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He vented some of his impatience by drumming his fingers on the desktop. “Did he have any news from Vulcan?”

“Let’s just say he didn’t leave me filled with hope,” she said, sounding both weary and sad. “He left me with the impression that he might have more to say about the Vulcans once the Coalition Council finishes with today’s closed-door meeting. I’m told Administrator T’Pau herself is addressing the assembly.”

Archer sat in silence, absorbing her words. He’d known Erika Hernandez, both as a lover and a Starfleet colleague, long enough to trust her instincts implicitly.

“I’ll call you back later,” he said at length. “I think I’d better go straight to Gardner and try to find out what’s going on.” It certainly beat waiting around for new orders and dispatches from Starfleet Command.

She nodded, and he saw an ironic twinkle in her eye. “All right. In the meantime, let’s make plans for dinner—say, at the Lotus Blossom?— for the next time we’re both in town, Jon. Eventually.”

“Eventually,” he said, smiling, though he could think of a few alternative restaurant choices. But there would be plenty of time to argue later about whether or not the 602 Club up in Mill Valley laid out a better table than Tommy’s place in Chinatown. “I’ll put the date in pencil for now.” He knew that she was perfectly aware that Enterprise was still months away from Earth, even at maximum warp—and that was assuming that fate had no unforeseen detours or delays in store for either of them. Regardless, it felt good to imagine a time, however distant, after which this whole Romulan business would finally be behind them both.

A few minutes later the image of Admiral Sam Gardner replaced that of Columbia’s commander. The admiral’s dour expression told him that whatever news he might have to share wouldn’t be good.

Archer wasted no time on pleasantries. “Has T’Pau finished addressing the Council yet, Admiral?”

“Just a few minutes ago,” Gardner said, his manner almost funereal.

Archer swallowed, fearing he already knew the answer to his next question. “So how many ships are the Vulcans going to send to help us rout the Romulan beachhead at Calder?”

“A nice, round number,” the admiral said, his tone growing strained and bitter. “Zero, to be precise.”

Archer shook his head in frustration. “They’re digging in deeper and deeper on Calder II every day. More ships, more shipbuilding hardware, and more troops. If we wait much longer, we might never pry that entire system out of their claws.”

“Starfleet Command and the MACO chiefs made the same arguments, Captain,” Gardner said. “It didn’t seem to make much of an impression.”

“Do they think there’s a higher priority defense objective than Calder?” Archer wanted to know. “A Romulan base at Calder puts the enemy in Vulcan’s backyard just as much as it puts them in ours.”

Gardner frowned deeply. “You’re misunderstanding me, Jonathan. The Vulcan government has declined to send any ships out to defend any Coalition worlds beyond Vulcan’s own holdings.”

Archer had expected to have problems with the details of Vulcan’s tactical decisions. What he hadn’t expected was that T’Pau’s military strategy might cause him to question her sanity. The defense of Vulcan’s motivations that he had mounted before the leaders of the Tarod IX outpost was suddenly beginning to ring very hollow.

Through a thickening haze of incredulity, he said, “Why?”

“Administrator T’Pau has declined to answer that question as well,” Gardner said. With a sigh, he added, “Now I have to figure out what I’m going to say about this when the press comes calling.”

Archer answered with a humorless chuckle. “I think I’d rather face the Romulans.”

“Be careful what you wish for, Captain.”

Archer ignored the comment, bitterly aware that he was likely to be up to his ass in Romulans very soon regardless of any decisions made on Vulcan. “What’s the rest of the Coalition saying about this, Admiral?”

“It’s pretty much what you’d expect, at least so far. One of the founding worlds of the Coalition of Planets