This story is set in an alternative universe that's been in my head for years. Basically, the starting point is our world today, meaning the timeline of the 21st and 22nd centuries is quite different from both canonical Trekverses. But it still features many of their elements and characters. I tried to not overdo it with the differing details to keep the story as accessible as possible.
Her morning meditation finished, T’Pol stood in front of the window of her room, watching the sun rise over the City of the Future across the bay. As usual, she wished she was over there – where the action was – instead of inside the Vulcan Compound. Shortly after the first Vulcan delegation had arrived here, the City’s governing council had gifted them the piece of land it was built on, grateful that someone had come to save humanity. Over the years, they had cultivated some of the land to grow fruits and vegetables for themselves – a luxury the inhabitants of the City didn’t have. Some of the ingredients of the lychee ice tea she was sipping came from their gardens. She should be content, like everyone else in the Compound seemed to be. But most of the time, the life she was leading felt like it was missing something. What exactly she didn’t quite know. It was entirely irrational and therefore out of bounds. But sometimes she wondered if she should just lean into it. A beep from her computer reminded her of her duties. Only five minutes left before the call. She sighed.
The call was turning out to be just as irritating as she had expected, perhaps even more so. Her superiors had come up with a proposal she thought was quite pointless but apparently impossible to reject.
“Why is this necessary? The launch was postponed already.” she asked as neutrally as possible, a last-ditch effort.
“For now.” Lenal answered, a tinge of smugness in her voice.
“It sounded more permanent to me. ‘Until further notice’, I believe it said on the news.”
“You’re well versed in politics. You know how quickly things can change.”
“As you wish.” T’Pol conceded. “But it will be difficult to get near the ship.”
“We’re in luck,” Lenal said. “There’s a promising opportunity in a few days. You are the cultural attaché, after all.”
***
The opportunity turned out to be a visit by a Sho ship – their first to Earth, as a matter of fact. All across this region of space they were lauded for their cultural achievements and they knew it. And let everyone else knew they knew it. There was a Vulcan saying that every Sho considered themself to be a master poet. But the Leaf sailing on the Western Wind really did carry some of their finest artists as part of an interplanetary tour. At the invitation of the Vulcan Ambassador they had agreed to this short detour on their way to Andoria. A few hours in the Hainan spaceport, three of which would be dedicated to a concert and the recital of poetry in a makeshift venue (livestreamed and recorded for the benefit of the poor barbarians on the planet below), followed by polite mingling – it was technically a first contact for humanity – which the Sho would leave after an hour or so to continue their journey to a more civilized planet.
Although T’Pol found Sho poetry slightly dull a part of her regretted that the event – surely the event of the year – was only to serve as cover for what she was about to do. Everyone who was someone had been invited – she’d only narrowly avoided getting dragged into a tedious conversation with Admiral Gardner, a duty that had fallen to Ambassador Soval instead. Nobody would question her presence at the port and the general distraction would allow her to get to her target unnoticed. Or so they hoped. Pointless and risky.
As she lingered near the entrance to the venue – making sure she was seen – she absent-mindedly let her fingers brush over the small pack she carried underneath her dark red robes. It contained the device she was supposed to hook to Enterprise’s computer to download its database. Which her superiors thought contained all the secrets Starfleet didn’t share with them. T’Pol doubted it would be anything Vulcans didn’t already know.
The crowd at the entrance had grown thin as the concert was about to begin. It was time. If everything worked out as planned she’d be back here for the mingling in about three hours. She went to a bathroom from which she emerged 15 minutes after the concert had begun. Quiet even during normal operations – due to Earth generally being considered a backwater – the civilian part of the port was deserted now. She had expected guards at the entrance to the restricted part of the port at least but there wasn’t anyone to guard the locked doors. The moment of truth. Up until now all she had done was wander about, a perfectly legitimate activity. That would change in a moment. Despite her reservations, she savoured the oncoming thrill of doing something forbidden.
The pack she carried also contained the right tools to crack the seal on the doors. Almost too easy. Generally, Vulcan technology was years ahead of Starfleet’s, the latter appearing almost quaint. She couldn’t understand why their first ship capable of Warp 5 was such a big deal to them in the first place when there were Vulcan ones that could reach Warp 7.
A few minutes later, she stood inside said ship, unimpressed. The corridors were completely dark – not even emergency lighting. Delayed until further notice, indeed. She took the torch light from her bag and switched it on. First, she had to find the right panel to plug the device into. Then she had to hope that the ship’s computer wasn’t switched off, too. Otherwise, it would be a very short mission.
