Star Trek: Divergence

by keiranhalcyon2010

In the 22nd Century, after a year of exploration in deep space Enterprise is damaged, near adrift. Their distress call is answered by those who would bring about a new era for Earth and the Galaxy.

6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Captain's Starlog, September 18th, 2152. We've entered orbit of an uninhabited planet around the star designated Alpha Trianguli. Our scans show it's teeming with all sorts of plant and animal life. I'll be leading a survey team to the surface.

---

Launch Bay, Enterprise, 108 LY from Earth

"There's a gorge on the southern continent five times deeper than the Grand Canyon."

Jon smiled at his friend's infectious enthusiasm. "What have you got in mind?"

"How about a little river rafting? T'Pol says it only gets dark four days a month because of the binary suns. We'll have plenty of daylight left after we're done working every night."

They reached the shuttlepod, and settled inside after storing some more supplies in its rear hold. Jon grabbed the pilot's seat and began the pre-flight, whilst Trip settled behind the tiny Operations console. "It's going to take at least a week to complete the survey. Should be enough time to sneak in some R and R."

The com chime interrupted their conversation.

"Bridge to Captain Archer." T'Pol's cool tone droned into their personal space.

"Go ahead."

"We've got an alien vessel approaching. They're hailing us."

"Put them through to Shuttlepod One." Jon shared a pleasantly surprised smile, glancing back towards Trip.

"Yes sir."

Trip nodded in satisfaction. "New planet, new aliens. Banner day."

Jon turned to small display screen to the right of the pilot's console, and after tapping a few buttons, accepted the incoming feed from the Bridge. An image appeared of three humanoid bald aliens with rather pale skin, dressed in equally alien jackets and trousers, all seemingly male, standing next to each other in the moderately cramped control centre of their ship.

The one standing prominently in the centre began to speak, and as usual the UT was lagging their words. "We're very relieved to see you. I'm Rellus Tagrim. This is my crew."

"Captain Archer of the Starship Enterprise. Something we can do for you?"

Tagrim's tone was distinctly bleak. "Considering the circumstances, we would like permission to come aboard as soon as possible."

"What circumstances?" Jon frowned.

"The Neutronic Wavefront, it's almost here," Tagrim replied in an obvious tone.

Trip consulted the ship's feed from his station. "Nothing on sensors."

"You should detect the storm in a few minutes. Once we're aboard, I suggest you go to warp seven immediately. That should allow us to escape being enveloped in it."

Jon's mind whirled back to his Astrophysical phenomena classes at the Academy…and what he remembered made him fear for the lives of his crew and his ship. He gave a dark glance to his friend, before turning back to the screen.

"Our top speed is Warp Six."

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Situation Room, Enterprise, in orbit of Alpha Trianguli III

The flat table monitor showed in all its ugly glory the monstrosity of a storm that was fast approaching their position to the Alpha Shift Bridge crew. This would mark the first time a human starship encountered a Neutronic Wavefront as powerful as this one. T'Pol, as Science Officer, naturally led the briefing.

"Neutronic Wavefronts are not fully understood, all experiments to determine their origin and the conditions that give rise to them have met with failure. The leading theory is that they emerge into real space from a subspace domain not accessible to current technology. This Wavefront that faces us; spans more than half a dozen light years, and three light years in the Z-plane. A Vulcan starship encountered a class five over a century ago. The vessel was…nearly destroyed."

Jon paced around the table restlessly. "How long till it hits our position?"

"Approximately four hours."

Lieutenant Reed folded his arms, frowning in thought. "If we reinforce structural integrity we should be able to weather it without too much trouble,"

"Enterprise may survive," Dr Phlox spoke up, his typical bubbly manner all but gone. "The crew is another matter. The storm is saturated with radiolytic isotopes. If the crew is exposed, they'll be dead within three minutes."

Ensign Mayweather pointed to the ship diagnostic screen. "Our new Shields should keep that out."

"It will take eight days to traverse the phenomenon, should the Shields waver or fluctuate in any way, which it inevitably will against a storm of this magnitude…a single neutronic surge could then overload our power grid and damage critical systems," T'Pol explained. "That is exactly what happened to the Vulcan ship, which had also hoped to weather the storm with Shields engaged."

Trip was staring at a wall monitor thoughtfully, which was displaying a series of detailed Enterprise ship schematics to him in sequence. "What about the planet?"

"What?" Jon stopped next to him, wondering where his Chief Engineer was going with this.

"Will the wavefront affect it in any way?"

"The planet is a Minshara-Class," T'Pol tapped the display table and brought up the latest scans done of it. "As such it has an impressive natural magnetic field which will channel the wavefront away from it."

"Then I propose we use that as our infallible shield," Trip turned to the table screen and tapped the radial lines showing the planet's magnetosphere.

"The highest altitude that would safe is just within the planet's mesosphere," T'Pol flashed a raised eyebrow at him. "The Wavefront will take seventeen days to pass us if we were to remain here. Are you suggesting we keep Enterprise in constant atmospheric flight for that time?"

Ensign Mayweather grinned. "It'll certainly give me and the other Helmsmen a good workout."

"Now that would be a waste of a valuable time," Trip shook his head. "Ever since I heard that the Odyssey could actually land if it wanted to, I've been looking into the possibility of giving Enterprise a similar ability without having to refit back in Sol."

"And?" Jon felt intrigued.

"Well, we can replicate and assemble four of these," he tapped a button on the wall monitor and a schematic appeared. "Dynamic Gravitic Pulse emitters, they're what manoeuvres the Odyssey. We mount them at strategic stress points on the underside of the saucer section and we can hover Enterprise indefinitely just a few meters above ground. Best of all, they work straight through the hull, so we don't need any EVA to install 'em." Trip grinned at his crewmate's stunned expressions.

Jon didn't doubt that he could do just that, Trip was never one to blow hot air about anything to do with Enterprise herself. The ship had never been designed with an Anti-Grav engine that you could find on any skycruiser plying the travel lanes on Earth and her colonies. It had never been conceived that majestic Enterprise would need to do something as pedestrian as land.

Jon made a mental note to send a recommendation to Captain Jeffries on fixing that oversight for the next class of Exploratory Cruiser.

"Well, we're going to have some pretty impressive photos to send back home by the time this over."

888888888888

Of course, it wouldn't be that easy. There was no way Trip could build the Gravitic pulse emitters in four hours and mount it, so for the first two days Enterprise would have to keep itself in constant atmospheric flight. Then another complication presented itself, the three alien guests.

Jon had wondered why they just didn't land their small warp shuttle on the planet and wait out the storm.

He and Phlox were just outside Decon, waiting for the scan cycle to finish, making sure the aliens didn't carry anything within them that would be lethal or at the very least, give his crew runny noses.

The humming of the chamber ended and Phlox nodded with a mild smile, after studying the bio-readouts. Jon entered the code to unlock the door, allowing the three aliens into Enterprise.

"Sorry to keep you in there so long. Please," Jon gestured graciously for them to proceed.

Tagrim's reply was brisk. "We understand,"

"We've arranged guest quarters for you. Please follow me."

As the five of them walked through the corridors of Enterprise, Jon asked probingly whilst trying to remain subtle, "My Science Officer tells me you're from the Takret system. That's a long way from here, over twenty light years."

"Our work often takes us far from home,"

One of the other aliens, who had been introduced as Renth elaborated. "We're stellar cartographers."

"Really? Once the storm passes maybe you can help us update our star charts."

"Passes?" Tagrim's face scrunched up in what was probably the Takret version of a human frown.

"Oh yes, we've decided to use the planet as a shield, whilst we make some modifications to allow us to land Enterprise." Jon instantly saw the alarm and even fear in the eyes of the aliens as they suddenly stopped and looked at each other. "Is there a problem, gentlebeings?"

Distinct non-verbal communication took place with odd gestures, shrugs, hand signs, Jon was sure this was the first time he'd seen alien sign language. Finally, it ended and what seemed like a regretful look stole over Tagrim's face.

"I apologize for my subordinate's lie, we're not cartographers," Tagrim rippled his shoulders. "He was perpetuating an ill-conceived deception. I also apologize for omitting our true purpose in coming to this planet and your ship."

Jon narrowed his eyes, his lips thinning. "And that is?"

"We were officers in the Takret Militia, in the lower ranks, but after a year we realised that the commanding officers were corrupt. They seize alien vessels without provocation. They murder the crews, take anything of value. They're little more than criminals."

"You deserted then?"

"Yes," Guri, the third alien replied. "We tried to resign our commissions but they wouldn't allow it."

"And now you're being hunted down as fugitives?"

"If they find us, we'll be executed," Tagrim replied bleakly. "If we weren't being pursued we would have simply landed and waited for the Neutronic wavefront to pass. But the Militia has our trail; they're perhaps a day or two behind us."

"And now they'll see us harbouring you…" Jon sighed in frustration. It was amazing, one minute you think all you have to worry about it Mother Nature, the next you suddenly have alien pirates on your doorstep.

"Captain, I apologise for the difficult position that we've put you in, but I know these men. Even if they just took us, I doubt they'd simply leave. They've captured vessels far less impressive than yours," Tagrim stated knowingly.

