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"Father to the Man"
Genre: Drama/Adventure Warning Note: In my universe, meat comes from dead animals instead of cute little cabinets in the wall. My bad guys don't act the way they do because of their misguided youths. They act the way they do because they are predators. In my universe, there really is such a thing as absolute evil. There are also such things as goodness, and honor, and trust. But there is no political correctness. Don't bother looking for it. It ain't there. A/N: Vulcan terms used in this story were taken from the Vulcan Language Dictionary, the Vulcan Language Institute, or I made them up myself. I apologize for the delay.
Part 8: Conclusion Alice finished her morning routine in a typical Monday morning rush. After gulping down a quick cup of coffee, pleading with the toast to stay where it belonged, she grabbed her backpack and started for the door of her apartment. For once she nursed fond hope of being a few minutes early for her first class. She might even be able to corner Professor Harding long enough to get some kind of coherent explanation for that stupid... She stopped and slapped her forehead. Thinking of projects, she almost forgot the extra credit assignment. With her grades tanking the way they were, she couldn't afford to waste any chances she got to brown nose a little. Alice walked over to the window and looked down at the terrarium. The readouts seemed to be within tolerances, and she sighed in relief. The Andorian moss was carefully sealed away from Earth atmosphere. For its own protection, not hers, Professor Harding had explained. The purpose of the experiment was to evaluate the reaction of Andorian moss to prolonged exposure to Earth's solar radiation. Alice triggered the proper sequence and a data chip popped out. She slipped it into her belt pouch and and dropped in a new one from the supply Harding gave her. Then she grabbed her pack again. Now she better get moving. Alice got lucky, she caught the early transport and made it to Harding's classroom just as he arrived. She delivered the data chip triumphantly and got an actual smile out of the old sourpuss, along with a three minute clarification on the project that she had been struggling with. Harding spent some time shuffling and organizing his notes, meanwhile collecting all the other data chips that came trickling in, each from students who were operating experiments at random locations throughout the city. He breezed through the lecture on autopilot and left to head back to his office, looking forward to brunch with the new Dean of Exobiology. He dropped his class notes and the data chips on his desk and headed out for his appointment without taking time to lock his door. Why bother? The bland looking man knocked briefly on Harding's office door a few minutes later. Hearing no reply, he glanced around and quietly entered. The data chips went quickly, one at a time, into a reader before being carefully replaced in their former position. Then he dropped the reader into his pocket and exited. Late that evening, Lethos activated the door code and permitted Thyren to enter. The sub-basement stronghold of the Andorian embassy was no more comfortable than it had been the day they moved in, but it was gradually becoming much more elaborately equipped. Thyren, who had not actually set foot inside headquarters for over two weeks, was astonished and delighted to see a complete subspace transceiver console, an extensive network of computer data banks, and an entire wall covered by state of the art weapons and surveillance equipment. “Impressive,” he grinned. “Most impressive indeed. When will we get padded chairs?” “When Vulcan freezes over, most likely,” Lethos muttered good-naturedly. “Grab one of these slabs and sit, I have something to show you.” Thyren obediently scooted a chair over beside Lethos and seated himself in a position to view the monitor that his companion was activating. Lethos was going on, “Ordinarily, as you well know, those passive monitors that we spent so much time arranging are nothing but a waste of time and energy.” Thyren chuckled, “I remember how incensed you were when we were ordered to enact that program. If the Ambassador had reported your language to the High Command, we would both have been shot for sedition.” “I hereby acknowledge myself to have been proven wrong,” Lethos said ruefully, causing Thyren to lean forward in sudden interest. The picture cleared instantly. A night scene, shown from a height above the street. Rainy, as it usually was in this city at this time of year. Thyren grimaced. Great Mother Andor, how he hated rain. The street was empty until two figures entered the field of view. Thyren felt a prickling at the base of his antennae. Then both appendages stiffened and pointed straight at the screen. The screen showed Starfleet Admiral Gardner and Dark Operative Harris. “Sound!” he barked urgently. “Let me hear what they were saying!” Thyren scooted forward as close as he could get, straining eagerly. Lethos put a hand on his arm. “Patience. It will be a few seconds until they come into range. Just listen carefully.” The first thing to be heard was the sound of wet footsteps, mixed with low voiced muttering. Finally a few words started to become intelligible. ...