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Lundy laughed bitterly, her face a mask of incredulity as she, too, stood and pushed her chair back behind her. “Your ‘honor,’ Captain? I doubt that’s worth much more than half a pre-U.E. Australian dollar.”

Although T’Pol didn’t understand the reference completely, she understood that currency dating back to the time before all of Earth’s disparate nation-states had confederated beneath the aegis of the United Earth government had to be all but worthless today—a fact that was consistent with the present demeanor of her captain, whose hands were balled into fists at his sides.

Moving with as much quiet grace as she could muster, T’Pol also rose to her feet. Although she was doing her utmost not to appear aggressive or threatening, she readied herself to undertake a quick series of harmless but immobilizing V’Shan moves in the event the colonel were to allow her obviously violent emotions to get the better of her.

Before Archer could respond to the colonel’s harsh words, Shima rose as well. “Maybe you ought to ask the crew of the Kobayashi Maru exactly what your ‘honor’ was worth to them, Captain,” he said, glaring at Archer after casting a contemptuous glance at his untouched plate. “Thanks for the banquet, by the way,” he added before stalking toward the door. Lundy wasted no time following him.

“I don’t understand,” T’Pol said, puzzled by their guests’ refusal to partake of a table stocked with perfectly wholesome—not to mention badly needed—food. “Where are you going?”

Shima disappeared through the hatchway, favoring T’Pol with neither a reply nor a backward glance.

“Out into the corridor,” Colonel Lundy said, pausing momentarily in the open hatchway. “There’s got to be some e-rats floating around here somewhere.” And with that she followed Shima.

T’Pol found that she was still staring incredulously at the hatchway several seconds after it had closed, leaving her alone with the captain.

He continued standing in place, looking profoundly sad.

“Most illogical,” she said at length.

Archer shook his head, and finally found his voice. But the anger she had heard in it earlier had vanished, replaced by a deep weariness.

“No, T’Pol. It’s not illogical at all.” He dropped heavily into his chair at the table, prompting T’Pol to retake her own seat.

“But they should be eating and recovering their strength,” she said. “Particularly after what they have just endured.”

The captain made a brief sound that T’Pol identified as a chuckle, though she could detect no humor behind it. “They’ll take care of themselves, by and by. But they’re leaders first. And being a leader means that the people you’re responsible for have to be your first priority. Those two just aren’t up to sharing a boat ride with Jonah right now.”

“Jonah?” T’Pol said, her confusion escalating. “Boat ride?”

Archer sighed and assayed a wan smile. “Let’s just say I’m not exactly perceived as a good luck charm at the moment.”

T’Pol began to contemplate the irritating human penchant for speaking in opaque metaphors when she noticed the faraway look in Archer’s eyes. It was a look she had seen often over the past four days.

Being a leader means that the people you’re responsible for have to be your first priority, she thought, recalling Archer’s words.

“You are considering again what you regard as your failure to save the Kobayashi Maru,” she said, not asking a question.

His eyes narrowed slightly. “Is there really another way to consider it, T’Pol? Other than as a failure?”

She tried to ground herself emotionally before replying, so as not to respond to the captain’s intensity the way a Vulcan lyre’s passive strings tended to vibrate in sympathy when the main ones were plucked. “Perhaps not. Particularly if you insist on discounting your success in saving the lives of everyone aboard Enterprise. I trust I need not remind you that Starfleet Command has not overlooked that success. And as you yourself pointed out to our guests, Captain, we are only a single ship.”

He looked no more encouraged