|
"Cry Havoc"
By MissAnnThropic
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: None of its mine. I’m just a sad little fangirl that spends her days writing fanfic and watching taped episodes of my favorite shows. :(
Description: The evolution of Trip and T’Pol’s relationship following the events in ‘Harbinger’.
Chapter 10
Sub-commander T'Pol found herself seated in one of Jupiter Station's mass transport shuttles, employed for the purpose of taking Enterprise's eighty-odd crewmen to Earth at the same time. Jupiter Station had a number of such shuttles, each of which was similar to the small-scale recon shuttles aboard the Enterprise with the notable exception of size. The Jupiter Station shuttles were each capable of ferrying twenty-six people at a time. It was not, by Vulcan standards, a large vessel even for short-range personnel transfers, but Jupiter Station was not a resort; those who came and went through the space station were conducting business or worked there and by default the traffic to and from Earth was sparse. It was not a place open to civilians, cutting down on the number of people who cycled through the station. Those who did frequent between Earth and Jupiter Station tended to use smaller, more private personal shuttle craft, for the cramped conditions of the Jupiter Station 'cattle shuttles' as they were often called left a great deal to be desired.
The Jupiter Station shuttle had four rows of seating, each consisting of three seats arranged arm-rest to arm-rest (two seats at the front of the shuttle were typically reserved for high-ranking Starfleet officers, though today those seats were taken by Ensigns Porter and Cook, both bound for Maine). The back of the shuttle was cargo space, where T'Pol's small bag of personal belongings as well as everyone else's luggage was stowed. The shuttle was filled to capacity and more than half of those passengers were Enterprise crewmen. Jupiter Station workers, distinguished by their pearly white coverall-type maintenance uniforms, sat quietly between Starfleet personnel.
T'Pol and Trip had taken seats in the second row. T'Pol was in the middle seat, a lightly snoring Jupiter Station worker (a young man no older than Trip) was slumped in the seat to her left. To her right sat Trip, his eyes alternately trained outside the window beside him and on the engineering work orders from Jupiter Station in his hand. The sleeping figure to her left occasionally shifted and in doing so, unaware of his actions, ventured close to unintentional physical contact with the Vulcan passenger. T'Pol was shifted as far to the right in her own seat as she could calmly, discretely manage. The sporadic, accidental contact with Trip was far more agreeable than brushing against a stranger.
T'Pol filled her time with reading the PADD in her hand detailing Jupiter Station's intended repairs and upgrades to the senors aboard Enterprise and waited patiently for the journey to end. When she had arrived at the departure station for the shuttle bound for the east coast of the United States the loosely gathered Enterprise crew members headed in the same direction had given her quizzical looks. Apparently they had expected her to book passage on the shuttle heading for the west coast, bed of Starfleet Headquarters and the Vulcan Consulate. She could not blame them for such an assumption, nor their confusion at seeing her traveling elsewhere. T'Pol was the only Vulcan on the transport... from the second glances the shuttle workers had given her upon boarding she assumed she was the first Vulcan in a very long time to go anywhere on Earth other than the consulate.
Trip's gentle voice broke her quiet contemplation as he turned to face her and nearly whispered, "Once the shuttle lands in Newark we'll have to take an aircar to Tallahassee, then a ground transport to Quincy where my parents' home is. I imagine we'll get there somewhere close ta 1800 local time."
T'Pol nodded understanding. "Perhaps you should contact your parents before then and inform them that I am accompanying you." T'Pol still disliked the idea of merely showing up unannounced to a human home of people she did not know, regardless of Trip's assurances that his family would not mind the added company.
Trip, as he had done repeatedly before, brushed off such formalities with easy dismissal. "It'll be fine, trust me. When Lizzie and I were little Mom and Dad were always fine with us bringin' our friends home."
