ENTERPRISE VIRTUAL SEASON 5

"Anyone who assists the humans shall be perceived as an enemy of the Romulan Star Empire," Zei Sak said doggedly. She was repeating the words of the Romulan warning that had come mere minutes before a shot had collapsed the structure that hosted the trade talks.
Captain Jonathan Archer eyed the Centauri delegate with disfavor. He hadn't slept in the twenty hours since the attack. The only reason he was here now was because his second in command, Commander T'Pol, had insisted they attend a meeting called by their Centauri hosts, even though Enterprise had taken a direct hit from what could only have been a Romulan ship and had suffered heavy damage. Nearly a quarter of the crew was dead—and it would have been more, Archer thought angrily, had not so many been off the ship on shore leave or on official ship's business. Many of the survivors were injured. He was too exhausted to rally more than a dull anger. He would far rather be on board his ship, overseeing the repairs, than in this pointless meeting, listening to the remaining delegates threaten and complain.
"And how...convenient that you and your colleague were absent when the negotiating site was attacked," Commander Shran sneered. The Andorian shook off the soothing hand of Jhamel, his Aenar colleague.
"One could say the same for you," the other Centauri, Anun Osoko, said sharply. "May I remind you that we lost Saan Phal, one of our city's most admired advocates and a true leader among our people."
Phal, the Centauri who had been running the proceedings with an iron fist, had been readying the negotiation site for another round of work when the Romulan ship had uncloaked in the atmosphere and fired at the building, collapsing it and killing almost everyone in the negotiations area. Two of the dead were members of Enterprise's doctor's family—Doctor Phlox's wife, Alora, and one of her husbands, Card. Phlox was currently in a nonresponsive state, apparently overcome by grief. Arrangements were being made to take Phlox back to Denobula Triaxa as quickly as possible.
"A great loss indeed," the Vulcan delegate, Soval, said. "But let us not forget who suffered the most."
Archer looked up in the sudden silence. Soval meant him, of course—it took him a second to process it. "This is pointless," he said, shoving his chair back and standing up. He could sense the animosity and tension in the room, and this time, it wasn't just between the perpetually arguing Andorians and the Tellarites. He pointed at Sak. "You were saying? No, wait. Let me. You want Earth to withdraw from the talks." Sak's eyes dropped, so Archer turned to address the entire room. "We've lost Denobula Triaxa," he said harshly. "We've lost the Boomers. We've lost Tellar. I've lost eighteen crew members. The Romulans are trying to break up these talks—because they think that if we work together, we're a threat to their power." As he spoke, Archer pinned them one by one with his gaze. "Well, I say, if we're doing something that's making them mad, we're doing something right. Negotiations should go forward. We should pick a new site and continue negotiations with new delegates."
"Centauri withdraws from negotiations with Earth." Sak's voice made it a formal proclamation. "In addition, we're revoking all existing trade contracts, beginning immediately, and our ambassador to Earth has been recalled."
"What do you think—" Archer began, just as Soval said, "I do not believe—"
Sak raised her voice to override them. "I tell you as a courtesy. The word will come to Earth's government through proper channels shortly." She glanced expectantly at Shran, who looked pugnacious.
"Andoria withdraws as well," Shran said grudgingly. "And so do Tellar and Denobula Triaxa."
Archer, stunned at this betrayal, looked from Shran to Jhamel as the Aenar woman spoke. "We received communiqués from Tellar and Denobula Triaxa right before this meeting." She stated it as a fact, no trace of apology in her voice.
"You're...you're telling me that Andoria—mighty Andoria—is letting itself be bullied by a race of people they haven't even seen?" Archer demanded, his fury well out of his control. "What happened to the fearless, unstoppable Andorian warriors?"
"Perhaps you did not notice the Romulans' cloaking technology, or their ability to sneak through a heavily guarded area of space," Shran pointed out.
Archer bit back a response. He knew very well how the Romulans had gotten in: the Centauri people had invited them. "So...I imagine talks will continue, but without Earth?" he said ironically. The clear winner would be Alpha Centauri.
"That is very likely," Sak said, and now she met Archer's eyes. He thought she looked triumphant.
Soval stirred. "Vulcan stands by Earth. All contracts between our worlds remain in force."
"Thank you," Archer said inadequately. The negotiations and what they symbolized—not only peace, but an unprecedented economic and diplomatic arrangement between multiple star system—had just vaporized, all because of the threats of an unseen aggressor. It was the wrong choice. Even tired as he was, Archer was certain of that. He spoke quietly. "You realize that this is a pivotal moment. This is the moment you're going to look back on in five or ten years, and you're going to regret this decision."
"Is that a threat, pinkskin?" Shran demanded. "Because Andoria shares the Romulans' desire to check Earth's expansionism."
Archer shook his head. He hadn't meant for it to come out so baldly. "No, it's not a threat," he said tiredly. "It's a fact. We're all right here, right now, and we've got the Romulans nervous. That's exactly why we should stick together. It's only as a united force that we can take them on."
