The Romulan War_ Beneath the Raptor's Wing (Book 1) - Michael A. Martin [165]
“I prefer to think in terms of ‘until we meet again’ rather than ‘goodbye,’” Phlox said as he set aside his empty bowl.
A familiar voice spoke up behind Archer. “Captain. Your communications officer indicated I might find you here.”
Archer turned to see the tall, dour figure of Soval, Vulcan’s foreign minister, standing on the private room’s threshold.
“Minister Soval,” Archer said, rising to his feet, as did Phlox. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Vulcans are not sanguine about pleasure, Captain,” the Vulcan said with characteristic stoicism. “Nonetheless, I wish that pleasure had been the reason for my visit.”
Archer pondered that for a moment, even as he wondered why Soval hadn’t simply had Hoshi or one of her relief comm officers contact him. Then it hit him: Soval had extremely sensitive news to report, something he didn’t want to risk broadcasting, even over a secure Starfleet channel.
“You have news from Vulcan,” he said. “About Commander T’Pol. And Administrator T’Pau.” Although it was hard to tell with Vulcans, it already seemed that whatever tidings Soval was bringing wouldn’t be happy ones.
Soval raised an eyebrow. “Most perspicacious, Captain.” He paused. “Is this room secure?”
“I swept the place for listening devices myself,” Archer said. As much as he trusted Tommy and Rebecca and the other members of the Lotus Blossom’s staff that he knew well, he also knew there was no percentage in taking unnecessary chances.
Nodding, Soval said, “Very well. I have been advised that Commander T’Pol has just concluded a face-to-face meeting with Administrator T’Pau—a meeting that the commander apparently requested at your behest.”
It’s about damned time, Archer thought, frowning. He couldn’t believe that T’Pol had been goldbricking ever since Enterprise dropped her off at Vulcan; T’Pau had obviously been dodging her. But why? Where the hell has T’Pau been keeping herself?
“I regret to inform you,” Soval continued, “that Administrator T’Pau has just reiterated to me her earlier decision to keep Vulcan out of the war.”
Vulcans. This was so goddamned typical of them. Archer’s eyes narrowed as all the resentment he had built up toward Vulcan over the years—a span of decades during which the Vulcan government had systematically tried to hold back Earth’s interstellar ventures, such as his father’s warp-five engine—threatened to return in one great torrential rush.
“So that’s it,” Archer said. “No dialogue. No negotiation. Just another flat refusal.”
Although Soval looked no happier about delivering the news than Archer did to receive it, he continued, guided by duty. “Vulcan will provide no more assistance to Earth and the rest of the Coalition than it has already provided. If I may speak off the record for a moment, Captain...”
“Go right ahead, Minister,” Archer said tightly. He suddenly realized that both his hands had bunched into fists.
“I... regret this decision,” Soval said. “However, it is not within my power to change it.” He took a single backward step toward the room’s narrow entrance. “Live long and prosper, Captain.”
If any of us get to do either of those things, Archer thought, disgusted, it’ll be no thanks to your fearless leader.
Apparently sensing the depth and intensity of Archer’s anger, Phlox stepped between them, allowing Soval to make a dignified exit rather than beat a hasty retreat.
“Maybe we should go for a walk, Captain,” the doctor said.
The cool night air quickly helped Archer center himself as he and Phlox wended their way along Kearny Street, one of the broader avenues in what was otherwise the rabbit warren of ancient roads comprising San Francisco’s venerated Chinatown district. Despite the lights