander Tucker said jocularly, which got him a pointed look of disapproval from the Captain. He looked abashed and relented, "I guess I could study up on my Hyperspace theory, purge the impulse reactors while I'm at it."
"It's only for a few days. We've got plenty to keep ourselves busy. Is there anything specific you and Travis are going to need?" The Captain addressed the question to T'Pol.
T'Pol wrestled with herself, but again her logic triumphed. "Cold-weather gear, restraints and phase pistols."
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Her logic though, when presented with the problem of how to mend the hostility of the Captain, caused a conflict with her previous conclusion to keep the apprehension of Menos classified. It was logical to keep the matter confidential, yet it was also logical to break that confidentiality. In the end…what mattered more? – keeping Menos a secret or her relationship with her Captain. Perhaps…both could assuaged with a limited disclosure…Ensign Mayweather would need logically need to know as well, and he would report to the Captain. But she knew that would seal the rift permanently.
So she found a middle path, and that was what put her outside the Captain's quarters during late evening. She could hear a repetitive smacking sound echoing through the door. She pushed the door chime button.
"Come in."
The hollow smacking sound turned out to be the large yellow water polo ball that the Captain was throwing against the bulkhead opposite his bed…it would bounce off and thump near perfectly back into his hands every time. She entered the room and allowed the door to swish closed behind her. The Captain's desk monitor was showing a recording of a water polo game – it was a sport that could only evolve on a world that was two thirds water. On Vulcan, water was seen as too precious in ancient times and even today to be wasted by filling a fifteen hundred cubic meter volume of it in a pool to use for recreation.
On the other hand T'Pol could clearly see the athleticism, stamina and skill the sport required and fostered in its adherents. Captain Archer's physique was testament to it.
"If the Vulcan High Command doesn't approve of the water polo match I'm watching I'd be happy to find another," he commented sarcastically from his position on the bed.
"Your orders to bring me to Pernaia came from Starfleet, not the High Command," T'Pol pointed out, though she knew it was semantics, and that Starfleet would have asked for something in return for it.
The Captain gave her measuring stare before returning his gaze to the polo match. "What can I do for you?"
"I have a personal matter I'd like to discuss." She saw that the Captain's attention was kept by the monitor, and decided to show her seriousness by stepping in front of it, blocking the Captain's view. He sighed and gave her an irritated stare, before relenting, pausing the playback by tapping a button near his bed. With his full attention now, she began explaining. "Before I joined the Science Directorate I was assigned to the Ministry of Security. I was trained in reconnaissance, infiltration and retrieval."
The Captain raised both eyebrows in surprise and briefly directed his gaze to his pet quadruped. "Move over, Porthos." The rather well trained dog abruptly got off the couch and settled on its designated pillow. "Let the lady sit down. Sounds like this is going to be good. Come on, sit down." T'Pol acquiesced and gingerly took a seat. "How long ago are we talking about?"
"I completed my training seventeen Earth years ago," she answered.
"Go ahead."
"Are you familiar with a planet called Agaron?"
"They're close allies with the Vulcans, right?"
"Not always. Agaron was a very corrupt world. When their leaders were first trying to forge an alliance with Vulcan they asked for our assistance. Hundreds of us were surgically altered and sent to infiltrate the most criminal factions of Agaron society. Eventually, we were instrumental in the overthrow of those factions. After the alliance was formalised, the Vulcan agents were recalled. However, seven of the criminals on our target list managed to escape the arrest raids."
"And then?"
"The Ministry of Security sent me as a leader to a team of newly-trained operatives to retrieve them. We were only able to apprehend five of the seven fugitives."
"So tomorrow you get to pick up number six and seven."
"There will only be one fugitive to apprehend," T'Pol said, bowing her head to hide the slight twitch of her face that broke through her emotional control. When she felt somewhat master of herself again she raised her head and explained. "The sixth fugitive…there was…doubt over his guilt. Despite this, our orders were clear. Their names were Jossen and Menos. Jossen was young, an orphan, and grew up under Menos' tutelage."
T'Pol had to take a deep breath to fortify her control again. "I caught up with them only once before, on Risa. They thought they were invulnerable. I got very close. Twenty metres, maybe ten. Jossen grew tired and tripped, desperate and on the ground, to my eyes he reached for a weapon…I fired first."
The Captain frowned and queried very accurately. "Didn't your weapon have a stun setting?"
"It did," T'Pol confirmed. "But Agaronian physiology was different, less resilient, and Jossen had a congenital neuro-disorder. He died from the stun."
"You felt guilt over possibly taking an innocent life then? Is this what I'm seeing now?"
"I thought I had put it behind me, suppressed the emotion…it seems that is not the case."
"So this Menos escaped, and now you're finally going to apprehend him? Why can't someone else do it? Why you?"
