Seems pretty interesting, and if I am not mistaken, that last remark is alluding to "Storm Front, Part II"
Yep!
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The door chimes rang out again. Archer, alone for a while after Daniels left out that same door, opened it. T’Pol stood on the other side in formal Vulcan attire. Archer reached forward and hugged her. T’Pol, having never been hugged like this before from Archer, returned it by putting her hands on his back.
“How have you been, T’Pol?”
“Good. And yourself?”
“Never better.”
T’Pol nodded and followed him in. “You appear to be a little more . . . excited than normal.”
“Big day.”
“Agreed.” T’Pol looked to the window. The clouds were starting to break up, sunshine and blue sky coming through.
“Do we have time to talk?” Archer asked her.
“We do,” she answered, sitting down in the same chair Daniels had been sitting in.
“Good.” Archer sat across from her. “I’ve been feeling rather nostalgic all day. You know what that means?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Thought we’d talk about the good ol’ days.”
“Any specific day you wanted to talk about?”
Archer considered the question. “That last mission.”
T’Pol eyes fluttered. “After Terra Prime?”
“Yes.”
“Any reason why?”
“Because we don’t talk about it. And it was something . . .” He paused. “After the Xindi attack, we didn’t do much exploring. Because then we had the Augments, then the problems on Vulcan, the Romulans, Terra Prime, and then the Romulan War. By time we were finished with that, the crew wasn’t . . . wasn’t what it had been.” Archer paused again, rubbing his chest and coughing loudly.
“Are you all right?”
“Fine. Just old.”
T’Pol considered his lie, but knew him better than to argue. Instead, she recalled what spurned that last mission.
2155
“A wormhole? Really?”
T’Pol looked up from her scope. “It appears to be so. It’s highly unstable if it is and incredibly small.”
“Just how small?”
“Two meters, possibly smaller.”
“Where does it lead to?” Sato asked.
“Unknown.”
Archer looked the screen. “Can we see it?”
“I am attempting to pinpoint it,” she reported back, fingers at work, trying to lock on it. A few seconds later, the wormhole appeared on the screen. It was a sickly green looking thing, wavering slowly in space.
“Continue scans, Commander,” T’Pol said, walking to his chair. “Travis, keep our distance.”
“Understood sir.”
Sato looked up. “Captain, I’m getting . . . I’m getting a signal. A transmission.”
Archer blinked. “From the wormhole?”
“Yes sir.”
“Can we hear it?”
“Yes, but it’s a language I don’t understand. I’ll try to translate it first.”
“Send back greetings,” Archer ordered and sat down in his chair. “I’d like to talk to our new friends.”
“A single transmission and they’re friends?” asked Reed. “Rushing things a bit, aren’t we?”
Archer grinned. “Unless their ship is two meters or smaller, I don’t think we have to worry about them too much, Malcolm.”
An alarm rang out at that instant on Reed’s board. “In-coming vessel, sir. Klingon bird-of-prey!”
“Tactical alert!” Archer ordered. “Polarize the hull plating, arm phase cannons and photon torpedoes!”
The ship shook violently as the bird-of-prey swept towards Enterprise. Phaser beams shot out, striking the bird-of-prey, but to no avail. Sparks rained down behind Archer as yet another spray of disrupter fire came upon them.
“Return fire!”
“Phase cannons one and two are down!” Reed reported.
“They’re demanding your head, Captain,” Sato said from his station, one hand on her earpiece.
“A second Klingon bird-of-prey is in-coming,” T’Pol announced.
“Travis, get ready to retreat,” Archer commanded.
Quite suddenly, the second bird-of-prey descended upon the first. Disrupter fire shot through space, smashing in the first. Reed, taking swift advantage of this, fired as well, doing his best to coordinate with the new arrival.
Within minutes, the first bird-of-prey exploded spectacularly.
“Sir, the commander of the second Klingon vessel wants to beam aboard,” Sato stated.
“Mr. Reed, you’re with me. Have MACOs ready at the transporter platform. Just in case.”
Archer and Reed arrived shortly to the transporter pad. With a curt nod to its operator, a form materialized before them. He was a huge Klingon, tall and very muscular. And even without his ridges, Archer recognized him.
“Klaang.”
“Archer. We will have words.”
Klaang followed Archer into the situation room, where the men stood. Klaang snarled a little bit and touched his forehead. “Rumor has it you’re responsible for this.”
“Not directly. And I thought that information was classified.”
