The Good That Men Do - Andy Mangels [163]
Archer released him and took a step back, studying his old friend’s surgically altered features, his dark hair, prominent brow, and upswept eyebrows. Most striking of all were Trip’s elegantly tapered pointed ears. He doubted that Trip’s own parents would have recognized him, but he also had the grace not to utter that particular thought aloud.
“So you’re a Vulcan now,” Archer said with a wry smile. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, Trip… but why are you here?”
“I figured you’d be nervous about delivering your speech, so I won’t stay long. Written it yet, by the way?” Trip’s grin broadened.
Archer made a mock frown as he picked up the padd that contained the text of his speech, along with an intimidatingly vast amount of source material drawn from the historical records of four planets. The device now displayed the surprisingly profound words, first uttered centuries ago, of Shallash, the second Liberator of Tellar; Archer was determined to find a way to work them into his own presentation somehow.
“Still working on it,” he finally said noncommittally.
“I came to wish you luck, Jonathan,” Trip said. Archer couldn’t remember the last time Trip had addressed him by his first name, but he knew that his old friend had more than earned the right. Besides, Trip was no longer his subordinate. He was simply a friend, and an ally.
Trip reached into his black robe and withdrew a single folded sheet of paper, which he placed carefully in Archer’s hands. “I also came to ask you to deliver this to T’Pol before you give your speech,” he said. “I’d tell you to knock ‘em dead, by the way, but that would probably be in poor taste. So how about ‘break a leg’ instead? I’ll be watching.”
With that, Trip turned and exited through the same door Archer had used to enter. Still carrying his padd, Archer tucked the note into his jacket, then followed Trip’s footsteps back out into the corridor.
He wasn’t a bit surprised to find no trace of his friend.
Raising his padd to resume his eleventh-hour revision of his speech, Archer walked down the corridor and entered a backstage anteroom adjacent to a staircase that led upward to the raised speaker’s dais on the auditorium’s wide stage.
Looking up briefly from the padd, he saw that T’Pol and Phlox were already awaiting him there, the latter offering a broad smile, the former bearing a disapproving scowl. Once again, T’Pol strode up to him and began adjusting his collar, making him feel like a little kid who’d just been caught sneaking away to the playground while still dressed up in his Sunday best.
“Please stand still,” she said sternly. With an involuntary roll of his eyes, Archer complied while still trying to see the text on his padd.
But T’Pol evidently wasn’t quite finished upbraiding him. “If you hadn’t waited until the last minute, you would have had time to memorize your speech.”
His gaze still on the scrolling text, he murmured, “You sound like my ninth-grade teacher.”
Archer glanced away from his display and saw that Phlox was examining a padd of his own. The doctor seemed quite impressed by whatever he was reading.
“There are dignitaries here from eighteen different worlds,” Phlox said in his customarily punctilious but upbeat tones. “It’s a good sign. I wouldn’t be surprised if this alliance begins to expand before we know it.” He paused to fix his azure-eyed gaze firmly upon Archer. “You should be very proud of yourself, Captain.”
Archer waved his padd in the air, then returned to studying his speech. “I’ll be proud of myself if I get this speech out in one piece.”
Phlox shook his head in gentle reprimand. “That’s not what I meant.”
Archer allowed the hand that held the padd to drop to his side momentarily, and met Phlox’s mild gaze. “I know what you meant, Phlox. And I appreciate it. But this is not about me.”
T’Pol looked annoyed, at least for a Vulcan. “Why do so many humans refuse to take credit where credit is due? There are times when modesty and humility are quite illogical.”
Archer noticed some movement in his peripheral vision. He turned