"If they're a day or two behind you, wouldn't they also be caught in the Wavefront?" Jon pointed out logically.

"The hulls of the Militia's ships are well adapted to fly through the Wavefronts and protect the crew; they're quite common around the Takret system. The Militia uses this to their advantage since this region of space is also commonly plagued by them. When ship crews are forced to hunker in the more heavily shielded sections of their vessels, it leaves them more vulnerable to attack," Guri explained.

Jon sighed and started to pace, considering his options. "You're telling me there's no way to avoid this degenerating into a fight?"

"No Captain...I'm sorry…"

Jon raised a hand to interrupt, "No need, but before I do anything…irrevocable, I will determine the other side of this story. You could be the actual criminals, spinning a story to get me to blast what may be the official Takret authorities into oblivion."

"I understand, Captain," Tagrim rippled his shoulders again.

"Until that time, I'm restricting you three to quarters and keeping you under armed guard. If you're being truthful, you'll be free to go after I deal with the Militia. How many ships are after you?"

"The Militia isn't that big, Captain. Only one ship, perhaps a quarter the size of yours, armed with particle and plasma cannons."

"Shielded?"

"No, only hull polarization, a Shield system is too problematic in a Wavefront. You'll also have the advantage as they're too used to simply surprising unprepared crews."

"Bullies." Jon scowled. "I hate bullies."

88888888888888

Enterprise slowed itself down and carefully de-orbited out of the vacuum of space, guided carefully by Ensign Mayweather. It was rather rocky ride as the ship passed an altitude of a hundred kilometres and further descended beyond eighty five kilometres and into the mesosphere of Alpha Trianguli III before finally levelling out.

"Deflectors at maximum, Shields at one hundred percent, Captain" reported Lt Reed. This had to be done because the mesosphere of any planet was where meteors usually burned up and Jon really didn't feel like getting a hole the size of a small car smashed in his ship.

"What's our speed, Travis?"

"Hypersonic, Mach 9, Sir."

"Keep it there, when is the Wavefront due?"

"Thirty seconds," replied T'Pol.

"On screen."

The fore view of the curved horizon and clouds speeding past below, was replaced with an angle which clearly showed the encroaching spatial anomaly. It dominated the sky and was rather beautiful to look at, with purples and blues that broiled and frothed, occasionally it would also twinkle with silver sparkled light.

"I want every sensor we have turned on this thing, the data we could gather on it will no doubt keep the astrophysicists happy for years. Of course, I also want to know the instant our Takret Militia friends show up."

"The wavefront will hit the planet in, five, four, three, two, one…."

There was a breathless few moments as T'Pol swivelled her chair to look into her Scanning Scope – there was a slight chance that the wavefront could push its way through the magnetosphere if its intensity was perhaps higher than they estimated.

"The wavefront is being deflected."

Everyone on the Bridge let out explosive sighs of relief.

"Excellent, not that I doubted it," Jon nodded in satisfaction. "I want shortened watch rotation until the Takret show up."

"Captain," T'Pol acknowledged the order.

888888888888888

Jon lay back on the bed in his quarters, studying a Padd that had a formal report from Trip on his installation of the Grav Pulse emitters, as well as a proposal to remove the standard Thruster assemblies and replace them with yet more emitters. There was also the math which theoretically proved that it would make Enterprise as manoeuvrable as a jack rabbit on steroids, at least in comparison to her current rates of turn.

The idea was sound, but he felt that getting rid of the Thrusters was removing a possible backup system. If Enterprise was without power for whatever reason, due to battle damage or other unforeseen circumstances, they'd still be able to manually fire thrusters.

His eyes were drawn again to his cabin viewport – which had the very unusual view of that had been dominating it for the past day or so. A violet tinged sky above, filled the currents of the neutronic wavefront, and below a constantly moving horizon of a planet. It was decidedly beautiful and Ensign Lorman from Astrometrics had already a half-finished oil painting of one particular scene where a plasma eddy was deflected in a spectacular fashion across most of the horizon. He was thinking of asking her for a second one to put in his Ready room.

His attention was returned to the Padd and he browsed to the next report, which was a general Fleet update. It was sure an eye opening read. Over the last two months, eight ships all NZ classes, had been steadily recalled and rotated through the Earth Shipyards for refitting to be capable of Warp 6, not to mention a general defensive upgrade to sport the same weapons and shields that Enterprise now bore – this refit program would continue until the entire NZ fleet was to a similar standard which would be completed in another year.

It would be the only class to get the refit; the NV Fighters were considered too old and were being decommissioned in favour of a new design that was currently in the experimental phase, Jon noted with a grin that Captain Cameron Mitchell was listed as being in charge on that.

Jon finished the rest and switched off the Padd, thinking of the repercussions of this. Terran space would now become rapidly untenable for the pirates that kept menacing the trade routes and they would be rapidly surprised at their next raid when a Starfleet ship intercepted them a whole lot faster than they had counted on.

"T'Pol to Captain Archer."

"Archer here."

"Please report to the Bridge. The Takret have arrived."

"On my way."

He hated being in a Turbolift during such times, the damn thing always felt too slow and as such he repeatedly pushed the button for Deck One. He emerged onto the Bridge.

He sat in his chair, "Report."

"We located them on passive sensors just as we were finishing our last orbit," T'Pol explained.

"Tactical," Jon ordered after a moment's thought. The fore viewscreen changed to show a diagram of the planet and where Enterprise and the Takret Militia ship was in relation to each other.

"Nice flying Ensign," Jon complimented. Travis had reacted quickly to the arrival and made sure to keep the distance between Enterprise and the Takret constant, and well beyond their active scanning range.

"I can't take all the credit, Sir." Mayweather announced. "Tagrim was kind enough to provide us with more of their tactical capabilities in these conditions. Their sensors aren't as detailed as ours, and the disturbances of the magnetosphere deflecting the wavefront are obscuring our energy profile rather nicely."

"For the moment," Lt Reed temporized, "if they were to come down to this altitude we'd be detected in short order. The way I see it, the Takret commander has two choices, either he thinks our new friends have managed to escape the wavefront, or they're somewhere inside it – in which case this planet is the ideal place to look."

"Either way I'm not going to let them on their way. Since our run-in with those Klingon pirates I've been in consultation with Starfleet Command for a formal stance on what any Explorer class vessel should do when it encounter acts of piracy or those who are clearly pirates in sensor range. They've replied; 'Those committing theft and murder in the void of space, inhibiting trade, and endangering interstellar communications are considered by Starfleet to be hostis sentio generis.'"

"Enemies of sentient life," Lt Reed translated with a firm nod.

"Exactly, so we're taking a page out of our Vulcan friends' book," Jon grinned at T'Pol who raised an expressive eyebrow in return. "Travis, I want an Intercept course but keep us in the mesosphere, Hoshi, can we communicate with them?"

"With this amount of interference between us and them," her youthful face scrunched up in thought, "I might be able to get you a basic audio channel, Captain."

"Set it up."

"Aye, sir."

"Course laid in, Captain."

"Malcolm, I want Battle Stations, but don't be obvious about it."

"Yes, sir." Lt Reed replied with even more satisfaction as he triggered the ship system protocols he had recently developed after a review of crew performance during hostile encounters. Now, with the push of single button from him; Shields were raised, Triphase Cannons charged, Photon Torpedoes loaded in their tubes, the crew armed themselves with Phase pistols that were secreted behind biometric access panels near their stations – his armoury department geared up with the Class 3 Pulse rifles and deployed to key sections to repel possible boarders. In addition, the Bridge and ship lighting was muted somewhat and red lights flashed from the fixtures.

"Take us to them, Travis."

It was barely five minutes of watching the dot that represented the Takret ship getting closer when…

"We've entered their passive sensor range," T'Pol announced. "They've gone active…they know we're here and they've also detected Tagrim's shuttle…altering course to intercept."

"Let them come to us," Jon sensed the emotion on the Bridge going up a few notches. They watched the range counter on the Tactical steadily count down, then the Takret started to descend. "Hail them."

"Channel open."

"This is Captain Archer of the Starship Enterprise, how can we help you?"

"Captain Sheror of the Takret Militia, you have a vessel in your launch bay that belongs to three fugitives."

"Fugitives? I was under the impression that they were stellar cartographers who wanted to ride out the Wavefront with us."

"They are anything but, Captain Archer."

"Very well, since you are seemingly representing the legitimate government of your species, I will let them into your custody and we can go our separate ways."

"I'm afraid that's impossible, Captain. Your vessel will be impounded under the authority of the Takret Militia. When we return to the Takret System, you'll be charged with criminal conspiracy."

"Twenty light years is a long way for justice, Sheror. In any case, I don't recognize your authority in this case, your summary and unreasonable judgement demonstrates clearly to me you're just a pirate cloaking himself in fairness. Archer out."

"Weapons hot, Lieutenant."

"Aye Sir, my best fish are in the tubes and ready."

Jon waited until the Takret ship had entered the mesosphere and immediately particle cannon fire lashed across five hundred kilometre distance now separating the two ships. Enterprise' shields were hardly strained at all stopping the beam in its tracks.