About an hour later, she had finally found a somewhat comfortable position to sit in the narrow maintenance tube next to the device. While observing the progress of the download with growing impatience she was already considering the best route for her way back. All of a sudden, the lights in the corridor were switched on. Briefly, she wondered if the device’s program was to blame. Then, she heard voices, faint, near the entrance. Oh, damn.
***
That had been two days ago. T’Pol sighed, lying uncomfortably on her back on the metal grating floor of yet another maintenance tube, this one above one of the corridors on F deck. No crew quarters and quiet, therefore safer. By now she had gotten to know the maintenance system and the layout of the ship intimately. Talk about learning Starfleet’s secrets.
Upon noticing the intruders she had hastily closed the hatch behind her and remained very still. She hadn’t been able to make out what language they were speaking. Soon after that, the ship had started to move, followed by the faint tell-tale hum of an active warp drive. Though it sounded slightly different than on a Vulcan ship, it was nevertheless unmistakable. At first, she had tried to tell herself that it might just be a short test run they had been unaware of but after two days at sustained warp it was clear something else was going on. An unauthorized launch, a theft even? Despite being the most likely answer it seemed far-fetched. Who would steal a ship whose technology was outdated by the region’s standards? Unless… it wasn’t about technology but about politics. An attempt to destabilize Earth or the relations between Earth and Vulcan maybe? The Andorians then? Her device had been able to tell her who had unlocked the bridge functions (“Archer, Jonathan Beckett”) but that could really mean anything, upon further reflection. His credentials could have been stolen or falsified. Whoever was in charge of the ship now, her clandestine existence in the maintenance tubes wasn’t sustainable for much longer. Eventually, she would have to come out...
The hatch at her feet opened with a clunk, interrupting her train of thoughts.
...or be discovered.
A Black man with short locs popped through the hatch. “Ha! Knew it!” he exclaimed and grabbed one of her ankles before she could react, dragging her through the hatch and down into the corridor beneath. Half way through, she finally managed to get a kick in, her knee hitting him in the face, more accidentally than targeted. He cried out and let go of her. A white woman with short, brown hair rushed to his side. Both wore civilian clothes. All instinct, T’Pol dashed away from them without any clear idea whereto except around the next corner somehow. Another person appeared in her path – a broad-shouldered man with East Asian features. He had just about enough time to yell, “Stop right there!” before she slammed into him, knocking him off his feet. The move made her stumble but she regained her footing quickly, laughing at how easy and yet exhilirating it all was.
“What the hell’s going on?”
She stopped short as someone else was blocking her path. Someone she recognized – Captain Jonathan Archer. And he was in uniform. She felt slightly foolish now – who had she expected to be in charge, really? It was supposed to be his ship, after all.
He looked at her, then at the man behind her. “Zhedong?” he said, slightly disappointed.
“Well, I didn’t expect her to just slam into me!”
In the meantime, the other two had caught up.
“See? I was right! There was someone in the tubes!” The man who had discovered her shouted. “I think she broke my nose, though!”
“I hope it’s not that bad, Kio.” Archer said gently to him.
T’Pol turned half around. “I apologize,” she said. “I thought the ship was being stolen.”
Kio, holding his nose, just glared at her.
“You’re from the embassy, aren’t you?” Archer asked her.
Puzzled, she wondered how he had guessed that before remembering that she was still wearing her formal attire, if a little crumpled by now.
“Ah, yes. I’m the cultural attaché. T’Pol.”
He chuckled. “Cultural attaché. Of course.” More seriously, he added, “dif-tor heh smusma.” accompanied by the customary gesture. His pronunciation wasn’t half bad. “Let’s have a talk.”
The walls of the corridor they were walking down were the same grey as the maintenance tubes, the blue carpet the only dash of colour. Not exactly a cheery aesthetic. T’Pol was the first to break the silence, impatient to know what was really going on.
“I’m confused – is this a Starfleet operation? I was under the impression that the launch had been delayed for the time being.”
“Under the impression, huh?” he answered in a slightly sarcastic tone. “You did that!” he continued with such barely contained anger that T’Pol nearly stopped in surprise.
“Oh, come on! Everybody knows who’s really pulling the strings.” A little gentler, he added, “And no, Starfleet didn’t authorise our launch.”
“So, you did steal the ship!” she exclaimed. Oh, this was exciting!
“Stealing’s the wrong word. It was funded by the public. How can you steal something that already belongs to the people?” He paused to let the argument sink in.
There was a certain kind of logic to that, she had to admit. At the same time, it seemed offensive to her on a fundamental, almost instinctual level. She wished she had been more thorough in her study of Earth’s political philosophies and history as she couldn’t quite put it into context.
Meanwhile, the Captain continued, “All we did was reclaim it ‘cause it was just going to sit there unused. Waste of ressources.”
