Star Trek: Enterprise: The Romulan War: Beneath the Raptor's Wing (Star Trek : Enterprise)

by Michael A. Martin

  “It would, Captain,” said Sinak. “It could also significantly impair the operation of our transporter and tractor beam.”

  “Please stand by for further instructions, Altern Sinak,” T’Vran said. “Captain T’Vran out.” She touched the small comm unit in her hand, closing the channel to the bridge.

  “If an escape pod has indeed landed on one of the system’s cometary bodies,” Ych’a said soberly, “then you may need to send a reconnaissance and recovery team out to investigate it directly.”

  Nodding, T’Vran said, “I regret that I can see no alternative. Unfortunately, the Kiri-kin-tha is a merchant ship, not a military vessel. Our auxiliary vessels were designed primarily for delivering cargo rather than for rescue and recovery operations. And very few members of my crew possess the training necessary to perform such operations, even if our equipment were adequate to the task.”

  “In that case, Captain, I request that you allow me to undertake the mission,” Ych’a said with no hesitation that Trip could detect.

  T’Vran paused and displayed a thoughtful expression before replying. “If an escape pod has indeed landed on that cometary body, it may hold injured people who cannot wait for the conclusion of a lengthy deliberative process.”

  These people must get paid by the syllable, Trip thought. They’re wordy even when they’re trying to say they’re in a freaking hurry!

  “Very well,” the captain said. “This is somewhat irregular, but in this instance urgency demands it.”

  “I will leave immediately,” Ych’a said as she moved toward the hatchway, which slid obediently open in response to her approach. Pausing over the threshold, she looked back at T’Vran and Trip and said, “I have one request before I depart, Captain.”

  “What do you require?” T’Vran asked.

  The V’Shar agent pointed directly at Trip. “I want Commander Tucker to assist me.”

  Trip’s eyebrows rose involuntarily. Well, I did want to get out of this teensy little footlocker they call ‘guest quarters,’ he thought. Guess I should start being a little more careful what I wish for....

  SEVEN

  Enterprise

  “ERIKA!” ARCHER SAID TO the image of the dark-haired, olive-skinned woman a heartbeat or so after it appeared on the monitor screen sitting atop his ready-room desk. “Damn, but you’re a sight for sore eyes! I was beginning to think the worst.”

  “Those Vulcan ships that attacked us near Alpha Centauri knocked out our subspace radio, and we only managed to get it back up and running a little while ago,” Captain Erika Hernandez said. “They gave us a run for our money, but Columbia is quite a bit tougher than the bad guys gave us credit for. Notwithstanding our having to accept a tow home for the rest of our repairs.”

  Archer’s relief at this long-distance reunion gave way, at least in part, to renewed worry. “I’m going to go out on a limb here and assume that the Romulans were really the ones loading the tubes and pushing the ‘fire’ button.”

  “I’ll go out on that limb with you, Jon. But you can certainly color the Vulcans embarrassed.”

  “Let’s hope their getting caught with their pants down like that spurs them into taking some serious action against the Romulans,” Archer said, leaning forward in his chair.

  A look of unease crossed Hernandez’s face. “That might be a bit optimistic,” she said.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “I just checked in with Admiral Gardner.”

  He vented some of his impatience by drumming his fingers on the desktop. “Did he have any news from Vulcan?”

  “Let’s just say he didn’t leave me filled with hope,” she said, sounding both weary and sad. “He left me with the impression that he might have more to say about the Vulcans once the Coalition Council finishes with today’s closed-door meeting. I’m told Administrator T’Pau herself is addressing the assembly.”

  Archer sat in silence, absorbing her words. He’d known Erika Hernandez, both as a lover and a Starfleet colleague, long enough to trust her instincts implicitly.

  “I’ll call you back later,” he said at length. “I think I’d better go straight to Gardner and try to find out what’s going on.” It certainly beat waiting around for new orders and dispatches from Starfleet Command.

  She nodded, and he saw an ironic twinkle in her eye. “All right. In the meantime, let’s make plans for dinner—say, at the Lotus Blossom?— for the next time we’re both in town, Jon. Eventually.”

  “Eventually,” he said, smiling, though he could think of a few alternative restaurant choices. But there would be plenty of time to argue later about whether or not the 602 Club up in Mill Valley laid out a better table than Tommy’s place in Chinatown. “I’ll put the date in pencil for now.” He knew that she was perfectly aware that Enterprise was still months away from Earth, even at maximum warp—and that was assuming that fate had no unforeseen detours or delays in store for either of them. Regardless, it felt good to imagine a time, however distant, after which this whole Romulan business would finally be behind them both.

  A few minutes later the image of Admiral Sam Gardner replaced that of Columbia’s commander. The admiral’s dour expression told him that whatever news he might have to share wouldn’t be good.

  Archer wasted no time on pleasantries. “Has T’Pau finished addressing the Council yet, Admiral?”

  “Just a few minutes ago,” Gardner said, his manner almost funereal.