"Sir, their particle cannons are clearly optimized for space combat only, in the atmosphere they're loosing beam cohesion…our shields will hold indefinitely if they keep that up."

"Then let's not give them the chance to switch to plasma…fire torpedoes. Keep our distance at a hundred kilometres."

Four torpedoes were accelerated out of Enterprise by the rail-gun style launchers, their protective forcefields giving them an angry red halo as they streaked towards the Takret ship.

"Torpedoes on course and accelerating to maximum rated atmospheric speed, time to impact, seventeen seconds," reported Lt Reed. "They're attempting to intercept the torpedoes, evasion pattern Sigma engaged. Thoron fields are holding…anti-matter detonation!"

A three kilometre wide fireball flashed into existence, and sent out a thermal displacement shockwave that immediately turned the very thin air for twenty eight kilometres around into an inferno of high temperature. Lt Reed had known well this possibility and had programmed the torpedo courses in a hundred kilometre spread between each one, therefore the destruction of one didn't chain react with the others.

The Takret managed to intercept another, but only with sustained fire could they overwhelm the protective Thoron fields, and so with a combined explosion of a hundred and twenty four megatons bracketing the Takret ship, it utterly overwhelmed the hull polatrization in less than a femtosecond and atomized it.

"Target destroyed, sir." Reed reported factually.

"Note in the log, pirate vessel operating under Takret national colours was destroyed."

Jon stood from his chair, feeling a distinct distaste for what he had just done settling into his stomach. It was hard, it wasn't civilized, but it would be the easy thing to let these pirates go and continue with their marauding ways and it sure as hell wouldn't make the quadrant or the galaxy a safer place unless someone took a stand. The Vulcans had done so early in the spacefaring history to deter attacks, and now it was Humanity's turn.

8888888

Launch Bay, Enterprise

After two weeks of surveying the planet, whilst landed, the Neutronic Wavefront had finally passed.

"I want to thank you again, Captain, for what you did…we owe you our freedom and lives," said Tagrim, waving his hands in the Takret gesture of deep respect. Jon returned it. Hoshi had been spending a lot of time with the three former fugitives to learn about their species and culture – in other circumstances Jon would've sent a formal request back that diplomatic relations be established between Earth and Takret, but with a corrupt and even rogue military that would never happen.

"It was our pleasure," Jon smiled. "Where are you headed next?"

"The Gyrannan System. We should be safe there."

"Good luck."

Tagrim gave another hand signal, which was the Earth equivalent of a goodbye wave and joined his two fellows in the warp shuttle. As he watched the shuttle drop and disappear into the void of space from the safety of the control booth, he wondered.

What impact those three would have on the future? He had essentially killed perhaps twenty people…no, pirates, to give them that freedom. Was it worth it?

After a few minutes of just staring at the slowly pressurizing Launch Bay, he could only answer…Yes.

---

UES Odyssey

He eyed the assembled pilots standing at attention in front of their chairs in the Squadron briefing room critically, "Take your seats." When all of the former NV class pilots sat promptly and readied their Pads for his briefing he stood loosely next to the lectern.

"Welcome to the Odyssey, the most highly classified ship in Starfleet. You've already been given the five cent tour by my first officer, so I trust you've done your share of imitating a goldfish – so by now you should not have to ask pointless questions related to your own disbelief. The Odyssey is an extra-galactic ship, expect the weird and whacky; and perhaps you will finish your tour on her with your sanity intact."

Cameron Mitchell grinned at the discomfited expressions in the sixteen men and women in front of him. "Now, I'm going to introduce you to a fighter that will have your old NVs for breakfast." He tapped a button on the lectern and the rear wallscreen started to show a series of images, schematics and performance data of the new F302A – which was also relayed to their Pads. "Say hello to the F302A – Code name, Scimitar."

"Max speed in space is rated at point six the speed of light. In atmospheric operations, with Deflectors and Shields engaged you can crank six point eight clicks per second, no sweat. It does this with an Ion Pulse Propulsion engine. Basically, fighter sized versions of what pushes Odyssey around in normal space."

"For FTL, it has a miniaturized Hyperspace Window Generator, operating off an anti-matter fuel cell – allowing the Scimitar an effective deployment range of fifty light years from its parent carrier or base with an effective speed of 1516 TSL. That translates to twelve days stuck in your cockpit before you have to turn around."

Cam had to fight a smirk as the pilots in front of him absorbed that. He could see they were practically itching to let out exclamations of disbelief, excitement or amazement. In a way, he couldn't blame them if he put himself in their shoes. The Scimitar fighterwouldmake the fastest Vulcan Surak-class Cruiser eat its proverbial space dust. For the Vulcan ship to complete a fifty light year distance it would take forty six days at flank speed of Warp 7 – and that would practically burn out the Warp Drive.

"As mentioned before, the Scimitar is protected by Shields…but please, don't think of them as invulnerable defences; you don't have the power generation of a star ship. You'll survive perhaps three, maybe four direct hits from a Klingon particle or disruptor cannon, after that it's so long sunshine. If a Photon is on your ass though, your on-board computer has Interceptor protocols to use your weapons to take them out. It works in simulations, mostly."

"Your weapons on the other hand will be energy and missile based. You have three independently articulated Triphase cannons to lash out with in all arcs. They won't have the penetration or power that a starship mounting them has, so no thinking you can take on an enemy starship by yourself, that's why you have your fifteen squadron mates. The Scimitar has hardpoints to carry two Photon Torpedoes; which is what will make any enemy commander very nervous when an Earth fighter squadron shows up. There are other missile armaments in development that will give the Scimitar a wide variety of roles as well, but more on that later."

Cam took a drink of water from the glass on the lectern before continuing onto the manoeuvrability stats at various speeds and the various secondary systems which pretty much made the Scimitar the bee's knees at the moment. They would also significantly augment Starfleet's anti-piracy patrols within Earth space.

Cam finally finished the main points of the briefing and looked expectantly at the pilots of 55th Space Operations Squadron. "Any questions?"

A female Lieutenant with the name 'Mills' on her flight suit raised her hand. "Captain, how long will we be in this system?"

"Barring emergencies, we're here to provide security for the mining operations happening on planet we're orbiting. The Particle Miners are scheduled to be operating constantly for the next three months through the Stargate, which gives you and the other three squadrons plenty of time to practice with the Scimitar."

"Make no mistake ladies and gentlemen; we're three hundred light years coreward from Earth, this ship is currently the only Hyperspace capable vessel in Starfleet. If we screw up, there is no rescue coming. Even the Enterprise would take a year to get here from her current position at max cruise. Any more questions?"

There were none. "Good, your Pads have been uploaded with your individual assignments. Dismissed."

The squadron stood at attention briefly before filing out. Cam turned back to the lectern to gather his own Pads and deactivated the briefing systems. When he turned back…he had to do a double take…

Sitting in the centre front seat was a smirking man wearing a Starfleet uniform, his posture smug and enthusiastic as he grinned at Cam. He was about to open his mouth to ask what this pilot was doing staying behind…when he noticed the four silver Captain pips on the chest of the dark curly haired man.

"There are no other Captains on this ship that I know of, besides me, and I think I'd have noticed you during the briefing…I've never heard of a silent and non-radiant Transporter, but what the heck do I know? Section 31 doesn't have it so…why the human charade?"

The 'man' chuckled and grinned widely, clapping in applause. "Oh, well done. You are quick. The appearance is just so you can comprehend me."

Cam groaned in resignation. "I guess it was just too much to hope for that I wouldn't have to deal with 'Ascended' beings ever again. So…you're the local equivalent?"

The 'man' smirked with satisfaction. "My dear Captain Mitchell, those navel-gazing fools in your own Universe would need a few decieons to get to my level. They are still capable of being killed by a mortal with enough ingenuity, as your Merlin so ably demonstrated…a pithy little transdimensional energy wave could make me sneeze maybe, but not kill me."

"So I guess you don't have the same Rulebook about interfering with the lower planes?"

The 'man' scoffed. "Why would we chain ourselves like that?"

Cam nodded taking that in. "So what can I call you?"

"I am Q."

"Q?"

"Yes."

Cam considered that for a moment, walking forward to take a seat next to Q. "Mysterious, indefinable. Do you consider yourself a god?"

"Oh no, well, some species I've interacted with have come to do that on their own, but you can relax Captain Mitchell, I gain nothing from it and have no desire for more power…I already have all I can ever want. The Q can do anything; our only limits are those we place on ourselves and we police our own from causing too much chaos, no more than is natural."

Cam nodded. "So why are you here?"

"Oh, just wanted to say hello, and thank you from the bottom of my heart, my dear Captain."

Cam's eyebrows shot up in astonishment. "You, being what you are…want to thank little ol' me?"

Q patted Cam on the shoulder in a friendly fashion. "Of course. The six of you have certainly stirred the pot of this Universe, you've made a huge impact already, and it's so much more interesting now than it would've been. Oh, I told the Q Continuum to pay attention to this extra-Universal event, now they're practically falling over to position themselves favourably." Q rubbed his hands in satisfaction. "They always thought I handled my area of the Cosmos with not enough of a firm hand, too much fun and not enough business."