“have someone on Vulcan watching the Tuckers?” “Of course, Admiral” “Sorry. It's been a long day.” (pause) “We need those warp six plans Mr. Harris. I really don't like the way the Klingons are stretching out in this direction, and the Romulans are starting to make me very nervous indeed. We need those plans, and we do NOT need any petty Vulcan bureaucrat throwing a monkey wrench into our way of getting them.” “Understood, Sir.” “Good enough. Good night Mr. Harris.” “Good night, Admiral.” “There's more,” Lethos told him. Thyren's eyes gleamed as he waited. “The reason they were walking? They had just left an informal, unscheduled, meeting with the Vulcan ambassador at the 602 club. It was very brief and very, very private. As soon as Soval got back to Cairo he called for transport back to Vulcan. He left this morning on a D'Kyr class warship at warp 7.” Thyren's smile broadened into a face splitting grin. “Oh this is tasty. This is absolutely delicious. The High Command is going to savor this. How did the ambassador take it?” Lethos shook his head. “Haven't told him yet. Wanted to get your input first.” “We don't have enough information,” Thyren leaned back and absently tugged on one of his antennae. His mother had spent years trying to break him of that habit. “First of all, who is the Vulcan bureaucrat that is preventing the Humans from obtaining plans for a warp six engine? Soval himself? Or is it another bureaucrat and Soval has gone home to deal with him?” “How could the Vulcans stop it?” Lethos wondered. “According to Intelligence, the Humans already have an engine that is capable of exceeding warp five with minor modifications. The jump to warp six should be nothing extreme for them.” “Assuming the Vulcans don't interfere,” Thyren said. “Perhaps that is it. From everything I have heard, The Humans fumed for decades over how the Vulcans deliberately held them back. Humans were prevented from expanding into space because the Vulcans were not ready to deal with them.” The two traded glances. “So much for their vaunted policy of non-interference,” Lethos said ironically. Thyren threw back his head and roared with laughter. “Have you ever,” he had to stop and gasp for breath. “Have you ever,” he started again, “seen them actually live up to that basket of lies yet?” Lethos pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Actually... no. I cannot say that I have.” “Of course not,” Thyren chuckled. “Its only purpose is to use as an excuse to attack any other race who might trespass on one of their vassal species. But here we have an opportunity to exploit, if the High Command is willing to seize it.” “It is too bad that we did not have an operative in place last night,” Lethos mourned. “We could have had someone follow Harris and perhaps gained significantly more data.” Thyren winced. “They would have had my sympathy and best wishes trying.” He shuddered. “When I was assigned to Earth, one of my first actions was to locate and identify my counterpart among the Humans. Remember?” “Of course,” Lethos replied. “Standard procedure.” “I learned quickly that trying to shadow Harris, especially during one of this planet's pitch black nights, is an exercise in misery and frustration,” Thyren growled. “Even if we had someone there last night, they would have been lucky if Harris didn't lose them within six blocks. And that assumes that he didn't detect that he was being followed. The man uses evasive techniques by sheer reflex.” Lethos stood up. “I think it is about time we took this to the Ambassador. The next step will be up to more highly placed heads than ours.” -&- The fire alarm energized the entire crew within seconds of the bell going off. Fire on a starship was about on par with alien torpedo bombardment for emergency response priority. When the second fire alarm went off, the bustle of activity became a frenzied buzz. Four minutes later, by the time the eighth and ninth alarm went off, Lieutenant Commander Reed sounded tactical alert and glanced over at the captain's chair. “Looks like this is it, Sir,” he said calmly. “Yep,” Archer responded tersely. He gave his second in command a straight look. “I want them alive, Malcolm. This one is going to answer some questions. Lots of questions.” “Understood, Sir.” Reed snapped a quick