Broken Bow - Diane Carey [16]
She flinched suddenly. Porthos had moved off the couch and was at her leg, sniffing her knee.
“If there’s nothing else ...” she said stoically.
“Porthos!” Archer scolded—but he had waited five seconds longer than he would’ve with anyone else on the business end of that soppy nose.
The dog cast him a glance, then moved back to his couch.
“That’ll be all,” Archer said.
T’Pol seemed for a moment to be unsure whether he was addressing her or the beagle. Good.
Over there, Tucker had sidelined himself, with his arms folded and his shoulder blades pressed against the viewport, and said nothing as T’Pol turned and left the ready room, heading to the bridge, which she now had a legitimate right to occupy.
The door slid shut. The ready room fell to silence, except for the faint whirring of the vents with a gush of fresh air. When Archer turned, Tucker was watching the vent port with an accusatory glower.
“What do you think?” Archer asked.
“I think I ought to lube that fan.”
“About her, Trip. What do you think about T’Pol?”
“I think she likes us as much as I like her, and welcome to it.”
Archer eyed him, Tucker eyed back, and after a moment they both blurted, “Sir.”
Archer laughed, and was relieved when the engineer finally did, too. They were stuck with the situation, and began here and now to make the best of it. Command didn’t mean everything necessarily went Archer’s way. This was one of the examples of how the new ship and this whole mission really weren’t all his yet. He hadn’t proven himself. The ship hadn’t. Maybe later both would have the influence to tell offensive interlopers and political hacks to find some gravitons and go fly a kite. That time hadn’t come. He made a silent vow to himself and to Tucker that it certainly would.
“You think she’s really a spy?” he asked.
“Probably,” Tucker said. “If you think she’s not going to go back to whoever and tell them how we handled ourselves, then you’re more naive than I know.”
“No, I’m kinda hoping she does that, actually.”
“Me, too. Do I think she’s here to steal technology or sabotage the ship or screw us over somehow to botch the mission ... well ... no, I don’t guess I figure that. Yet.”
“It’s not enough of a mission to botch,” Archer agreed. “We’re delivering a guy from here to someplace else. Returning a Klingon national to his home space. It’s a gesture of good will, and also to show what we can damned well do on our own, with or without anybody else’s favors.” He reached down to scratch Porthos on the top of his head, in the little bump where the dog brain was kept, and wished himself the same kind of peace. “The Vulcans may be queasy about helping us, but I honestly don’t think they’re out to hurt us. I don’t think they’d actively wreck our advancement, once we prove we can get there—”
“Maybe you’re naive after all,” Tucker interrupted. “How many times have you heard them say how we’re ‘not ready’ to go out into the galaxy, or how they’re waiting for us to ‘prove we’re worthy’ of the company of others, and all? What if they don’t think we’re ‘worthy’ yet and they decide to slow us down some for our own good? I mean, John, I’d be lying if I told you that woman doesn’t make me nervous, being here all of a sudden, out of nowhere. Serving as a senior officer! Why would she have to be a senior officer if they just want to keep an eye on us? Don’t think there’s nothing to that. I’d be peekin’ over my shoulder if I was you.”
Archer’s expression changed. He felt his face grow tense. “Is that a serious recommendation? You think my life could be in danger?”
“With her in that position and the Vulcans thinking we’re bad news, hell, yes. Vulcans can be just as devious as anybody, and you’d have to be a sponge to think they couldn’t.”
Archer nodded charitably. “No, any intelligent being can deceive. It goes with the braincase. Sue me if I’d rather think better of them till proven otherwise.”
“Not me. I’ll look over your shoulder for you.”
“But if we don’t give them the benefit of the doubt, then we’re doing to them what they