|
"The Forgotten Time II: Ashaya"
Rating: R (for occasional language) Author's Note: This story takes place between Kir’Shara and Daedalus. Chapter 4 Jonathan Archer paced the situation room for the third time in two days. T’Pol occupied a seat behind him at the conference table. Neither spoke. From the view port, he could just see part of the Kumari’s nacelles. The ship had docked uneventfully with Enterprise a quarter of an hour ago, and he was expecting the Vulcan and Andorian delegations along any minute. The two linked ships quietly circled the sepia planet; a stark contrast to Archer’s chaotic thoughts. After this latest political tangle was smoothed out, he was going to check into an empty mountaintop retreat with Porthos and a good book and not come out again until it was time to leave orbit. The doors hissed open and six people entered the room. P’Lek, T’Mer, and Suvok came first, and nodding to T’Pol, quietly seated themselves along one side of the long conference table. Shran and two of his officers, a man and a woman, followed. The two blue-skinned officers took seats immediately, suspiciously sizing up T’Pol and the Vulcan contingent, while Shran joined Archer at the view port. Side by side, the two men silently surveyed the planet turning below. “Well, pinkskin. Here we are again.” Shran’s voice was low, for the captain’s ears only. Still looking out, Archer smiled at the Andorian’s trademark cheek. He turned and shook hands with his old friend and adversary. “Good to see you too, Shran. How’s everything going?” Shran raised his eyebrows. “Same as before. It’s only been three weeks since we last ran into you. It seems our fates are unavoidably intertwined.” “I’ve noticed.” Good-naturedly, Archer indicated Shran should take a seat and then addressed the group. “Welcome everyone. We are here to discuss the attack of three Vulcan monasteries by a rogue Andorian ship.” Shran spoke to the room at large as he lowered himself into a seat next to his first officer. “It’s not an Andorian ship, rogue or otherwise. Those damned Sel’Tior zealots lost the right to call themselves Andorians the day they set off on their traitorous mission. We’re just here to take the criminals into custody so we can begin our investigation.” At this P’Lek leaned forward. “Indeed. However, the Vulcan authorities are not prepared to turn the criminals nor their ship over to the Imperial Guard just yet. We are still conducting our own investigation.” Shran’s first officer, a swarthy man with thick, stubby antennae, spoke up pre-emptively. “We can take the interrogation from here.” T’Mer, the female Vulcan delegate, eyed the Andorian officer with a look of vague distaste. “Former ambassador Soval is a friend of mine. From what he tells me of your ‘interrogation’ techniques, I believe it would be prudent for us to finish our investigation first…while the suspects still have all of their mental faculties in working order.” Shran leered at the woman. “Ah, you are referring to our neuro-synaptic field generator. Rest assured madam, we save that…especially…for Vulcans.” At this, T’Mer fixed him with an icy stare. Archer raised his hand as if he could physically break the tension rapidly forming between the six people seated at his table. Sometimes he felt more like a daycare attendant than a mediator when he had more than two species on his ship at a time. “People, please. I for one would like to see this situation resolved quickly and to the satisfaction of everyone in this room so we can all get on with our lives. Agreed?” He eyed each of the men and women in turn. Taking their silence as concurrence, he began. “Two days ago, an unprovoked faction calling themselves the Sel’Tior attacked three monasteries, before being detained by Vulcan authorities.” He looked to T’Pol who quietly rose and activated the view screen behind the captain’s chair at the head of the table. She addressed the group. “The three monasteries have been virtually obliterated. One of these, at over seven thousand years old, was the most ancient in the north-eastern provinces. The latest count stands at 112 Vulcans dead and thirty-two more injured. Several of the casualties were adolescent novices.” T’Pol’s voice gave away nothing as she tallied the devastation on her homeworld. Shran and his colleagues shifted in their seats, uncomfortable. T’Pol continued. “The search for survivors has ended, as bio-scans indicate no remaining life signs at the sites; however, it will take several weeks to excavate the remaining bodies from the rubble.” Unexpectedly, Shran spoke up. “And the Imperial Guard is willing to give the Vulcan authorities its full cooperation in the recovery operation. Two mining ships are on their way as we speak to assist with the efforts.” “Our teams will appreciate the help,” responded P’Lek gravely. “With