"The Ministry considers it a matter of honour."
"How very Vulcan. So, why have you decided to tell me all this?"
"I'd like you to come with me," T'Pol confessed.
"What?"
"The man I'm being sent to apprehend is extremely dangerous. It would be wise for me to have assistance and I need to be with someone I can trust."
The Captain looked at her seriously, and she saw the support and understanding in his eyes. "Very well. Consider it done."
"Thank you, Captain." T'Pol felt the unspoken rift vanish.
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Shuttlepod One – Pernia System
Under Mayweather's guidance the small shuttle cruised at one quarter impulse to the moon orbiting the fifth planet. They had a few hours to acquaint themselves with the particulars of the criminal they were going to apprehend. T'Pol had brought a data wafer which she slotted into one of the rear computer terminals. A few button taps later and the face of an older humanoid alien appeared on the screen.
Menos had yellow hair and a prominent ridge that bisected his forehead - odd purple eyes that had a cunning intelligence behind them glanced off into the distance, clearly he hadn't been aware of being photographed.
"Menos was the head of a large smuggling syndicate," T'Pol explained. "He was very proficient at his craft, amassed a large fortune."
"Smuggling what?" Jon asked curiously.
"Synthetic biotoxins used to manufacture transgenic weapons. I spent three months trying to find him. He used his wealth wisely. Whenever I'd get close, I'd find he'd left a day or two before."
"Until Risa," Jon nodded in understanding.
"Yes, he thought he was invulnerable there, that no one would think to look for him on such a peaceful place."
Jon could see her eyes were stormy as she stared at the scrolling surveillance photos and she seemed lost in a reverie.
"T'Pol?"
"I never found him again. No one did. Not until now."
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Pernia V's Moon
The large moon was barely inhabitable. With seasonal storms and cold weather that Eskimos would balk at braving. It's sole purpose, and one that made it attractive to all a manner of people, despite the freezing conditions, was its position as a central trading hub of sorts. Pernia was uniquely situated amongst the trade lanes that made it an ideal waystation.
Of course, no such place was complete without a tavern or bar for people to drown their sorrows at business deals gone sour, or merely having a bit of a respite from an exhaustive cargo run.
As Jon entered the tavern he was amazed at the virtual exobiologist catalogue of various humanoid aliens cluttered in the place. Some small, some huge, some hairy, some not, a rainbow of various colours of skin – he doubted he could name less than a third of the species on display.
He adjusted his thick Starfleet issue cold-weather jacket, and glanced to T'Pol, who was staring into her Scanner. The rounded device was standard issue in the Vulcan fleet, and was obviously considerably more advanced and 'pretty' in design than the Starfleet version. It beeped something at her and the display flashed Vulcan writing.
"He's here," she declared, having finished her scan for an Agaron lifesign and DNA. It also helped that Menos, as a criminal, had had his unique DNA catalogued and was on record with the Vulcan Security Ministry.
"Where?" Jon scanned the tables for the face he had memorized, it was hard with all the commotion and life of the place.
"Within thirty meters."
Jon grumbled inwardly, Vulcan tech clearly wasn't everything it was cracked up to be. There was a lot of life within those thirty meters. "If he sees T'Pol, he may try to get back to his ship." Jon told Travis, who nodded and hung back by the door, guarding the entrance. Jon took a left, whilst T'Pol headed right, both slowly milling through the crowd and scanning faces.
Barely twenty seconds of trying to make heads or tails out of a sea of alien faces passed when there was a commotion near T'Pol's location. Jon threaded his way through, his phase pistol kept low and out of sight. When he reached his XO, she was looking around almost frantically.
"He saw me."
"Which way?"
"I'm not certain."
Jon snapped into action, spotting an empty table whose occupant had gone to the bar for another round, he used the chair to leap up onto the table and whistled to Travis, still standing at the entrance, giving a hand signal. He heard the charging whine of an energy weapon and managed to duck the yellow plasma bolt that was shot from one end of the long bar table. Jon spotted a figure huddled there and rapidly retreating.
Jon jumped down to pursue only to be confronted by a hulking brute of an alien, who was clearly irritated about using his table, and snarled in his unrecognizable language.
"Couldn't agree more," Jon frowned and with his pistol in view, the alien visibly backed off allowing Jon to move.
By the time he got anywhere near Menos, Travis and T'Pol was already there and between them had easily disarmed and pinned the criminal to the floor.
"Don't move," snarled Travis, as Menos tried to squirm out of the strong Helmsman's grip.
T'Pol handed Jon the restraints whilst she kept her phase pistol trained on the criminal. He threaded the thick tritanium restraints around Menos' wrists and with a snap the powerful magnetic field activated keeping the wrists together. Travis hauled Menos to his feet. The alien criminal looked slightly worse for wear than his photo had suggested. Being constantly on the run and hunted can't help.