"But we do not wish to...to 'take them on,' as you say," Jhamel pointed out. "We wish to live in harmony with our neighbors. We have received a warning, and we have decided to heed it."
T'Pol spoke her first words since the meeting had started. "You have decided to heed it because new economic incentives have been extended that are favorable to Andoria." She leaned forward as Shran began a sputtering denial. "Surely you forget Vulcan's long reach. I have received information about this matter from...friends of mine who are in a position to know."
"Shran." The word ripped out of Archer as an angry betrayal, even as Shran turned away, Jhamel clasping the commander's wrist in support. Shran's lack of denial served as his admission.
Sak spoke loudly to regain the floor. "I'm afraid Enterprise and all other Earth vessels are no longer welcome in our space. You should make arrangements to depart immediately."
T'Pol inclined her head, as if in polite acknowledgment. Archer's own calm was as hard-fought as hers appeared effortless. "A Vulcan ship will return Enterprise to Earth," she said. "Our chief engineer, Commander Tucker, is missing. We need to find him before we can depart."
Sak shook her head. "I don't want that warship to return, and the message was quite clear." She referred to the Romulan message that Archer hadn't heard during its original broadcast because he, at the urging of his security officer, Lieutenant Malcolm Reed, had been hurriedly evacuating the building. But he had obtained a copy and played it since then. All ships and people from Earth were to depart Centauri space in three days.
Archer rubbed his face. "We have a few more days. We need to stabilize the ship's structural integrity before we can be towed at warp." Archer deeply missed Tucker's presence—not only was he worried about his friend, but Tucker's expertise on stabilizing the ship's systems come in handy right about now. He continued, "We'll leave as soon as we can do that. We'll meet the Romulans' deadline." He placed emphasis on "Romulan," to indicate that it wasn't the Centauri calling the shots. What kind of deal had they made? Of one thing Archer was certain: the Centauris would come to be deeply sorry about making this decision.
"I regret this necessity." Sak stood up, gave a half-bow, and left, her counterpart trailing behind her like a dark cloud.
Archer sat back and surveyed the room. Only he, Shran, Jhamel, Soval, and T'Pol remained of the delegates. The others had all been killed. Shran and Jhamel had been running late, the result of a meeting they'd had with the Tellarites and Phal that had extended into lunchtime, and had observed the attack from several blocks away. And Archer and T'Pol would have been killed too, had Reed not presciently hustled them out.
"I didn't think Andoria would cave so easily," Archer said bitterly as Shran and Jhamel stood, preparing to leave. Nearby, T'Pol was helping the elderly, and apparently ill, Soval to his feet, the two of them exchanging low words.
"And I didn't think you'd confuse my responsibility with my personal feelings," Shran retorted.
"We owe you so much, Captain," Jhamel interposed, before Shran and Archer could work themselves up into a shouting match. "And now we—Shran and I—ask you to do something for us. Not for Andoria."
"What?" Archer asked warily.
"We wish something to begin out of this end." Jhamel hooked her arm with Shran's. "We wish to stand on board Enterprise and have you bind us as life mates."
It took Archer a second to figure out what she meant. "You want me to marry you?" he demanded. The request, after such a betrayal, seemed ludicrous.
"You have that power, do you not? According to your customs?" Jhamel faced Archer, her blind eyes not quite on his face.
"Yes," Archer admitted.
"Then you will bind us to each other, that better things might come of today." Jhamel nodded sharply, as if it had all been decided.
"Think of the symbolism," Shran said, irony tingeing his voice. "A mighty Andorian warrior and a powerful Aenar negotiator, standing on the deck of a ship blasted by an implacable foe, to be united by a former ally. I know it will be a day I will remember for the rest of my life."
In spite of himself, Archer laughed. Shran would never change. "Fine," he agreed. "For old time's sake."
"For old time's sake," Shran repeated.

********

Lieutenant Malcolm Reed, arms crossed, surveyed the latest data on the console on board the Centauri orbiting shipbuilding facility. Enterprise's chief engineer—and his good friend—Trip Tucker had been beamed away a day ago, and Archer had put Reed in charge of getting Tucker back. Reed had managed to get to the facility right before the police came, even though he'd had to leave the scene of the blast on Alpha Centauri to do so. He'd managed to gather information and, more importantly, get on the Centauri police's good side before everything had fallen apart planetside. But Reed had technology superior to the Centauri police's and had made a point to share information freely—or appear to share information freely.
"Lieutenant?" Jessy Giordano, a member of his security team, asked hesitantly.
"Eh?" Reed looked up, momentarily startled. He'd only slept in snatches since the attack. "Sorry, Giordano. I just got the data feed from the orbiting traffic report." They'd found traces of the transporter and hoped to triangulate it to a ship, although by now, the ship could be long gone. If Reed had been in charge of the op, he'd have transported Tucker away and then immediately jumped to warp—assuming that snatching Tucker was the only goal and not participating in the attack. Bloody hell. "Everyone in orbit around Alpha Centauri is logged," he told Giordano, pointing to the map. "These are the data from the Centauri ship-tracking system from the few hours around the time of the attack." Tucker had been beamed away just a minute or two before the Romulan ship attacked first Enterprise and then the negotiation site. "We ought to be able to figure out who beamed Commander Tucker away by reviewing energy surges." He had hoped to triangulate a ship with the residual energy left by the transporter technology, but that hadn't proved possible.