“As a former courier for the High Council, I am still privy to a great deal of information. Don’t worry. I’m sure that history will be re-written with all aliens removed from mention – as usual. The great historians are already talking about the disastrous first contact between our people.” Klaang smiled broadly.
“Is that how you view it?”
“You save my life, Archer. I just saved yours.”
“Isn’t destroying that vessel going to get you in trouble with your superiors?”
“That House was a rival of mine,” Klaang responded. “It was permitted. And it removed my blood debt to you, Captain Archer.”
“I suppose I should thank you.”
Klaang nodded and smiled. “No need. There is a price on your head, Captain. I would steer clear of my people if I were you.”
“Including you?”
Klaang was headed for the door, but paused briefly. He turned around slowly. “I have spoken in your favor, Captain. We are even. I will have no more business with you.”
***
Back on the bridge, Captain Archer rejoined his senior staff. “The bird-of-prey is veering off,” Reed reported as soon as Archer arrived. “They’ve gone to warp. What was all that about, sir?”
Archer rubbed his chin. “I suppose you could say that we have one less Klingon to fear.”
“It was kind of strange to see Klaang without his ridges.”
“Agreed.” The ship suddenly rocked. “What now?!”
T’Pol went to work as Enterprise lurched forward – towards the wormhole. “The explosion has caused some sort of reaction with the wormhole. It’s collapsing. However, it’s undergoing a massive gravimetric distortion. We’re being pulled in – meaning we will be destroyed!”
“Travis!”
“I’m trying to take us to warp, sir!”
“Trip!”
“I think I’ve got something down here, cap, but I’m not sure!” Trip called from Engineering.
“Not sure about what?!” Archer demanded, the ship vibrating as it was pulled back.
“Well, we could end being destroyed by that collapsing wormhole or we could possibly destroy ourselves!”
“I’ll take the risk with us! Do what you gotta do!”
“Right. Travis, take her to maximum warp! Really push it! Everyone else, hang tight!”
Travis complied. The ship’s rocking became more intense. A hunk of the ceiling swung down and struck two lieutenants. Phlox arrived quickly.
“TRIP!” Archer shouted, as it began obvious that they weren’t going anywhere.
“I’m giving you all she’s got, cap!”
“Travis, adjust your pitch by .2 degrees mark 4,” T’Pol ordered. “The gravity distortion is less there.”
Travis did so. The ship hit that mark and rocketed out of there. It zoomed away from the death throes of the wormhole just in time.
“Slow us down,” Archer commanded after checking in with T’Pol.
Phlox slapped his hands together. “Well, that was exciting.”
Archer grinned at him.
Sato looked up from her station. “Captain, I’ve completed the translation. The transmission cut off when we warped out and it was mostly garbled anyways.”
“What did it say?”
“Mainly, they wished to convey their apologies for not being able to communicate with us with the wormhole destabilizing so rapidly on our end. They look forward to some day being able to contact us in person.”
“Did you get their name?”
She shook her head. “No sir. But they got ours.”
Archer nodded. “Good enough, then.”
At that moment, Trip arrived on the bridge. “We’re good down in Engineering, but I wanted to make sure everyone was okay up here.”
T’Pol turned her seat. “We are.”
Trip smirked at her. “I’m glad.”
“Travis, take us back out.”
2245
T’Pol stood next to Archer as the shuttle took them up to the orbital starbase. The sphere in its center held six saucers, each one capable of holding up ten four starships. It was a light day, so there were only four in all at the starbase. And there was only one Archer and T’Pol carried about seeing.
The USS Enterprise NCC-1701.
Constitution-class starship, second of twelve such starship commissioned by Starfleet Command in service to the Federation. Maximum cruising capacity of Warp 8 with a crew of two hundred and fifty. To be commanded by Captain Robert April for a five year deep-space mission of exploration, defense, and promotion of peaceful relations.
“It’s beautiful,” Archer said as the shuttle crossed over the saucer section. “The trial runs were all finished last week. It’s ready for space.”
“We launched straight from dry-dock, if I recall,” T’Pol responded.
“Well, that’s what happens when you’re rushed into service,” he replied with a smile.
Within minutes, they arrived in the shuttle bay and were soon greeted by Robert April himself. He was a short man with dark brown hair and distinctively sharp eyebrows. He stepped towards Archer and extended his hand.
“Mr. President.”
Archer paused and looked briefly to T’Pol. He then took April’s hand. “Admiral, if you must. It’s my current rank.”