We? Another interesting word. She wondered what or rather, who it described. Vaguely, she remembered reading that years ago, before his Starfleet career, he had been involved in something called the Lottery protests, which had ended in violence, like so much in human history. She made a mental note to read up on it.
They stopped in front of a non-descript door which he opened for them by punching in a code on the pad next to it. Behind it lay an unremarkable room with a table and some chairs. No windows. It was tiny, no more than five metres wide, but after the last two days it seemed huge to her. Archer gestured for her to sit on the other side of the table while he took a seat with his back to the door, a detail not lost on her.
“Where are we?” she asked in what she hoped was an innocent tone.
“Pretty sure you know that already.” he answered, darkly.
She could guess. The room likely belonged to one of the research labs housed on this deck. Of course, he had chosen the most indistinct one so she wouldn’t learn any new information. And he was sittting closest to the door just in case she’d try something rash. Clever.
“What were you doing in the maintenance tubes?”
“Hiding.”
He laughed. “All right. Let’s start at the beginning. How did you get here? Why are you onboard? And don’t say ‘through the entrance’ or some shit like that.”
That was the thing she disliked most about this job – sometimes it required her to lie blatantly. And while she was able to dismiss half-truths and omissions as something that was at least close to the truth lying as she was about to was in direct contradiction to Surak’s teachings. That she was doing it in service to a higher purpose felt like a hollow justification.
“I was at the port for the cultural event but I found the poetry… intense so I decided to stretch my legs. Then I saw a group of civilians near the restricted docks. They seemed suspicious so I followed them to investigate...”
“Bullshit!” Archer interjected, angrily. He got up and paced up and down in front of the door, glaring at her from time to time. T’Pol estimated that it was better to say nothing. Eventually, he sat back down.
“All right. Let me ask you this way – if we sweeped the tubes what would we find?”
“Well, I was in there for two days...” Her first attempt at human humour – she was a little pleased with herself.
The Captain exhaled sharply and slouched back in his chair. “You know, if it was up to me I’d throw you in the brig…”
“The brig?”
“Lock you up and throw away the key. You stand for everything I despise about your people.”
“But?”
“But... it’s not that simple. I don’t want to cause a diplomatic incident. Situation’s complicated enough already.”
T’Pol was still dwelling on the last sentence and the possible openings it might imply as he continued, “So, we’ll contact your government as soon as possible and figure out a way for you to leave the ship and get home safely.”
“Wait, what? I don’t want to leave!” she said slightly more forcefully than intended. Practically an emotional outburst in Vulcan terms.
“What? But...” He sighed. “Why?”
That was a tricky question that she didn’t quite know how to answer in a comprehensible way. There were two answers. One that was also true in a way but not the real reason – the one she would have told her superiors. The other was the truth but would reveal a lot about herself, more than she was comfortable with. She decided to go with the first option.
“My duty is to Vulcan,” she began.
“What does that even mean? Like, to the government?” the Captain interrupted her. In a softer voice he continued, “The people? High Command? Or whoever you’re really working for, Madam attaché?”
He had spat the last words angrily but T’Pol remained unfazed.
“Fascinating.” she said calmly. “In my view that’s all the same. But not in yours.” She paused but Archer said nothing in response. “What I was trying to say is that I believe my duty would be best fulfilled if I stayed now that your ...mission is under way.”
“I bet. But why should we go along with that?”
She hesitated briefly, wondering if she was overstretching her influence. If so, it couldn’t be helped. It was this moment that counted, she could figure everything else out later.
“Well, my presence would offer you a certain amount of protection...”
The chirp of the Captain’s communicator interrupted her.
“Jon, you need to come up here!” It sounded like the voice of the man who had dragged her from her hide-out.
***
“What’s happening?” Jon asked as he exited the lift and stepped onto the bridge. The viewscreen showed that they had dropped out of Warp.
“Starfleet.” Kio replied from the tactical station. He nodded to the viewscreen on which a tactical overlay appeared. It showed a formation of six Starfleet ships intercepting on Enterprise’s trajectory. Half the fleet. “Looks like they decided to take a stand.”
“Yeah. Didn’t think we’d get this much attention.” Jon quipped, having decided to go for a light-hearted tone for the benefit of his crew.
“What about your nose? You’re okay?” he asked Kio while on his way to the center chair.
“Yeah, apparently I was just a big crybaby.” They both chuckled.
Back in his seat he took a moment to survey the sparsely crewed bridge. Besides Kio and him only two others were present: Shedy Kidane at the helm, promoted to Lieutenant about six months ago, which would have made him the third highest-ranked officer on the ship if they obeyed Starfleet’s rules of hierarchy, and Destiny at comms, a linguistics student, brought along by her older sister Judy, author of the manifest The Case for Direct Action, a belated justification of their doomed movement from years ago. Destiny had spent the better part of the last two days stuyding the manual for her console.