"And now?"

"Well, let's just say my standing is much better."

Cam's reply was as dry as desert sand. "Glad to be of help. It's just too bad it won't be a two way street."

Q winked. "You never know, Captain Mitchell."

A streaking flash of white light engulfed Q and just like that, he was gone.

Later in the day, in the privacy of his quarters, Cam reviewed the internal sensors of Odyssey, in the vain hope that they had recorded anything. It was just as he had feared…nothing…a big fat nada. 'Q' might as well have not been there…not even a visual record existed of his conversation with the being. It just showed himself sitting pensively for the entire time in the Briefing room chair.

He supposed it was possible the being had projected the whole conversation into his mind, but the other unsettling possibility was that he had imagined the whole thing and this was his first bout of some sort of psychosis.

Cam was startled when a flash from the computer monitor blinded him. When he recovered his eyesight there was something new on his desk…three somethings to be precise. One was rather large, flat and covered with a tea towel, with an absolutely delicious and hauntingly familiar smell coming from it. He removed the towel and it revealed an apple pie, straight out of the oven, with a pattern and style on it that meant only one thing…it came from his old hometown bakery. Cam's eyes were drawn to the gift card and the small memory stick next to it. He gingerly picked the former up.

'A little thank you from me.

I just nipped the pie from back 'home'…

The memory device is only for

the Odyssey Six.

You're not crazy, Captain.

See you round the cosmos,

Q.

---

Captain's Ready Room, Enterprise, Interstellar Space

Jon stared in bafflement at the monitor on his desk; which was currently showing the ever-serious face of Admiral Forrest, who was on the other end of a subspace com line. He made a mental note to have his hearing checked with Phlox after this, because he was sure the Admiral hadn't said what he heard.

"You sure he wants me?"

The Admiral nodded. "Ambassador Soval said your presence is crucial to resolving the crisis."

"What's so special about this planet…Paan Mokar?"

"The Andorians call it Weytahn…it's situated right on the frontier between their systems. Both sides claim it belongs to them. They've nearly gone to war over it twice in past century, and this looks to be unlucky number three."

Jon looked off to the side of screen. "How do they expect us to settle a conflict they haven't been able to resolve in a hundred years?"

"Soval says you'll be fully briefed when you arrive. Jonathan, this is the first time the Vulcans have asked for our help. You're the closest thing we have to an ambassador out there. You know how important this could be."

Jon nodded appreciatively. If he could successfully mediate an end to the shooting going on there…it would most certainly show the Vulcan's that Earth was more than an upstart power emerging onto the galactic scene, but a valuable partner in any endeavour or problem. There was a logical problem that stopped this show from getting on the road. "A course to Vulcan space from our position is over forty light years. It would take a month to travel there at Enterprise' highest cruise velocity. We need a lift, Admiral."

Admiral Forrest sported a rare smile and tapped a few buttons out of screen. A subchannel popped up on Jon's monitor and a set of coordinates was displayed. "Way ahead of you, Jon. Odyssey will rendezvous with you here, and then tow you just a light year shy from your ultimate destination."

"Understood, Admiral. Archer out."

8888888888888888888

Captain's Mess, Enterprise

Jon was tucking into his pasta and watched with amusement as Trip stared worriedly at his own glass of water which was sympathetically vibrating with the ship. Enterprise had set yet another speed record for a Starfleet ship; it had reached and was holding at Warp 5.951. Jon was sure Ensign Mayweather was still doing cartwheels on the Bridge from the experience.

The excitement of the accomplishment had quickly waned for Trip, however. "I don't like pushing the engines this hard. The injectors are running at a hundred and ten percent."

T'Pol took a sip from her own water. "They're rated for one hundred and twenty."

Trip looked at her incredulously. "And my underwear is flame-retardant. That doesn't mean I'm going to light myself on fire to prove it."

"I think we'll make it to the rendezvous in one piece, Trip. I've been reading about Paan Mokar in the Vulcan database." He flashed an enquiring eyebrow to his First Officer. "It doesn't say a lot. Class D, not much bigger than Earth's moon, claimed by the Vulcans in 2097."

Trip frowned in confusion. "Class D? That's uninhabitable. Why are you fighting over it?"

Her explanation was succinct. "When the Andorians first arrived a century ago, they began to terraform the planet. Once an atmosphere was developed, they established a settlement."

"If it was unclaimed at the time, why would there be a problem?" Jon asked reasonably.

"Its sole value is its strategic location near Vulcan space."

Jon had enough experience with the hot-blooded Andorians, both at the end of a weapon whilst being held hostage by them at the P'Jem Sanctuary – which uncovered the hidden Vulcan listening post spying on the same Andorians, and then on Coridan where a 'grateful' Andorian Commander Shran had rescued him and T'Pol from a rebel faction – to know what those 'blue-skins' would do next. "They were setting up a military base."

T'Pol raised an eyebrow in agreement. "It was the only logical conclusion."

"Was there any evidence?" Trip enquired curiously.

Her voice almost had an inflection of sarcasm. "How much evidence would you need if the Klingons decided to set up a colony on Pluto?"

"That's not the same thing," Trip protested.

T'Pol continued the little history lesson. "The Andorians refused to let the High Command inspect the colony. So, they annexed Paan Mokar to protect their territory."

Jon felt his suspicions raise and asked knowingly. "What happened to the Andorian colonists?

"They were removed."

Trip narrowed his eyes shrewdly. "By force."

"They left the High Command little choice. A surveillance satellite was put into orbit to monitor the agreement. The planet's been deserted for nearly a century."

"Until now," Jon nodded. "Are we all set for our first Hyperspace journey?"

"I've got the protocols all worked out," Trip's gloomy demeanour seemed to lessen slightly. "The Odyssey will be extending their subspace field around us, and their gravimetric beams will keep us in place."

"Should be fun, even though it'll be very short…how long?"

"According to the math, it'll be less than eight seconds, Odyssey could do forty light years on her own in three…but pulling us along is gonna be a drag."

"I'm going to have to work to get my head around travelling at such velocities when Enterprise eventually gets her refit," Jon mused wryly.

8888888888888888888

Rendezvous Point, Thirty Nine LY to Paan Mokar

Jon sat in his chair on the Bridge, eyeing the official time display occasionally; which was mounted near Hoshi's Com Station. It had taken twenty hours to reach this point, and the rendezvous time was eighteen hundred. It was fifteen minutes beyond that.

"Anything?"

"Space is clear on both long and short range scans," T'Pol reported.

"I guess the old saw is true, no matter how fast one can go, you'll always be late for something."

There was a brief audio alert from T'Pol' station. "Hyperspace window event, ten thousand kilometres to port."

"On screen."

The familiar cloud of purple spatial distortion appeared and Odyssey shot itself out of it.

Hoshi tapped her panel. "Captain Mitchell is hailing."

The view of the rapidly closing battlecruiser vanished to be replaced with the familiar visage of Odyssey's Bridge, but the distinctly unfamiliar sight of a crew at it's controls wearing Starfleet jumpsuits, and the half-wry, half-serious expression of Captain Cameron Mitchell in the commander's chair.

"Captain Mitchell!" Jon greeted with a grin.

"Captain Archer," Mitchell nodded. "Sorry we're late…had a slight problem with a pilot who got a little enthusiastic landing his F302. All these NV jockeys have got a way too heavy hand with their controls."

Jon had to smother a grin. NV jocks were the guys everybody liked to make fun of in Starfleet – only because most were jealous that anybody could qualify to fly in the NV…the standards demanded were high. He could only imagine with the F302As that were even more manoeuvrable, that those standards would not change – heck, it might even become higher.

"So, shall we got this show on the road, the Odyssey can't afford to be absent from our primary mission for very long."

"We're prepared in all respects, Captain."

"Good, hang on to your hats folks, Mitchell out."

Odyssey turned in a rapid course correction that halted its bulk right over Enterprise' saucer section, with barely twenty meters clearance between the two hulls. Jon felt a sudden lurch ripple through the ship.

"Gravimetric beams are locked on." Lieutenant Reed reported. "It's causing a slight resonance in our grav plating."

"Compensating," Trip worked from the Bridge Engineering station. "We're good."

"Put me on shipwide, Hoshi. All hands, prepare for Hyperspace transition."

Jon watched as another spatial distortion formed ahead of both ships now, and it loomed large in the viewscreen, eventually completely filling it and obscuring the stars. There was a sudden lurch as the interial dampeners strained to completely compensate for the acceleration into the Hyperspace window.

Enterprise and her fellow vessel was now surrounded by a twisting and writhing ethereal blue tunnel that seemed to stretch into an infinity; the hyperspace tunnel streamed and pulsed past them hypnotically.

Every eye on the Bridge was locked onto the viewscreen staring at the vista…even T'Pol.

She was the only one to comment. "Fascinating."

And just as quickly, it was over. The tunnel seemed to split and blossom itself open back into the normal space, and the stars were completely different.

"Confirm our position," Jon ordered as Odyssey released her grav beams.

