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Star Trek Enterprise:

Here we stand

Chapter 15

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Admiral forest was unpacking his go bag, something he had done dozens of times before since becoming the CIC of Star Fleet. He had spent so much time within the embassy on Vulcan that he had come to think of it as his second home.

When he was a young man the red sky of Vulcan enthralled him, he never thought that he would get used to that sight even now. The searing heat was something that he was very happy to no longer be overwhelmed with, the climate control regulated the temperature to be ship standard in the embassy, this kept the temperature at a very cool level almost northern European with it being not too hot nor too cool.

But something that never happened before was that the head of the Vulcan High Command Administrator V'Las was here to greet him. The silver-haired Vulcan had been surprisingly pleasant even with the Warp 6 debacle that had fallen in his lap much sooner than he had ever thought.

He was strange in a way his eyes held more emotion than a regular Vulcan, but that could be stress he reasoned to himself after all a Vulcan of his advanced age would have gone through the emotional purge by now.

The Kolinahr was a most sacred ritual for the Vulcan people the final purge of all emotion in the same way that Surak had. Administrator V'Las was also from one of the Oldest families on Vulcan and they could trace their lineage to one of Suraks' first students during the time they had fought with those "hidden under the Raptor's wings" as the Administrator had told it.

So, When the man had arrived at the Embassy before he had even taken his first step off the shuttle had been a bit of a shock. But his request had been reasonable enough, the science council wanted access to the data Enterprise had from the source, and they had wanted to take a look at the Engines of the Enterprise. He had seen fit enough to grant them access, after all, even with the improved relations with the Andorians he simply trusted the Vulcans more than them.

When the damaged Enterprise had entered the Solar system and he had seen the mangling the ship had gone under he was very concerned not just because of the ship but because the crew had reported several injuries that left him upset. So, when Archer had requested a meeting with him and R&R for his crew, after what his crew had gone through, he had allowed it.

The first of the crew was beaming down, a strange choice to him, and were met by medical teams both Vulcan and human alike and they looked haggard.

Ensign Sato looked very worse for wear, she had beamed down with the first group, and held tightly onto a metal box, her skin has clammy and pale with a very green tint to it almost Vulcan-like itself. Every one of them was shaking and limping as the medical staff descended on them like a school of ravenous piranhas getting them on the gurneys and wheelchairs that were waiting for them. Just as quickly as they had descended and arrived, they had all vanished in a cloud of medical expertise all of them ushered quickly away before his eyes.

The pattern was repeated a few more times before finally the last to beam down was Archer and his command staff, all looking very serious and very tired. As his eyes fell on the very capable Commander Smith, he saw on his left the armoured security briefcase, used for only the most serious and top secret of reasons, usually, for classified documentation, it was firmly cuffed to his wrist with a bulky locking mechanism that needed several "keys" to open.

Archer nodded to the Admiral before the group made their way to a secured room with every step closer Admiral Forest felt the existential weight of command grow.

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Admiral Forest was sitting at his desk inside the core of the embassy, the room was decorated almost exactly like his office at Star Fleet Command a choice made by his predecessor a man that had been the steady hand of Star Fleet for many years.

Admiral Mendoza had been a good man even if at the tail end of his carrier Star Fleet had started to become corrupted by small men and their nepotistic exclusory ways.

But it had made him consider his choices to this point when the true depth of the corruption had been revealed.

"There are moments," he thought to himself "when you're in command when you wish you were anything but the Officer in charge." He looked down at the documentation that Archer and his crew had given to him, Paperwork was one of those sometimes annoying and sometimes harrowing things that a commander has to deal with.

Ticking boxes and signing documents meant the smooth sailing of an organisation like Star Fleet, like most organisations' military or civilian alike paperwork, is the life's blood of any organisation and was the tedious side of the job. But then come the times when you must write letters of condolence, the harrowing and almost soul-rending part of the job. As Admiral Forest read over the documentation that Archer and his crew showed him, he began to get that deep sinking pit in his stomach as if he was about to sign a thousand obituaries.