Giordano leaned in to get a closer look. "How?" she asked. "That information wasn't logged."
Reed smiled. "Ah, but it was." He pulled out his PADD and cross-linked the data. "All kinds of information has been recorded. We just have to pull it out." He manipulated his PADD, and a second later, the constellation of ships on the screen morphed into bright blobs. "Let me just—" Reed muttered as he tuned out certain electromagnetic frequencies and boosted others.
"Nice," Giordano said, pleased, as the viewscreen settled from hundreds of white blobs to only six. "Can you make the ship's names appear?"
"I think so." Reed experimented and managed to link the transponder codes to the ships' names. "How's that?"
"Good." Giordano pulled out her own PADD. "Let's play elimination." Giordano had been in charge of researching ships. She had told Reed earlier that she knew more about manifests, ship specs, and the like than she had ever cared to know.
"I don't think we need to do that," Reed said. One of the ship's names had struck him. He touched it with a fingertip. "The Fortitude. That's our first target."
Giordano looked at him, confusion evident in her dark eyes. "That's a Boomer ship," she pointed out. "They're our allies."
"I know. I'll take the Fortitude, and you rank the others and take them at your discretion."
"Yes, sir." Giordano was clearly dying to know what he knew, but Reed wasn't in a mood to explain. The Fortitude had run into a Klingon ship a few days before arriving at Alpha Centauri, coincidentally a few days after Reed and Tucker had also encountered a Klingon ship. In Reed's opinion, some crucial information, which had been buried in Tucker's mind, had likely been extracted during their encounter with the Klingons and then given by the Klingons to someone on board that ship—which had also been, before her death in the attack, delegate Jacqueline Kearney's ship. There were far too many connections between these details for him to ignore.
"Sir!" the other member of Reed's security team called, coming toward them at a run. Rao Maas, the lead engineer at the site, trailed him, looking tense. "Something's up. We've got incoming personnel, and they don't look happy."
"I wasn't told about this," Maas gasped, out of breath. She'd been crucial in getting almost unfettered access for Reed's team. "Something's wrong. It's a new police team."
"The captain's meeting didn't go well," Reed guessed. "I rather think we're on our way out. Wipe your PADDs."
"What?" Giordano said, looking at him as if he were crazy, even as he called up the directory on the console and began purging the data.
Reed rounded on them. "Both of you! That's an order. Do it now, and do it fast. Wipe your PADDs. Everything—all of it."
He'd barely cleared out the memory of his own PADD when several men and women in the all-too-familiar uniforms of the Centauri police entered the room. "You're to be escorted out," their leader informed them.
"Where's Officer Pel?" Reed demanded, mostly because he thought that the Centauri expected a protest. "I've been working with her—quite productively, I might add."
"Officer Pel is no longer attached to this investigation." The new leader pointed at the three security personnel. "Search them," she said crisply. "Everything in their pockets goes in that box."
"Hey!" Giordano exclaimed as the patdown began. PADDs, tools, snack bars, communicators, personal good-luck charms—all of it went into the box held by one of the Centauris.
"What is the meaning of this?" Reed smacked a hand as someone reached into a rather too intimate pocket, then lifted his hands in surrender at the glare he was given. Giordano was similarly uncooperative until both her arms were grabbed and she went still.
"Mr. Reed and his associates have been very helpful," Maas said desperately, but Reed could tell that her authority had evaporated. "All they want to do is find a missing crew member."
"Earth and Alpha Centauri have broken off all relations," the leader of the police said, with rather too much relish. "All Earth personnel are to leave Centauri space within the three-day deadline given by the Romulan ship."
"Broken off relations—?" Maas repeated unbelievingly.
Reed blinked. He'd expected to be thrown off the investigation, but he hadn't expected the reason to be quite so compellingly huge. "Do as you must," he snapped. "We'll expect our things back, of course."
"We'll return them to what's left of your ship when we're done with them," the leader promised coldly as she received a nod from one of her minions. "Follow me."
Reed exchanged a long look with Maas. She looked panicked. He gave her a nod, trying to reassure her, and then he and his team left in silence. Their being escorted out included a brief shuttle trip from the orbiting station to the Enterprise. The three security personnel barely exchanged words, but Reed noticed the wariness and confusion in his associates' eyes. Something had definitely gone on at the meeting Archer had been summoned to. Alpha Centauri and Earth had been close allies and trade partners for years. Reed saw the Romulans' hand in this. What kind of deal had the Centauris made? He felt his rage growing, because whatever that deal had been, Enterprise had gotten in the line of fire, and their allies—former allies, Reed mentally corrected himself—had let that happen. Close to one hundred people were dead, including many Centauri and not a few humans. Had that been part of the bargain?