T'Pol pointed out bluntly, almost under her breath to keep their conversation private aboard the crowded transport shuttle, "They may react differently to a Vulcan guest." She glanced once around the shuttle and referenced the cool, uncertain reception T'Pol had met at Jupiter Station from the workers and managers. It only helped to prove that the sentiment among the Ares crew was not an isolated incident. "Human opinion of Vulcans has clearly degenerated in the time since we've been in the expanse."
Trip frowned, unmoved. "Not my parents."
T'Pol caught sight from the corner of her eye of a Jupiter Station worker, a young red-headed woman, returning to her seat from the lavatories at the front of the shuttle. Her eyes flicked in T'Pol's direction and her expression when she looked at the Vulcan betrayed a state of being tense and guarded. Not entirely hostile, but far from genial. She was the same woman whom T'Pol had observed earlier talking and laughing openly with the young man seated next to her. The young human man.
"I can't share your confidence."
"We'll play it by ear if we have to, but I know my parents and they won't turn ya away." For a fraction of a second Trip's left hand left its station on the armrest and wavered between them. He wanted to place his hand atop hers, to offer a calm touch, but without so much as venturing into her personal territory he dropped his hand back to his lap. T'Pol caught herself looking down at that hand that had treaded so close to touching her; she was relieved he'd remained discrete and bereft at the peace that contact with his psyche would have engendered.
T'Pol suddenly noted how long she'd been concentrating on Trip and forced herself to look away from his lap and hands. It would be unfit for someone to see her studying her human companion so intently. She instead looked past Trip to the view port and saw the swelling globe of Earth burgeoning in the left side of the window. T'Pol recognized the land masses, the craggy outline of North America's eastern seaboard, the dangling swimmer that was Florida. The sun's angle lit upon the peninsula state such that the deep valley etched into the middle of the state by the Xindi attack was cast in black shadows. It was like a perfect crease in the land, a scab against the lush green.
T'Pol sensed a rigid disquiet at the edges of her thoughts and looked toward Trip. The engineer was also looking out the window, his eyes fixated on his home state and the crag carved from the heart of it. His jaw clenched and all the easy, relaxed presence he'd been exuding melted away in the heat of anger, sadness, and rekindled determination.
This time T'Pol had to resist the temptation to reach out and touch him in a show of comfort.
*****
Jonathan Archer squinted against the sun as he looked up at the building that comprised Starfleet Headquarters. The impressive building, so new in comparison to some of the other sectors of the city that flanked it, was almost exactly as he remembered it. It was a convincing, deceptive charade, because he knew for a fact that within the familiar building the old structure and hierarchy would be nothing like the Starfleet he'd known such a short time ago.
The very thought annoyed him. Only a few months out on a mission to save the entire planet and they didn't even extend him, captain of the Enterprise, the courtesy of telling him what was going on back home while he and his crew were safeguarding Earth.
Archer turned his eyes down to the furry companion at his side. Porthos, miffed to have been put on a leash, looked up at his master. Even if he was tethered the beagle seemed to be enjoying the fresh air and having grass once again under his paws.
Archer snagged a passing-by ensign and handed off Porthos, "take him for a walk", while he proceeded into the building to confront his secretive superiors. He had neglected to change from his regular uniform into a formal uniform, so at once he noted that he stood out among the Starfleet personnel scurrying through the front lobby. In their office casuals and occasional dress uniforms, Archer drew looks with his Starfleet version of BDUs.
"Captain Archer," a female voice caught his attention. Archer sought the source and saw Mrs. Teadry at the front desk beaming at him. That, at least, had not changed.
"Hello, Wendy," Archer smiled in greeting and crossed the room to the elderly woman's station. "How have you been?"
Wendy smiled but there was something strained and thin about it, nothing like the easy, free grin he remembered from only three years ago. "Oh, you know how it's been lately."
'No, I don't,' Archer thought sourly, but aloud said, "I've come to speak with Admiral Forrest."
Wendy opened her mouth in an automatic apology and dismissal but she paused, took in Archer's on-duty attire, and it seemed to convince her that whatever he was here for it was important.