summons into the intercom for his relief to report to the bridge and headed for the turbolift at a trot. As the doors closed everyone on the bridge saw him checking the settings on his phase pistol. Hoshi and Travis exchanged a significant look. “This one, Sir?” Travis asked. Archer gave him a look. “We have been expecting this, Travis. Malcolm has his teams in place and waiting. Everything is under control.” A slow smile broke over the helmsman's face and he nodded happily. “Sir,” Hoshi announced, “I am getting reports of small fires on decks C and D plus two in main Engineering.” She paused a moment, listening to her ear piece. “The two in Engineering are already out. The others are reported contained.” “Engineering to Bridge.” Lieutenant Commander Hess sounded harassed. “Go ahead, Commander,” the captain replied. “Captain, we found two signal flares rigged with remote activators. Looks like someone had a transmitter that let them trigger the flares simultaneously from wherever they happened to be on the ship.” “Figures,” Archer sighed. “No doubt the other fires started the same way. Did they do any serious damage?” “No, Sir,” she replied. “Nothing but some scorched paint in a couple of Jeffries tubes down here. Those flares are pretty small after all. I don't expect any real problems from them.” “Good enough,” Archer told her. “Keep me posted. Bridge out.” -&- Agent Keval looked at Selera when the entrance buzzer to the cargo bay sounded. She gestured acknowledgment and moved into flanking position, ready to cover him. Commander Reed's warning had really been superfluous, since fire alarms and the tactical alert siren were in the process of deafening them both at the time. Once Agent Selera was in position, Keval activated the cargo bay entrance. The door slid aside to reveal the human security officer that was currently on duty. She stepped inside quickly. “I apologize deeply for disturbing you both,” she told them sincerely. “But regulations specify that during a tactical alert all guests aboard are to be accompanied in person by a security officer at all times.” The two Vulcans traded a quick look. This had not been part of Reed's briefing. It seemed illogical that he would have neglected such an obvious point. But then again, Humans often overlooked the obvious. Her explanation was at least plausible. They would have to comply for the present. “Very well,” Keval inclined his head. “Since we are to be sharing this space, introductions seem appropriate. I am Keval, and this is Lady Selera.” “I am honored to meet you both,” The young Human told them. “My name is Matilda Wu.” -&- Soval sat with his hands folded, outwardly impassive. But in this case appearances were indeed deceptive. The waiting area outside Chief Minister T'Pau's office was serenely decorated in subdued earth tones. The furniture was simple and utilitarian, without being harsh. A small fountain in one corner provided soothing background ambiance. Unfortunately, Soval was too distracted to take advantage of the environment and use the time to catch up on his meditation. By the time T'Pau's clerical assistant finally came to summon him to his meeting, the ambassador had crept perilously close to fidgeting. T'Pau stood respectfully when the older man entered and offered him the proper salute. The two exchanged formal greetings and went through the required rituals of seating, offering tea, etc. Finally Soval put down his cup and looked T'Pau in the eye. “I trust that my report arrived safely, Chief Minister?” He waited carefully for her reaction, ready to take his cue from her response. When the Chief Minister of the Vulcan High Council actually allowed herself to sigh, Soval knew that he had guessed correctly. The matter was indeed critical. “I hope that you have no other pressing engagements, Ambassador,” T'Pau told him wearily. “There are some aspects of the situation, both here and on Earth, that you are not aware of. A full briefing is going to require quite some time.” Soval leaned forward. “I am at your disposal, Chief Minister. As always.” T'Pau closed her eyes in resignation. “I am sure you recall the communique I sent regarding our investigation into corruption among high level officials in the V'Las administration.” It was not a question. “Of course,” Soval affirmed. “Since you mention it in the context of this meeting, logic suggests that Sub-Minister V'Rald must have been one of the subjects of the investigation.” “Correct.” Despite her admirable discipline, T'Pau's relative youth sometimes betrayed her. In this case it came in the form of visible frustration. “However V'Rald has been most thorough up to this point in protecting himself. Commander Tucker's assertion is the first public evidence of wrongdoing that we have been able to obtain.” “While I understand V'Rald's