The minute the three of them had disembarked from the shuttle and stood in the airlock, waiting for it to cycle, Reed began issuing orders. "Giordano, your orders stand," he told Giordano. "Ensign, you're with her. I'll check out the Fortitude. The minute any of us finds Commander Tucker, inform Ensign Sato. She's our communications clearinghouse. Everything goes through her—everything. She'll get any messages to me, and she'll liaise with the captain. Don't contact me directly." The airlock door opened, and they stepped into the corridor. "Check with the quartermaster to be issued new communicators, and stop by the armory for phase pistols." He thumbed the com, even as his two associates hesitated. "Now!" he snapped. "Reed to Mayweather," he said as they started down the corridor.
It took a few long seconds before Mayweather responded. "Mayweather," the helm officer said crisply.
"Ensign, I need a ride to the Fortitude," Reed said. "I'll meet you in the launch bay in ten minutes."
"Aye, sir," Mayweather said, and Reed released the button and sagged against the wall.
He really needed to get some sleep. He'd been running on adrenalin for twenty hours—ever since the attack that had changed the political landscape of his world. His mind kept spinning with questions. Instead, he stood up and straightened his uniform, then headed for sickbay to get some stimulants. Wiping the information from their PADDs and the Centauri database had only bought them a few hours' time, he thought. The Centauri police would likely be able to reconstruct the information—they'd be able to view what Reed and his team had viewed, access what they had accessed. And no doubt they would share their findings with their new allies, the Romulans. But Reed had a valuable head start. He intended to use it.

********

"You've been awfully quiet."
Travis Mayweather glanced sidelong at Malcolm Reed. "Sorry, sir," he said automatically. "I don't—I'm not sure what to say."
"Ah." Reed studied the window as Mayweather expertly piloted the shuttle. "I'm sure the captain's debriefing was...interesting."
To say the least, Mayweather added mentally. During the attack, he'd been visiting some Boomer friends he hadn't seen for a while. After he'd returned to Enterprise, he and Hoshi Sato had been called into a meeting with the captain, T'Pol, and Reed. "We don't have a lot of time," the captain had begun, and he'd proceeded to tell the two junior officers about Reed's stint in covert ops. To Mayweather, it explained a lot: Reed's being held in the brig all those months ago, the captain's alternating anger with and withdrawal from Reed, even Tucker's two disappearances—first on Starbase 1, and now. Sato had been very quiet. Mayweather hadn't been able to get a read on her reaction to this latest twist.
"I've just known you for a long time," Mayweather said when the pause had gone on a little too long. "But it makes me wonder what else I don't know."
"Likely quite a bit," Reed said acerbically. "I don't tend to...share."
"I'd noticed." Mayweather reached out and hit the com. "Fortitude, this is Ensign Mayweather from the Enterprise. Request permission to dock."
The com crackled, and a man's voice sounded. "We've been waiting. Doors opening now. Come on in."
Mayweather exchanged a wary look with Reed. "Do they know we're coming?" he asked, and Reed shook his head, looking anxious behind the tiredness. "All right. Going in."
They landed without a bump. They had to wait for the launch bay to repressurize before they could exit, and as they hovered by the door, waiting for the all clear, Reed cleared his throat. "Travis," he said. "I don't want you to doubt where my loyalties lie."
Reed knew him too well. That was exactly what Mayweather was worried about. Too many things had happened over the past months—too many surprises, too many unanswered questions. Mayweather needed to know where he stood right now, before anything else went wrong. "I do, though," Mayweather said slowly, not wanting to hurt Reed's feelings but unable to lie. "I want to know if I can trust you." He indicated the Fortitude with a sweep of his arm. "I don't know what we're getting into."
Reed hesitated, as if searching for the right words. "I've told Captain Archer this, and now I'm telling you. I'm loyal to him, over and above any other allegiances I may have had. Everything that goes on here, Captain Archer will know about." Reed's eyes burned into his. "Got it?"
"Got it," Mayweather said, oddly reassured.
"Good. Now let's get Commander Tucker back."
As if on cue, the all-clear sounded, and Mayweather smacked the door control. As they exited, a party of four entered the launch bay: Commander Tucker, Captain Hendry, a nondescript man Mayweather didn't know, and Lisa Kearney, Jacqueline Kearney's daughter, whom Mayweather had met briefly at lunch—was it only a day or two ago?
"Commander Tucker!" Mayweather called, breaking into a grin, and he saw the answering smile from the chief engineer.
"Travis! Malcolm! Am I glad to see you!" Tucker exclaimed, coming forward and looking relieved.
Mayweather checked his pace when he realized Reed was no longer at his heels. Reed had stopped just outside the shuttle. "Why am I not surprised to see you, Harris?" Reed said, hostility evident in his voice, and Mayweather snapped around. So this was Reed's shadowy contact—the man who had first directed Reed's covert ops, and who had then left the mysterious organization.
"And yet I'm delighted to see you, Mr. Reed," Harris responded, his voice unctuous. Mayweather took an instant dislike to him. "We've been waiting for you. As you can see, Commander Tucker is fine."
"I've still got one hell of a headache, but other than that—" Tucker shrugged. He glanced at Harris, his expression relatively neutral. "Harris here got me out, and from what he tells me, it was just in time."