"He may be in his office but you'll have to check. Just go on back," she waved Archer toward the inner bowels of Starfleet Headquarters.
"Thank you, Wendy. Take care." Archer left his old friend and proceeded into the recesses of Starfleet Command. Barely three steps into the main corridor he came up short and paused. The expansive wall that had once merely sported the raised letters of 'Starfleet Headquarters' was no longer alone. Beneath the familiar letters, fixed to the wall like a displayed weapon, was a much larger version of the spade/triangle insignia that everyone on the Ares had worn.
Archer frowned at the strange symbol then moved on. Those he passed in the corridor, everyone in official dress, wore the same symbol on their clothes. After a fashion, realizing that everyone to a person sported the newly adopted sign of Starfleet, Archer began to feel like the archaic model of Starfleet officer in his utilitarian blue flight suit uniform with 'Enterprise' patch sewn proudly on the arm.
Archer made his way through the familiar halls, side-stepping and politely declining people who recognized him and tried to start up a conversation, intent on his mission to find Admiral Forrest and get some much-deserved answers. He could not shake the feeling that something was out of place besides the different uniforms and some of the obviously MACO faces prowling around that he did not recognize.
Finally, Archer realized what else was different. He had not seen a single Vulcan. He could not remember a time before when a Vulcan could not be found making his calm way through Starfleet Headquarters, usually with a Vulcan assistant or Starfleet officer at his side. Their presence now was conspicuously lacking.
"Jonathan."
Archer turned at his name and caught sight of the very target of his search. Admiral Forrest was striding down the hall toward the Enterprise commander... him and apparently all the top echelon of Starfleet Command. To Forrest's right was Admiral Leonard, accompanied by his ever-present attache Commander William. A fourth man completed the entourage, a middle-aged man with a powerful stride and steely gaze... a man who screamed MACO to Archer's discerning eye.
Admiral Forrest reached Archer and extended a hand. "I didn't know you were here."
"Just got in, I was hoping I could get a chance to speak with you," Archer answered as he shook Forrest's hand. He turned his eyes to the other men present and greeted them. "Admiral, Commander..." he trailed at the unknown MACO.
"Oh, Sorry, Jon, this is Commodore Raleigh of the MACO contingency of Starfleet Command."
Archer put forth a concerted effort to look unfazed. "Commodore."
An expectant, prolonged silence fell over the gathering.
Admiral Forrest broke the stale-mate as he addressed his earlier party, "Gentlemen, we'll continue this discussion later, for now, I think Captain Archer and I need to talk."
Admiral Leonard, Commander William, and Commodore Raleigh took their leave and Archer and Forrest were left standing in the hallway facing one another.
"Must feel good to be home," Forrest quipped as he gestured for Archer to walk with him.
Archer took up beside his commanding officer and returned evenly, "All due respect, but you know very well how I feel about the recall."
Forrest frowned slightly. "Yes, and I've already explained to you the rationale of the decision."
This was not the fight Archer was looking to pick. "Actually, I'm more interested in what Captain Dalin said when the Ares docked with my ship. What the hell has happened to Starfleet?"
Forrest gave a wane smile. "Right to the jugular, eh, Jonathan?"
"I don't see any reason to skirt the issue, apparently to everyone else it's old news."
Forrest sighed. "It was a joint decision among the command council, a decision I stand by."
"A decision to completely disfigure the organization we've all worked so hard to establish? We were supposed to be about scientific exploration, about meeting new species under a flag of peace; I turn around twice and find we've been turned into a military unit."
"It's not that extreme, Jonathan."
"Are you sure? What I saw aboard the Ares seems to suggest otherwise."
Forrest pursed his lips. "I'll admit that the integration of MACO perspective and manpower has been a little... rocky, but we're working on smoothing out the rough spots. We ARE still about science." Forrest glanced around calmly before continuing, "The Ares... should not be held as indicative of the new direction of Starfleet. She's a ship of war, Captain, a vessel with a single, defensive purpose, so the MACO contribution to that mission was more substantial than we intend to make standard for future Starfleet commissions."