Ensign Mayweather ran a navigational scan. "We're just under light year from the Vulcan border, Captain. We'll get to Paan Mokar within nineteen hours."

"Happy with your trip, Captain?" Mitchell's voice piped into the Bridge again.

Jon couldn't stop the smile of exhilaration on his face. "Very much, thank you."

"See y'all soon, Enterprise. Mitchell out."

Just like that Odyssey vanished into another Hyperspace window, and once again Enterprise was on its own. Jon had a sudden surreal feeling that it hadn't happened at all, but there was no denying the stars around them now.

"Travis, get us to Paan Mokar."

Enterprise's nacelles flashed with continuum distortion and she stretched into Warp. Jon settled back into his chair as he felt he familiar hum of the Warp Engines…if that was what Hyperspace was like…he had a feeling it would never be as satisfying as getting somewhere the 'old-fashioned' way.

---

Orbit of Paan Mokar/Weytahn, Vulcan/Andorian Border

Enterprise was escorted in orbit by two D'Kyr Class Vulcan combat vessels; both almost triple her length and many times the mass of the Starfleet Exploration cruiser. Paan Mokar revealed itself to be a thoroughly unpleasant looking planet, and it had been clearly much more than it had once been; the conflicts fought on it by the Andorians and Vulcans had seen to that. The atmosphere gave the planet an odd purple hue with masses of clouds moving in a complex weather system. It was good terraforming work on the part of the Andorians and Jon could easily see why they didn't want to give it up.

With all the efforts and resources going into terraforming Mars, Jon would never want anyone to take it away from Humanity.

Jon stood waiting on the opposite side of the main table in Enterprise' only designated diplomatic conference room, with Trip at his side angrily mumbling.

"We went through all that trouble to get here, and still they make us wait."

Trip's words were prescient because the main doors hissed open to admit the robed and stern visage of Ambassador Soval, followed by a tall male Vulcan officer.

Jon was as gracious as possible. "Welcome aboard, Ambassador."

"Thank you, Captain. This is Sub-commander Muroc."

Jon nodded to the officer and gestured for Soval to sit. "T'Pol has been filling me in on the situation here, but I still have a lot of questions."

"If you don't mind, Captain, I have a question of my own. Why would an officer of the Andorian Imperial Guard personally request your involvement?"

Jon felt his eyebrows rise at that as he sat down opposite. "I don't understand. I was told you asked for me."

Soval's reply was firm and cold. "I'm involved in extremely difficult and dangerous negotiations. I don't consider your presence here an asset."

Jon's hackles went up, figuratively of course. "If that's how you feel, we'll gladly continue with our mission."

Soval seemed to change track immediately upon registering that threat, and lost some of his cold demeanour, into more of a neutral one. Jon reflected that it was only after more than a year of working with T'Pol that he could spot the subtle signs of 'emotion' in a Vulcan. "Two weeks ago, an Andorian regimental commander named Shran landed a force on Paan Mokar and occupied the settlement."

Jon sighed and sat back, beginning to see the picture. "Shran."

"Naturally, we attempted to enforce the Treaty of 2097."

"Naturally," commented Trip wryly.

Muroc narrowed his eyes slightly at the Engineer. "We've regained control of half the colony, but two dozen Vulcans have been wounded and three have been taken hostage."

Soval raised a single questioning eyebrow at Jon. "Shran has agreed to discuss terms for their safe return, but only if you act as mediator. For some reason, he finds you trustworthy."

"Very well. I'll do whatever I can to help."

"Forgive my candor, but that's hardly reassuring. The last time you dealt with the Andorians, a Vulcan intelligence site was compromised and a priceless monastery destroyed. Sub-commander Muroc will accompany you to represent our interests."

Jon shook his head immediately and replied categorically. "Obviously, I'm here at the request of the Andorians. Shran believes he can trust me. I don't intend to prove him wrong by going down there with a Vulcan officer in tow. If you insist I bring a Vulcan along, I'll take the one I know I can trust."

8888888888888888

Sickbay, Enterprise

Jon waited for the door to the circular sickbay to open and strode in with restlessness. Dealing with Vulcans was always sure to send his blood pressure through the roof, and especially when that Vulcan was Ambassador Soval. The Vulcan man had been the bane of the Warp 5 program and one of the reasons why it had taken just under thirty years to get Henry Archer's engine onto a starship. "You wanted to see me, Doc?"

Phlox was thoughtfully studying the Interspecies Medical Exchange (IME) database from Sickbay's main computer; he looked up and nodded amiably. "Yes. This planet is home to a rather pernicious pathogen which humans will be susceptible to. You have to be inoculated before heading down to the surface, in fact I'll need to inoculate the whole crew…since you'll be coming back."

"You're the Doc," Jon sat down on one of the biobeds and watched as Phlox pulled out a tube filled with a white fluid from the DNA resequencer and loaded it into another machine, which did something else to the fluid and automatically separated it into fifty doses which were capable of being loaded into hyposprays.

"This should only take a moment. If I may ask, how did your first meeting with the Vulcans go?"

"Warm and friendly as ever." Jon rolled his eyes, shaking his head in exasperation.

"Ironic. They weren't overly enthusiastic about you taking command of Enterprise in the first place, and now your presence is crucial to their interests."

"It's crucial to ours, too." Jon looked thoughtfully at the Doctor, and decided to come clean with some of his recent thoughts. "Perhaps…perhaps we aren't here just to explore, but to build, to push the frontier of civilization forward, to make the stars a safer place for all our descendants, whether they are Human, Vulcan, Denobulan, Andorian…"

"The wish of any parent," Phlox grinned widely as the machine finished its work. He loaded an inoculation into a hypo, before swiftly pressing it against Jon's neck and injected it with a hiss. "All finished. Captain, on a less lofty note and a more immediate one, I served as a medic in the Denobulan infantry. If I learned anything from that experience, it's that battlefields are unpredictable places, even under a flag of truce. Be careful."

---

Shuttlepod One, on descent to Paan Mokar

Jon sat at the fore pilot seat, leisurely guiding the shuttle into the atmosphere of the contested planet. The moment they hit the thermosphere though he was startled briefly when the navigational sensors were blinded and the com signal back to Enterprise was thoroughly scrambled.

"It's the Andorian jamming signal," T'Pol said from the operations station behind him.

"I'm entering the landing co-ordinates they gave us. Let's hope it's accurate."

A brief moment of silence passed as they both worked to land the shuttle with inertial instruments only. "Did you have a chance to read the Territorial Compromise?" T'Pol's voice was almost soft.

"I glanced at it."

"The Compromise is at the heart of this dispute. It's worth your attention."

Jon briefly flashed her an incredulous look. "It's twelve hundred pages long."

"Did you glance at any of the other materials I sent to your quarters? V'Lar's treatise on negotiating tactics is the definitive text on the subject."

"I got all of it. V'Lar's treatise, the Revised Intersystem Agreement, the High Command briefing on the Border Incursions of 2112. I was up till two a.m."

"Glancing," her tone was as dry as the deserts of world she came from.

"Are you trying to tell me something? That maybe I'm not prepared for this?"

"Ambassador Soval clearly believes you'll fail. I was hoping some advance preparation would help you prove him wrong."

"Thanks, but I doubt I'm going to impress Shran by quoting Vulcan treaties."

"I assume you have a strategy?"

"The first thing is to convince Shran that he can trust me."

"And then?"

Jon shrugged. "We're going to have to play it by ear from there; we have no idea of the situation on the ground. So I plan to have a plan."

88888888888888888

The colony was in shambles; bombed out buildings, debris strewn between streets, then there were the ever present distant thumps and energetic whizzing of particle hand weapon fire that echoed into the night. Jon felt naked walking in an environment like this without a Phase pistol, but they weren't combatants. He had even debated with himself on the merits of ordering T'Pol to change into a Starfleet uniform, just so that some Andorian sniper didn't decide she made a nice target. She wouldn't go for it though, nor would Soval. She was a member of the High Command first on this mission, since she was 'technically' representing the interests of the Vulcan people.

In the end he contended himself with the hope that Shran kept his troops properly informed.

Thankfully, they were. He and T'Pol were promptly surrounded by eight Andorians in combat gear, their particle rifles bristling in their direction and the antennas on their heads were fluttering in every direction. The leader of the group was the first Andorian female Jon had ever seen, and she was half a head taller than he was, a strong build that would make a fair fight with her not something he would relish.

Jon held up his free hands "We're not armed. I'm Captain Jonathan Archer. I'm here to see Commander Shran."

The female Andorian glared phase bolts. "He's expecting you, without a Vulcan escort."

"I wasn't told to come alone. This is my Science Officer. She helped expose the Vulcan listening post at P'Jem. I thought Shran might enjoy seeing her again."

That was the last view Jon had of the colony as with some unseen signal, the Andorians put a cloth bag over his head from behind, the world turned black, and he was frog marched for what felt like just under a kilometre. Doors were slamming open and shut ahead and behind them, until the Andorian handling him pushed him down into a seat and ripped the bag off.

