Broken Bow - Diane Carey [46]
“Let’s say you’re right,” he went on, reining in his combativeness just long enough to get this out. “Let’s say we screwed up, just like you always knew we would.
“It’s still a pretty good bet that whoever blew that hole in the captain’s leg is connected somehow to the people who took Klaang.”
“I fail to see your point.”
“Captain Archer deserves the chance to see this through. If you knew him, you’d realize that’s what he’s about. He needs to finish what he starts. His daddy was the same way.”
But he never got to finish. That was your fault, too, you people.
“You obviously share the captain’s belief,” she said, “that my people were responsible for impeding Henry Archer’s accomplishments.”
At least Tucker knew he wasn’t being too subtle.
“He only wanted to see his engine fly. They never even gave him the chance to fail. And here you are, thirty years later, proving just how consistent you Vulcans can be.”
They fell silent as each took a towel and began wiping off the blue gel, now that it had set into a film.
“Tell you the truth,” Tucker continued after a few moments, “we don’t know why you’re here. There’s nothing to ‘observe,’ so who stuck us with you? But you notice we accepted you. Nobody’s been giving you dirty looks, ’cept maybe me once in a while. That’s how we silly humans are. We trust first, and ask each other to come up to it. Maybe you don’t.”
T’Pol pulled the congealed film from her lips and cheeks, and revealed soft puckering around her eyes. Worry? Guilt?
“You know nothing about me,” she protested without much enthusiasm.
Tucker grunted with the irony of her statement. “Funny, isn’t it? We trust you anyway. Odd, silly humans ... You can follow along behind every Vulcan who came before you, but I don’t hold much for that kind of life. I wonder if you’ve got the steel to go off on your own. Maybe ... The captain must see something in you, or he wouldn’t have accepted you in his command line. He didn’t have to do that, you know. What do you think he saw? Youth? Grace?”
“Those aren’t command traits,” she said. This time her voice was very quiet.”
“Hell, no, they aren’t,” Tucker shot back. “Not even your ‘Vulcan’ rank is enough to get you what you’ve got here. You wouldn’t have it if Jonathan hadn’t given you the chance you’re denying him. We’re ‘only’ humans ... but we gave you the same trust we give each other. Now the captain’s asking you to return it. You got the guts?”
She didn’t respond. She had cut herself off from the conversation.
Tucker reached into another locker and pulled out a fresh T-shirt. “I guess we’ll see,” he said.
The ship was flying now. Pretty against the sky.
Jonathan Archer opened his eyes, gritted his teeth against a sudden shot of pain, and looked down at his legs.
He was lying, partially reclined, on a biobed. Dr. Phlox was at work on his thigh wound, removing what looked like a disembodied liver from the leg.
Underneath the liver, the wound was reddened, but sealed.
“Very nice,” Phlox commented. “Very nice. Your myofibers are fusing beautifully!”
Archer moved his arms and flexed his neck muscles. “How long have I been ...”
“Less than six hours. I thought it best to keep you sedated while the osmotic eel cauterized your wound.”
Phlox appreciated his glossy little pet, then deposited the thing into a pot of fluid.
Archer looked at the creature, now happily swimming around, and reserved judgment. “Thanks.”
He started to ask about the landing party—was everyone else all right? But Trip Tucker and T’Pol entered, answering part of his question here and now.
“How’re you doing, Captain?” Trip asked immediately. Relief showed in his face to see Archer awake and lucid.
“That depends,” Archer said. “What’s been going on for the last six hours?”
Tucker didn’t say anything. What did that mean?
T’Pol raised her chin a little and announced. “As your highest ranking officer, I assumed command while you were incapacitated.”
Archer’s stomach sank. “Are we underway?”
Tucker nodded.
To T’Pol, Archer coldly