Archer was not appeased. "Then what is our new mission profile? What will Starfleet be when you've ironed out all the kinks?"
"A mission of exploration, as it always was. This doesn't change Starfleet's directives, we just felt it was best that we adopt a policy of a good defense... a better defense." Forrest slowed and looked over at Archer. "If the Xindi incident has taught us anything it is that we went out there under-prepared. We won't make the same mistake again."
"Max," Archer said, drawing the conversation into acutely familiar terms, "it took us years of committee after committee to establish the tenets of Starfleet. It was a piece-meal process, hours of deliberation and compromise. You've changed the core of Starfleet in just a few months."
"These are extenuating circumstances, even you cannot deny that. Jon... people are scared. An alien probe slipped right up on our doorstep and killed millions of people before we could do a thing to stop them. How else are we supposed to respond? The moment we put ourselves out there in deep space we accepted the responsibility of defending our home world against enemies we might create."
Archer went quiet.
"This is far from Starfleet's death knell, Captain," Forrest stated firmly, "it's a growing pain. We'll emerge from this crisis wiser, more capable, and yes... more formidable. We can't afford not to be."
Both men drew abreast of a large bay window and Admiral Forrest came to a halt and faced outward, eyes cast over the cityscape. Archer stopped alongside the admiral and stood in heavy silence with the older man.
Forrest seemed to collect his thoughts a moment before saying lowly, "I am sorry that you were given no word regarding the changes. I felt you were dealing with enough in hunting down the Xindi and that the last thing you needed to concern yourself with was politics. If that has proven to be a problem then I accept blame for that. At the time I thought I was doing you a service not to bother you with operational quibbles."
Archer snorted. "Restructuring the entire command and mission structure of Starfleet is a little more than a quibble." The captain stopped, sighed, then let it go.
Forrest allowed a small, humored smile but remained quiet.
Archer looked down both ends of the hall, still void of any signs of Vulcan life, and at last turned to the admiral again. "What's been going on with the Vulcans?"
Forrest's good humor vanished at once, replaced by tasked, weary frustration. "The Vulcans... it's an absolute mess. They pitched a fit over the Ares and its mission profile."
"That's the impression we gathered from what the Ares crew told us."
Forrest shook his head. "For a while they were an inch away from pulling all technical and cultural support to Earth and our manned deep space program." Archer's eyebrows climbed. He'd been told the Vulcans objected to Starfleet's actions, but he didn't know the disagreement had been so strong.
"We've had to capitulate on a few points to maintain our alliance, such as it is. The Ares's status as a one-of-a-kind unequivocal warship is one of those concessions, that and we've agreed to reopen talks regarding the new form of Starfleet Command to allow for their input on procedural changes to the organization–those rough spots that I mentioned we're trying to iron out."
"That doesn't really explain why I haven't seen any Vulcans since I got here."
"No... Starfleet Command was used to dealing with the Vulcans, handling their conservative measures and recommendations delicately. The MACOs, however, weren't as conciliatory to our alien friends, and once we'd instated MACO officers into Starfleet high command positions it turned into a circus. Commodore Raleigh really stepped on a few Vulcan toes; he wanted a fully locked and loaded warship to fight the Xindi and the Vulcans were staunchly opposed. Raleigh swayed the council and got his ship, blatantly disregarding Vulcan reservations and objections, and the Vulcans took it personally."
"It's not like we haven't butted heads with them in the past; they were never ones to easily get offended."
"True... but this time it wasn't just Starfleet. The plans for the NX Ares were made public once the proposal had passed Starfleet projects' committee and Earth took comfort in the idea of a ship that could stand between us and another tragedy like Florida and Venezuela from happening again. When the Vulcans were openly opposed to the project the public reaction was... bitter. The popular, if inaccurate, notion was that the Vulcans were trying to weaken our ability to protect ourselves, which dovetailed disastrously with the already held conception that Vulcan High Command has been responsible for holding back our warp program for decades. As you can imagine, it didn't go over well."
