Surak's Soul - J.M. Dillard [20]
“Thank God,” Archer breathed. He could sense the others on the bridge relaxing around him: Mayweather’s shoulders dropped significantly; Reed emitted an audible sigh. “So she shows no sign of the disease.”
“Correct.” The Denobulan paused. “Of course, that doesn’t mean that she hasn’t been affected by whatever killed the Oanis.”
“Wait a minute, Doctor. You just said she was perfectly healthy.”
“That’s what all her readings indicate,” the doctor countered. “But remember, the people down on the planet’s surface showed no sign of disease, either.”
“So any of us could be infected.” Archer watched as Mayweather’s shoulders tensed upward a quarter-inch.
“I’m afraid it’s possible. Although at this time, there’s no indication that’s happened.”
Archer sighed. “In other words, we simply won’t know until the first of us gets sick. You know, I really prefer it when things are a little more black-and-white.”
“Black-and-white…? Ah, a colorful—or should I say, monochromatic—metaphor. Well, I’m sorry I can only give you gray at the moment, Captain.”
“Please, don’t apologize.” Archer shook his head, even though Phlox couldn’t see him. “You’ve worked harder than any of us at trying to solve this; we’re all in your debt.”
“I appreciate that, sir.”
As Phlox’s words filtered through the companel, T’Pol stepped through the lift doors onto the bridge. “Keep up the good work, Doctor,” Archer said.
“Archer out.” T’Pol had moved to her station; the captain turned to her. “So, are you still hearing the voice of this…entity?”
She faced him, her posture formal, a bit stiff. “I am, sir. However, Doctor Phlox has verified that I am not hallucinating…”
“I’m not questioning that, T’Pol. I’d like to know whether you’re able to communicate with it. To explain why we can’t leave planetary orbit to go meet it.”
She tilted her head, revealing a high, angular cheekbone. “I shall try, Captain.” She closed her eyes and concentrated, a slight crease forming between her upswept brows. After a minute, she opened her eyes again. “It has already received the message; it is monitoring our vessel and knows what you have said.”
Archer was not at all sure he liked the sound of that, but remained quiet as T’Pol continued: “It says that it already passed by the planet, and has been exposed to their disease—but is immune because it is not, like us, a carbon-based life-form. However, it does have considerable medical knowledge based on its studies, and wishes to offer its help in discovering the cause of the Oani’s deaths.”
“Fair enough,” Archer said. “We can use whatever help we can get. Can it communicate directly with Doctor Phlox?”
T’Pol closed her eyes again; this time she frowned, then opened them and looked over at the captain almost immediately. “Negative. It claims to be able to communicate only with me.”
“It makes no sense,” Archer says. “If it’s ‘conversing’ directly with you in Vulcan—and you’re silently ‘thinking’ messages to it—then it has to be telepathic. So why couldn’t it communicate with Phlox in Denobulan?”
“Maybe it’s transmitting at a frequency only T’Pol can hear,” Travis Mayweather offered from the helm. “Vulcan’s the lingua franca of a number of spacefaring races.”
Archer considered this, but remained skeptical; however, any offer of help by any being who had already been exposed to the illness that killed the Oanis could not be ignored. He opened his mouth to tell T’Pol this when the Vulcan spoke first.
“It also states that it is, like us, a spacefaring entity on a mission of exploration. It wishes to know whether we are interested in exchanging information about our cultures.” T’Pol’s expression was as animated as Archer had ever seen it, her eyes especially bright; clearly, her scientific curiosity had been piqued. In his mind, he heard Trip Tucker’s voice saying, A Vulcan in love… “It is asking permission to approach us in order to