distaste for facing such an accusation,” Soval ventured, “the fact remains that the issue is moot. Regardless of past errors, T'Pol's prior marriage is null and void. Nothing can be proven beyond conflicting testimony from the principals. The damage lay in the accusation itself, which has already been accomplished. Why would V'Rald persist in such an illogical and unnecessary escalation of the situation as sending Linyarn to Earth?” T'Pau shifted uncomfortably and refused to meet his eyes. “We believe V'Rald is convinced that Commander Tucker has embarked on a campaign of vengeance against Koss specifically, and his entire clan generally.” Soval was nonplussed. “That seems most unlikely. Commander Tucker is a remarkably even-tempered young man. Modern Human culture has embedded powerful sanctions to discourage the pursuit of personal revenge, and Commander Tucker in particular is known for his dedication to the cause of peace. This is, after all, the man who risked his own life and the lives of his crew to prevent a war. During the Xindi conflict he went so far as to forgo revenge against the man who designed the very weapon that killed his own sister, in order to achieve peace.” Soval paused and looked in disbelief at the Chief Minister. She continued to avoid his gaze. “Chief Minister T'Pau,” Soval said in a soft, coldly flat voice, “what have you done?” “It was not required that we initiate any action to trigger V'Rald's suspicions,” T'Pau told him primly. “Commander Tucker was obliging enough to provide the primary impetus himself.” She described the confrontation between Trip and Koss at T'Pol's clan gathering, with special emphasis on describing Trip's knife work. “V'Rald is old enough to remember first contact with Humans. He has never been fully reconciled with the idea of allowing them unrestricted access to space, on the grounds that they are inherently too dangerous and unstable to be trusted. Commander Tucker's behavior merely reinforced his existing prejudice.” “Such behavior is most atypical of the commander,” Soval murmured in surprise. “I would never have expected it of him.” T'Pau explained delicately, “The two of them are experiencing some unforeseen side affects related to the marriage bond. This results in occasionally destabilizing Mr. Tucker's emotional control. Both Trip and T'Pol are currently spending some time at the home of her Eldest Mother, T'Para, to receive advanced training in meditation techniques which should help them with this.” “Ah,” Soval straightened in chagrin, hiding his embarrassment with a lifetime's polished practice. “That certainly clarifies the matter. In a situation such as theirs, the unexpected is perhaps paradoxically the only reasonable thing to be expected.” “Indeed,” T'Pau agreed. “Meanwhile, as long as V'Rald believes that Commander Tucker is actively seeking avenues to attack him, he will continue to attempt preemptive strikes. Sooner or later he will make a mistake that will expose himself, and we will be able to prove his malfeasance.” “You are deliberately using this innocent family, including a tiny infant, as bait for your trap,” Soval said in horror. “And if they are killed? Will you simply put it down on your list of profit and loss and go forward with no further thought for what you have done?” His anger was starting to rumble to the surface, despite his best efforts. T'Pau took a hard grip on her nervousness. The old man could be quite intimidating at times. “They are under constant guard by Security forces, supervised by a member of T'Pol's own clan,” she defended. “We did not cause this situation, Ambassador. Nor do we intend to allow anyone to come to harm. But you are well aware of the importance of those shipyards to all of Vulcan. Permitting the corrupt and inefficient practices that presently apply to the manufacture of those ships leaves us at a severe disadvantage. Under the V'Las administration we lost influence over twenty-three systems, and sacrificed four important trading partnerships because we could not compete effectively. This state of affairs is not acceptable. Most especially since we now face increased competition not only from Andorians and Tellurites, but Humans as well.” “True,” Soval admitted. “Their ships are improving rapidly. I was told by T'Pol that Commander Tucker actually achieved warp 6, briefly, during Enterprise's time in the Expanse. But due to potential issues with lack of proper safety protocols, the experiment was temporarily shelved.” “You see?” T'Pau said grimly. “We cannot afford to waste any more time and energy. Although I sincerely hope that we can continue our current cordial relationship with Earth, we cannot risk the welfare of our people by permitting waste and inefficiency to permeate our systems. Notwithstanding that this also