Disclaimer: Don't own.

Rating: PG-13

A/N: And the plot moves forth.

T'Pol sat across the table from her brother, plotting her next move on the chess board. What Enme didn't know what that outside his quarters were representatives from all the allies's intelligence services. She had been sent in to gauge his mood. It wasn't long before he became transparent, in his Romulan way.

"Brother," she said, "it seems you have made a suicidal move. You've left your queen wide open. I will be able to checkmate you in nine moves, a fact that I believe you must know."

Enme sighed.

"I'm merely bored with the game, sister," said Enme, "Perhaps you could teach me another one. One that takes less than hours to complete the play. My people are not known for their patience."

T'Pol sat back in her chair.

"It is strange, that we are the same species. Vulcans are perhaps most known for their patience."

Enme began cleaning up the pieces of the chess board. After a long silence, T'Pol spoke again.

"Would you be willing to help us open background negotiations with your people?"

Enme sighed.

"I'm not in a position to do so," he said, "I'm supposed to be dead. Surely you've had a report of that."

"But you are not dead. This would indicate that things are not always as they are supposed to be among your people."

Enme stood up and looked out the window. He stood in silence for a long while. Then, he knelt down and took of one of his polished boots. He put it on the table.

"Do you have something I could pry the heel off with? I'm no longer even allowed a butter knife."

T'Pol raised an eyebrow. She stood up and left her brother's prison-quarters for a moment and returned with a flat screwdriver. Enme took it from her and pried open the shoe. From a compartment in the heel fell a ring much like the one her father had given her — only this one was designed for a man.

"A ring like this is out of uniform," he said, "So I've kept it hidden."

"He didn't tell me what it does."

"It's a kind of subspace communicator. It allows one to talk to him, where ever he is. For a brief time. The link drains the power, rendering the device useless."

"Will you use this to communicate with him?"

"You have one of these, am I right?"

She nodded.

"That means you have two chances to contact him. I can't do it. He'd consider that. . .weak of me. In fact, you must make it clear to him that I am being kept alive against my will. That might make him amenable to discussions about my well-being. But beyond that. I can't help you."

Enme pushed his ring toward her.

"This is no good to me now, sister."

"Why are you giving this to me?"

Enme shrugged.

"It seems I don't want to die. If the Empire conquers Earth. I'll be dead."

****

In the crowded transport station, Maleek of Romulus was waiting for a transport ship to take him back to his small apartment on the eastern continent. He was very happy that he had told the ProConsul the truth, and that he would be done with that miserable family. He would be content to return to the life of a merchant, with no association with the aristocracy.

He looked at the chronometer. He had only an hour to wait.

Suddenly, in the rush of the crowded station, Maleek felt a prick on the back of his neck. Before he could even reach up to where the pain was, his breathing became labored. He only reached his hand halfway up his neck when it became paralyzed. He moved his eyes to the left, and he saw a young girl standing there, watching him. She was fidgeting with a needle in her hand.

The last thing Maleek saw was Bala smile and then put one hand gently on her stomach. Then it was dark.

****

T'Pol briefed the alliance intelligence agents about her contact with her brother, but she left out one key detail. She showed them her brother's ring, but she omitted the fact that she had another one in her quarters. Her years of intelligence training had taught her that having a backup of something wasn't something you shared with your superiors or allies unless absolutely necessary. Only Hoshi, who was listening from the next room, would be privy to that fact, and T'Pol resolved to attempt to convince her to keep the secret for her. Hoshi would be expected to provide a transcript of T'Pol's conversation with her brother but it was standard practice for some portions of the conversation to be redacted.

Another piece of information that would be redacted was her relationship to the prisoner. Starfleet and Section 31 knew, and the V'Shar knew, but the Andorians and Tellarites did not. T'Pol was glad that it was not widely known that she was half-Romulan.

When all but Malcolm and Hoshi had left, T'Pol felt she could relax somewhat.

Malcolm looked down at the ring.

"This is amazing," he said, "We can contact a high ranking member of the Romulan government."

"The prisoner advises us to us it directly, using him as a kind of . . .leverage. He claims however, if he appears to cooperate, it will neutralize that benefit."

Hoshi, who had been monitoring the communications between T'Pol and her brother from the next room, looked down at the ring in fascination. As a communications officer, she had never seen anything so small that could function as a subspace communicator.

"And you have one of these as well?"

T'Pol nodded.

"Thank you for not enlightening the others of that fact. The second ring might prove useful."

Malcolm sighed.

"Section 31 doesn't know about the second ring, do they?"

T'Pol shook her head.

"Admiral Archer knows, Captain Tucker knows and now you both know."

"The brass wants to be in on any contact with the Romulans you make," said Malcolm, "They've assigned Admiral Archer as the point person."

T'Pol nodded.

"He'll probably want to proceed immediately, as the fleet will be leaving the Sol System within two weeks."

None of them needed to say what they were all thinking, that the likelihood of any background negotiations succeeding were slim to none.