"You have no jurisdiction here," snarled Menos.
T'Pol simply got right into the alien's face, her eyes blazing phase bolts at him. "Follow me, and we'll see about that, Menos."
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The Dockmaster's office was a grubby, cluttered affair. The Dockmaster himself was a roughly green skinned bulky humanoid with nothing resembling hair on his head, merely a red coloured pattern. It took a few tries to settle the Universal Translators on a language the alien knew well enough.
He (if that was the right pronoun) stared at the Vulcan Padd, (again it was another piece of Vulcan hardware T'Pol had brought with her) that contained the highly encrypted and tamperproof Warrant of Arrest, issued by the Vulcan Ministry – that T'Pol set to translate into Rigellian characters. Finally, he handed it back.
"Your warrant is valid, but you won't be able to take him. Not for at least four hours. We've begun thermalizing the landing deck."
"We just need to get him to our ship," T'Pol intoned.
"There's a half centimetre of xylathoric acid on that deck. I wouldn't recommend it. Not if you value those pretty feet of yours."
"Do you have somewhere we can put him until we leave?" Jon sighed in frustration.
"Does this look like a prison to you?" the Dockmaster asked incredulously.
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Enterprise – In orbit of Pernia Prime
Commander Charles 'Trip' Tucker sat at the head of the table in the Captain's Mess, watching the latest Water polo game from the University league – fresh off the latest subspace data stream from Earth. The door chime sounded.
"Come in."
Dr Phlox and Lieutenant Reed entered.
"Gentlemen, come in. Glad you could join me."
"Water polo?" Reed asked with a grin, staring at the monitor in corner of the room.
"Very exciting sport. You should learn more about it." Trip tapped the controls mounted on the table, and the playback shut down. "Please, sit down. I had Chef prepare a special lunch." And right on time a mess steward entered, carefully carrying the lunches in question. Phlox and Reed sat down hurriedly as Trip introduced each dish with relish. "Bangers and mash for you Lieutenant and, Denobulan sausage for the Doctor."
"Very nice." The Doctor grinned one his huge smiles.
"Are you sure the Captain wouldn't have a problem with you using his dining room?" Reed asked pointedly.
"Acting Captain, Captain's Mess. I don't see a problem. Thank you, Crewman." The Steward nodded and disappeared through the doors. "Enjoy."
"Thank you," Phlox nodded and everyone began to tuck into their meals. Over the first bite, the Doctor suddenly said with an air of realization. "Oh, I detected a lymphatic virus on board this morning. Most likely it sneaked in with one of the deuterium canisters. We should probably inoculate the crew."
"Why didn't the bio-scanners detect it?" Trip asked with irritation.
"Well, it's a very reliable device, but it's not perfect. The inoculation does have some side effects."
"What kind of side effects?" Trip asked wearily.
"Headache, nausea, diarrhoea." Phlox listed casually. "But they would subside in a day or two. Do I have your permission?"
"I'd hate to be responsible for giving the crew the runs." Trip winced as he thought of the ruckus it would cause if his Engineering staff came down with those symptoms, and couldn't report for duty. "Maybe you should wait till the Captain gets back."
"I'm afraid the virus will have spread by then. I really need an answer today," the Doctor said gravely.
"Why don't I get back to you later, Doc?"
"Not too much later."
"While we're on the subject of approvals," Reed spoke after swallowing a nice spoonful of mash, "I promised Captain Archer that I'd recalibrate the torpedo launchers. I'll need to divert computer access from Main Engineering."
"That would mean we'd have to power down the warp core," Trip said in exasperation.
"It'll only be for a day. We're not exactly going anywhere," Reed pointed out.
"We're also not at war. I'm just not comfortable taking the engines offline right now."
"Is that the Chief Engineer talking, or the Acting Captain?"
"Let me get back to you." The com beeped for his attention, he tapped in the button exasperation. "Tucker."
"We were just hailed by the Vulcan ship Nyran, sir. It's approaching the system at high warp. They're asking to speak with Captain Archer," Hoshi's voice filtered through the com.
"Tell them the Captain's indisposed at the moment. He'll get back to them in a little while."
"Yes, sir."
When the com beeped off, he saw the questioning looks from his two fellows. "The Captain said not to tell the Vulcans he went with T'Pol. He was very emphatic about that."
"It's going to be difficult to convince them he's indisposed for the next two days," Phlox said reasonably.
The com beeped for attention again, before Trip could even get back to his pasta. "Go ahead."
"Captain Tavek says he has a message from Admiral Forrest." Hoshi reported. "He seems very anxious to speak with Captain Archer. What shall I tell him?"