A wave of doubt hit him. He had persuaded a bunch of overly idealistic young people and some revolutionary has-beens to follow him on his personal crusade, and only the latter probably had an understanding of the possible consequences. What have I done?
“We’re being hailed.” Destiny announced.
“On screen.”
As the image appeared, Destiny smiled to herself for having completed the task successfully. Jon, on the other hand, winced when he saw Captain Erika Hernandez on the screen. It pained him that someone he knew so well and had such a deep connection with was on the opposite side.
“Jon, you need to stop this right now.”
“You know I can’t. We’re here to prove a point...”
“By stealing a starship?” Erika interjected. “This is the most irresponsible thing you’ve ever done!”
And that list was long as they both knew, he thought, finding his way back to his usual mode of overconfidence, his earlier doubts swept away.
“If we turn around now the project will never get off the ground again.” he said.
“You don’t know that. We just need to be a little more patient.”
“How much longer are we supposed to wait?”
“Listen, I understand your frustration,” she said in a more conciliatory tone. “I mean, we all share it. But this isn’t the way. All you’re doing is proving the Vulcans right. I promise that if you end this now I’ll make sure you get a fair hearing.”
He laughed. “I think we’ll pass.”
On the screen, Erika shook her head. “Think about it, at least. This is your last chance. If you cross this line there’s no coming back. Starfleet will never let it go.”
With that, the screen went dark.
“They’re moving in our direction.” Kio said.
Archer sighed, annoyed that he had not been able to adequately explain what they were doing, not even to Erika. He just had to hope others would understand.
“Shedy, plot a course to evade them. Warp 4.5.” They could easily outrun any other Starfleet ship. “Oh, and make sure to stay out of their weapon range at all times.”
“You really think they would fire on us?” the Eritrean helmsman asked back, shocked.
“That’s what I would do.”
***
Archer came back to the room with a stern look on his face which made T’Pol wonder what had happened in the meantime.
“So… this protection you mentioned – are you serious about that?”
“Yes.” Now she was really overdoing it.
“I still don’t get it, though. Why you want to stay, I mean.”
“I don’t know how to convey it… Have you ever been to Vulcan?”
“Several times.”
“Oh, right.” she acknowledged, surprised. It was easy to forget that he had been part of an elite – as much as that existed on Earth – all of his life, due to the work of his father. “Well, what’s your impression of it?”
He leaned back to think. A few seconds passed. “It was… nice.”
She couldn’t hold back a surprised smile. “Really?”
“Don’t make me repeat it.” he said with a smirk. “I grew up in Na’aowan. As kids our idea of fun was exploring the sunken houses by the waterfront or digging through the nearby trash heap for cool stuff. Almost everywhere seems pretty nice to me.”
She tried to imagine little Johnny and his friends standing on top of a trash heap, going through its contents, and failed. Anything she had ever experienced in her life was too far removed from such squalid conditions. She wondered why his parents hadn’t moved first chance they got.
“Well, I guess ‘nice’ is one way of putting it. Vulcan society hasn’t changed much in centuries. It’s very orderly and everyone… knows their place.”
Archer seemed to consider her words but there was no sign he understood what she was trying to say. This was turning out to be more difficult than she had anticipated.
“In other words,” she added, “it’s… boring.”
“So… you want an adventure?”
She nodded even though it was only an approximation of what she meant.
“That’s it? Huh.” he said. “Not sure I buy it.”
Amazed that he found the truth unconvincing, she didn’t know what to say.
“But all right, you can stay. You better come up with a more believable reason, though. There might be a vote.”
“A vote?”
“Yeah. Before we started we decided to regularly discuss what we do. This will only work on the basis of consensus. A new crew member is a pretty big decision and someone might challenge it.”
She had never heard of such a thing. How remarkable. This would be a fascinating experience.
***
Epilogue
Two days later, T’Pol sat alone in one of the science labs, her domain now that she had been elected Science Officer. Any worries about her believability the Captain (or Jon, everyone aboard seemed to be on a first name basis) might have had had turned out to be unfounded.
After several consultations of the frustratingly disordered manual, a trip to the sensor array and soldering connections by hand she had finally managed to get a connection through to her superiors which she was reasonably sure would not be detected.
“High Command has concerns about your proposal.” Lenal said. “It might put them in an untenable position with Starfleet.”
“Have they asked us for assistance?”
“Not yet. Your presence on Enterprise has complicated matters. Starfleet Command did not find our cover story for how you came to be onboard entirely convincing.”
Unsurprising.