violates the very essence of Surak's teachings.” “How long do you intend to allow this state of affairs to continue?” Soval asked her. “Are the Tuckers to be kept under virtual house arrest until you manage to obtain enough evidence to convict V'Rald?” “For the present it is not an issue,” T'Pau said. “As I said, they are busy studying with T'Para. When and if it becomes an issue, we will manage the situation. But I do not anticipate that it will take much longer. We intend to leak information about Linyarn's demise to V'Rald very soon. It is almost impossible that he will not react in some manner. We are monitoring his every action and communication very closely.” “It is unfortunate that you cannot simply arrest him based on Linyarn's testimony. But of course, that would reveal the existence of the Tucker child,” Soval said glumly. T'Pau inclined her head. Soval went on carefully, “While I recognize that Linyarn was a known criminal, he was still a Vulcan citizen. I am unable to accept that his death was due to suicide. Does the Council wish to take any action on this matter?” “No.” T'Pau replied. Short, flat, emotionless. Soval looked at her. “The Council is willing to allow the Humans to summarily execute a Vulcan citizen without making any type of response at all?” “No.” This response was equally flat. Soval's brows drew together. “Chief Minister?” He let his confused expression ask the question for him. After a brief interval T'Pau let out her second sigh of the meeting. “The Humans were not responsible for Linyarn's death,” she said. Then she added sternly, “This is all you need to know. It is not to be discussed outside this room. It is not to be revealed to anyone else. At any time. Under any circumstances. For any reason whatsoever. Is this understood?” Something clicked in Soval's mind and suddenly everything since the night he received the anonymous message fell neatly into place. He straightened stiffly in his seat. “Of course Chief Minister. Linyarn committed suicide by means of a concealed capsule, as reported by the Human authorities.” -&- “You're certain that she's secure?” Archer asked grimly. He turned to glance again at the figure stretched out unconscious on the bio-bed. “Absolutely, Sir,” Malcolm assured him with pained satisfaction. He paused to gingerly touch the swelling around his black eye before he continued through mashed lips, “I have two guards stationed just outside her cell at all times, and two more just outside the brig entrance. We also have continuous 24/7 remote monitoring in place.” He continued with relish, “Ensign Wu isn't going anywhere, I can assure you of that.” “Good,” the captain growled. He stepped cautiously over to stand beside Selera, who seemed to be holding up well despite her injuries. “I want to thank you both for your assistance in this matter, Agent Selera. I am sorry our people didn't get there sooner though.” Selera shifted her weight a touch awkwardly on the crutches and turned to face Archer. As would be expected, her face gave away nothing. “Thanks are appreciated but not required, Captain. As we have previously discussed, it was to our own advantage to help neutralize this threat.” Archer nodded at the unconscious figure in front of them. “I am sorry about Keval's injuries though. I honestly had no idea that a person could inflict that kind of damage with nothing but a short piece of chain.” “Her skills were remarkable,” Selera admitted. “As soon as the sensors in our monitoring unit detected an activated phase pistol, and the dampening field came on, she almost instantly adapted to using more primitive weapons. I believe Keval may have underestimated her speed.” She glanced at her comatose partner. “Fortunately, Doctor Phlox was able to staunch the internal cranial hemorrhaging in time. The broken bones and scarring will not be a serious issue once we reach Vulcan. I am sure a brief episode of cosmetic surgery can replace the lost teeth and ear. Overall I would categorize the mission a success.” “That's enough.” Phlox came bustling out of the back room, making shooing motions at Archer. “Visiting hours are over, Captain. My patients need their rest.” “I am already quite rested, Doctor,” Selera pointed out. “I slept a full five hours. And Keval is deep in a healing trance and will not rouse until tomorrow at the earliest.” “I never said you had to sleep,” the Denobluan insisted implacably. “But you do require more rest. Your body needs its energy to repair those bones. Not to speak of those internal bruises. Now back to bed with you. And you,” he addressed Reed, “report to your quarters. And if I hear one hint of a rumor about you trying to go on duty before 1200 hours tomorrow, I will have your own people drag you in here and strap you to a bed. Understand?” “Understood, Doctor,” Reed