Mestral’s Legacy: Chapter 34

Captain’s Ready Room
Enterprise

Two and a half hours had passed since Archer had beamed up from the surface with Vorak, leaving Alaia behind, with T’Pol as chaperone. After having Phlox look Vorak over, Archer had put him in the brig while he tried to figure out what to do next. Earth’s intergalactic hero had spent the first half hour ignoring hails from the Vulcan High Command and the next hour and a half ignoring hails from StarFleet Command. He had finally relented when StarFleet had threatened to come up there and get him, but he had only managed to put them off for an hour. StarFleet Command wanted answers, the Vulcan High Command wanted answers, and so did Captain Jonathan Archer.

The deadline for T’Pol and Lieutenant Alaia Naliek to present themselves and their evidence had come and gone without so much as a peep from either of them. He had tried hailing them but there was no response. T’Pol had stayed to make sure that Lieutenant Naliek showed up; maybe the Lieutenant had had other plans. Only one person would know the answer to that question.

* * *

Phlox was scanning the Vulcan when Archer walked into the brig. The cell that Vorak was confined to looked a little worse for wear than when Archer had been down here several hours ago. The Vulcan had somehow managed to tear one of the bunks from the wall and thrown it at the door. The metal bunk leaned against the door setting off a shower of sparks as the energy lattice in the door tried to power up. The sparks subsided as the lattice powered down and the lights flickered and then the cycle repeated itself. Vorak was sitting on the floor eyeing the guard who was pointing a plasma rifle at him. Neither one of them seemed prepared to make a move, settling on a tense stand off. Archer took all of this in, in the three strides that carried him through the door before his brain registered the situation and he came to a standstill.

“What the hell is going on?” Archer demanded. The guard and Vorak’s attention never wavered from each other, so he settled on Phlox who was frowning at his mediscanner. When they had come on board Phlox had mentioned something about a hormonal imbalance in the Vulcan, but he had had other things on his mind. Maybe that had been a mistake, there was obviously something more serious going on here.

“His condition is deteriorating, Captain. If the Lieutenant is on board I recommend that we bring her down her as soon as possible.” The mention of his wife got Vorak’s attention. Archer saw his eyes flicker in their direction before returning to the guard who was holding the rifle on him. Archer looked at the Vulcan more closely. When he had first walked in he had thought that the Vulcan was sweating from the destruction he had inflicted on his cell, but now he reassessed. The Vulcan look feverish, his eyes unfocussed, breath coming rapidly and he was muttering something under his breath in what Archer assumed was Vulcan. There were smears of green on the wall and the floor and the Vorak seemed to be in some pain.

“Actually, she’s not on board. That’s why I came down here, I thought that our guest might have some idea where she is,” Archer replied. Frowning, he turned to the guard, “Why didn’t anyone comm me about this?”
Without taking his eyes off of the Vulcan, the guard replied that they were about to. At the time it had seemed more important to call Phlox first. Letting it go for the time being, Archer turned to Vorak.

“Where is she?” The Vulcan seemed to have trouble focussing on him, but after a moment turned to look at Archer. “Alaia?”

Archer couldn’t tell if it was a question or a plea. He was starting to get a sinking feeling about this theory that the Lieutenant had done something to T’Pol. Seeing the Vulcan now, what had seemed so plausible in his Ready Room now seemed ridiculous.

“Yes, Alaia. Where is she?”

“She would not leave me.”

“Seems like she has. She didn’t show up as agreed and T’Pol is missing too,”

“She would not leave me,” the Vulcan insisted heaving himself up from the floor where he had been sitting.

Archer approached the door of the cell as close as he dared, keeping in mind the sparks from the bunk that was short-circuiting the mechanism.

“Is she going to trade T’Pol for you? Is that the plan?” Archer seethed. How stupid could he have been to take them at their word.

“No plan,” the Vulcan insisted. “Ask the High Command,” he said bitterly.

“I thought they wanted you, not her.”

Vorak shook his head and then thought better of it, cringing in pain at the action. He put out his hand to steady himself, forgetting that he was in a cell, and touched the wall. He was thrown back by the shock, and slumped to the floor. Archer looked over at Phlox, but before he could ask if Vorak was alright the Vulcan was answering his question.

“They only wanted me to get to her,” he said tiredly.

“Why?”

“She is evidence of a Vulcan crime much greater than mine. They all are. The High Command is determined to either destroy or remove that evidence.”