“It might become necessary to placate them.” Lenal continued. “One option would be to provide them with insights regarding Enterprise and its crew. Would you be able to provide that?”
“Yes.”
Opportunity
Her morning meditation finished, T’Pol stood in front of the window of her room, watching the sun rise over the City of the Future across the bay. As usual, she wished she was over there – where the action was – instead of inside the Vulcan Compound. Shortly after the first Vulcan delegation had arrived here, the City’s governing council had gifted them the piece of land it was built on, grateful that someone had come to save humanity. Over the years, they had cultivated some of the land to grow fruits and vegetables for themselves – a luxury the inhabitants of the City didn’t have. Some of the ingredients of the lychee ice tea she was sipping came from their gardens. She should be content, like everyone else in the Compound seemed to be. But most of the time, the life she was leading felt like it was missing something. What exactly she didn’t quite know. It was entirely irrational and therefore out of bounds. But sometimes she wondered if she should just lean into it. A beep from her computer reminded her of her duties. Only five minutes left before the call. She sighed.
The call was turning out to be just as irritating as she had expected, perhaps even more so. Her superiors had come up with a proposal she thought was quite pointless but apparently impossible to reject.
“Why is this necessary? The launch was postponed already.” she asked as neutrally as possible, a last-ditch effort.
“For now.” Lenal answered, a tinge of smugness in her voice.
“It sounded more permanent to me. ‘Until further notice’, I believe it said on the news.”
“You’re well versed in politics. You know how quickly things can change.”
“As you wish.” T’Pol conceded. “But it will be difficult to get near the ship.”
“We’re in luck,” Lenal said. “There’s a promising opportunity in a few days. You are the cultural attaché, after all.”
***
The opportunity turned out to be a visit by a Sho ship – their first to Earth, as a matter of fact. All across this region of space they were lauded for their cultural achievements and they knew it. And let everyone else knew they knew it. There was a Vulcan saying that every Sho considered themself to be a master poet. But the Leaf sailing on the Western Wind really did carry some of their finest artists as part of an interplanetary tour. At the invitation of the Vulcan Ambassador they had agreed to this short detour on their way to Andoria. A few hours in the Hainan spaceport, three of which would be dedicated to a concert and the recital of poetry in a makeshift venue (livestreamed and recorded for the benefit of the poor barbarians on the planet below), followed by polite mingling – it was technically a first contact for humanity – which the Sho would leave after an hour or so to continue their journey to a more civilized planet.
Although T’Pol found Sho poetry slightly dull a part of her regretted that the event – surely the event of the year – was only to serve as cover for what she was about to do. Everyone who was someone had been invited – she’d only narrowly avoided getting dragged into a tedious conversation with Admiral Gardner, a duty that had fallen to Ambassador Soval instead. Nobody would question her presence at the port and the general distraction would allow her to get to her target unnoticed. Or so they hoped. Pointless and risky.
As she lingered near the entrance to the venue – making sure she was seen – she absent-mindedly let her fingers brush over the small pack she carried underneath her dark red robes. It contained the device she was supposed to hook to Enterprise’s computer to download its database. Which her superiors thought contained all the secrets Starfleet didn’t share with them. T’Pol doubted it would be anything Vulcans didn’t already know.
The crowd at the entrance had grown thin as the concert was about to begin. It was time. If everything worked out as planned she’d be back here for the mingling in about three hours. She went to a bathroom from which she emerged 15 minutes after the concert had begun. Quiet even during normal operations – due to Earth generally being considered a backwater – the civilian part of the port was deserted now. She had expected guards at the entrance to the restricted part of the port at least but there wasn’t anyone to guard the locked doors. The moment of truth. Up until now all she had done was wander about, a perfectly legitimate activity. That would change in a moment. Despite her reservations, she savoured the oncoming thrill of doing something forbidden.
The pack she carried also contained the right tools to crack the seal on the doors. Almost too easy. Generally, Vulcan technology was years ahead of Starfleet’s, the latter appearing almost quaint. She couldn’t understand why their first ship capable of Warp 5 was such a big deal to them in the first place when there were Vulcan ones that could reach Warp 7.
A few minutes later, she stood inside said ship, unimpressed. The corridors were completely dark – not even emergency lighting. Delayed until further notice, indeed. She took the torch light from her bag and switched it on. First, she had to find the right panel to plug the device into. Then she had to hope that the ship’s computer wasn’t switched off, too. Otherwise, it would be a very short mission.
About an hour later, she had finally found a somewhat comfortable position to sit in the narrow maintenance tube next to the device. While observing the progress of the download with growing impatience she was already considering the best route for her way back. All of a sudden, the lights in the corridor were switched on. Briefly, she wondered if the device’s program was to blame. Then, she heard voices, faint, near the entrance. Oh, damn.