Jon blinked to adjust his eyes and regard what had to be a forward field command post. There was com gear, pads, dusty map tables, stacked weapons in slots, what looked like a portable power source that was feeding power into particle weapons that needed recharging, and large table where a bunch of Andorian soldiers were tucking into a meal. He took this all in with a single glance and saw that T'Pol was alright and sitting in another chair next to him.

His eyes then turned to the very familiar stocky Andorian wearing a suitably adorned combat bodysuit standing not a few feet from him and Jon flashed a wry smile.

"I imagined my first diplomatic mission would involve sitting around a big table, toasting with champagne, signing things with lots of pens."

"The pinkskin sense of humor," Shran smirked. "My apologies for the security precautions."

"We can never be too vigilant when it comes to Vulcans," the female officer explained ominously.

"They say the same thing about you," Jon retorted.

"I'm sure they do. We're aggressive, illogical." Shran glared at T'Pol as he said the last one.

"Prove them wrong."

"That's why you're here, Captain. To help us do just that. I've dealt with the Vulcans twice before, where you were involved. Both times you handled the situation without prejudice."

Jon nodded. "I hope I can help again, but the first thing I need is to see the hostages."

The female officer scoffed. "Hostages? Criminals take hostages. Kidnappers looking for a ransom take hostages. I assume you're referring to the enemy soldiers we captured."

"The Vulcans want to know they're all right." Jon insisted.

Shran frowned but his voice held a trace of reassurance. "They haven't been harmed."

And true to his statement he escorted them to a room a corridor away from the command post and opened a scorched metal door to reveal three rather dirty, and weary looking Vulcans in combat uniforms. Two of them were asleep, whilst the third only looked up with a curious glint in his eyes at the sight of a human.

"Are you all right?"

Any potential answer was interrupted by the female Andorian as she slammed the door closed and bolted it shut. "When they attacked my patrol, two of my men were badly wounded. They're lucky we didn't kill them."

T'Pol's voice actually held anger. "You provoked this situation when you violated the Territorial Compromise."

The officer sneered. "Only a Vulcan could call a hundred years of oppression a compromise. You annexed a planet that belongs to us, herded our people into refugee camps."

"After you set up a military outpost here."

"As you can see, Captain, even after a hundred years, this situation still evokes anger on both sides." Shran led them back into the command post and then got down to business. "We will release our prisoners on the following conditions. Immediate withdrawal of all Vulcan military forces, the so-called compromise is to be rescinded, and the Vulcans must concede irrevocable sovereignty of Weytahn to Andoria."

Jon shook his head incredulously. "You don't expect them to agree to all that."

"I told you. He's a puppet of the Vulcans."

Jon scowled and got right into the female officer's face. "And you are?"

"Lieutenant Tarah," she scowled right back, her antenna pointing in his direction.

"Well, Lieutenant Tarah, the Vulcan High Command doesn't like me very much, and, frankly, the feeling is mutual." Jon backed up and turned to face Shran, making sure to keep Tarah in his line of sight. "If all you need is someone to deliver your list of demands, find somebody else. I've got other things to do."

"The Vulcans always say they're ready to talk, but it amounts to nothing. Treaty negotiations that drag on for years." Shran scoffed. "I want to speak to Soval. Somebody who can deal with the situation without having to check with his superiors."

Jon calmed down quickly at Shran's frankness and nodded. "I'll see what I can do."

Shran pointed a gloved finger down to the ground. "Here! On my terms."

"That might be a little difficult."

Tarah shook her head. "This is pointless."

"But not impossible," Jon temporized. "The thing is he's going to want something in return."

"Haven't they already taken enough?" Shran's voice boomed through the bunker.

"I'm talking about a gesture, something to show you're serious. I came down here to see about the prisoners. Why don't you let…two of them go? Keep the other one until after you've met with Soval."

"One," countered Shran, his hostile posture relenting, "as a show of our good faith."

---

Conference Room, Enterprise

"Unacceptable."

Jon felt his anger soar. "You got one of your men back."

"And in exchange, you'll deliver me into their hands? I'm sure the Andorians were impressed with your negotiating skills." Jon could've sworn that was…veiled sarcasm in Soval's voice. Son of a…

"They want to talk to you, not kidnap you."

"If I agree to a meeting, it's simply legitimises their position."

Jon glared at hearing that. How could Soval truly think that the Andorians didn't have a legitimate position? They did, as surely as the Vulcans thought their position was legitimate. "And if you don't, these negotiations end before they begin."

"That may happen sooner than you realise." Muroc cautioned. "While you were on the surface, we detected three Andorian vessels approaching. They'll be here in less than five hours."

"They probably intend to re-supply their troops on the surface. We won't allow that." Soval's tone was distinctly final.

"Engaging an Andorian vessel could be construed as an act of war." T'Pol's sharply arched eyebrow belied the soft way she had spoken.

"That will be their decision."

Jon glared at Soval's figurative washing his hands of his own side's actions. "Both sides are responsible for what happens here."

"You don't understand the complexities of this situation."

Jon was now severely tempted to throw the little diplomatic candour he had left out the airlock. "With all due respect, Ambassador, why did you agree to let me go down there if you won't listen to my advice?"

"I didn't request your help, Captain, and I don't feel obliged to accept it."

The hypocrisy was galling. "You claim the Andorians are inflexible. At least they're willing to sit down and talk. The next move is yours, Ambassador."

---

Shuttlepod One

Jon, again at the controls, was very tempted to pinch himself to make sure he was still awake. He had actually successfully manoeuvred Ambassador Soval to do something. Guess that Vulcan's still had pride buried deep within them somewhere, because there was no way that Soval could just sit back and let the Andorians take the moral high ground.

"They'll send some soldiers to meet us. I'm afraid they'll want to blindfold you. It's just a security precaution."

"Thank you for the reassurance. Now if you don't mind, I'll need a few moments of silence to prepare myself." Soval sat back in his seat, closed his eyes and seemed to be doing a quick meditation.

"Of course." Jon turned back only to be almost jostled out of the pilot's seat when the inertial dampers were overwhelmed by something, as if a massive fist had struck the shuttle. "T'Pol?!"

"Weapons fire. I can't pinpoint the source."

Jon saw a few aquamarine particle beams flash in the sky past them before another successfully hit, sending them near tumbling. He worked furiously at the controls to stabilize and keep on course.

Soval leaned forward rigidly. "I suggest we cancel the negotiations and return to your ship."

"For once we're in full agreement." Jon tried to pull up but he couldn't get the shuttle to cooperate. Then they were hit again, and a dull whine resounded throughout the small cabin.

"Direct hit to our starboard engine. Main power is offline." T'Pol reported from her station, as the shuttle startled to rattle rather badly.

"Now you see who you're dealing with, Captain?" Soval archly pointed out.

"We're losing altitude. Two hundred metres."

"I'm going to bring us in on thrusters."

"One hundred metres…Fifty…we need to reduce our speed."

"The ground is going to do that for us. Brace yourselves."

8888888888888888

The old saying was that any landing you can walk away from was a good landing. In that respect he had performed a miracle. But once you factored in the condition of the shuttlepod – Trip was going to be spending quite a few days getting it spaceworthy again. He held a hand scanner against the ugly scar on the hull and it confirmed what he suspected.

He pocketed it and unholstered his phase pistol. "Any idea where we are?"

Soval looked around to orientate himself. "The southeast quadrant, near the old spaceport. I told you I negotiated the last accord. I also served here."

"You were with the occupation force?" T'Pol enquired neutrally, although Jon could see the surprise.

"As an intelligence officer, a long time ago." Soval pointed. "Our current deployment has a base of operations that way, about two and a half kilometres."

Jon shook his head. "I appreciate your help, Ambassador but we're looking for the Andorians."

"Circumstances have altered our plans," Soval tried to point out logically.

"I gave my word to Shran. I intend to keep it."

"Shran just tried to kill us."

"We don't know that."

"I suppose you think our troops are responsible for this?" Whatever the Vulcan's preached about repressing emotions, it was clear that Soval had indeed been on Earth too long, his dead-pan delivery made it seem that he was being sarcastic.

"Sensors and communications are offline. There's weapons fire flying all over the place. We don't know what happened."

"Are you that naive? Shran is using you."

"This is a man who couldn't sleep because he thought he owed me something," Jon retorted hotly. "And right now it seems like the best thing to do is to get a cease-fire in place. The Andorians won't agree to that until they talk to you in person. I managed to keep us on course most of the way in. We can't be more than a kilometre from Shran's landing co-ordinates."

Jon turned away and headed off with T'Pol; sure that Soval wouldn't be stupid enough not to follow – not in the middle of a bombed out battlefield.

8888888888888888888

Enterprise – In Orbit of Paan Mokar

Trip sat in the Captain's chair and frowned at the viewer which showed the visage of Sub-Commander Muroc on the pristine Bridge of the Vulcan combat cruiser flanking Enterprise on a parallel orbit. Inwardly he was also kicking himself.

"How would you know? We can't pick up anything through the jamming interference."

"Our scanners are more sophisticated than yours. We detected weapons fire coming from the surface. Then your shuttle appeared to make an emergency landing somewhere in the colony."