"What—" Mayweather began, confused, as Lisa Kearney said, "We have a lot to talk about. Follow me to the conference room." She headed for the doors. Tucker waved to Mayweather and Reed to follow. Clearly he knew enough about the situation to trust Kearney and the others, but then again, Tucker's mind had been altered not long ago. Reed lagged behind until Hendry and Harris were in front of him.
"It's all right," Mayweather heard Reed tell Tucker as they trailed her out of the launch bay and into a utilitarian corridor. "Travis and Hoshi have both been briefed."
"Good," Tucker said with evident relief. "I was getting confused about who knew what."
"All communication is going through Hoshi," Reed continued. "The captain wants her in on the big picture."
"I'm not sure how much time we have," Kearney said as she opened a door and stood aside so everyone could file in. "The Romulans gave all Earth ships three days to go, so we've had to fake some warp troubles to explain why we're still here."
"Because of her mother's untimely death, Lisa's just been brought into the fold," Harris said to the room at large as they all chose seats in the stark room, which contained a conference table, stackable chairs in an incongruous but cheery red, and a viewscreen, but little else.
"I'm so sorry about your mom," Mayweather said immediately, looking up at Kearney, unsurprised to see sudden tears standing in her eyes.
"Thanks," Kearney said, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "Yeah. I think I'm fine, and then it just kind of hits me."
"So—I guess the Klingons delivered that message to your mom?" Mayweather guessed, and Kearney nodded. "Do you know what it was?" He felt Reed stiffen beside him as Kearney nodded again.
"It was a transponder code frequency," Kearney said. "You know, when I say it like that—" She shook her head. "It took me hours to hack her files and database when Harris and George showed up."
"Who's George?" Reed asked.
"Me," Hendry said. He gave Reed a savage grin. "Don't look so shocked. I'm one of the good guys, just like you."
"Hardly," Mayweather heard Reed huff to himself, even as Kearney continued.
"And then it took me a while to figure out what it meant. Trip was very helpful."
Tucker gave a polite nod.
"Meanwhile, my dad is running interference, trying to keep attention off us by making a lot of noise, showing the Boomer delegate around." Kearney sighed. "The transponder code has been hard-wired into literally thousands of Boomer ships—every single ship that's been repaired at one of six space stations over the course of ten years, which is pretty nearly all of us."
Mayweather felt his jaw drop. Then he pointed at Harris. "You guys?" he guessed, because he couldn't imagine who else would have the resources or the reach.
"Us guys?" Harris raised his eyebrows and smirked. "No. It was Starfleet Intelligence. They placed the code in every Boomer ship they could get their hands on. Now, when Miss Kearney says 'the code,' she doesn't do it justice. It's long, complex, and encrypted, and it has to be decrypted by a particular algorithm. It can't just be memorized. You can't simply tap it into a keypad to gain access."
"Gain access to what?" Mayweather asked.
"Everything." Harris spread his hands, palms up, in an expansive gesture. "In addition to the location and status of the ship in question, the holder of this code can access logs and communication."
"It's a covert network," Kearney said baldly. "Starfleet Intelligence wanted eyes and ears all through space. Boomers go everywhere. These transponders have let them look wherever they wanted to look. They got logs with information that was recorded that was of no interest to the Boomers on board, but of great interest to others—what ships were nearby, who was heading in which direction, what warp trail went where, that kind of thing. All of it. And all being collected from us without our knowledge or consent."
"Let me guess." Reed leaned forward. "Your mysterious employers wanted to give someone else access to all that information."
Harris nodded. "Exactly so. So the code was smuggled out and placed in Mr. Tucker's brain. I'm not quite sure whose idea that was. Certainly not mine."
"So Starfleet Intelligence still has access?" Reed frowned.
Tucker cleared his throat. "Not any more." He leaned forward. "We changed the code first thing. We basically used the information to change the password." He grinned. "Don't look at me like that, Malcolm. You know me. I like to keep busy." He shrugged. "Besides, we had to change it. Now Starfleet may not have access, but neither will the Romulans. The old code is now useless."
"And now we have, at our disposal, a huge net of unwitting eyes and ears." Harris sighed theatrically, and Mayweather and Hendry both eyed him with disfavor. Harris returned the glares with only an amused smile. "And when I say 'our,' I of course mean Lisa. And when I say 'unwitting,' it won't be for much longer."
Kearney traced shapes on the tabletop with a finger. "My dad and Leo Osgood, the delegate to Earth Assembly, are talking to Boomers in person to get the word out, because hostiles are nearby and we don't dare use either the transponder info, to get a mass message out, or regular subspace. But this is the way it's going to play out. The transponders are going to stay in place. Boomers are going to be in control of that information. And Boomers are going to break away from Earth."
Mayweather, shocked, opened his mouth to say something, then closed it, because he thought he saw where this was going. Hendry confirmed it: "Only not really," he put in.
"Wheels within wheels," Reed muttered.