"I'll get back to you." Trip closed the channel again and stared at his pasta, lamenting its loss, for he wouldn't be able to finish it…not if he had to come up with a way to convince this Captain Tavek that Jon was still on Enterprise…
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Pernia V's Moon
Menos was securely fastened to the table with his restraints; allowing Jon and the others to have a seat at the same table, with their phase pistols holstered, though he kept his right hand close to it all times as he alertly scanned the tavern and its noisy occupants.
"Any one of these people could be working with him."
"I doubt that, Captain," T'Pol disagreed. "All his assets were repossessed by the Agaron government – they couldn't get all of it, but it was enough. He only has the means to continue his criminal pursuits by himself now."
"'He' is right here, Vulcan," sneered Menos, who then surveyed Jon and Travis briefly. "Humans?" Menos snorted with an ugly look on his face. "Just yet another race you Vulcan's puppeteer."
"The Vulcan's do not control us, they are our allies – yes, they helped us and advised us, perhaps even interfered, but never have they made our choices for us," Jon said rather strongly, surprising himself with their vehemence…and he wondered if he would've said the same eighteen months ago before Enterprise had left Spacedock – but if there was one thing his time in deep space had taught him thus far was to leave hubris and pride out of the airlock and it had added a bit of perspective.
"Lucky for you," Menos sneered. "Do they put dozens of secret police on your planet? Hmmm?"
"The Agaron government asked for us to be there," T'Pol countered, "your criminal factions had too much power over the judiciary and the local police forces on the ground."
"Bunch of bastards," Menos muttered. "Do you know how many politicians, who are just as corrupt but cloak themselves in fairness, still sit in the Agaron government today?" He asked this question to Jon. "Some are even worse than I am; they wanted their competition out of the way and saw the Vulcans as a means to do that. 'Officially' allying Agaron with Vulcan allowed massive amounts of exports and imports to flow, and the politicians didn't want to share that pie with the syndicates – so they got the Vulcans to infiltrate and root us out."
"Is there a point to this?" Jon sighed, shaking his head. "Because I tell you now that your story of woe is not going to inspire me in any way to suddenly let you go."
"Do I look like I'm living a life of lucrative smuggling?" Menos retorted unabated, gesturing to his rather dishevelled appearance. "Do you know how I've survived the last twenty years? How I've fed my family while on the run? I haul spent warp injector casings. Not a very popular occupation, but a necessary one. A doctor on Andoria says that my hemolytic cell count is over three thousand. You don't find too many old men hauling spent injector casings. In my left front pocket, if you don't mind."
Travis wearily moved to reach into said pocket, but T'Pol stopped him with a firm hand. "I wouldn't. It may be a weapon."
"It's a hologram of my family. It won't hurt you."
Jon debated with himself and subtly drew his pistol and levelled it at the smuggler under the table before nodding to Travis to pull out the holo. It was a small cylinder shaped device that Travis easily switched on and a flat holograph screen of a few inches sprang out of it. It showed a rather pretty Agaronian woman and two smaller children who were smiling and waving at the camera.
"The injector casings are going to take me away from them soon enough. I don't want to die in an Agaron prison," Menos mumbled glumly.
"The information that I was given says that you buy high grade biotoxins and sell them to anyone who will meet your price," T'Pol retorted flatly, with a slight tinge of accusation.
"If all of the Ministry's reports about me were true I could easily shape-shift and slip out of these restraints, or sprout wings and fly to my ship," he said sardonically.
"Hey! Enough! You've been convicted already, and no amount of good honest behaviour now is going to wash away your past crimes," Jon said firmly. "So we're going to sit here, quietly, enjoy our drinks until the landing deck is clear. Or would you prefer we keep you permanently stunned…"
Menos sneered weakly at them and sat back in his seat after allowing Travis to return the holo device.
It was going to be a long night…
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Enterprise Bridge – In orbit of Pernaia Prime.
Trip felt deeply uncomfortable as he sat on the Captain's Chair, feeling like a fraud, because that was what he was at the moment. He had requisitioned a Starfleet jumpsuit with the gold shoulder piping from the Quartermaster, and was adding a fourth pip to the rank bar to indicate his rather unauthorized elevation of rank from Commander to Captain. He glanced nervously at Hoshi. She was watching him with twinkly eyes of amusement from her station ready to initialize communications with the incoming Vulcan ship.
"You're sure?" he asked flatly.
"There's no record of them ever having spoken, but I can't be certain." She shrugged, not entirely being reassuring to her Acting Captain.
"Has he ever been to Earth?"
"If he has, the Vulcan database doesn't mention it."
"I hope they haven't put Starfleet yearbook photos into that database. Let's get this over with." He nodded to Hoshi and he quickly put on his 'Captain Archer's Hat', conveying a calm command presence. The forward viewscreen abruptly changed from the view of the planet to show the upper half of a stern looking Vulcan, clearly reaching his senior years. The Bridge of the Vulcan cruiser around him was typical – highly efficient, with no seating provided except for the Captain and a general 'squeaky clean' high tech feel. "Captain Tavek, is there something I can do for you?" Trip said confidently.
