The Romulan War_ Beneath the Raptor's Wing (Book 1) - Michael A. Martin [17]
Though he recognized, as the admiral clearly did, that this was a tall order, Archer nodded silently. He wondered whether the vicissitudes of war were about to transform the sleek, forward-looking NX-class into a technological dead end that people would someday view only as a charming museum curiosity, like the Trylon and the Perisphere from the 1939 New York World’s Fair.
“Well, I can think of one fleet that’s already built and ready to go,” Archer said. “Not to mention better equipped to handle the Romulans than we would be even if we spent Earth’s entire gross domestic product on starship construction for the next five years.”
“The Vulcan Defense Force,” Gardner said, nodding.
“Why haven’t the Vulcans stepped up to the plate yet, Admiral?” Archer said.
“They did stop the attack on Alpha Centauri cold, Jonathan.”
“But they didn’t lift a finger to keep Calder and Tarod out of Romulan hands. I know they can’t be everywhere, but their fleet is spread a hell of a lot less thinly than ours. Especially now that Vulcan and Andoria aren’t at each other’s throats any longer.” Since Trip had taken Enterprise straight into the middle of the Vulcan-Andorian crossfire last year and thereby defused that conflict, Archer had expected the effort to pay off in a “peace dividend” of a somewhat more tangible nature than the mere signing of the Coalition Compact.
Now would be a good time for the Vulcans to make at least a down payment on that dividend, Archer thought, biting down a resurgence of the bitterness that years of Vulcan obstruction to humanity’s space exploration efforts had engendered in him. We’ll need all the force we can muster if we’re going to have any chance of heading off the threat of a Romulan beachhead.
“Administrator T’Pau is visiting Earth now, to address the Coalition Council and answer questions about Vulcan’s defense posture vis-à-vis the Romulans,” Gardner said, sitting straighter at his desk, evidently winding up the conversation. “So get some rest before you get to the Tarod outpost, Captain. That’s an order. In the meantime, I will do everything possible to persuade T’Pau to send every available Vulcan military ship to Calder II as quickly as possible. Gardner out.”
Let’s hope T’Pau is in a listening mood, Archer thought as he settled back in his chair and watched the screen on his desk shift back to the default image of the Starfleet logo. Vulcans might be renowned for their logic, but they don’t get nearly enough credit for their stubbornness.
The whistle of the desktop intercom interrupted Archer’s gloomy musings. He jabbed the button with his index finger. “Archer here. Go ahead.”
The voice on the other end of the comm unit commingled excitement with apprehension. “Lieutenant Reed here, sir. I hope I’m not disturbing you.”
Archer chuckled. “Not at all, Malcolm. It’s a relief to learn I’m not the only insomniac aboard. What can I do for you?”
“I have some good news, Captain,” Reed said, the excitement in his voice quickly overhauling the apprehension. “At least potentially. I’ve been analyzing the various systems aboard Enterprise that the new Romulan weapon seems to have affected during the Kobayashi Maru incident. And I’ve noticed a peculiar pattern that might give us a way to plan an effective countermeasure.”
In spite of his dour mood, the news gave Archer some hope. “Sounds promising, Malcolm. Let’s go over it tomorrow.”
“Very good, sir. Reed out.”
Archer stood, stretched, and moved back toward the door. Maybe there’s still time for a quick jog, he thought. Then maybe a catnap before—
The intercom sounded again. “Bridge to Captain Archer,” said T’Pol, speaking in her