said hurriedly, throwing up his hands in surrender with a tired smile. Or as much of a smile as he could manage with what was left of his mouth. The verbal sparring was interrupted by an intercom signal. “Bridge to Captain Archer.” Archer strolled over to the wall unit and keyed the button. “Archer here.” “Captain, I have received notice to expect an incoming call from Admiral Gardner in twenty minutes.” “I'll be right up.” Archer snapped off the comm and said, “Come on, Malcom. Let's get out of here before he breaks out those leeches.” Reed shuddered and joined Archer in heading for the doorway. After dropping Malcolm off at his cabin, the captain headed for the bridge. He settled into his favorite chair and asked with deep relief, “What's our ETA, Travis?” “Five hours, 23 minutes, Sir,” Ensign Mayweather replied. “Vulcan Space Central has already been advised of our approach and we are cleared to assume orbit on arrival.” “Beautiful,” Archer settled back and let out a deep breath. Just once, things were breaking his way. The last of the Terra Prime moles was in the brig and nobody got killed doing it. They were almost to Vulcan, and a chance to visit his friends again. Along with a special treat, a chance to sneak a peek at how those warp six plans were coming along. If he knew Trip, and he did, things were probably humming along at a breakneck pace. Archer grinned in anticipation and mentally rubbed his hands together. He could already feel Enterprise's decks humming as she slid between the stars at warp 6, leaving slower vessels behind in her wake. In fact, why not get a hint right now? “Hoshi?” He turned toward the communications officer. “What are the chances of making contact with Trip and T'Pol from this distance?” Lieutenant Sato chewed her lip for a few seconds and pondered. “I think I can do it, Sir. If the Vulcan's will let me patch through their planetary network, I know I can. Gimme a minute or two.” She started doing esoteric things to her control panel with a look of intense concentration, and then began purring and growling like a cat in Vulcan. She paused to listen a moment, looking satisfied. “Got it, Sir,” she announced triumphantly. “I have connected to the Earth embassy, and they are forwarding the call.” “Good work, Lieutenant,” Archer said happily. “Let's see what our two prodigals have been up to lately. Put it on the main screen so everyone can say hello.” A moment later the main view screen cleared to reveal the face that, to Archer, resembled Methuselah's grandmother. He gaped for a moment, speechless, and thought, “That's not T'Pol, unless she was REALLY spending a fortune on makeup when she was aboard.” The old woman's penetrating gaze swept over the bridge in a heartbeat, and one silver eyebrow raised the tiniest trifle. “Enterprise. I presume that you seek Commander Tucker or Lady T'Pol?” Archer cleared his throat weakly. “Erm. Yes, actually, Ma'am. My name is Captain Jonathan Archer.” “I am aware of your identity young man,” the old woman told him with dry amusement. “All of Vulcan is aware of your identity. I am T'Para, Eldest Mother of T'Pol's clan. You have reached my home, where the ones you seek are visiting. I will bring them. Wait.” She disappeared from view and Archer found himself swallowing for some reason. Something about that old biddy's eyes made a Xindi Reptillian look positively cheerful. Soon enough though, everyone perked up at the sight of Trip's grinning face. “Cap'n! Travis! Hoshi! You're early.” “We're not quite there yet, Trip,” Archer informed him. “Just thought we would jump the gun and let you know to be expecting us. How are things going in the warm sunshine?” He added jokingly, “Have you and T'Pol got a prototype engine ready for us to test yet?” Trip winced slightly. “Progress has been a little bit slow, Cap'n. Me and T'Pol had to take some leave to deal with family business. That's why we are here at T'Para's house instead of at home. But we should be back to work before too much longer.” “Anything we can help with?” Captain Archer asked with concern. Trip shook his head. “Nah. Just family stuff.” He looked uncomfortable. “We got it covered. A lot of it involves helping me get used to the way things are done on Vulcan. We have been here at T'Para's house for the last few days while she walks us through it.” “I imagine there's a lot of adjusting to do,” Hoshi offered sympathetically. “It's good that T'Pol has family that is willing to help.” “Yeah.” Trip forced a half smile. “After this, the Kahs-Wahn doesn't sound like it is gonna be much of a challenge.” “The what?” Travis looked confused. Just as Trip began to reply, Hoshi's board beeped. She listened for a moment and announced, “It's the call from Admiral Gardner, Sir.” “Ready room,” Archer responded, standing up. “Gotta take