The Expanse - J.M. Dillard [26]
Soval scrutinized her carefully. “You were there to provide logic to a crew of humans who insisted on leaving before they were ready.” He paused. “But logic can’t help them inside the Delphic Expanse.”
T’Pol lifted her chin, mildly defiant. “Can you be certain of that?”
It was an impudent question; Soval did not answer it. Instead, his tone grew firm. “The High Command was quite specific. You’re to return to Vulcan.”
“I believe that should be my decision,” T’Pol countered, her tone just as steely. There was strong inflection in her voice; she heard it, and realized that to a Vulcan who spent no time around humans, it would have sounded like an emotional outburst.
Soval stopped moving and turned to face her, his manner colder than the night air. “This is not a matter of choice. Defying the High Command would mean immediate dismissal. You know that.”
T’Pol realized there was no point in bringing up her wish to remain on Enterprise; Soval had already made his position clear. He had anticipated her request, and was now supplying her with the answer: If she remained loyal to Captain Archer, she would do so at the cost of her diplomatic career.
Chapter 7
Archer was moving alongside Admiral Forrest, headed through the narrow corridors of the Enterprise. They were discussing T’Pol—in order to avoid discussing the fact that the two of them would probably never see each other again.
“I’m not surprised ...” Forrest was saying. Archer had just informed him of the fact that the High Command had insisted on T’Pol’s return to her homeworld.
“Soval agreed to let us take her back to Vulcan,” the Captain said, “if it’s all right with you.” He was both glad and happy that Soval had said yes; it allowed everyone to spend more time with her—but perhaps saying good-bye now, quickly, would be easier.
Forrest of course nodded. He was not that far removed from the captaincy himself; he understood how attached crew members could become to each other—even if one of them was a Vulcan. “It’s not that far out of your way.” He paused, keeping his tone brisk, businesslike. “How’s the last refit team doing?”
“They’re scheduled to be done by oh-six-hundred.” Archer fell silent as the two of them reached an airlock.
On the other side was spacedock, and Earth. Archer could only hope it would be there when—if—he returned.
Forrest’s expression softened. “I could tell you there’re a lot of people counting on you ... but I don’t need to do that, do I?” The gratitude and pride in his quiet tone was unmistakable; Archer straightened, feeling a surge of respect for the man. It was no longer possible to ignore the fact that they most likely would never see each other again.
“No, sir.”
The Admiral smiled faintly and extended his hand. “Good luck, Jon.”
Not wanting to be maudlin, Archer did not respond; instead, he took the proffered hand. Forrest’s grip was firm, reassuring. Archer returned it briefly, then watched as the Admiral made his way into the airlock.
Aboard the Klingon bird-of-prey, Duras was pacing the bridge. Patience; patience was what he needed most now, especially now that the time for battle had drawn near.
He had been forced to wait an agonizing span of days, far beyond the area of space surrounding Earth; Enterprise, Archer’s ship, had been docked there, possibly for repairs, according to Duras’s spies. There had been an attack on Archer’s homeworld by an unknown foe—a fact that made Duras rejoice.
But it also made him grind his teeth during long nights without sleep. It would be suicide—-suicide without honor—to try to locate Archer on Earth and kill him there. While Duras did not fear death, he feared failure; he dared not die until he fulfilled the chancellor’s command, and brought Archer to justice.
So he had been forced to wait.
Now, word had come that, at long last, the Enterprise had pulled away from her moorings, and at last headed back into space.
Duras’s pulse thrummed in his ears, a war cry. “Have they gone to warp?”
“Not yet,” his