****

Trip was in his Ready Room, reading some mind-numbingly boring reports. He thought engineering requisitions and reports were dull. Now, he had a PADD full of reports from every corner of the ship. T'Pol was responsible for organizing and writing the abstracts for most of them, but as Captain, he still had to be aware of 100x more information than he had as chief engineer.

He could at least be grateful that once the the ship left Jupiter Station, the requisitions would become much shorter.

The comm buzzed. The light indicated it was an ultra-secure frequency.

"This is Captain Tucker," he said.

"Good to hear your voice, Trip" said Admiral Archer.

"You too, Admiral" he said, "I assume, though, this isn't a social call?"

"Nope. I'm keeping you in the loop. Starfleet Intelligence and Section 31 have made an unusual request of your XO."

"What?"

"They want her to make contact with the Romulan Star Empire. She's going to do so this afternoon. I'll want you at the debriefing at 1500 hours. Conference Room 11B on the station. I'll be there. But this is strictly an Earth operation for now. So it's going to be you, me, Malcolm and Hoshi."

Just like old times, thought Trip.

"I'll see you then, Admiral," said Trip formally.

Archer nodded.

"Archer out."

Trip exhaled. This wasn't going to be easy for T'Pol, but he trusted that she would handle the situation.

****

T'Pol stared down at her brother's ring. She was alone in a conference room that was equipped with high-tech listening devices. Hoshi would be monitoring and translating from the next room, and T'Pol had decided to speak with her father in Vulcan, as she knew he spoke that language like a native.

She activated the device. It began to glow and hum, but it did not do more than that for precisely 35 minutes.

Then, burst of light came from the ring, and a shadowy hologram appeared. Though not the best quality, she recognized her father's image.

"I was not expecting you, dear one," he said, "I was expecting my son, Enme. Is he dead?"

"No," she said, "He is a prisoner of the alliance."

"On Vulcan? Or Earth? Or perhaps Andoria or Teller?"

T'Pol blinked. Clearly, he did not have the capacity to pinpoint her location.

"I cannot reveal that, but he is alive. He is being treated well, despite his uncooperative nature."

Relief washed over the ProConsul's face.

"Has he tried to take his own life?"

"Yes," she said, "it was prevented."

"Why are you contacting me?"

"The Alliance wishes to open negotiations. If you would assist us, we would be willing to return your son to you."

"Do you know so little of us? We don't negotiate. We conquer."

"The humans have a saying, there's a first time for everything. You must know that this quadrant has been united like nothing in its history against your people. We will prevent your invasion. Even if you don't believe that, you know Vulcans well enough to know that I believe that we will. Vulcans are not known for self-delusion."

The ProConsul was silent for a moment.

"There are limits to my power, daughter."

"We are only asking you to open negotiations. Enme's return would not be predicated on the outcome of those negotiations."

The PronConsul thought some more.

"I've recently made an alliance with another family, one with several seats in both the senate and our high council. I'm also sitting on information that might make them uncomfortable if it were revealed. I might be able to persuade them to support negotiations. Do you still have the ring I gave you?"

T'Pol nodded.

"In three days time, contact me again. We shall proceed. Goodbye, dear one."

*****

Late that night, Trip and T'Pol returned to Enterprise after the long meeting. They had moved from Jupiter Station to the ship, though they were still the only members of the crew living aboard. Everyone else had chosen to enjoy the benefits of the station while they still could. But as Captain, Trip wanted to live aboard his new command.

The meeting had gone well. Starfleet and the other Allies were going to propose the creation of a "neutral zone" between Romulan space and Alliance space. The hope was that if the Allies agreed to restrict trade, colonization and military activity to their side of the neutral zone, that the Romulans would see the benefit of doing the same. It was a still a long shot, but now they seemed to have the ear of at least one powerful Romulan, thanks entirely to T'Pol.

"Their arrogance might be the biggest hurdle to negotiations. That and the pleasure they seem to get from conquest."

"Well," said Trip, "After tomorrow, it will be for bigger heads than us to deal with. Archer. Soval. T'Pau. The President. . . ."

They entered their quarters, and T'Pol's body language immediately changed from Vulcan Commander to emotionally exhausted woman.

"You look like you could use some meditation," said Trip.

She nodded.

"I've got a stack of reports to read. Go ahead. I'll be around if you need me."

He kissed her on the forehead, and she disappeared into the next room. He heard her lighting candles and saw the soft glow of the flames emanating from the next room. He picked up his PADD, thinking that he should probably start meditating with her given the concentration his new position required.

****

"Poison?"

Ravel nodded at the ProConsul. Neither of them were pleased with the murder of the one person who was a witness to Ston's treachery on Hirku Station.

"It's a specific kind, grown only on a colony administrated by Bala's family. In addition to that, the last time this particular poison was used as a murder weapon, the victim was a social activist who had begun to protest some of the policies of her family."

The ProConsul nodded, simultaneously infuriated with Ston and proud of him. Clearly, the boy was not going down without a fight. Nonetheless, the ProConsul planned on meeting with Bala's father in the morning and letting him know about Ston's treachery. The ProConsul would agree to a divorce, in exchange for Bala's family supporting the background negotiations with the Alliance. Ston wouldn't know what hit him.