"If the Romulans think Boomers and Earth are on the outs, we'll be allowed to roam, especially because Boomers don't have territory the way everybody seems to think of territory." Kearney laced her fingers. "Hopefully it will keep us out of the line of fire. And meanwhile, we feed intel back to Earth."
Harris cut in smoothly. "The 'who' on Earth being the problem. Starfleet Intelligence is clearly involved, and my former associates on Earth are also in doubt now. Someone is clearly trying to get that transponder code to the Romulans, for little more than personal enrichment and political maneuvering. I beamed Commander Tucker out just in time. A covert team was on its way to extract him—unaware, of course, that thanks to my...er...relationship with the Klingons, I'd already arranged to have the information removed and handed off to its rightful owners, the Boomers themselves."
He noted that Harris didn't mention where that covert team was currently. "So the intel can't be sent to Starfleet?" Mayweather repeated. "Who, then? Earth Assembly? Or what?"
"Well, Starfleet has just a few bad apples," Harris said, as if admitting something terribly sad. "Perhaps you remember Hatham Industries?"
Although he was trying to play it as cool as Reed, Mayweather tensed. Hatham Industries—he hadn't heard that name for a while.
"Mr. Mayweather, you knew Agent Gannet, of Starfleet Intelligence, I believe," Harris prodded.
The familiar feeling of loss hit Mayweather in the pit of the stomach. He knew Gannet. In point of fact, he'd been in love with her. She'd been killed months ago, but the wounds still hurt. "I knew her," Mayweather managed, aware of Reed looking at him sympathetically. He focused on how much he was starting to dislike Harris.
"The leader of Hatham Industries was warned by someone within Starfleet Intelligence that you were close to finding him—someone unattractively obsessed by Enterprise and Captain Archer, I might add. Mr. Hatham—let's call him Mr. Hatham—escaped after the Terra Prime attacks. The people behind Hatham Industries have been in contact with the Romulans, and they have taken over the...organization I used to work for. I'm afraid they don't have Earth's best interests at heart."
"You're dancing around the name," Reed pointed out. "Who in Starfleet are you talking about?"
For once, Harris answered the question directly. "Admiral Boone."
"The new head of Starfleet Intelligence?" Mayweather said unbelievingly. Boone had been promoted when Admiral Novotny, the former chief of the Intelligence division and the man who'd kept Mayweather in jail for several days after Gannet's murder, had become the commander of Starbase 1. And that had happened after Enterprise's discovery that the previous commander of the starbase, Admiral Gardner, had been killed and replaced by a Romulan agent.
Harris nodded, all hint of humor gone from his face. "Not only is he the head of Starfleet Intelligence, but he also became the head of my former organization, which is what compelled me to part company with them. And I'm afraid we simply must get rid of him."
"I beg your pardon?" Reed asked incredulously. "Are you suggesting we—"
"I'm not suggesting we do anything," Harris interrupted. He cocked his head, a faint smile on his face. "I'm suggesting you assassinate him, Mr. Reed."
Mayweather looked from Harris to Reed and saw Tucker likewise staring at the armory officer, whose face had gone very pale.

********

Hoshi Sato took Jhamel's hand and gently lowered it. "There," she said as Jhamel made contact.
"Oh!" Jhamel traced Porthos' head with her fingers. "How soft! And he wiggles!"
"The wet, slobbery thing is his tongue," Sato said as Jhamel began to pet the beagle. "We say on Earth that he's kissing you. A sign of affection."
"At home, fur on such creatures is heavy and coarse—not at all like this," Jhamel said, exploring Porthos' back as the dog gazed up at her and panted. "And he's so small!" She knelt by Porthos and used both hands to stroke the dog. "The captain keeps him?"
"As a pet," Sato said. "He goes with the captain almost everywhere. He's on a leash today because of the damage to the ship. The captain was worried that Porthos would hurt himself."
"The ship feels very different," Jhamel said, as if in agreement. "The air seems wrong. It doesn't move."
"The ventilation system isn't working," Sato said. "We've been flushing air through the old-fashioned way: by opening the doors in a certain order once an hour." She leaned over and checked a console. The two of them, plus Porthos, were in the captain's ready room. "It's time. Are you ready?"
"Of course," Jhamel said, standing up immediately and smoothing her skirts.
"Aren't you nervous?" Sato teased.
"No, of course not," Jhamel said. "Should I be?"
"Brides often are." Sato wound Porthos' leash around her hand and headed for the door.
"I am far more nervous about the response when I return home," Jhamel confided. "An alliance between an Andorian military man and an Aenar is—well, quite literally unheard of. I fear his family will not like me. I fear they will dismiss me because of my youth. I fear our decision will have political consequences, just as I fear that its symbolism will be taken out of context and used by both our enemies." She reached out, and with that odd, unerring ability she had that so disconcerted Sato, she gently clasped Sato's arm. "Political expedience has been the order of the day for too long now. Captain Archer has been nothing but a friend to me and Shran, yet we had to follow our two governments' orders, because in this respect, we are not private citizens."
"I understand," Sato murmured. "I'm sure Captain Archer does too."