"I imagine not."
"Some radical groups have gone so far as to suggest we evict the Vulcans from Earth entirely and cease all relations with them, diplomatic and scientific."
"You can't be serious."
"They're the fringe, but the idea has been circulated. We won't go to such extremes, of course. Starfleet is determined to preserve all friendly relations with Vulcan, but until the controversy around human/Vulcan relations has simmered the Vulcans have been restricting themselves pretty much to the consulate. Hopefully, by the time we can approach them on more neutral terms, the Xindi problem will have been dealt with and we can free ourselves for much more negotiating maneuverability. As long as we're under the gun to deal with the Xindi threat to Earth we're on tenuous political ground with the Vulcans."
"They can't begrudge us after what happened," Archer protested, knowing the contrary truth even as he said it.
"I think that they think we're going about it the wrong way."
"You mean the human way."
"It's been enough for the Vulcans to oppose our actions before, no reason that should change because a few million people died." Forrest sighed and rubbed his eyes with one hand. Archer couldn't remember seeing the tenacious Starfleet officer so weary; the Xindi had caused more damage to humans than just the deaths of the victims they'd incinerated.
Forrest turned to Archer and asked, completely dropping the earlier topic, "How's your crew?"
"With the exception of Ensign Sato, I ordered everyone to take two days' leave while Enterprise is in at Jupiter Station. They've all earned a break; everyone's been performing above and beyond on this mission."
Forrest nodded, paused, then ventured cautiously, "I hope the Ares crew didn't cause any trouble for your Vulcan crew member when the two ships docked... those people were here on Earth for the entire fiasco with the Vulcans and Starfleet Command and many formed some pretty strong opinions about our galactic friends... especially the MACOs."
Archer frowned at the memory of that initial brunch with Dalin's men and his own command staff. The anti-Vulcan sentiment had been palpable. He also remembered the way his crew reacted to the subdued hostility toward Sub-commander T'Pol... Archer recalled vividly Commander Tucker's acutely defensive, protective response in particular to the Ares crew's animosity.
Archer finally answered, "We noticed that they weren't too happy about having to work with T'Pol, but it didn't create any problem within the Enterprise crew. If anything, it made things a little tense between the crews." Archer managed a weak smirk. "The rest of us took more of an affront to the Ares crew's attitude toward T'Pol than she did."
Forrest returned a faint smile of relief at the news. Archer could only smile knowingly, as one amused at a private joke. Forrest did not know Enterprise and her crew if he had to question or doubt how completely T'Pol was considered one of them.
"Two days' leave... will that include you, Captain?" Forrest asked.
"Everyone but me... I'm heading back to Jupiter Station in the morning to supervise the upgrades, repairs, and resupplying. I had to expressly order a number of my department heads to leave Enterprise; they didn't want to leave their stations in someone else's hands. Least I can do is keep an eye on the ship in their stead."
"I'm sure it has nothing to do with your own concern for Enterprise," Forrest said tongue-in-cheek, barely containing a smile.
"Well, I wouldn't want her to feel she's been abandoned."
Forrest laughed. "Suppose I order you to take a breather?"
Archer really hoped it was just an idle threat.
Without waiting for an answer Forrest sighed. "It was good to see you, Jonathan, considering how short a time you'd be in range of Earth. I trust I've addressed all your concerns?"
"Well enough, Admiral."
"Then if you'll excuse me, I have a lot of work to do." He shook the captain's hand. "Good luck, Captain."
Archer accepted the admiral's good wishes and the two men moved away from one another. The captain headed back toward the main doors of Starfleet Headquarters; he had to find the ensign attending to Porthos then settle down in temporary quarters for one night of respite on Earth before returning to his ship.
Back to Chapter 9
Continue to Chapter 11
|
