The Good That Men Do - Andy Mangels [26]
Archer smiled slightly. “I guess you’re right,” he said simply. Despite his long-held animosity toward the Vulcans, and his conviction that they had long held Earth back from making advancements in exploration, his time on Vulcan- largely spent while the soul of its greatest leader had literally lived inside him- had made him somewhat more attuned to Vulcan causes than he’d ever been before. He wasn’t about to take up kal-toh, the bizarre Vulcan puzzle game that T’Pol had once shown him, but he did at least feel that he understood what the Kir’Shara represented to the Vulcan people: It was the embodiment of their highest ideals and aspirations, their living link with everything they regarded as noble and true.
“Thank you for showing me,” he said. “I’m glad it’s in good hands, and not in my backpack- or my head- any longer.”
“Your aid in retrieving the artifact- however unintentional its cause- has not been lost on me,” said T’Pau, her stony face betraying no acknowledgment of his jest as she turned away toward the door. “Nor on the many others who are presently organizing Vulcan’s new government. Your actions have done much to solidify positive future relations between humans and Vulcans.”
She stopped and looked up at him. “That is no small feat, Captain Archer. You have my thanks, and whenever possible, you will have my support.”
“I appreciate that, Minister,” he said. He knew she was referring to the twenty-three ships she had sent to help those battling the mysterious Romulan drone ship that threatened to destabilize interstellar politics and start a war between the Tellarites and the Andorians. At the time, he had been slightly annoyed that she had responded so frugally, but upon reflection, he realized that she had been truthful in telling him that this was all they could spare during Vulcan’s protracted time of internal political upheaval and reorganization in the wake of V’Las’s ouster.
T’Pau leading, the pair stepped back through the pressure doors and into the corridor. Waiting to meet them, as planned, were Trip and T’Pol.
“Is everything loaded, Trip?” Archer asked.
“It’s all aboard the shuttlepod, Captain,” Trip said. His usually amiable drawl sounded flat and lifeless today.
Archer turned to T’Pau. “Then I guess this is where we say good-bye for now.”
T’Pau nodded and held up her right hand, spreading her fingers into an elegant V-shaped formation. “Live long and prosper,” she said.
Archer, T’Pol, and Trip each returned the salute, and intoned the ancient Vulcan saying. Archer had always found the hand gesture difficult, but during the last six months it had become a good deal easier. Maybe a little bit of Surak has rubbed off on me permanently, he thought.
As the trio moved through the hallways to a docking pad and boarded Shuttlepod One to return to Enterprise, Archer couldn’t help noting not only that Trip and T’Pol were not talking much, but also that they both seemed to be going out their way to avoid making any kind of physical contact.
It’s to be expected, I guess, Archer thought. He wondered how long the grieving process would take, and how it might affect his two top officers’ behavior and duties aboard Enterprise. On the other hand, perhaps being back in the shipboard environment- with Vulcan and its newest grave receding light-years into the cosmic ocean- might be just what they needed to return them to normalcy… or whatever passed for it these days, given the volatile and unpredictable nature of their most recent missions.
Archer yawned as he studied the report on the padd that Crewman Baird had handed him when he went off shift. Archer had come to the bridge early, to relieve D.O., who had been fighting a stubborn viral infection since just prior to the Terra Prime incidents. He knew that it chafed the no-nonsense officer to have been out of action during that crisis, particularly when he’d left the less experienced Ensign Sato in charge of the bridge in his absence. Though Archer sympathized with D.O., he sometimes