These days he dreaded getting a call from Archer or his command crew because, every time, they reported it was one catastrophe after another just averted by the skin of their teeth if he had any more stress from them, he would be as bald as his grandfather. He subconsciously touched the top of his head as if making sure that all of his follicles hadn't spontaneously quit on him and left him to his fate.

But the Grimm dirge they were peeling out for him was the worst of the bunch by far, even when you set aside the damage to the Enterprise herself, which was a kettle of Fish that he didn't want to open right now, the complete subverting of the Operating Systems of the Star Fleet was something that he wouldn't have dreamt up in his worst nightmares.

If that had been enough it would have been something that he could somewhat deal with but this potential Alliance between the Romulans and the Orions was something that would keep him, and the majority of Star Fleet intelligence, awake for the rest of their careers.

His thoughts turned to the old history books that he had mulled through as a child. The attempted Balkanisation of the quadrant, and the covert creation of political and military alliances, reminded him of the lull before the First and Third World Wars.

Sabres were rattling and the distant drumbeat of war was coming to the quadrant, he felt a decade older and a century wearier as he gazed over the red sands of Vulcan.

"the tour of the Enterprise should be a welcome distraction." He hoped.

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The Chef of the Enterprise was one Henry Ramsay the third named for both of his fabled ancestors one a Naval commander from World

War three and his father a scientist had helped to redesign the gravity plating used on all ships from freighters to the Enterprise herself.

His father had been a strict and controlled man like most upper-class Englishmen he was Victorian in his mentality, but he had allowed Hal to find his vocation, and what he wanted to do was to cook. Hal loved the art, the smell, and the tactile sensation of it, and he was very good.

Hal was one of the most sought-after chefs on the planet, he had cooked for dignitaries and princes, and he had learned his vocation in Paris France amongst the greatest chefs that had ever taken up a knife. But like his father before him, he craved a challenge so when Captain

Archer had come knocking after an ambassadorial luncheon brunch he had jumped at the chance.

It had meant going through rigorous training with Starfleet security, but it had been worth it he had been the finest chef in the Star Fleet and the first chef on the first Warp 6 ship in the fleet. He was thrilled with that but could have done without the near-death experiences though.

But now he had been given his most challenging task, with two broken arms and a destroyed kitchen he was tasked with culinarily satisfying the Vulcan High Command and the CIC of Star Fleet. This would be a challenge that he would rise to and as he sat with his arms in slings, he began to plan a meal that would be truly spectacular.

"Medic" he called out as he sat up, the blood throbbing in his broken arms made them both ache with every heartbeat.

"Mr Ramsay!" shouted the Nurse getting the attention of the entire ward as the man stood up "Get back into that bed at once." Her shout had alerted the rest of the nursing staff and two of them ran out of the room to fetch someone.

"Usually, my dear when a pretty girl like you would ask me that I would comply, but I have too much to do." He said as she tried to push him down while avoiding his arms, a difficult process that she found near impossible.

"no, you don't you are on medical stand down."

"Bugger that girl I have a job to do." He said as he wobbled on his slipper-clad feet. "Fetch me that infernal chair." one of the two Nurses that had left returned with a doctor and had brought in a wheelchair.

"Mr Ramsay, we are not supposed to be up and about." He was an English man tall blond and handsome with a pencil moustache and impeccably quaffed hair. But the Chef could blatantly see the man staring at the bottom of the nurse trying to restrain him.

"Don't you ever! give me a condescending attitude you woolly-headed ditherer." The young blond man responded as if struck "either help me or return to the state of inadequacy you were born into."

"Chef Ramsay what are you doing."

"Dr Phlox, finally a civilised man." He said as he struggled past the medical staff "would you till these absurd rapscallions that I have a job to do."

"Chef Ramsay, you're supposed to be resting." He said as the Nurses failed to contain the man. "and I assure you that Dr Spratt here is a fine physician."

"Fine for a veterinarian." He muttered darkly "Captain Archer has put me in charge of the food for the Vulcan High Command whilst they are on board the ship. and if you think I will let some Louisiana swamp rat or some New Orleans Neuvo-Sous-Chef blunder about in my kitchen, MY kitchen with my reputation at stake you have another thing coming."

The two men stared at each other intently before the Denobulan relented. He was taking the chair and allowing the man to sit in it.

