The Expanse - J.M. Dillard [21]
Despite his unique personality, however, and the fact that Denobulans were at least as emotional as humans, T’Pol had come to find that Phlox was actually quite clear-headed and pragmatic; he had a talent for sifting through a number of complicated factors and making the right choice, perhaps the result of his being a skilled diagnostician. He was also strongly intuitive—a trait T’Pol’s people distrusted, and yet Phlox’s intuition generally resulted in his coming to a sound conclusion.
Phlox sensed her presence immediately, and looked over at her. “Sub-Commander? Is there something I can do for you?”
T’Pol wasted no time; there was no point in pretending, for dignity’s sake, that she had come here for anything other than advice. She trusted Phlox’s integrity and discretion utterly; he would not repeat their conversation to any other member of the crew. “Are you confident with your decision, Doctor?”
He swiveled in his chair to face her fully. “What decision would that be?”
“To remain on Enterprise,” T’Pol said. To explain how she had deduced the fact, she said, “Crewman Fuller just told me a shuttle is on its way with two hundred snow beetles.”
The Denobulan’s expression grew coy. “They could be for my replacement.”
“There isn’t a doctor in Starfleet who would have the slightest idea of what to do with them,” T’Pol countered dryly.
Phlox grinned brightly, acknowledging the fact with good humor and even a tinge of pride. He grew a bit more somber, then pressed, “And what about you?”
T’Pol hesitated. Rather than address her conflict directly, she said, “The High Council has made it clear that they don’t want me to enter the Delphic Expanse.”
Phlox’s manner grew pointed. “I’m more interested in hearing what you want.”
His words unsettled her; surely he understood that this issue was far too important for personal desires to interfere. “It’s not my place to disobey the High Command.”
“Nonsense,” the doctor contradicted her flatly. “You’ve done it before.”
That silenced her. He was correct, of course. But she’d had good reason to do so then. ...
“It’s interesting, you and I,” Phlox continued. “The only two aliens on board the vessel. To go, or to stay?” He paused, letting the question hang for a moment in the air. “For me, it was a simple question of loyalty toward the Captain ... and the sad realization that he’ll need me more than ever on such a crucial mission.
“But for you, it’s a more difficult decision. Does your allegiance lie with the High Command, or with Captain Archer?”
Loyalty, T’Pol realized: that was indeed the crux of the issue. Loyalty, considered next to logic the highest of all Vulcan virtues. Should she remain loyal to the Captain she had served, who needed her now—or loyal to the bureaucracy who had forged her education, who might profit from her future career?
Once again, Phlox’s insight proved remarkable.
The moment was interrupted by a crewman, who entered pushing a large, ventilated crate; from within came hundreds of soft chirps.
Phlox cocked his head and graced T’Pol with one of his impossible Denobulan smiles, the corners of his mouth quirking up sharply, far higher than human or Vulcan facial muscles could ever manage.
“Thank you,” T’Pol said quietly. It was not her custom to express gratitude lightly; on Vulcan, it was not done at all. She had learned, as a student of diplomacy, that the act was highly important to humans, but she had always felt awkward doing it.
Now, she did not feel awkward at all; she was sincerely grateful to the doctor for helping her make what would no doubt prove to be the most important decision of her life.
She exited sickbay, leaving Phlox behind to chirp happily at his new tenants.
Inside