***
That had been two days ago. T’Pol sighed, lying uncomfortably on her back on the metal grating floor of yet another maintenance tube, this one above one of the corridors on F deck. No crew quarters and quiet, therefore safer. By now she had gotten to know the maintenance system and the layout of the ship intimately. Talk about learning Starfleet’s secrets.
Upon noticing the intruders she had hastily closed the hatch behind her and remained very still. She hadn’t been able to make out what language they were speaking. Soon after that, the ship had started to move, followed by the faint tell-tale hum of an active warp drive. Though it sounded slightly different than on a Vulcan ship, it was nevertheless unmistakable. At first, she had tried to tell herself that it might just be a short test run they had been unaware of but after two days at sustained warp it was clear something else was going on. An unauthorized launch, a theft even? Despite being the most likely answer it seemed far-fetched. Who would steal a ship whose technology was outdated by the region’s standards? Unless… it wasn’t about technology but about politics. An attempt to destabilize Earth or the relations between Earth and Vulcan maybe? The Andorians then? Her device had been able to tell her who had unlocked the bridge functions (“Archer, Jonathan Beckett”) but that could really mean anything, upon further reflection. His credentials could have been stolen or falsified. Whoever was in charge of the ship now, her clandestine existence in the maintenance tubes wasn’t sustainable for much longer. Eventually, she would have to come out...
The hatch at her feet opened with a clunk, interrupting her train of thoughts.
...or be discovered.
A Black man with short locs popped through the hatch. “Ha! Knew it!” he exclaimed and grabbed one of her ankles before she could react, dragging her through the hatch and down into the corridor beneath. Half way through, she finally managed to get a kick in, her knee hitting him in the face, more accidentally than targeted. He cried out and let go of her. A white woman with short, brown hair rushed to his side. Both wore civilian clothes. All instinct, T’Pol dashed away from them without any clear idea whereto except around the next corner somehow. Another person appeared in her path – a broad-shouldered man with East Asian features. He had just about enough time to yell, “Stop right there!” before she slammed into him, knocking him off his feet. The move made her stumble but she regained her footing quickly, laughing at how easy and yet exhilirating it all was.
“What the hell’s going on?”
She stopped short as someone else was blocking her path. Someone she recognized – Captain Jonathan Archer. And he was in uniform. She felt slightly foolish now – who had she expected to be in charge, really? It was supposed to be his ship, after all.
He looked at her, then at the man behind her. “Zhedong?” he said, slightly disappointed.
“Well, I didn’t expect her to just slam into me!”
In the meantime, the other two had caught up.
“See? I was right! There was someone in the tubes!” The man who had discovered her shouted. “I think she broke my nose, though!”
“I hope it’s not that bad, Kio.” Archer said gently to him.
T’Pol turned half around. “I apologize,” she said. “I thought the ship was being stolen.”
Kio, holding his nose, just glared at her.
“You’re from the embassy, aren’t you?” Archer asked her.
Puzzled, she wondered how he had guessed that before remembering that she was still wearing her formal attire, if a little crumpled by now.
“Ah, yes. I’m the cultural attaché. T’Pol.”
He chuckled. “Cultural attaché. Of course.” More seriously, he added, “dif-tor heh smusma.” accompanied by the customary gesture. His pronunciation wasn’t half bad. “Let’s have a talk.”
The walls of the corridor they were walking down were the same grey as the maintenance tubes, the blue carpet the only dash of colour. Not exactly a cheery aesthetic. T’Pol was the first to break the silence, impatient to know what was really going on.
“I’m confused – is this a Starfleet operation? I was under the impression that the launch had been delayed for the time being.”
“Under the impression, huh?” he answered in a slightly sarcastic tone. “You did that!” he continued with such barely contained anger that T’Pol nearly stopped in surprise.
“Oh, come on! Everybody knows who’s really pulling the strings.” A little gentler, he added, “And no, Starfleet didn’t authorise our launch.”
“So, you did steal the ship!” she exclaimed. Oh, this was exciting!
“Stealing’s the wrong word. It was funded by the public. How can you steal something that already belongs to the people?” He paused to let the argument sink in.
There was a certain kind of logic to that, she had to admit. At the same time, it seemed offensive to her on a fundamental, almost instinctual level. She wished she had been more thorough in her study of Earth’s political philosophies and history as she couldn’t quite put it into context.
Meanwhile, the Captain continued, “All we did was reclaim it ‘cause it was just going to sit there unused. Waste of ressources.”
We? Another interesting word. She wondered what or rather, who it described. Vaguely, she remembered reading that years ago, before his Starfleet career, he had been involved in something called the Lottery protests, which had ended in violence, like so much in human history. She made a mental note to read up on it.