the restructuring of our government, we currently have few spare ships containing a full crew complement.” Shran gregariously inclined his head. “As you can see, the Andorian government is on your side, Overseer. Now, as a show of faith, we want access to the prisoners and their ship. This is a matter of Andorian internal affairs. Your monasteries’ destruction was simply a most unfortunate…side-effect.” He regarded P’Lek intensely, as if willing him to agree. “A ‘side-effect’ that cost over one hundred lives, Captain,” T’Pol reminded him. “Thank you Commander,” Shran replied through gritted teeth. He didn’t deign to look at her, but kept his eyes and antennae still fixed on the Vulcan delegation. As always, Archer wondered at the especial dislike Shran harboured for his Vulcan first officer. Perhaps it was that, in his mind, she was the only thing that stood between the two of them forming a firm human-Andorian alliance that didn’t involve any Vulcans. Well, Shran could forget that, the captain thought to himself. As Daniels had shown him, future peace was only assured when divisive alliances were abolished in favour of widespread treaties that unified as many species as possible for the common good. Though, Archer often privately wondered if such a thing was possible considering the contrary natures of humans, Vulcans, Andorians, Klingons, Xindi, Tellarites, and all the rest. Meanwhile, P’Lek was responding to Shran’s comment, his voice taking on the chilly reserve of a Vulcan avoiding the rising tension of a situation. “We appreciate that you are ‘on our side’. Truly Captain Shran, this is a…hallmark day…for Vulcan-Andorian relations. However, there is no room for debate on the point of the prisoners. They shall be returned to you when our investigation is complete. Not before.” P’Lek stood, and T’Mer and Suvok followed suit. He turned to Archer and T’Pol and bowing very slightly at the waist, added, “Thank you, Captain Archer, for the hospitality of your ship and the assistance of your crew. I will be in touch with you again shortly. However, at this point, I believe my colleagues and I will return to the surface.” He looked at Shran. “When your miners arrive, I shall put them directly in touch with the teams overseeing the recovery efforts in the north-eastern provinces. We are gratified that your people are so eager to…make amends.” At this delicately veiled jibe, Shran and his two colleagues stood up in a body, scraping their chairs back. Archer leapt up as well, adrenaline quickening his heart rate momentarily as he waited to see what Shran’s next move would be. But though the blue-skinned man’s antennae postured in a decidedly aggressive manner, his response was forcedly polite. “A ‘hallmark day’ to be sure, Overseer. I myself certainly would never have thought I’d see the day when Vulcan needed the assistance of the Andorians, and yet, here we are.” He spread his hands and gave the tall Vulcan man a wide smile that was more of a grimace than anything else. P’Lek regarded him silently for the briefest pause, before murmuring, “Here we are indeed.” And he turned and left the room, with his colleagues following silently in his wake. The door hissed quietly shut behind them. “Damn him!” Shran spat, shoving his chair in and turning forcefully to the window. “When I get my hands on those Sel’Tior jequhas they will rue the day they were born. This is costing the Andorian people their dignity! I don’t know that the Imperial Guard is right to work so hard to avoid a war.” Archer joined him at the window again. It was amazing how quickly the atmosphere in a room could change. “Shran, a conflict with the Vulcans now would undo all the good that has been achieved in this region. In the end, no one benefits from war. I think your Imperial Guard is showing a good deal of wisdom in avoiding a fight.” Shran inhaled deeply as he scrutinised the planet below. “You may be right, pinkskin. But that Overseer is hiding something. And I intend to find out what it is.” *** Trip sat alone in a corner of the mess hall, a sandwich untouched on his plate and his full mug of coffee cooling. Across the room, Hoshi chose a salad and apple juice, and then noticed the chief engineer sitting, staring at the floor. She walked over. “Commander?” she asked hesitantly. Trip’s head jerked up. “Huh? Oh, hi Hoshi.” He smiled faintly. Hoshi laughed. “You looked like you were about fifty light years away.” Trip gave a self-deprecating chuckle. “Yeah. I kinda was. I guess I got a lot on my mind.” Hoshi nodded knowingly. Then after a moment, “You going to eat that?” Trip raised his eyebrows. “Hm?” “Your food. Is something wrong with it?” Trip looked down and seemed almost surprised by the food in front of him. “Oh. Yeah. No, I was waitin’ for… here she is.” He stood up. Hoshi turned to the mess hall doors and a half second later they opened to admit T’Pol, who scanned the room momentarily and then made her way to Trip’s table after filling a cup with tea. “Good afternoon Commander. Ensign.” She nodded to Hoshi. Hoshi looked from Trip to T’Pol, nonplussed. “How did you…?” she shook her head. “Uh, never mind. Have a nice lunch.