this one, Trip. We will see you soon. Tell T'Pol we send our best, and give the baby a tickle from all of us.” Trip chuckled and the screen went dark. Gardner's expression let half the air out of Archer's good mood before he even got settled into his chair. “Hello, Jon,” the admiral said wryly. “Guess what? It's time to play diplomat again.” Archer suppressed a heartfelt moan and put on his best poker face. “Yes, Sir. What do you need me to do?” Gardner leaned forward on his elbows toward the screen, as if trying to maintain a conspiratorial closeness. “We may have a golden opportunity opening up here Jon. But it has to be handled with kid gloves or it will surely blow up in our faces. The Andorians have been making noises about trading some technology.” Archer shot up straight in his seat, electrified. “What kind of technology?” His voice was barely under control, with an undercurrent of eagerness that brought a smile to Gardner's face. “It seems that your friend Commander Shran made a serious impression with the Andorian High Command about our transporters,” the admiral told him. “As you know, the Andorians didn't even have transporter technology until recently. After the... incident... at P'Jem where you were able to insert an entire landing party right under their noses they made it a priority.” Captain Archer nodded. “Understood. They must have really put everything they had into R&D if they could come up with something and deploy it as fast as they did.” “Yes and no,” Gardner told him. “Yes, they put everything they had into it. But no, they didn't make it happen. Had no luck at all in fact. They finally ended up buying old technology from some Nausican pirates that was based on one of our obsolete designs. They had to reverse engineer everything and cobble it together. From what our intelligence can gather, the Andorian's transporter still cannot handle more than two people at once, it's noisy as a bomb going off, and its energy expenditure is almost off the scale.” “So they want our transporter,” Archer nodded with a gleam in his eye. “And in return?” Gardner gave a wolf's grin. “In return for a working prototype, complete designs, and all necessary technical assistance to adapt our hardware to fit their technology...they are offering us a warp 7 engine.” “YES!” Archer's fist hammered down on the desktop. Gardner chuckled. After a moment though, Archer's gleeful expression faded and he started to look thoughtful. “Now you are beginning to see the ramifications, aren't you Jon?” Gardner asked. “How do we do this without upsetting the Vulcans? Granted that we don't need their permission for anything. But by the same token, it isn't wise to piss them off either. Especially since we are less than twenty light years from each other's doorstep.” “We can't pass this chance up, Admiral,” Archer protested vehemently, “We can't!” “We have no intention of passing it up, Jon. Calm down,” Gardner admonished him. “That's where you come in. It is going to be up to you to make this happen without ruffling any feathers.” Archer's eyes snapped open widely. “You can't be serious, Sir!” His voice rose slightly. “Me?” It could not rightfully be called a squeak. Not quite. “Well, you and Commander Tucker. Hopefully with some assistance from Lady T'Pol if she is willing,” Gardner told him. “You and Tucker are well regarded by both the Vulcans and the Andorians, and T'Pol carries weight with the Vulcan government. All we want you to do is make sure the Vulcans understand that just because we are doing business with the Andorians, it doesn't mean that we don't love them anymore. Surely you can handle that, Jon?” “Yes, Sir,” Archer said stiffly. “Understood, Sir.” “Good,” Gardner sat back, satisfied. “Ambassador Trask will contact you as soon as you arrive to arrange a meeting. Come on, Jon. Between the three of you, you have made several First Contacts, averted two wars, formed several new alliances, discovered who knows how many new races and cultures, recovered the philosophical roots of Vulcan culture, and introduced Andorian ale to the 602 club. Surely something this simple is not going to faze you.” “No, Sir. Of course not, Sir.” Archer told him, poker faced. Admiral Gardner cut the transmission and Archer slumped in his chair, cursing quietly under his breath. He rubbed his forehead for a few minutes, thinking hard. Then he hit the comm button. “Hoshi.” “Yes,Sir?” “Could you please re-establish that connection with Trip? I need to talk to him.” ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The End For Now. “The moving finger writes, and having write, moves on...” But that was before the discovery of word processors and temporal cold wars. Now all bets are off. The story is continued in Purgatory |
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