"Perhaps you could tell him," Jhamel said, the intensity in her voice belied by her beautiful, blank face. Sato had to remind herself that Jhamel was blind, for all that she could maneuver around rooms, or reach out and grab something. Her people did not have body language that Sato was accustomed to. "Perhaps you could tell him that even as our governments break off formal alliances, in me and in Shran, Captain Archer has personal friends. His role in the bonding links him to us in a way that transcends politics. Andorian custom has it so. Will you tell him?"
"I'll tell him," Sato promised. "Ready? Here we go."
Sato opened the door and tugged Porthos back as he attempted to bound toward his master, who stood on the bridge wearing a dress uniform, Shran beside him. Shran also wore what was clearly a military uniform, complete with a considerable number of decorations up and down the left-hand side.
"Ah, Jhamel," Shran exclaimed, extending a hand, and Jhamel took it as though she could see it. "Shran," she murmured, and the two of them, holding hands, faced Archer. Although both appeared outwardly composed, their antennae displayed agitation, moving restlessly, and Sato wondered whether Jhamel was really as calm as she professed.
Sato, along with the skeleton bridge crew including Mayweather, Tucker, and Reed, who had just hours ago returned from the Fortitude with Tucker safely in tow, stood in a loose semicircle nearby on the bridge, its walls blackened and its machinery ruined. Joining them were three Andorians from Shran's ship, the Jhamel, named after the woman he was now making his life mate. Sato hadn't had time to coach Archer in the Andorian-language version of the ceremony, so he spoke in English. Shran and Jhamel had opted out of a full-length traditional wedding, in part because neither could agree whose tradition to follow, that of Shran's people or Jhamel's, and in part because it seemed incongruous, given their surroundings. Instead, they had compromised on a short ceremony based on the teachings of Andoria's most revered philosopher, which the two held in common.
As Archer, holding a PADD up, pronounced unromantic words of alliance and harmony, Sato watched Shran and Jhamel. It was good to see that occasionally, love could win out. The two were an unlikely pair, but she thought they complemented each other. Jhamel's serene calm offset Shran's excitability, and he roused her implacability to warmth and humor. Sato wasn't up on the current Andorian social scene, but she knew that Shran had to be considered quite a catch. Similarly, Jhamel was both beautiful and well connected, by circumstance a leader among her mysterious people, who had only recently entered the arena of Andoria's politics.
Shran and Jhamel put their heads close together and spoke in unison the words that bound them together for life. Despite herself, Sato felt herself growing teary. She exchanged a rueful grin with Mayweather, who also looked affected. He shifted a little closer to her and put his arm around her, as if sensing that she needed support, and beside her, Porthos leaned against her leg.
"And so we witness," Sato murmured, along with the Andorians, and beside her, Mayweather chimed in, a little late, his voice a low rumble.
"On Earth, it's customary for the new couple to kiss one another," Archer said, lowering the PADD.
"A charming custom," Shran proclaimed. He looked, Sato thought, a little smug.
"Charming," Jhamel agreed. "We should indulge our hosts," she added, and when Shran kissed her, she put her arms around him and kissed him back. The Earth observers applauded, smiling and laughing.
"The registry," one of the Andorians said, stepping forward, and as Sato watched, the legalities were taken care of as first Jhamel, then Shran pressed their thumbs to an Andorian PADD-like device. Archer and the rest of the observers followed suit.
"That was fast," Mayweather observed as everyone started shaking hands and talking at once. "Hoshi? You all right?"
"Fine." Sato laughed a little as she wiped her eyes. "I just haven't been to enough weddings lately, you know?" She turned to face Archer as he approached. "Very well done, sir," she complimented him. One phrase of the ceremony had repeated, and he'd done that one in Andorian. "Perfect accent."
"Thanks, Hoshi." To her surprise, Archer hugged her, a quick, hard embrace, then turned to clap Mayweather on the shoulder. "I guess this trip hasn't been a total loss," he said ruefully.
"No, sir," Mayweather agreed.

********

Archer leaned over and shut off the viewscreen in his ready room. T'Pol stood at her usual parade rest.
"Congratulations, Ambassador," Archer said ironically to his former first officer.
"Thank you, sir," T'Pol said. "I did not seek this post."
"Soval thinks highly of you: first you take over for him as negotiator, and then you take over his job as ambassador to Earth." Archer sighed. "What's the matter with him, anyway?"
T'Pol raised an eyebrow. "Nothing," she said.
"Is he sick?" Archer persisted.
"He is merely...old," T'Pol said. "He has served as ambassador to Earth for more than thirty years, and before he held that post, he was attached to the ambassador's office."
Archer blinked in surprise. "Has it really been that long?"
"It has," T'Pol confirmed. "I will of course continue to serve as first officer until Enterprise reaches Earth."