“Of course, sir. Are you ready for the tour?”
“I would be delighted, Captain.”
The complete tour lasted for about an hour. Along with Archer and T’Pol were various members of Starfleet Command who had yet to come aboard the Enterprise – as well as two or three Federation ambassadors and a Vulcan who trailed behind Archer and T’Pol with his hood up.
When they all came to Engineering, Archer made straight for warp core. “We certainly have come a long way, haven’t we?” he muttered to himself. The Vulcan who trailed him also stared out at the engine.
“It sure is something,” the Vulcan said to Archer from underneath his hood.
Archer looked over at him, smiled, and turned back to the crowd as they were slowly escorted back out of the room.
At that moment, everything went a little dizzy. Archer grabbed hold of a nearby console to support himself. April, the Vulcan, and T’Pol all leapt to his side.
“Are you okay, sir?” asked April, helping Archer steady himself.
“Just – just fine.”
“Do you want to go to sickbay? My wife is the Chief Medical Officer.”
Archer grinned slapped April on the shoulder. “I’m fine, Captain. Just this new technology has me a little excited that’s all.”
April forced a smile and walked closely with Archer out of the room.
A few minutes later, they all arrived on the bridge. As the guests wandered around the bridge, observing its latest technology and newest equipment, Archer made straight for the chair. He put his hand on the back and closed his eyes, remembering his first maiden voyage.
“What do you think, sir?”
Archer opened his eyes and looked to April.
“She’s a thing of beauty, Robert,” Archer replied.
“Thank you, sir. Any words of advice?”
Archer looked around the bridge. “Space is . . . dangerous . . .” He paused. “And amazing. You will see things you never thought you’d see. You’ll learn things you never thought you’d know. You’ll visit new worlds and encounter new civilizations. Things are going to get hard at times, but with the right crew and the right ship . . . you can boldly go.”
April bowed his head a little. “Thank you, sir.”
Archer patted his shoulders. “Godspeed, Captain.”
***
The shuttle touched down a few hours later, Archer having seen the newest flagship off. He felt extremely exhausted, but knew that the night wasn’t finished with him yet. T’Pol and the Vulcan followed him off the landing pad. As soon as they were out of sight, Archer turned to the Vulcan.
“Trip,” he said, “pull down that hood.”
The Vulcan complied, revealing a gray-haired old man with pointed ears. Charles Tucker smiled and embraced his former captain like a brother.
2168
“I have business to attend to on Vulcan,” T’Pol said. She looked back at the one hooded Vulcan behind her. The taller one – he nodded. “But it can wait.”
The taller Vulcan stepped up next to T’Pol and pulled back his hood. A sworn secret that bound them together tightened. Trip was alive and well, living on Vulcan with T’Pol after his undercover mission in Romulan space during the war.
“Hey guys.”
Archer glanced around and then looked back at Trip, T’Pol, and their son. “Let’s find a private room. Someplace we can reminisce.”
Trip smiled at his old shipmates. “Sounds good to me, boss.”
2245
Trip, T’Pol, and Archer sat outside a bistro in San Francisco, enjoying a late dinner under the stars. Archer took another sip of his wine and smiled.
“Remember when we landed on the Sphere in the Delphic Expanse to repair Shuttlepod One?”
Trip laughed. “How could I forget? The damn thing goes floatin’ off into space and we’re stuck on the Sphere trying to figure out how the hell to get it down!”
“And what do we do? Reach for our phasers!” Archer continued. “Blast the thruster just to knock it down!”
“Right! And then it rolled right at us!”
T’Pol sipped her water. “I know. I read the report.”
Trip shook his head. “The woman never changes.”
Archer grinned. “Nice to know some things don’t. It was good to see you again, Trip.”
“Same here, cap’n.”
“How about a toast?” T’Pol suggested, motioning for the server to bring her some wine.
“Well what do you think of that?” Trip asked, grinning away.
“So what are we going to toast to?” Archer questioned.
“Enterprise,” T’Pol replied.
Trip nodded in agreement. “Can’t argue with that.”
Tomorrow afternoon, Jonathan Archer would pass away in his apartment due to natural causes. He was 133 years old and would be considered among the greatest men in Starfleet history.
“To the Enterprise,” Trip said, lifting a glass.
“The Enterprise,” T’Pol continued, raising her own glass.
“Past, present, and future,” Archer finished. “Cheers.”
Fin
Good call.