They stopped in front of a non-descript door which he opened for them by punching in a code on the pad next to it. Behind it lay an unremarkable room with a table and some chairs. No windows. It was tiny, no more than five metres wide, but after the last two days it seemed huge to her. Archer gestured for her to sit on the other side of the table while he took a seat with his back to the door, a detail not lost on her.
“Where are we?” she asked in what she hoped was an innocent tone.
“Pretty sure you know that already.” he answered, darkly.
She could guess. The room likely belonged to one of the research labs housed on this deck. Of course, he had chosen the most indistinct one so she wouldn’t learn any new information. And he was sittting closest to the door just in case she’d try something rash. Clever.
“What were you doing in the maintenance tubes?”
“Hiding.”
He laughed. “All right. Let’s start at the beginning. How did you get here? Why are you onboard? And don’t say ‘through the entrance’ or some shit like that.”
That was the thing she disliked most about this job – sometimes it required her to lie blatantly. And while she was able to dismiss half-truths and omissions as something that was at least close to the truth lying as she was about to was in direct contradiction to Surak’s teachings. That she was doing it in service to a higher purpose felt like a hollow justification.
“I was at the port for the cultural event but I found the poetry… intense so I decided to stretch my legs. Then I saw a group of civilians near the restricted docks. They seemed suspicious so I followed them to investigate...”
“Bullshit!” Archer interjected, angrily. He got up and paced up and down in front of the door, glaring at her from time to time. T’Pol estimated that it was better to say nothing. Eventually, he sat back down.
“All right. Let me ask you this way – if we sweeped the tubes what would we find?”
“Well, I was in there for two days...” Her first attempt at human humour – she was a little pleased with herself.
The Captain exhaled sharply and slouched back in his chair. “You know, if it was up to me I’d throw you in the brig…”
“The brig?”
“Lock you up and throw away the key. You stand for everything I despise about your people.”
“But?”
“But... it’s not that simple. I don’t want to cause a diplomatic incident. Situation’s complicated enough already.”
T’Pol was still dwelling on the last sentence and the possible openings it might imply as he continued, “So, we’ll contact your government as soon as possible and figure out a way for you to leave the ship and get home safely.”
“Wait, what? I don’t want to leave!” she said slightly more forcefully than intended. Practically an emotional outburst in Vulcan terms.
“What? But...” He sighed. “Why?”
That was a tricky question that she didn’t quite know how to answer in a comprehensible way. There were two answers. One that was also true in a way but not the real reason – the one she would have told her superiors. The other was the truth but would reveal a lot about herself, more than she was comfortable with. She decided to go with the first option.
“My duty is to Vulcan,” she began.
“What does that even mean? Like, to the government?” the Captain interrupted her. In a softer voice he continued, “The people? High Command? Or whoever you’re really working for, Madam attaché?”
He had spat the last words angrily but T’Pol remained unfazed.
“Fascinating.” she said calmly. “In my view that’s all the same. But not in yours.” She paused but Archer said nothing in response. “What I was trying to say is that I believe my duty would be best fulfilled if I stayed now that your ...mission is under way.”
“I bet. But why should we go along with that?”
She hesitated briefly, wondering if she was overstretching her influence. If so, it couldn’t be helped. It was this moment that counted, she could figure everything else out later.
“Well, my presence would offer you a certain amount of protection...”
The chirp of the Captain’s communicator interrupted her.
“Jon, you need to come up here!” It sounded like the voice of the man who had dragged her from her hide-out.
***
“What’s happening?” Jon asked as he exited the lift and stepped onto the bridge. The viewscreen showed that they had dropped out of Warp.
“Starfleet.” Kio replied from the tactical station. He nodded to the viewscreen on which a tactical overlay appeared. It showed a formation of six Starfleet ships intercepting on Enterprise’s trajectory. Half the fleet. “Looks like they decided to take a stand.”
“Yeah. Didn’t think we’d get this much attention.” Jon quipped, having decided to go for a light-hearted tone for the benefit of his crew.
“What about your nose? You’re okay?” he asked Kio while on his way to the center chair.
“Yeah, apparently I was just a big crybaby.” They both chuckled.
Back in his seat he took a moment to survey the sparsely crewed bridge. Besides Kio and him only two others were present: Shedy Kidane at the helm, promoted to Lieutenant about six months ago, which would have made him the third highest-ranked officer on the ship if they obeyed Starfleet’s rules of hierarchy, and Destiny at comms, a linguistics student, brought along by her older sister Judy, author of the manifest The Case for Direct Action, a belated justification of their doomed movement from years ago. Destiny had spent the better part of the last two days stuyding the manual for her console.