"Captain Archer?" Tavek asked flatly.
"Yes. Is there a problem?"
"You seem very young for a Starfleet Captain." Tavek observed.
"Healthy living. You have a message from Admiral Forrest?"
"I'm not certain what this means but the Admiral asked me to inform you that…" Tavek looked to a padd briefly to confirm the seemingly strange message. "Cal beat Stanford, seven to three."
"I'll be sure to tell him," mumbled Trip to himself, but he kicked himself a moment later when the sensitive audio gains picked up his voice.
"Tell who?"
"I'm afraid it's confidential. Thank you for relaying the message. Archer out." Trip said firmly, the viewscreen returned to the default forward view and he breathed a sigh of relief, slumping in the chair.
Disaster averted.
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Pernia V's moon
It was a long wait. Jon honestly didn't know how the police could babysit a criminal for hours on end, and keep alert to prevent the suspect from trying anything to escape. But wait they did. They couldn't even discuss ship business or other similar subjects in front of Menos to pass the time – because there's no telling who he could sell the information to down the line.
Travis was alternately swirling his drink and occasionally gave Menos a beady eye. He needn't have bothered – T'Pol had been fixing her attention on the criminal rigidly for the past five hours, who was squirming under that unfathomable stare. Jon for his own part was doing the same, but kept a more overall eye on the tavern – just in case Menos did indeed have a confederate. He didn't doubt the competence of Vulcan's Security Ministry, but they couldn't know a hundred percent for sure that Menos didn't have help on this moon.
Finally, the Dockmaster bustled into the tavern and after getting the rowdy patronage to quiet down somewhat, announced that the landing deck was clear of acid. What followed was a brief surge of people trying to leave and getting stuck in the door, which they waited out since it was such a situation which Menos could use to give them the slip.
When they finally emerged from the Tavern into the freezing weather again, T'Pol spoke up.
"Captain, I wish to conduct a search of Menos' ship. If there are biotoxins aboard it would be unwise to leave it here…this moon is not an entirely reputable place."
Under encouragement from Travis, Menos led them to a green hulled warp vessel thirty meters in length. It was in rather good condition for the supposedly hard times the smuggler had fallen under. In the cargo hold they did indeed find large plasteel crates filled with spent warp injector casings.
T'Pol clearly wasn't buying it and had her scanner out immediately, only to surprisingly meet with the same results. Jon had a nagging suspicion though and pulled out his own scanner to begin a sweep. Trip had recently done an overhaul of the hand scanners in the Enterprise inventory to include some sensor technology from the Odyssey tech base, and not only that but Jon suspected that Menos had devised countermeasures against Vulcan based scanning techniques – he had to be so successful at eluding capture for a reason.
"Over here," Jon gestured to his XO to follow him after the scanner beeped. T'Pol arched an eyebrow and accompanied him over to one of the bare walls of the cargo compartment. He felt carefully along the wall and suddenly his fingers seemed to melt into it. He pulled his hand back out and glanced at the scanner again.
"Artificially manipulated field of photons…it's like the Xyrillian holo chamber," Jon mused, wondering where Menos could've gotten his hands on such technology.
"My scanner reads it as nothing but alloy plating," T'Pol turned to Menos who looked somewhat smugly at her.
"You Vulcans," he shook his head, "think your technology is infallible, that couldn't be further from the truth. It took one of my recruited scientists two years of research to make a device that fools the Vulcan hand scanner into detecting what I want it to detect."
"How do we shut it off?" Jon asked pointedly.
"Go to the cockpit, there's an auxiliary maintenance panel where a person's legs would be, pull it away and you'll see a small control board," Menos explained grudgingly.
"Travis…"
"Aye sir," nodded the Helmsman and headed to the fore of the ship, a few minutes later there was a sizzling sound and with an electric snap the illusion vanished to reveal an alcove filled with transparent circular containers that held a fluid that glowed with an eerie green.
T'Pol held her scanner near it, and simply said, "biotoxins."
"Is it safe to move?"
"Yes."
"Then let's get this stuff out of here."
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Main Gymnasium, Starfleet Academy, Earth
Teal'C stood in front of his first assembled class of Starfleet cadets. They were first years and consequently 'wet behind the ears rookies' as his old friend Jack O'Neill would say. Most of them were almost fresh out of High School, nineteen or even eighteen years old...Teal'C suspected one or two of them were even younger and had somehow finagled their way into Starfleet Academy.