  Archer swallowed, fearing he already knew the answer to his next question. “So how many ships are the Vulcans going to send to help us rout the Romulan beachhead at Calder?”

  “A nice, round number,” the admiral said, his tone growing strained and bitter. “Zero, to be precise.”

  Archer shook his head in frustration. “They’re digging in deeper and deeper on Calder II every day. More ships, more shipbuilding hardware, and more troops. If we wait much longer, we might never pry that entire system out of their claws.”

  “Starfleet Command and the MACO chiefs made the same arguments, Captain,” Gardner said. “It didn’t seem to make much of an impression.”

  “Do they think there’s a higher priority defense objective than Calder?” Archer wanted to know. “A Romulan base at Calder puts the enemy in Vulcan’s backyard just as much as it puts them in ours.”

  Gardner frowned deeply. “You’re misunderstanding me, Jonathan. The Vulcan government has declined to send any ships out to defend any Coalition worlds beyond Vulcan’s own holdings.”

  Archer had expected to have problems with the details of Vulcan’s tactical decisions. What he hadn’t expected was that T’Pau’s military strategy might cause him to question her sanity. The defense of Vulcan’s motivations that he had mounted before the leaders of the Tarod IX outpost was suddenly beginning to ring very hollow.

  Through a thickening haze of incredulity, he said, “Why?”

  “Administrator T’Pau has declined to answer that question as well,” Gardner said. With a sigh, he added, “Now I have to figure out what I’m going to say about this when the press comes calling.”

  Archer answered with a humorless chuckle. “I think I’d rather face the Romulans.”

  “Be careful what you wish for, Captain.”

  Archer ignored the comment, bitterly aware that he was likely to be up to his ass in Romulans very soon regardless of any decisions made on Vulcan. “What’s the rest of the Coalition saying about this, Admiral?”

  “It’s pretty much what you’d expect, at least so far. One of the founding worlds of the Coalition of Planets has just abrogated the Coalition Compact’s common defense provisions, big-time. The delegations from Alpha Centauri, Andoria, and Tellar are already grousing loudly about Vulcan leaving its partners in the lurch while the Romulans assemble their invasion force right across the street. Within another hour or two, I’d expect the Centauri, the Andorians, and the Tellarites to join with United Earth in lodging formal diplomatic protests.”

  �
�Let’s hope they can sustain that much unity when the Romulans come a-calling,” Archer said.

  “I need you back at the home front before it comes to that,” said the admiral. “I want Enterprise to make best speed for Earth. I know you’re at extreme range right now, so the sooner you get under way, the better. In the meantime, Starfleet will be pulling out all the stops to upgrade our systemwide defenses, and do whatever we can to keep the rest of the Coalition safe from further sneak attacks.”

  Archer acknowledged Gardner’s orders, and both men signed off.

  After relaying Enterprise’s new course and speed orders to Travis Mayweather, who hadn’t yet had an opportunity to debark for his next assignment, Archer wondered whether or not “the rest of the Coalition” included Vulcan.

  Disturbing.

  As emotional as that characterization was, it was the most accurate description T’Pol could make of the effect that the messages she had just received from Vulcan had had upon her.

  As she left her quarters on B deck, took the turbolift down three levels, then strode along the outer starboard-side corridor of E deck, she could think of only one person aboard Enterprise, save perhaps Doctor Phlox, with whom she could discuss the contents and implications of that message.

  She stopped before a closed hatchway and touched the door-chime control on the companel mounted on the wall beside it.

  “Come,” came Jonathan Archer’s voice through the companel. The hatchway slid open an instant later, and she stepped over the threshold and into the captain’s quarters.

  “I must apologize for visiting you so late, Captain,” she said.

  Captain Archer was still in his duty uniform, though it was in a noticeably rumpled state after the lengthy day he had put in. Sitting at the foot of his bed, he idly stroked the neck fur of the small Terran canine with which he shared his quarters.

  “Don’t apologize, T’Pol. In fact, I was about to interrupt whatever you were doing.”

  “Regarding Administrator T’Pau’s announcement, I presume.”

  The captain nodded. “I was hoping you might shed a little light on why T’Pau has decided to sit out the war, now that you’ve had a little time to think about it.” He stopped stroking the dog and gestured toward a nearby chair. “Please, have a seat, Commander. You’re making Porthos nervous. And sometimes that makes him, ah, well, fart.”

  Finding the animal to be fragrant enough without the addition of any further olfactory variables, T’Pol wasted no time assuming a seated, if ramrod-straight, posture.

  “I must confess that I have thought about little other than the administrator’s decision since I learned of it,” she said, clasping her hands tightly in her lap.

  Archer resumed scratching the dog. “It didn’t make any sense to me a few hours ago when Admiral Gardner broke the news, and it still doesn’t add up now.”

  “I am not privy to all of the factors that went into Administrator T’Pau’s decision-making process,” T’Pol said, trying not to sound desperately noncommittal.