"I'll take responsibility for the chef, and I'll be on hand to make sure nothing happens." He said as he turned and began pushing the man towards the doors. The Blond doctor nodded and allowed the duo to depart.

As they reached the doors, he heard the Chef Shout.

"FULL AHEAD DR PHLOX THE KITCHEN NEEDS ME!"

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Erika Hernandez is a very proud woman; she was one of the few women to ever command a starship and one of an even smaller group of people that would be in command of the new NX class ships.

She is also in a bit of a dilemma that had forced her to go looking for the man that had been the cause. According to Star Fleet medical a fault had been detected in about 60% of the implants that had been sent out and when she had started feeling sick and fatigued, she believed that it was simply a summer flu but when it hadn't gone away after a few weeks she had gone to medical and discovered the cause, well two somethings that had been the cause.

A few months later they had arrived, but she had been hesitant to tell Jon about them because of his carrier and then she kept putting it off reasoning that the news would be better told in person rather than over the comm and then he was heading to Vulcan and a bit sooner than she had expected she would be breaking the news to him.

She knew that the Swan was going to Vulcan to meet the Enterprise so thanks to her connections in the fleet specifically her long-term friendship with Admiral Forest to get onto the ship. It had felt good to be on a ship again even if it was a cramped Intrepid.

The shuttle ride up from the embassy had not been fun and the feeling of trepidation seemed to grow as the partly mauled ship came into view. She was happy that A.G was there for her for the past few days waiting on the Enterprise he had been a calming presence and she could see why they had him in the running to be the Captain of the NX-02 Columbia with her.

When the shuttle landed, she knew the exact route to get to his quarters, but he was not their and neither was Porthos that meant he was probably in his cabin.

"Captain Hernandez" a voice called out from behind her. She turned and saw a very familiar face

"lieutenant-Commander Smith?" her eyes darted over the man then she noticed the additional pip on his shoulder. "I mean Commander Smith congratulations" she smiled as they shook hands, wrong hands as his dominant arm was still in a sling, she had been his XO on the Ganges class warp delta Menelaus before her promotion. "It's good to see you again Hardass, though you look like crap."

"Oh, you noticed." He said indicating to his arm and smiling, "it's all the rage on Enterprise just about everyone has one." He smiled

"how bad was it?" she asked, she seemed genuinely concerned and slightly nervous to Horatio like she was scared of his answer, but her professional Captain mask locked into place in seconds, he staired for a moment considering before he answered.

"Worse than I was expecting." He answered honestly, he had known Hernandez long enough to give the truth.

"you always expect the worse," she said lightly, she'd known him long enough to know his pessimistic attitude was both a blessing and a curse. "it must have been horrible."

"It has been trying, for me, and the crew" they lapsed into silence as they got to the turbo lift. "the rigours of deep space have been both beautiful and harsh, I imagine that early seafarers felt much the same as they crossed the ocean."

"and Jonathan?"

"the Captain has had some trying times." He told her "he takes a lot onto himself even when it isn't deserved, this most recent one is perhaps the most trying for him."

"is he in his office?"

"yes, I'm just on my way to give him more paperwork he's not my biggest fan these days." He chuckled "but it all needs to be signed off by the captain before I can file it and it's not like he's writing it."

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Horatio had left the reports to be signed with the Captain, he had a meeting with the head of Vulcan Security Commander Talok at the High Command. He knew that this man was a Romulan mole, and he was curious about how he had managed to maintain his cool when dealing with the Vulcans.

Romulans in the TNG and DS9 eras seemed to tolerate but not appreciate Vulcans often they seemed to be happy or relieved to be away from them after long periods. Unless he was a Vulcan that still supported the Ideology of the Raptors.

There must have been some left from when they were exiled double agents or sleeper agents that passed their missions down the ages to undermine the philosophy of Surak or the Syrrannites wouldn't have been formed.

Maybe the Romulans were masters of the long game but even if that was true how would they be able to communicate with each other from Romulus the planet was a long way away from Vulcan.

"Maybe I'm overthinking it." He mumbled as he considered the option to himself as he got to the shuttle bay.