“ She smiled strangely at the pair and joined a nearby table where Travis and two MACOs were demolishing a giant plate of nachos. T’Pol watched her go and then turned to Trip. “Ensign Sato seemed somewhat disturbed.” Trip finally started on his sandwich. “Yeah.” He swallowed. “I guess I was actin’ kinda spacey. She showed up just as you were talkin’, y’know, in my head. It’s confusing havin’ on two conversations at once.” He took another bite of egg salad. T’Pol merely eyed him with a raised brow as she sipped her tea. “Well, for a human anyway,” Trip amended. He thought, very likely, she would have no trouble carrying on a conversation with any number of people, telepathically or otherwise, whilst simultaneously calculating a warp inversion field. Looking down, T’Pol caught his semi-sarcastic thought, and a tiny smile pulled at the corner of her mouth. She glanced up to find Trip watching her, grinning through his sandwich. “What?” T’Pol inquired, once again all composure. “Nothin’,” Trip replied. They didn’t speak aloud again for the remainder of the time they were in the mess hall. However, much was discussed via the still-inexplicable link that they were becoming increasingly more practiced at using. *** The snoop in Hoshi couldn’t resist glancing furtively now and then at the pair seated ten metres away in the corner. They barely glanced at one another. In fact, Commander Tucker had spent the last five minutes staring out the window eating his carrot sticks with that same zoned-out expression on his face as when she had been trying to talk to him. But every now and then he would suddenly smile, as if at some inner prompting. It certainly wasn’t at anything T’Pol was contributing. The ship’s resident Vulcan was nursing her cup of tea with her eyes closed. Hoshi wondered why they were even bothering to eat together and said as much to Travis in an undertone, after their MACO companions had left to go back on duty. “Y’think the rumours about them are true?” Travis whispered back. Hoshi’s head snapped back around. “What rumours?” she hissed. Travis leaned in confidentially. “Well, Commander Reed said that she was in Commander Tucker’s quarters the other morning when the captain called us up so early. She was in her pyjamas.” He put heavy emphasis on the last bit of information. Hoshi rolled her eyes. “Oh, that. They were probably just doing neuropressure. Commander Tucker’s got insomnia.” Travis was sceptical. “Neuropressure? At four in the morning? S‘practically the middle of the night.” “Well that’s when insomnia strikes, isn’t it?” Hoshi whispered sarcastically. The nachos, forgotten, congealed on their plate as Travis and Hoshi both looked again over their shoulders at the unlikely pair in the corner. “I guess so,” Travis concurred disbelievingly, “But she must be a pretty dedicated practitioner to make house calls at 0400.” T’Pol glanced around the room and caught Hoshi’s eye. Hoshi and Travis both whipped back around in their seats and started in on the rubbery cheddar of their cold nachos. They didn’t glance back again. “I knew that blabbermouth Malcolm would say somethin‘,” Trip fumed peevishly. T’Pol’s sensitive ears had easily picked up the whispered conversation of their crewmates, and Trip, privy to her thoughts, heard the whole thing as well. He wasn’t actually that upset. They were all gonna figure it out soon enough anyway. Now that he and T’Pol had finally sorted out their complicated feelings for one another, he didn’t intend to let her get away. T’Pol in reaching for a napkin, let her hand brush Trip’s as if by chance. “You needn’t worry, Commander…I have no intention of trying to ‘get away’.” She murmured with muted amusement as she daintily wiped her lips. Trip grinned, caught out. It was going to take a while for him to realise that his thoughts weren’t always his own anymore. The comm panel nearest them on the wall sounded. “Commanders T’Pol and Tucker to the Captain’s ready room.” Trip reached up and pressed the response key. “Aye Cap’n. We’re on our way.” He pushed his chair back and gathered his plate and their mugs to bring back to the counter. As they passed by Hoshi and Travis, Trip leaned down and spoke quietly out of the corner of his mouth. “She’s a very dedicated practitioner.” And grinning despite the wisp of irritation he felt from T’Pol in front of him, he kept on walking. Travis and Hoshi’s jaws dropped in dumb astonishment as they watched the pair leave the mess hall without a backward