And there was the crux of why he was angry with himself. He had put off upgrading Enterprise' various sensor arrays to Odyssey specs until he had a better grasp of the principles behind them – now his 'scientific' approach was likely to cost his Captain dearly. He knew those sensors could catalogue every molecule of matter remotely even in the middle of a supernova event if they really had to, let alone through some pithy artificially produced subspace jamming signal. He made a mental note to install them first and then study them later…after they got out of this mess.

"Where?"

"We haven't been able to pinpoint their landing site, but our units on the ground are already searching. The High Command instructed me to take steps to recover Ambassador Soval."

Lieutenant Reed crossed his arms and pointedly asked, "And our officers?"

"Of course."

"We want to be involved in any rescue operation." Trip would be damned if he was going to let Vulcans do this alone.

"We have more experience in these matters." Muroc's 'no' was rather politely veiled.

"I've seen you Vulcan's idea of a tactical rescue. One of your commando units blasted the hell out of a rebel compound on Coridan, when we were all ready to escape quietly. Not exactly my idea of a surgical operation," Trip criticized.

"Your opinion of our tactics aside, we won't allow this provocation to continue."

"You don't even know where they are. Do you really think it's a good idea to go down there guns blazing?"

"Our response will be appropriate. I'll keep you informed."

Muroc terminated the link and the viewscreen returned to the orbital view of Paan Mokar.

Trip turned to Hoshi with a hopeful look. "Any luck?"

"I'm trying, sir, but if the Vulcans can't find them," she shrugged her shoulders.

"See what you can do."

"Yes, sir."

"How far away are those Andorian ships?"

Travis checked his long range sensor feed. "Three hours at their present speed,"

Trip stood and began pacing. Three hours, that's how long the Captain had to resolve this powder keg. He had to do all that he could to buy more time, and unfortunately the only way he could think of doing that was decidedly not conducive to Enterprise' hull integrity.

88888888888888888

Colony Ruins, Paan Mokar

It was a frustrating trek. Their pace was slow due to debris blocking streets, having to double back around to find another route, then if that wasn't bad enough they also had to move very cautiously and advance in jumps between cover from any potential sniper nests. One thing became very clear though, as much as he had tried to keep the shuttle on course during its crash landing, their weaving through the colony had disoriented his sense of direction very thoroughly.

"Perhaps you were farther off course than you thought." Soval was as helpful as ever.

"You've been here before. I don't suppose you'd care to help?"

"It's been almost a hundred years."

Jon rolled his eyes and gave the Ambassador a pointed look. "I thought Vulcans had exceptional memories."

Soval seemed to puff up a little before mastering himself and scanning the area thoughtfully. "This is the old residential quarter. According to our latest intelligence, the Andorians control the settlement west of here."

"If we keep moving this way, we should be…"

Stray particle weapon fire lanced in from the north, and it forced them to duck behind the closest cover; a large slab of blasted apart duracrete.

"Not quite the warm welcome you expected, Captain?"

"They're not shooting at us," Jon snapped over the snarl of weapons fire.

"The Vulcan units must be advancing their positions," T'Pol deduced.

"We should try to make contact with them," was the Ambassador's predictable response.

"I don't recommend sticking your neck out right now." Jon pointed out sarcastically.

"What do you recommend? Wandering through these ruins until we find an Andorian soldier, and trust he's been informed not to shoot us on sight?"

"I'll scout ahead. Stay here."

"Captain," T'Pol objected.

"That's an order. No offence, but my ears are less likely to draw fire than yours."

Jon broke cover, keeping low to the ground. He steadily moved towards a building that looked intact and high enough to provide a general lay of the land.

"My kingdom for an EM53," Jon grumbled as he moved through the building, clearing each room as he went – he had no illusions that his amateurish attempts could touch a MACO squad's expertise. Not to mention their EM53 pulse rifles were perfect in such a situation – especially the 'Corner-shoot' version.

Thankfully, there proved to be no snipers or other surprises in the building he had chosen, and he carefully nudged just the edge of his eye to glance over the rather awe inspiring battlefield. Thanks to clear visual difference between the two battling side's particle weapons, green for the Vulcans, and aquamarine for the Andorians, he got a good look at their positions.

Occasionally he would also see the brief stint of movement between the debris strewn battlefield, as both sides tried to gain a positional advantage. The Vulcans would fire their weapons to keep the Andorians behind cover, while trying to advance– but their weapons would overheat at that rate or run out of charge. Then the Andorians would counter-attack and the Vulcans were forced to yield ground. Only occasionally would a particle beam find its mark; when either an Andorian or Vulcan was just that little bit too slow in getting back behind cover. In the brief time he watched he saw no use of grenades, be they explosive or stun…which was what a MACO squad would use in such situations.

Another little detail he noted was that both sides seemed to be wearing vision enhancement systems. He would have to ask T'Pol about that when he got back to the ship.

The journey back to the two Vulcans he had arrived with was much shorter, but he didn't rest on his laurels assuming that the way was all clear.

"Did you make contact?" T'Pol queried.

"No, the Andorians are a little busy at the moment. Let's keep moving."

88888888888888888

Enterprise

Hoshi's muted exclamation of victory drew everyone's attention. "Commander."

Trip practically vaulted from the Captain's chair, to stand next to her, looking at her sensor feed. "You have something?"

"I can't be sure. You see this EM signature I've differentiated here?" she tapped the waterfall style EM graphic readout showing a pronounced spike.

"That's the Captain?"

"It's definitely a biosign. I'm ninety percent sure it's human."

"At least we know he's alive. Where is he?"

"I need more time to localize it through all this interference."

Trip nodded and walked back to the Captain's chair. "What's the status on those Andorian ships?"

"They just dropped out of warp. They'll be here in thirteen minutes."

"The Vulcans see them, too." Lieutenant Reed reported, looking up from his tactical sensors. "They're breaking orbit. Probably giving themselves room to manoeuvre."

Trip gritted his teeth in frustration. "Battle Stations."

888888888888888888

West Residential District, Paan Mokar

They were again behind cover. Only this time distinctly worse off, Ambassador Soval had been hit in the shoulder; thankfully the particle weapon had seared the wound closed, otherwise he would be soaked with green blood. In addition, it seemed the weapons fire was gunning directly for them – this wasn't a few stray shots.

"Those are Andorian weapons," T'Pol gripped her phase pistol tightly to the point where Jon worried the thing was going to crack under that strain. She was also examining the wounded Ambassador; who was rocking in pain from the hit, but was otherwise absolutely silent.

"How is he?"

"It isn't life-threatening but he needs medical attention."

Jon nodded and then bellowed into the night whilst quickly popping up to get a view and ducking again. "We've brought the Vulcan ambassador to meet with Commander Shran!" It produced no halt in the weapons fire; in fact, it only served to increase the volume striking their cover. "It looks like two of them. One on top of that structure." He popped up and fired – the orange beam surprising the Andorian enough that he fell back behind cover frantically. "and the other on the ground." This was punctuated with another beam.

T'Pol had skirted her head above their cover and nodded. Jon grimaced but he saw no other option, his first officer couldn't produce enough covering fire for his plan to work, and offered his own pistol, grip first, to Soval, who seemed coherent enough now to function somewhat.

Soval accepted it. "What do you expect me to do with this?"

"Make sure they don't see me."

"I haven't fired a weapon in fifty years."

"You don't have to hit anything, just keep them occupied. Really occupied or I'm not going to get very far."

Soval and T'Pol laid down fire as he crawled and scuttled from cover to cover until he was behind the uppermost sniper, and then climbed a convenient ladder. He was a very bad or unprepared sniper – he had no spotter and was so fixated on his target that he had no situational awareness. Jon had no trouble sneaking up on the Andorian with the volume of weapons fire drowning out his steps.

"Hey." The male Andorian was startled at the sound, and gave Jon a perfect angle to dish out an elbow strike to his midsection. It knocked the wind out of the Andorians' lungs and Jon ripped his particle rifle from the powerless grip and knocked the soldier out with it.

There was one sniper left which continued to trade fire with T'Pol's position. He shouldered the Andorian weapon and headed out.

88888888888888888

Enterprise

"Range?"

"Fifty thousand kilometres. They're still heading right for the Vulcan ships."

This was Trip's first look at an Andorian combat vessel. It was a single hull design, three hundred and sixty meters long and from above looked like an aerofighter in general shape, its fore section had a wider 'head' that tapered to a central hull and continued to its two nacelles which were integrated into the aft section of the ship, one mounted on top of the other, whilst the glowing red impulse emitters were on either side. The 'wings' were finished off with what looked like two hardened fuel pods and mounted on top close to the body were hull pods that probably held the main weapon arrays.

It was a distinctly redundant modular military design, Trip would bet anything that those hull pods could detach and be replaced with other pods containing more mission specific systems.

Alarms blared from Lt Reed's station. "The Vulcans are charging weapons. The Andorians as well."

Trip nodded staring at his own feeds. "Travis, lay in a new course. I want you to put us right between them. Maximum power to shields, Lieutenant."

"Aye, sir."

"If you don't mind me asking, what do you have in mind?" Reed questioned dryly after he had obeyed the orders.

