by Dave Stern
“They are a race of warriors, Captain. Behaving according to their nature. I see nothing wrong with that.”
Archer made a noise of disgust in his throat.
“Your reasoning is mostly logical,” T’Pol said. “However, you may find that the Klingon code of behavior is not as…rigid as you might wish.”
Schalk sneered. “The Confederacy and the Klingon Empire are not just allies, but firm friends now, Vulcan. We are as one,” he said, and put up a single finger. “Your words cannot create a schism between us.”
Archer turned to Governor Nala.
“You’re making a mistake,” he said.
“You will grant it is ours to make, Captain.” She nodded toward the lift behind them. “In consideration of your recent efforts on our behalf—and despite Ambassador Schalk’s wishes to the contrary—we have granted you and yours safe passage from Confederacy territory. Any further visits, however, will need to be specifically authorized.”
“And Governor Sen?” the captain asked. “What happens to him now?”
“The governor’s fate,” Nala said, glancing quickly over at Schalk, and then away again, “is currently being decided.”
The captain shook his head.
He had a funny feeling that, after all was said and done, Sen was going to come out of this smelling like a rose.
“The reward money on your head, though,” Schalk said, smiling, “has officially been doubled.”
Archer took that as a cue.
Without another word, he spun on his heel, and—trailed by Hoshi and T’Pol—left the room.
A speck of silver flashed on the viewscreen: the Kanthropians, in S-12, heading off toward what was Barreon space. In search of the intelligence that had so mysteriously—and completely—vanished.
Archer leaned back in his command chair, glad to be back where he belonged.
“Sir.” Hoshi spoke from her station. “Starfleet again. Admiral McCormick. Wants to know our ETA at the conference.”
“Three days.” The captain turned to Trip. “That sound about right?”
Trip frowned. “Three days? That’s pushing it, sir.”
“Well…can’t we do that? Push the engines? Just a little?”
“Push ’em?” Trip shrugged. “What the heck. I suppose so, sir.”
Reed mumbled something under his breath. Trip turned and smiled, and a second later both men were laughing.
“What’d I miss?” Archer asked.
“Nothing important, sir,” Trip said.
The captain nodded.
“Warp four, Ensign Mayweather,” the captain ordered.
Enterprise pivoted in space, and started the long journey home.