  “You’re a Vulcan,” Archer said, frowning slightly. “Not to mention a former intelligence agent for the V’Shar. So you’re better equipped than anybody else here to figure out why the leader of your planet’s new government would take any action that might tear the Coalition to pieces—or worse, lead to a Romulan conquest.”

  “I will use my own sources to attempt to discover whatever I can about the reasoning behind T’Pau’s redeployment of Vulcan’s offworld strategic assets, Captain,” she said, meeting his frowning gaze head-on.

  “That seems like a fancy way to say ‘withdrawal,’” Archer said. “T’Pau must have a Ministry of Euphemisms in that new ‘reformist’ government of hers.”

  Ignoring the captain’s obviously facetious comments, T’Pol said, “Regardless, Captain, it seems I will soon have an opportunity to investigate the inner workings of Administrator T’Pau’s government in considerable detail.”

  Archer’s frown only deepened. “What are you talking about?”

  Deciding there was no point in avoiding the reason for her visit any longer, T’Pol said, “I have just received messages from Vulcan, both from the High Command and the civilian government. They have ordered me to return to Vulcan.”

  Archer’s frown gave way to shock. Gently nudging the canine aside, he stood up. “As part of T’Pau’s decision to withdraw Vulcan’s ‘strategic offworld assets.’”

  “‘Redeploy,’” T’Pol reminded him. “But you are essentially correct.”

  Archer looked pale and bereft, like a man who had absorbed entirely too much loss in much too short a time. And that, T’Pol thought, was exactly what Jonathan Archer was, whether he understood it himself or not.

  “Are they sending a ship out here to pick you up?” Archer said after sitting heavily back upon the edge of his bed.

  “The High Command says it has insufficient offworld assets to send a transport ship to bring me home,” T’Pol said, hoping that this detail would provide her captain with some temporary solace. “Pursuant to Administrator T’Pau’s new redeployment orders.”

  “We’re months away from Earth this far out,” Archer said, staring into the middle distance as though reviewing star charts of the core Coalition systems in his head. “But we’ll pass Vulcan on the way home. The High Command must be expecting us to drop you off there.”

  T’Pol nodded. “That is my conclusion as well. I believe my superiors in the High Command are not highly motivated to expedite my return.”

  An ironic smile began to displace Archer’s gloomy expression. “I understand completely. Starfleet Command frequently considers me a pain in the ass, too.”

  T’Pol could see that now was the time, as the humans liked to say, to “drop the other boot.”

  “I am refusing my redeployment orders, Captain,” she said, struggling to keep her voice affect-free and uninflected.

  “What?”

  “I intend to formally resign my commission in the Vulcan Defense Directorate in favor of my honorary Starfleet commander’s commission.”

  Archer looked surprised. “Are you sure that’s wise?”

  “No,” she said, seeing no reason to answer with less than perfect candor.

  Archer rose to his feet again. The animal, which had been attracted back to his lap like iron filings to a magnet, issued a low growl of annoyance.

  “You’re taking quite a gamble with your career, Commander,” Archer said.

  T’Pol nodded. “Perhaps. But my place is here, at your side.”

  Until Trip returns—if he returns—you have no one else, she thought. Besides, she felt a show of loyalty on such a scale as this was necessary in the interests of ameliorating whatever residual distrust the captain might harbor toward her since she left on an unauthorized voyage into Romulan space to rescue Trip some ten days earlier.

  “I want you to go to Vulcan,” Archer said, snapping her out of her reverie.

  His words had taken her completely by surprise. “I’m sorry?” she said.

  “You heard me, Commander.”

  “You’re not satisfied with my performance as your executive officer?” she said, confused.

  “Of course I’m satisfied,” he said, his frown returning for a moment before settling down to a more benign expression. Spreading both his hands before him, the captain added, “Look, I appreciate your wanting to stay aboard Enterprise. Hell, I’ve come to depend on you a whole hell of a lot over the years, particularly now that Trip is... wherever the hell he is right now.

  “But I need somebody I can trust working for me on Vulcan,” Archer said, looking into her eyes as he gently laid his hands on her shoulders. “Somebody who can at least help me figure out what T’Pau is really thinking. Somebody who might, if we’re lucky, help me persuade her to change her mind about leaving Earth and the rest of the Coalition to twist in the Romulan wind.”

  Though she still wasn’t exactly sanguine about the prospect of leaving her captain’s s
ide, T’Pol knew that she wouldn’t have to do so during Enterprise’s months-long voyage to and past her homeworld. And she also felt fairly certain that he was probably right about her having a better chance than any other Enterprise crew member of changing T’Pau’s mind—slim though that chance might prove to be, given the strength of the administrator’s will.

  “Logical,” she said, already beginning to plan how best to approach Vulcan’s new leader, who would almost certainly be back in her office in ShiKahr by the time Enterprise reached Vulcan. “I accept your assignment. Assuming, of course, that T’Pau does not reverse her decision before I arrive.” Despite all logic and precedent, she still fervently hoped that the administrator would soon reconsider her actions.