That did not matter at all to him. If they were here, they were volunteers, and that meant they knew what they were getting into. There were a total of twenty four first years – ten of them female – he mentally amended some of his goals with them in mind. The cadets were also staring at him with a slight nervousness...no doubt his size intimidated them somewhat, and in some of the female cadets he even saw the light of admiration...they would lose that quickly enough.
"Greetings, I am Captain Tariq Freeman," Teal'c spoke to the assembled class, standing like a statue of ready poise in Starfleet issue exercise gear of blue shorts and grey sleeveless shirt. His chosen Terran name was something his cover demanded and the old SGC standby of 'Murray' was hardly logical anymore. "This is the beginning of a new compulsory training for all cadets from first to final year. On your timetables this class is called 'Martial Arts Appreciation', the name is but a pale shadow of what you will truly learn from me."
Teal'c walked over to an area a few feet away that he had set up, it had numerous 'human dummies' mounted on stands. Next to that were two long tables covered in cloth. He pulled one off to reveal numerous examples of the preferred weapon of a Klingon in a melee combat. He picked one up and held it up to the class for view.
"This is the Klingon Bat'leth – a curved bilateral sword," Teal'c introduced and without warning delivered a decapitating attack with it on one of the dummies and also an eviscerating upward strike that neatly cleaved it in two pieces that fell to the floor. He put the Bat'leth down and picked up the next weapon. "The Klingon Mek'leth – two pronged dagger." He attacked another dummy with slashes and eviscerating strikes. He then picked up a Klingon style disruptor - a replicated example of one found in Enterprise' recent Intelligence and technology coup - and fired it at another dummy, which promptly vaporized.
"To both Earth and Vulcan's current knowledge, Klingons are the most immediate threat to any Starfleet vessel's security. There are others, which you will learn about in Interstellar Relations class, but space is infinite, and there is no telling what you could be called upon to do, to defend yourself, shipmates and your ship."
"It is highly probable that you will be assigned when you graduate to a new NX class, and other deep space assignments. You will be the first to see many wondrous new events, places and people, but on the reverse, you will also be the first to see nightmares that threaten the survival not only of your ship, but of Earth itself."
"I am here to teach you the basis of defending yourself in armed and unarmed combat. By the time you leave this Academy you will be able to defend yourself against any race known to Starfleet, even with your bare hands if the situation calls for it."
There was a few nervous and sceptical coughs, and a cadet raised her hand.
"Yes, Cadet...?"
"Andrews, Sir. Are you telling me we could even take a Vulcan down after our training?"
"Indeed," Teal'c said seriously. "You are of course referring to the physiological strength and speed advantage a Vulcan has over a Human, and to the Klingon's brute strength and size advantage."
"Yes, sir," nodded Cadet Andrews nervously. Teal'c noted she had a distinctively small build, she was the smallest of the female cadets, at just above one point six meters.
"My answer is that you must remember that all species evolved to adapt to their environments, and remember that Vulcans and Klingons must pay a price for that advantage. Vulcans have what is known as 'fast twitch' muscles – they contract with extreme strength and speed, their ancestors were 'impulse hunters', the disadvantage of this is that they have no staying power, their natural stamina in considerably lower than a Human's. They are also individualists and solitary, they have no group 'instincts' as it is."
"Klingons have extreme strength, developed because of their high gravity homeworld, they overpower their targets and charge headlong into battle, again they lack stamina because of this and rarely attack cooperatively."
"I will train you to make the most of Humanity's natural advantages – stamina, discipline and unit tactics. You will turn your opponents advantages into disadvantages. When you fight a Klingon you will deflect his attacks like wind skipping off him, whilst getting your own hits in...and when he is exhausted, you finish him off by striking a vulnerable spot."
"Moving on to armed combat I will teach you to fight weaponless against an armed opponent and come out the victor. I will also be teaching you in the philosophy of the martial arts, and you will see that it will also readily apply to starship battles. Finally, when you have mastered and absorbed all this, you will be issued a with a new melee style weapon that I have recommended to Starfleet for adoption. Those of you with an appreciation of classic movies will surely recognize it, but I do not want to spoil the surprise."
"We will begin today with our first lesson, divide into pairs, it doesn't matter if you are paired with the opposite gender, and then we will learn how to move in unarmed battle..."
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UES Enterprise, Terran System Designation Theta Ursae Majoris, High Orbit of Theta IV
"I need to spend more time in the gym." That was Hoshi's fervent declaration as she wearily pulled herself out of the shuttlepod and up the steep ladder that led onto the Lauch Bay mezzanine deck. Jon pulled himself out of the shuttlepod behind her and regarded his Com Officer with a wry expression.
"If I knew there were going to be so many hills I would have picked a different city to explore," Jon commented and they paused on the mezzanine for the last member of their party to climb the ladder.
"It was worth every step, sir." Malcolm declared fervently. "The architecture alone..." The Tactical Officer didn't need to elaborate.
