Broken Bow - Diane Carey [7]
Maybe a hand-to-hand with Tucker. Or Soval. Yeah ...
Soval leaned a little toward them. “The Klingons have demanded we return Klaang immediately.”
“Admiral?” Archer prodded, ignoring the ambassador.
Forrest fidgeted. The sight enraged Archer. That the Vulcans and Klingons could reduce a Starfleet admiral to nervousness—some things just shouldn’t happen. It was time they stopped happening.
“We may ... need to defer to their judgment,” Forrest attempting, trying to make everybody happy.
Boy, was it ever time for this guy to retire. Brave new world, that has such marshmallows in it.
“We’ve deferred to their judgment for a hundred years,” Archer snapped.
“John—”
“How much longer?”
His bluntness did the trick, not to mention the clarification that he really wanted an answer. This wasn’t rhetorical. He was making a demand not for himself, not for Klaang or the new ship, but for Earth, to establish itself a stake separate from the Vulcans. If they wouldn’t come up to the plate, Earth would come up without them. Archer was ready. Why weren’t these others? When would there be a better chance to demonstrate what humanity was all about, among these people who thought silly things were important? How you died instead of how you lived, for instance.
The Vulcan female stepped forward, quite suddenly, right through the two elder ambassadors. She was the only one with the guts to say what she was thinking.
“Until you’ve proven you’re ready.”
Archer bristled. The Vulcans kept chanting that mantra, but they were never interested in letting Earth people do anything that might just prove readiness. Who did these stiffs think they were anyway? Interstellar schoolmarms?
“Ready for what?” Archer asked, even though he knew. Hell, everybody knew, but he wanted to make her say it.
“To look beyond your provincial attitudes and volatile nature.” The elegant female had a firmness in her eyes. She was playing his game. She darn well comprehended the triteness of her own declaration. Maybe she was waiting to see how far Archer could be pushed.
“Volatile?” Archer mocked with a little lilt. “You have no idea how much I’m restraining myself from knocking you on your ass.”
Eyebrow raised, she looked at him in near enjoyment—was that right? There was a glint in her eye, despite her mosaic stillness. He got the idea she might not like what she heard, but did like hearing it. Very few humans talked back to Vulcans ... yet.
Ithink I’ll start doing seminars. “How to Talk Back to a Vulcan and Spit in an Admiral’s Eye 101. You, too, can learn this in ten easy lessons.”
Oh, forget it. He pivoted back to Forrest. “These Klingons are anxious to get their man back. Fine. I can have my ship ready to go in three days. We’ll take him home. Alive.”
“This is no time,” Soval interrupted, “to be imposing your ethical beliefs on another culture.”
Archer just cast him a look of deadly irony, and waited while Forrest turned to Leonard.
“Dan?” Forrest asked.
“What about your crew?” Leonard asked. “Your com officer’s in Brazil, you haven’t selected a medical—”
“Three days. That’s all I need.”
Okay, everybody always said “Three days,” so Archer had picked it out of a hat, hoping they’d think it had a good ring.
“Admiral,” Soval protested. No doubt he was having nightmares about a crew full of Neanderthals shooting through space into “civilized” areas like the Klingon cul-de-sac.
“We’ve been waiting nearly a century, Ambassador,” Forrest said at last. “This seems as good a time as any to get started.”
“Listen to me,” said Soval, his voice noticeably louder. “You’re making a mistake.”
Archer’s reply was calm, but there was no mistaking the condescension. “When your logic doesn’t work, you raise your voice? You have, been