“What are you talking about?” The Vulcan’s fury boiled over and Archer suddenly saw a glimpse of the Vulcan who could rip a metal bunk from its fittings.

“Deportation,” he spit at Archer through the door. “Ex-ter-mi-na-tion,” he said slowly as if his audience was thick. “Surely this cannot be so difficult to grasp,” he yelled. “I need to find her before it is too late! Let me leave,” he bellowed in frustration.
Phlox took Archer by the arm, and led him outside. Once the door slid shut there were only the muffled sounds of Vorak’s anger and the guards even tone in response.

“I have a theory,” Phlox said.

“Well, don’t keep me in suspense.”

“We’ll need to go to Sickbay in order for me to explain.”

* * *

Jonathan Archer looked at the scans that Phlox had pulled up from T’Pol’s scanner and tried to take in what the Denobulan physician was telling him.

“Aside from a few physiological differences, they are more human than alien. Given their aversion to genetic scans, I doubt that many of them even realise their alien heritage.”

“What kind of physiological differences?”

“I haven’t had a chance to completely model the genome, but from my initial analysis it would seem that they have an extended life span.” This brought to mind the grave markers in the cemetery and how a thirty year-old ensign could have a twelve year-old daughter, deceased fourteen years.

“How extended?”

“I expect that it varies depending on the patterns of genetic inheritance, environment, nutrition–” Archer fixed the physician with a cold stare.

“How old is the lieutenant?” When he saw the physician hesitate, he added: “Just as an example.”

“Fifty-four.” Older than he was, and she looked 15 years his junior. Damn.

“You haven’t said what kind of alien, other than Vulcan.”

“It’s not in the database, not even the Vulcan one.” Jonathan could understand how it wouldn’t be in Enterprise’s database, after all they hadn’t been in deep space that long. But he found it hard to believe that it wasn’t in the Vulcan database T’Pol had brought with her.

“Can you tell when this hybridisation happened?”

“One hundred years ago for the Vulcan, at least 500 for the alien, maybe more–it’s hard to tell after the genome has stabilised.”

“Vorak thinks that his government wants to deport these people to Vulcan.”

“He is probably right.” Jonathan arched an eyebrow in unconscious imitation of T’Pol. Somehow deportation didn’t seem in keeping with the Vulcan persona he was accustomed to.

“Do you really think that they would deport these people?” Phlox didn’t answer, merely looking at the Captain patiently. The Denobulan had had much more experience with the Vulcans than he had.

“What about extermination?”

“I don’t know, but I have no reason not to believe Vorak.”

“You don’t think that he’s acting a little irrational?”

“He has a medical condition.”

“Why would Vulcans have sex with aliens. Doesn’t that seem a little self-gratifying to you? Illogical?””Even Vulcans have needs, Captain” Before he could pursue that line of inquiry any further, the comm beeped for him: Vorak had escaped.

* * *

The Vulcan was standing near the transporter controls holding the brig guard’s plasma rifle on him. Jonathan Archer couldn’t tell what the rifle setting was, but Vorak’s agitated state wouldn’t let him assume that it was still set to stun.

“Where are you going?” Archer asked as Vorak finished punching in the coordinates with shaking hands.

“To find my wife.”

“I thought you didn’t know where she was.”

“I don’t, but she does. I could not hear her before, but I do now.” Archer wasn’t sure if this was Vulcan mysticism or mania. Whichever was the case, the Vulcan believed it enough to make a run for it.

“What about T’Pol?” Vorak paused, as if to think. Archer considered grabbing for the rifle as the Vulcans eyes glazed over, but the moment passed quickly and he was glad that he had thought better of it.

“They are together.” Without a backward glance, Vorak stepped onto the transporter pad. Making a split second decision, Archer jumped onto the platform. Just before the transporter hummed to life, Vorak threw the plasma rifle onto the deck plating.

* * *

“That was unwise.” Vorak said as they rematerialised in a grassy field. Jonathan could hear the ocean nearby. Looking around he saw that they were back at Vorak and Alaia’s house.

“Why didn’t you take the plasma rifle?”

“It had served its purpose. I did not want to take the chance that you would relieve me of it as my condition deteriorates.”

“What’s wrong with you?”

“That is not your concern. I must find Alaia.”

“What about T’Pol?”

“She is not my concern.” Seeing the look on Archer’s face, he added: “However, since I believe they are together, perhaps we have a mutual goal.”

Next