---

West Residential District, Paan Mokar

For the second sniper Jon was forced to use a decidedly unconventional approach. There were no easy approaches in which he would not be noticed, so he improvised and crawled in a blasted hole on the side of the building, which gave him access to the floor underneath the sniper. Leopard crawling forward his luck continued to hold when he found an open section of floor not five meters away from the sniper's position. He carefully got his feet under him and slowly emerged, the Andorian weapon tucked into his shoulder and aiming for the back of the sniper…he blinked as he realized that it was a very familiar female…Lt Tarah.

"Drop your weapon." Jon ordered flatly. Tarah froze and stopped firing, she turned slowly around to see that she had no hope to bring her weapon around before he could shoot. "I've never fired one of these before. I'm not sure if it's set on stun. T'Pol, cease fire!"

"It doesn't have a stun setting," Tarah sneered before dropping her weapon off the ledge.

"You fired on my shuttle. You're trying to kill Soval, undermine everything that Shran is trying to do here. Why? Do you want a war with the Vulcans?"

"All we want is a chance to fight for what's ours before cowards like Shran negotiate it away."

"You can take that up with him. T'Pol, secure her."

She and Soval had advanced and held the Andorian under their aim, which allowed Jon to climb fully out of the hole he had emerged from. They had barely moved away from the building when they were surrounded again, thankfully Shran was among them, but his thunderous expression did not bode well.

8888888888888888888

In orbit Enterprise held position in a two hundred kilometre no-man's land between the three Andorian ships and the two Vulcan ones; both sides had been forced to hold their fire thanks to the Starfleet vessel's presence within their firing solutions.

Hoshi's panel beeped twice as they received hails. "We're being hailed by the Vulcans and the Andorians."

"Put 'em both on." Trip ordered. Muroc appeared on the left half of the viewscreen and a male Andorian Captain on the right. Trip made his voice purposefully flippant. "This is Commander Tucker."

The Andorian nodded in greeting. "Captain Telev of the Imperial Guard."

"Commander, I strongly recommend you withdraw to a safe distance." Muroc insisted.

"I agree. We wouldn't want your vessel to be damaged by debris from the Vulcan ships."

"We will not allow the Andorians to land additional troops on Paan Mokar."

This angered Telev. "It's called Weytahn! Our personnel there have been attacked. We'll provide whatever support they need."

"Any vessel attempting to enter orbit will be fired upon." Muroc declared flatly.

"That includes yours, Sub-commander." Trip was amazed his voice was as calm as it sounded; because his heart was hammering. This had the potential to turn into a 'Class A Charlie Foxtrot' as his grandfather used to say.

"We appreciate your support, Commander Tucker." Telev grinned with smugness, which Trip was happy to wipe off.

"Don't. I'll open fire on any ship that makes an aggressive move. TPCs, torpedoes?"

Reed looked up and smirked. "Locked on both sides and ready."

"This is not a Starfleet matter." Muroc objected.

"As long as my Captain is stuck in the middle of your war zone, it is."

"The Andorians have made it impossible for us to recover Captain Archer. By now, he's most likely a casualty."

"Don't count him out so fast. We've managed to isolate his bio-signature. Now, why don't you both give him and Ambassador Soval a chance to do their jobs before we start a war up here?"

---

West Residential District, Paan Mokar

Tarah was quick in trying to spin a story. "They were taking me away to kill me, Commander. Apparently, these pinkskins aren't as honourable as you thought."

"I suppose I shot the Ambassador to make my story more convincing?" Jon pointed out the obvious flaw in that attempt.

"Why would my lieutenant, a loyal member of the Imperial Guard, lie to me?" Shran questioned stubbornly, but Jon could see in his eyes it was more for show and giving the benefit of the doubt.

Soval spoke up valiantly through his pain. "Commander, it seems you're willing to resolve this situation through peaceful means. Do all your officers feel the same?"

"Have you considered there might be Andorians who would want a war with Vulcan?" T'Pol asked.

"How long have I served with you? Followed your orders when it could have meant my life?" Tarah reasoned in turn.

"She's not the only one who risked their life. I said I'd bring Soval to meet you and we damn near got killed getting him here. I came because you asked me. Because you thought I could be trusted. Check Soval's wound. Check our shuttle. You'll find Andorian weapons signatures."

Shran whipped out a scanner and hovered it over Soval's wound, then promptly whirled on Tarah with anger. "Is this true? Answer me!"

Tarah was now held by two other Andorians. "What did you expect me to do?"

"Follow my orders!"

"Orders to do nothing while you betray us? It's not too late to redeem yourself, to make a stand."

"I intend to. Take her." She was led away, hands being bound.

"There are others who feel this way. You'll see!"

"See to the Ambassador's wounds. We have a lot to discuss." Shran looked meaningfully at Soval.

---

Enterprise

"The Vulcan ships are breaking formation. They're heading for the planet. The Andorians are following, sir." Reed fingers were poised tensely on the firing controls.

"See if you can target their weapons." Trip sighed grimly.

Hoshi's panel blared an incoming hail warning. "We're being hailed from the surface. It's the Captain!"

"Hold off, Malcolm. Put him through. Captain?"

"Nice to hear your voice, Trip."

"What's going on down there? Are you okay?"

"T'Pol and I are fine. We're at the Andorian command post. Ambassador Soval's been injured, but Shran's medics are treating him."

"Did you say Shran's medics?" Trip shook his head incredulously.

"He's just being a good host. The Andorians are allowing the Vulcan ships to move in and pick up their people."

"Glad you let us know." Trip practically deflated in the Captain's chair as the tension fled his body.

"Did you run into any problems up there?"

"Nothing we couldn't handle. I'll fill you in later."

"We had a pretty rough landing. We'll need a ride back to the ship. The Andorians will be tractoring Pod One back to us."

"I'll send Travis down in Shuttlepod Two."

"Acknowledged. Archer out."

"Put us back into orbit, Travis, stand down from Battle Stations."

8888888888888888888

Captain's Starlog, supplemental. Ambassador Soval has begun talks with the Andorians. They've been difficult, but productive.

Conference Room, Enterprise

"The Imperial Council will not be satisfied until Vulcan recognises our claim to Weytahn." Shran declared.

Jon sitting at the mediator position at the head of the table between Shran and Soval folded his hands formally. "I believe someone once defined a compromise as a solution that neither side is happy with."

Shran snorted. "In that case, these talks have been extremely successful."

"I consider any negotiation that averts war to be a success." Soval raised an eyebrow at the Andorian.

Shran stood abruptly and uncorked a purple bottle of Andorian ale he had brought with him. "Join me in a drink to celebrate our mutual dissatisfaction." He poured the blue liquid into three small glasses.

"Vulcans don't drink. But this occasion merits an exception."

Jon stood in unison with Soval and all three men raised their glasses.

"To the cease-fire. It wouldn't have been possible without the help of our human friends."

"And to the successful continuation of these talks on Andoria."

They gulped the strong beverage down. "I trust there'll be more accomplished than just talk."

"With your permission, I'll escort Ambassador Soval to the airlock." T'Pol requested.

"Of course." Jon nodded at her with a satisfied smile.

"Captain, your presence here has not been overly meddlesome." Soval stated neutrally and promptly left with T'Pol.

Shran narrowed his eyes at the closing door before glancing at Jon. "I think he likes you, pinkskin."

"I wouldn't go that far." Jon shook his head.

Shran laughed gaily. "I must say, that I actually feel somewhat impressed. Your ship has come a long way, Captain. In more ways than one. So I guess Imperial intelligence was correct for once."

"Why Shran," Jon said innocently, "whatever are you talking about?"

"We know about Hyperspace, pinkskin."

"I'm not surprised," Jon refilled Shran's glass, "we shared it with the Vulcans, and your entire Intelligence division is probably focused on them. So has Andoria gotten the schematics yet?"

Shran was surprised at the bold question. "Why would you think I would answer that, Captain?"

"Open diplomatic and trade relations with Earth, and with time, I can see us selling that technology to you, and we'll send along specialists to help integrate it into your ships…Hyperdrives are not things to be blundered around in experimentation with, Shran. You're pushing your ship deep into a specific subspace domain, done incorrectly you'll shred any vessel and its occupants into microfragments."

"I'll convey that to my people," the Andorian nodded. "And personally I can see the value in having you as an ally to Andoria. The Imperial Council…well, they are another matter. They find your alliance to the Vulcan's…distasteful."

"I see no reason why Earth can't be friends to both."

"We'll see, Archer….we'll see."

---

A/N: Hope you enjoyed. Consider the 'Stigma' plot axed from my story. I never liked how it turned T'Pol even more into an 'outcast-archetype'. P'Nar syndrome is out as well. She already has it bad enough with the Vulcan High Command after the P'Jem Monastery saga.

Travel time depictions in ST:Enterprise frustrated me greatly, and I've retconned it for my story. Yeah, I get that it was done for 'excitement' and to fit episodic format in the TV show, but this was 114 years before ST:TOS, Warp speeds were still in the Cochrane Scale and even the Vulcans topped out at Warp 7. It would be about 200 years before warp speeds got to Warp 9.9xxxx to allow for the travel times seen in ST TNG, VOY, DS9.