The Romulan War_ Beneath the Raptor's Wing (Book 1) - Michael A. Martin [35]
“Let’s hope they can sustain that much unity when the Romulans come a-calling,” Archer said.
“I need you back at the home front before it comes to that,” said the admiral. “I want Enterprise to make best speed for Earth. I know you’re at extreme range right now, so the sooner you get under way, the better. In the meantime, Starfleet will be pulling out all the stops to upgrade our systemwide defenses, and do whatever we can to keep the rest of the Coalition safe from further sneak attacks.”
Archer acknowledged Gardner’s orders, and both men signed off.
After relaying Enterprise’s new course and speed orders to Travis Mayweather, who hadn’t yet had an opportunity to debark for his next assignment, Archer wondered whether or not “the rest of the Coalition” included Vulcan.
Disturbing.
As emotional as that characterization was, it was the most accurate description T’Pol could make of the effect that the messages she had just received from Vulcan had had upon her.
As she left her quarters on B deck, took the turbolift down three levels, then strode along the outer starboard-side corridor of E deck, she could think of only one person aboard Enterprise, save perhaps Doctor Phlox, with whom she could discuss the contents and implications of that message.
She stopped before a closed hatchway and touched the door-chime control on the companel mounted on the wall beside it.
“Come,” came Jonathan Archer’s voice through the companel. The hatchway slid open an instant later, and she stepped over the threshold and into the captain’s quarters.
“I must apologize for visiting you so late, Captain,” she said.
Captain Archer was still in his duty uniform, though it was in a noticeably rumpled state after the lengthy day he had put in. Sitting at the foot of his bed, he idly stroked the neck fur of the small Terran canine with which he shared his quarters.
“Don’t apologize, T’Pol. In fact, I was about to interrupt whatever you were doing.”
“Regarding Administrator T’Pau’s announcement, I presume.”
The captain nodded. “I was hoping you might shed a little light on why T’Pau has decided to sit out the war, now that you’ve had a little time to think about it.” He stopped stroking the dog and gestured toward a nearby chair. “Please, have a seat, Commander. You’re making Porthos nervous. And sometimes that makes him, ah, well, fart.”
Finding the animal to be fragrant enough without the addition of any further olfactory variables, T’Pol wasted no time assuming a seated, if ramrod-straight, posture.
“I must confess that I have thought about little other than the administrator’s decision since I learned of it,” she said, clasping her hands tightly in her lap.
Archer resumed scratching the dog. “It didn’t make any sense to me a few hours ago when Admiral Gardner broke the news, and it still doesn’t add up now.”
“I am not privy to all of the factors that went into Administrator T’Pau’s decision-making process,” T’Pol said, trying not to sound desperately noncommittal.
“You’re a Vulcan,” Archer said, frowning slightly. “Not to mention a former intelligence agent for the V’Shar. So you’re better equipped than anybody else here to figure out why the leader of your planet’s new government would take any action that might tear the Coalition to pieces—or worse, lead to a Romulan conquest.”
“I will use my own sources to attempt to discover whatever I can about the reasoning behind T’Pau’s redeployment of Vulcan’s offworld strategic assets, Captain,” she said, meeting his frowning gaze head-on.
“That seems like a fancy way to say ‘withdrawal,’” Archer said. “T’Pau