"We'll be in dry dock for a couple of months at least," Archer said. "Now that Trip's back, repairs should go much more smoothly." The transponder codes that Tucker had carried were useless, so Archer had decided that it was all right to let Tucker be seen. He'd returned to the ship with Reed and Mayweather. By now, Archer was sure that Starfleet Intelligence knew that their unwitting spy network was no longer delivering intel. That information would trickle soon enough to Harris's shadowy former employers. Archer sighed and stretched. It was almost time to leave. The V'Hi, a Vulcan ship, was getting ready to take them in tow. Tucker had stabilized the hull integrity so they could remain on the ship during the trip, instead of having to evacuate. Archer had wanted that symbolic gesture when they returned to Earth.
"Bridge to Captain Archer," Sato's voice sounded through the intercom.
"Archer," he responded.
"The Tellarite freighter has reported that Doctor Phlox is safely on board."
"Good." The catatonic Denobulan was being returned to his home world, where his family would take him in until he recovered. Archer hoped that the doctor would return to Enterprise and had a recorded a note to that effect for Phlox to read later. He'd dropped by to see Phlox earlier that day and had been troubled to see the doctor, unresponsive, his usually cheerful blue eyes blank and unfocused, in one of the biobeds, where one of his staff watched over him. Sato was taking care of the animals that had survived the attack.
Sato's voice continued. "Lieutenant Reed is waiting to see you," she reminded him.
Of course. "Send him in," he ordered, and a second later, the door slid open to reveal Reed, wearing civilian clothes, a duffel bag slung over one shoulder. "Thank you, Commander," he said formally, and T'Pol inclined her head to him and to Reed and left, the door whispering shut behind her. "I wish you wouldn't do this," Archer said as Reed set his duffel down.
"I believe it needs to be done, sir," Reed said. "Here's my resignation." He handed Archer a PADD. "My recommendations for personnel changes are there as well." He pulled something small out of his pocket. "I left my uniforms in my quarters. And of course, there are...these."
Archer rolled Reed's pips in his palm with a fingertip. "No," he decided. "Keep them." He put them back in Reed's hand and closed Reed's fingers over them. "You'll need them again."
"Not if I get caught," Reed reminded him. "This is all about plausible deniability."
Archer gave Reed an unamused smile. "I don't know anything," he said. He certainly didn't know that Reed, acting on intel from Harris, had been convinced that Admiral Boone was indeed working with the Romulans, or that his armory officer had agreed to return to his old life as a covert operative in order to investigate Boone and decide whether Harris was correct about the need to eliminate Boone.
Reed grinned, somehow lighter and easier than Archer had ever seen him. "That's the spirit, sir."
Archer realized he still had his hand over Reed's, the signs of Reed's rank in Reed's clenched fist. He and Reed could never agree on this matter. Archer had forbidden him to act on Harris's request, wanting Reed to remain on the ship and work from within Starfleet even when, after hearing Reed out and reviewing the supporting documentation, he saw the necessity for it. Harris's intel suggested that the changes in his shadowy organization and the major problems at Starfleet Intelligence, including the attempt to subvert the Boomer fleet, had begun in earnest after Admiral Novotny's departure for Starbase 1. Boone was implicated while Novotny appeared to be in the clear. That was something at least, but Archer's solution was to contact Novotny via Captain Hernandez on the Columbia, whose loyalty Archer knew was beyond question. Reed sided with Harris: both of them felt that this could be handled better outside Starfleet regulations, especially with Starfleet Intelligence agents possibly involved. Reed's resignation was their compromise. In this matter, Reed was Harris's creature, not Archer's.
He let Reed go.
"Resignation accepted, Lieutenant," he said crisply. "And may I say what a pleasure it is to have worked with you."
"Likewise, Captain." Reed sketched a casual salute. "I've arranged passage on a Boomer cargo ship, the Sanctuary. I rather liked the name. I should arrive on Earth six weeks after Enterprise."
Archer nodded. "Let me know if you need anything," he said.
Reed shook his head. "Thank you, sir, but I doubt you'll be hearing from me for quite a while." He turned and headed to the door. "I booked a commercial shuttle for my trip to the Sanctuary. It should be waiting for me."
"Malcolm."
"Sir?" Reed turned back, and the two of them stared at each other for a few very long seconds, the chasm of their disagreement stretching between them. Archer hated to leave it like this, but he had no choice.
"Good luck, Malcolm," Archer said inadequately.
"And to you, sir," Reed said, polite to the last, and then he was gone.
Archer sat heavily in his chair. The Romulans had won this battle. What had happened at Alpha Centauri? Certainly not the historic trade agreements that Earth had so desired. Instead, Earth was on the brink of war with the Romulans; T'Pol was the new ambassador to Earth; Reed had gone off on an incredibly dangerous errand that Archer couldn't condone; Phlox was literally incapacitated with grief. And yet Enterprise, though crippled, would fly again; Shran had married Jhamel; and Tucker would be his new first officer, perhaps—Archer hoped—reestablishing the friendship that had cooled despite all they had weathered together. Things would gradually settle into place.
This battle may have been the Romulans', but Earth would win the war. Archer would do everything in his power to make sure of it.
He hadn't realized he was waiting for Sato's voice until it came through the com. "Sir, the V'Hi is here," she reported. "They're ready to take us in tow."
"Acknowledged."
Archer straightened his uniform, then strode onto the bridge.
It was time to head home.
The end.