glance. *** Captain Archer was seated behind his desk, a PADD in his hand and a frown on his face. Shran occupied the visitors’ seat across from him. He was leaning back in the chair, fingers steepled together, and a more-than-usually-smug expression narrowed his eyes and curved his lips. At the entrance of Trip and T’Pol, however, Shran’s stood and his face fell. “What’s she doing here?” Archer also stood and sized the other captain up. “Given your data here, Shran, I think the best two to evaluate it would be my chief engineer and science officer.” “Well I’m not showing it to her. She’ll just go running off to her people the minute we turn our backs.” Shran’s voice was almost petulant. T’Pol stepped forward even as Archer drew breath to respond. “I may be Vulcan, Captain Shran, but I serve Captain Archer and the Enterprise. You need have no fears of my ‘running off‘ to do anything without the Captain‘s knowledge or consent.” Shran surveyed the slim woman critically. Finally he reached across and pulled the PADD from Archer’s grasp. Thrusting it at her, he retorted, “I fear nothing.” T’Pol eyed him for a second longer before turning her attention to the PADD. Trip came up behind her to read it over her shoulder. After a moment, she glanced up at Trip and then at Archer. “Interesting, hmm?” Shran prodded. T’Pol handed the PADD to Trip so he could get a better look at it and addressed Captain Archer. “I don’t understand. How did the Sel’Tior obtain photon particle weapons? As far as I know, Vulcans are the only species that have developed this technology. It is still a highly experimental prototype.” “Yes, exactly! That’s what I would like to know,” Shran said loudly. “Captain Shran’s data,” Archer cut across the other man’s words, “is rather ‘experimental’ itself considering he used a covert transceiver carrier wave to extract the information from the encrypted messages being sent within the Vulcan High Command building on the surface.” He shot a somewhat long-suffering look at his two colleagues and continued: “However, it does bear considering. If the Sel’Tior have access to classified Vulcan technology, we have to consider the possibility of a Vulcan sympathizer to their cause.” “Their ‘cause’?” Trip echoed, “Cap’n, they killed a bunch of defenceless monks.” T’Pol spoke. “We must also consider the prospect of Andorian operatives working within the Vulcan chain of command.” “I already told you. The Sel’Tior are not Andorians. They are working on their own!” Shran’s skin was becoming a deeper cobalt shade as his temper mounted. Archer raised both hands, palm up. “There are several scenarios that need to be looked at. We can’t draw any conclusions yet as to who obtained this technology for the Sel’Tior or why. At this point we need to gather more information.” “Humans!” Shran snorted. “Always the researchers. Captain, this situation calls for action. I warn you, my crew are not going to want to stand idly by when news of this double-dealing reaches their ears. We have been wrongly accused!” Archer glanced once at Shran. “Then I suggest you don’t allow it to reach their ears just yet,” he said shortly. Shran exhaled through his nose, his antennae pointed backward. “Then research quickly, Captain. I won’t wait much longer.” He turned abruptly and left the room. “At least he’s out of our hair for the time being,” Archer sighed. “I’ve spoken to P’Lek. I mentioned that the Andorians have some evidence of Vulcan technology aboard the Sel’Tior ship. He wouldn’t confirm anything. In fact he got rid of me as quickly as he could. I got the feeling that they’re as shocked as we are to find this kind of weaponry aboard that bucket-of-bolts ship the rebels are using. He probably wants to figure out who did it before letting the Andorians anywhere near the investigation. But I’m betting they’re not going to be forthcoming no matter who it turns out to be. And that’s going to leave us sitting in between a bunch of suspicious Andorians and a planetful of Vulcans trying to cover their asses.” “Don’t much like the sound of that,” Trip said grimly as he passed the PADD back to the captain. “Neither do I,” Archer agreed. He turned to T’Pol. “You’re going to be meeting Koss on the surface sometime soon. He comes from a high-ranking family, doesn‘t he?” T’Pol nodded guardedly. Archer handed her the PADD. “Move it up. I need you and Trip to go down there today. Feel him out and see if you can get any leads.” |
Like it? Hate it? Just want to point out a typo? Join the discussion now.
Disclaimer: Star Trek in all its various forms and its characters are the property of CBS/Paramount. No copyright infringement is intended by the authors of this site, which is solely for the purpose of entertainment and is not for profit. This site is owned by CX and was opened to the public in February 2008.