"I could have spent all day in that temple," Hoshi agreed, mirroring Malcolm's gleam of satisfaction.
The three of them entered the Decon Bay and began to peel off the cosmetic adornments that had allowed them to blend in with the humanoid natives of Theta IV. It was essentially forehead extentions that changed the cranial structure and volume of the Thetans. Luckily they didn't need any skin coloration and other more extensive procedures to blend in. They had lucked out in that. Jon personally drew the line at having to go under the cosmetic 'laser' to go on a pre-FTL culture visit. As yet, Enterprise had not encoutered a pre-Warp species that required that...for which he was infinitely thankful.
"With your permission, Captain, I'd like to write the report to Starfleet. It was my first visit to a pre-warp culture. Seems only fitting," Malcolm requested as dumped the used make-up in a disposal bin.
"I don't suppose it has anything to do with the tactical situation down there," Hoshi grinned at him knowingly.
"Am I that obvious?" Malcolm ruefully asked.
"I can't think of a better man for the job," Jon nodded at his Tactical officer.
"Welcome home," came the cheerful voice of Doctor Phlox from the observation window.
"Any unexpected guests?" Jon queried with a hopeful air. He really just wanted to retire to his quarters and sleep a whole day away, not spend it in Decon.
"Not a single parasite, spore or virus. I take it your expedition was productive?"
"Very," Jon confirmed.
"You're done here," Phlox nodded, giving his official permission to re-enter the ship by unlocking the Decon chamber.
From there they proceeded into the neighboring Locker Room, which housed the majority of the copper colored Starfleet issue EVA suits, helmets and where they could change back into their Starfleet uniform jumpsuits. The clothes they had worn had been down on Theta IV had been rather painstakingly researched and replicated to match the local styles, even down to matching the prevalent weave style being used by the Thetans and would remain in the Quatermaster's stores for possible future use.
"You know, as interesting as that was, it's always good to get home," Jon remarked, as he removed his jacket.
"The speaker at the political rally, what was his name? Chancellor Kultrey?" Malcom asked, the Thetan planet still strong on his mind.
"Kultarey," Hoshi corrected automatically.
"You could write a book about him alone." Malcolm began frown as his hands entered the leather jacket's pockets. "His speech reminded me of Winston Churchill before the Second World War." Jon noted his hands began to flutter in the pockets and abruptly an alarmed expression broke upon his face.
"Something wrong? Malcolm?"
"My communicator."
"What about it?"
"It's gone."
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Shuttlepod Bay
Jon carefully scanned the exterior floor just outside the Shuttlepod One, it was highly likely that Malcolm had dropped the communicator as he climbed out of the pod, since it was rather awkward climbing out of the things. But there was nothing but shiny deck floor around the pod...no communicator.
"It's not in decon. Any luck?" Malcolm asked as he entered the bay.
"None yet." Jon sighed.
"What about the launch bay crew? Could they have found it while they were securing the pod?"
"I've already spoken to them," Jon shook his head in frustration.
"I did everything but tear up the floor plating over here," Hoshi peaked out of the pod before nimbly jumping out of it.
"When was the last time you remember having it?" Jon equired intently of his Tactical Officer.
"I contacted T'Pol to let her know we'd entered the city."
"After that. Did you have any reason to take it out of your pocket?"
"No."
"Are you sure?" Jon insisted.
"I'd remember. Either I dropped it or someone picked my pocket." Malcolm spoke grimly.
"We covered a lot of ground. It could be anywhere." Jon frowned at the problem.
"I think I can narrow down the search, Captain. An inverse carrier wave should amplify its power signature. With any luck, I'll be able to isolate it."
"Get on it, in the meantime I think I'm going to have Trip install embedded trackers in all our away team gear, stop this from happening in the future."
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Enterprise Bridge
"I'm getting something," announced Ensign Sato from her Com Station, staring intently at a sensor feed she had channeled to it, while at the same time positively flooding local subspace around Theta IV with the strongest carrier wave she could generate with the subspace com arrray. "I've got it down to one point five square kilometers."
"Can you do a litte better?" Jon asked mildly.
"I'll try," nodded the Ensign and began trying to tweak more resolution from the sensors.
Trip was at the Bridge Engineering station to monitor the power flow to the subspace antenna, not to mention all the computer access that was beign diverted to help with this 'little' crisis. Jon also noticed an unusual eagerness had entered his Chief Engineer ever since they had entered orbit of Theta IV; his friend was clearly chomping at the bit to get assigned to an away team, as he spent as much time as he could get away with on the Bridge, his ear constantly on the data and conversations of the away teams that had thus far been sent down. However, there was now a frission of concern in his friend's voice as he asked, "Isn't there a war brewing down there?"
