The Expanse - J.M. Dillard [30]
“You’re not making this easy,” Archer said frankly. “There’s gotta be something you’re looking forward to back home.”
She blinked, and parted her lips before blinking—for T’Pol, Archer had come to realize, the subtle gesture was equivalent to an emotional outburst in a human. “I don’t wish to return to Vulcan,” she said. “I want to remain on Enterprise ... if you’ll allow me to.”
He stared at her; he would have been no more startled if she had collapsed in giggles. Vulcans did what Vulcans were told to do, and that was that. Vulcans never questioned authority; tradition and obedience were, to them, everything. “It’s not a question of my allowing you,” he said, when he found his voice. “The High Command would never agree to it.”
“I’ve decided to resign my commission,” she said.
His jaw dropped at that particular bombshell. T’Pol’s parents and grandparents and great-grandparents, ad infinitum, had all been diplomats; for her to give up her career would be an unthinkable act of rebellion. And she had dedicated years of her life to that pursuit; was she truly willing now, to throw it all away?”
“Why?” he asked, so stunned his voice dropped almost to a whisper. He recovered himself, then added, “You’ve worked so hard, T’Pol ...”
Her tone was even and resolute; she had thought this through very carefully. “You’re taking Enterprise into a very dangerous place. This is no time for me to leave.”
Archer was touched beyond words. She was giving up something of supreme importance to her, even risking being disowned by family and friends, out of pure loyalty to him ... and to the crew. “We’ll be all right,” he said warmly.
But she was past the point of being dissuaded. “You’ll need a science officer ... whether she’s a member of the High Command or not.”
“I’ve been thinking about who to promote ...” Archer tried to counter, but she stopped him in a manner that either human or Vulcan could only describe as impassioned.
“You need me, Captain.”
He couldn’t contradict that. He could only stare at her a long while, with utter gratitude—and then he exited to the bridge before he was reduced to an emotional display that would only have embarrassed them both.
T’Pol followed him out.
Archer stepped up behind Mayweather, who was minding the helm.
“Keeping away from those Klingons isn’t going to be as easy as we thought,” the Captain said.
Mayweather swiveled his head to glance over his shoulder. “Sir?”
“We’re not going to Vulcan,” Archer announced, in a voice loud enough to be heard by the rest of the bridge crew. “Set a course for the Delphic Expanse.”
In the periphery of his vision, he could see both Reed and Hoshi react with surprise to the news—but he paid them no heed. His gaze met T’Pol’s, and for the first time, he saw a very recognizable, very human emotion reflected in her eyes: gratitude.
Chapter 8
Captain’s Starlog, supplemental. We’ve been traveling at warp five for seven weeks ... The crew is anxious to begin our mission.
Along with the rest of his crew, Archer stared at the bridge viewscreen. The edge of the infamous Delphic Expanse was now visible, as an incalculably vast column of roiling, umber-colored clouds.
It’ll be like sailing into the middle of a Category-Five hurricane, Archer realized. How could anything withstand that kind of turbulence?
He forced himself to cancel the thought; he’d been warned. He had never expected it to be easy—only necessary.
“Distance?” he asked Mayweather.
“Nearly a million kilometers,” the helmsman replied.
Trip let go a whistle of awe. “Looks a helluva lot closer than that ...”
T’Pol looked up from her viewer, where she had been studying the phenomenon. “A common mistake when viewing an object of this size.”
Archer tried to grasp the immensity of what he saw, and failed completely. He turned to Hoshi, at the communications console. “Magnify.”
She obeyed; the image on the viewscreen faded into a new one: even more massive murky gray-brown clouds, swirling and colliding with