A wave of doubt hit him. He had persuaded a bunch of overly idealistic young people and some revolutionary has-beens to follow him on his personal crusade, and only the latter probably had an understanding of the possible consequences. What have I done?
“We’re being hailed.” Destiny announced.
“On screen.”
As the image appeared, Destiny smiled to herself for having completed the task successfully. Jon, on the other hand, winced when he saw Captain Erika Hernandez on the screen. It pained him that someone he knew so well and had such a deep connection with was on the opposite side.
“Jon, you need to stop this right now.”
“You know I can’t. We’re here to prove a point...”
“By stealing a starship?” Erika interjected. “This is the most irresponsible thing you’ve ever done!”
And that list was long as they both knew, he thought, finding his way back to his usual mode of overconfidence, his earlier doubts swept away.
“If we turn around now the project will never get off the ground again.” he said.
“You don’t know that. We just need to be a little more patient.”
“How much longer are we supposed to wait?”
“Listen, I understand your frustration,” she said in a more conciliatory tone. “I mean, we all share it. But this isn’t the way. All you’re doing is proving the Vulcans right. I promise that if you end this now I’ll make sure you get a fair hearing.”
He laughed. “I think we’ll pass.”
On the screen, Erika shook her head. “Think about it, at least. This is your last chance. If you cross this line there’s no coming back. Starfleet will never let it go.”
With that, the screen went dark.
“They’re moving in our direction.” Kio said.
Archer sighed, annoyed that he had not been able to adequately explain what they were doing, not even to Erika. He just had to hope others would understand.
“Shedy, plot a course to evade them. Warp 4.5.” They could easily outrun any other Starfleet ship. “Oh, and make sure to stay out of their weapon range at all times.”
“You really think they would fire on us?” the Eritrean helmsman asked back, shocked.
“That’s what I would do.”
***
Archer came back to the room with a stern look on his face which made T’Pol wonder what had happened in the meantime.
“So… this protection you mentioned – are you serious about that?”
“Yes.” Now she was really overdoing it.
“I still don’t get it, though. Why you want to stay, I mean.”
“I don’t know how to convey it… Have you ever been to Vulcan?”
“Several times.”
“Oh, right.” she acknowledged, surprised. It was easy to forget that he had been part of an elite – as much as that existed on Earth – all of his life, due to the work of his father. “Well, what’s your impression of it?”
He leaned back to think. A few seconds passed. “It was… nice.”
She couldn’t hold back a surprised smile. “Really?”
“Don’t make me repeat it.” he said with a smirk. “I grew up in Na’aowan. As kids our idea of fun was exploring the sunken houses by the waterfront or digging through the nearby trash heap for cool stuff. Almost everywhere seems pretty nice to me.”
She tried to imagine little Johnny and his friends standing on top of a trash heap, going through its contents, and failed. Anything she had ever experienced in her life was too far removed from such squalid conditions. She wondered why his parents hadn’t moved first chance they got.
“Well, I guess ‘nice’ is one way of putting it. Vulcan society hasn’t changed much in centuries. It’s very orderly and everyone… knows their place.”
Archer seemed to consider her words but there was no sign he understood what she was trying to say. This was turning out to be more difficult than she had anticipated.
“In other words,” she added, “it’s… boring.”
“So… you want an adventure?”
She nodded even though it was only an approximation of what she meant.
“That’s it? Huh.” he said. “Not sure I buy it.”
Amazed that he found the truth unconvincing, she didn’t know what to say.
“But all right, you can stay. You better come up with a more believable reason, though. There might be a vote.”
“A vote?”
“Yeah. Before we started we decided to regularly discuss what we do. This will only work on the basis of consensus. A new crew member is a pretty big decision and someone might challenge it.”
She had never heard of such a thing. How remarkable. This would be a fascinating experience.
***
Epilogue
Two days later, T’Pol sat alone in one of the science labs, her domain now that she had been elected Science Officer. Any worries about her believability the Captain (or Jon, everyone aboard seemed to be on a first name basis) might have had had turned out to be unfounded.
After several consultations of the frustratingly disordered manual, a trip to the sensor array and soldering connections by hand she had finally managed to get a connection through to her superiors which she was reasonably sure would not be detected.
“High Command has concerns about your proposal.” Lenal said. “It might put them in an untenable position with Starfleet.”
“Have they asked us for assistance?”
“Not yet. Your presence on Enterprise has complicated matters. Starfleet Command did not find our cover story for how you came to be onboard entirely convincing.”
Unsurprising.
“It might become necessary to placate them.” Lenal continued. “One option would be to provide them with insights regarding Enterprise and its crew. Would you be able to provide that?”
“Yes.”