"We saw a lot of propaganda, but from what we could tell nobody started fighting yet."
"It's crucial we retrieve the technology." T'Pol stated from her station with a hint of emphasis in her tone. "We can't risk contaminating a pre-warp culture."
"I've isolated the signal to within three city blocks." Hoshi announced next and a few button taps later displayed a top down visual sensor feed on the main viewer of the city blocks in question. "That's the best I can do from this high orbit, sir."
"We could go to a lower orbit," mused Jon, raising a speculative eyebrow in Trip's direction.
"We would be detected, unless..." T'Pol did the Vulcan version of raising an eyebrow and also looked at Trip.
"Well, there's no time like the present, I suppose," Trip shrugged, and turned to Lieutenant Reed at the Tactical Station, "so how about it, Lieutenant, d'you wanna turn us all invisible with the push of a button?"
Reed's expression of delight was all the answer they needed.
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Enterprise was lazily coasting in it's standard high orbit of Theta IV, just like it had done for the past week, when all of a sudden her form seemed to suddenly distort...for a moment actually seeming to become bigger...before she abruptly normalized showing that had been an illusion, but now as her shield system abruptly switched function into a Cloak...the ship abruptly vanished from both visual, radio and subspace sensors as the shield system now actually phased the entire ship partially out of sync with the rest of the Universe.
Ensign Mayweather piloted the ship skillfully into a low orbit, almost skimming the outer atmosphere of Theta IV in fact. The reason for this was to give as much resolution as possible, not only to the sensors, but also for the targeting scanners of Enterprise' Transporter. They finally got a targeting lock on the missing communicator after a sustained scan had narrowed down its location in space down to a one centimeter radius. With that Trip simply beamed the missing Communicator directly onto the Transporter Pad.
Enterprise returned to its high orbit and remained under Cloak for the remaining time of the two-week planetary survey. The missing Communicator incident caused him to recommend in his report to Starfleet that in the future, any Pre-Warp Culture Survey of a civilization in an Industrial Age or Higher should be done under with the ship under Cloak, that all away team gear should be fitted with subspace tracking tags and for that matter any personnel going down should have subcutaneous trackers installed as well. Technology wasn't the only thing that could cause 'Cultural Contamination'; if an away team member was knocked unconscious, kidnapped, arrested or God forbid, even killed, the natives would quickly learn that something wasn't right when they found the body. There was no guarantee that the other members of any away party would be in a position to prevent this.
Jon tapped his computer screen in his Ready Room and sent off his final report to Hoshi for compilation into the data bundle that would be transmitted back to Earth. He stood and stared out of the small viewport at the blurred shifting light of stars as his ship cruised at Warp Five.
His door chime interupted his thoughts of the near disaster that had been averted as he stared at the hypnotic and beautiful sight.
"Come in."
T'Pol entered bearing a data Padd, her face frozen in typical Vulcan poise."I scanned the region ahead. There's a blue giant cluster three light years from our current position."
"Any planets?"
"None that are inhabited."
"Sounds good, have Travis set a course," Jon took the Padd from her and scanned it briefly. "Have you finished your own report on Theta IV?"
"Yes, sir."
"What's your analysis of any contamination we may have caused to the Thetans?"
T'Pol didn't hesistate for an instant as she answered, "The Communicator was out of our possession for slightly less than a standard day. Doctor Phlox found Thetan skin cells on it and inside the casing, clearly indicating that it had been pried open and examined. There was not enough time for the Thetans to have examined the technology in any detail, but they may have come to some ideas as to its function and purpose."
"So at best we've simply given them the idea of a small handheld radio communcation device."
"Yes, but considering that two major factions of Thetans are close to open war, I am not ruling out that our presence may have been misconstrued as a mission of espionage."
"That would be of some concern, especially if it causes whatever Intelligence Agency they have to raise a red flag..." Jon trailed off in thought.
"There is a slightly lower than moderate chance of that, Captain, however, I calculate a four percent chance that this will cause the Thetan's to go to war with each other."
"Well, that's something at least, although in my opinion four percent is four percent too much...our 'espionage mission' could easily be the tiniest spark that ingites the fire of War that will rage over all of Theta IV, the situation was very volatile down there."
"Then perhaps we should make it a policy to determine a pre-warp culture's susceptibility to that."
"It would mean a lot more time spent in orbit before sending down away teams, but the lives that would be saved..."
T'Pol said nothing, but Jon read the approval in her bearing...how odd, he was getting better at that...
"Is that all, Captain?"
"Dismissed." He nodded and turned back to the viewport.
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A/N: For those of you saying 'You can't beam through an active Cloak!' Wrong. In SG1 S10EP19 'Dominion' they beam onto Ba'al's flagship from the Odyssey while Cloaked, and since Enterprise makes use of the same Cloaking Technique...