Michael A. Martin - Star Trek: Enterprise: The Romulan War: To Brave the Storm

Secure the area, TPol ordered the MACOs via her suits transceiver.

Sergeant Guitierrez and Corporal OMalley were already in motion, their helmet lights illuminating the crippled vessels interior. They moved in opposite directions down an extensively battle-damaged corridor. As TPols sensitive Vulcan eyes began to adjust to the low light levels, she noticed a number of blackened rents in the exterior walls.

Stars and the damaged exterior were discernible through the breaches. She shuddered slightly, chilled by the knowledge of the fate that had befallen anyone in this corridor when the hull had torn open. As TPol trained her helmet lamp toward her feet, she saw that she was standing on the remnants of a leg. Lifting her foot, she saw a humanoid form. Its eyes, or at least the four of them she could see arranged about its bulbous head, were easily five times the size of those of a Vulcan, and the distal appendages of its four upper limbs were entwined with the gridwork of the bent, twisted deck plates beneath it.

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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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Cover art by Doug Drexler

Manufactured in the United States of America

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

ISBN 978-1-4516-0715-4
ISBN 978-1-4516-0724-6 (ebook)

For my wife, Jenny, and my sons, James and William.

We are about to brave the storm in a skiff made of paper.

John Hancock (17371793)

War is not the best way of settling differences; it is the only way of preventing their being settled for you.

G. K. Chesterton (18741936)

The bulk of this story takes place during the period spanning June 22, 2156 (ACE), the aftermath of the terror attack on Vulcan (Star Trek: EnterpriseThe Romulan War: Beneath the Raptors Wing) through August 12, 2161, the day of the signing of the United Federation of Planets Charter.

Early in the Month of taKrat, Year of Shikahr 8765

Tuesday, June 22, 2156

Government District, Central ShiKahr, Vulcan

IT WAS THE MORNING after the commission of the most heinous crime in Vulcans recorded history. TPau, administrator of the Confederacy of Vulcan, stood looking out at the stone and glass expanse of Vulcans ancient capital city from one of its highest spires.

The sense of loss she was experiencing threatened to undermine her emotional controls. She sensed that the rest of Vulcan felt the same way. Her entire being vibrated in sympathy with the mood of her people. Her mind, her heart, her katra sang out in mournful wails.

I grieve with thee, she thought, recalling Suraks compassionate yet eminently logical words of solace. Words spoken throughout the ages.

I grieve with all of thee, she thought and ignored the single tear that rolled down her cheek. And for all of thee as well.

The words were hollow. Her grief had begun to metamorphose into something uglier: blame.

TPau knew that blame was futile, illogical. She was Vulcan, she was in control of her emotions. Yet why did she still seek out someone to blame? The architects of yesterdays foul act of assassination remained unidentified. No one other than the guilty parties knew who had bombed the Mount Seleya shrine, slaughtering the keeper of Suraks katra. Whoever had done this vile deed might have even escaped the planet. Or they might be taking refuge in one of Vulcans major cities or smaller settlements. TPau wanted to lead the search of the desert bazaars of Han-shir, scour every corner of ancient ShiKahr.

Control.

Taking a moment to center herself, TPau achieved stillness.

Have I made the right choices? By keeping Vulcan out of the war with the Romulans, I was trying to preserve what Surak made us, she thought. But what of Vulcans other actions? Was it right to persuade both Andoria and Tellar to leave the conflict? Earth now stands alone.

Alone. The sorrow started to overwhelm her controls.

Have we lost Surak, the Father of All We Became and Might Yet Become, once again and forever? No, his children may never touch his katra, but they shall know him.

Administrator. TPau suppressed her startled reaction.

TRama, TPau said without turning away from the cold tableau of the city. My staff was supposed to go home for the day. Why are you still here?

When you directed me to dismiss the staff this morning, I was not aware that your order included the head of your security detail as well, TRama said evenly.

At the moment, my own safety is the least of my concerns, TPau said. Using the back of her hand, she wiped at the moisture that clung to her cheek before she turned and faced her chief bodyguard.

Excellency, TRama said. The young womans face was swollen, her eyes moist. After what happened yesterday, your personal safety is my only concern.

TPau nodded. And I am gratified by your vigilance, TRama. But it is unnecessary.

Unnecessary?

Go home, TRama.

Tomorrow we shall see to the needs of the many.

Thursday, July 22, 2156

Late in the Month of Soojen, Year of Kahless 782

Qam-Chee, the First City, QonoS

TOO PREOCCUPIED by his own glum musings to speak, Captain Jonathan Archer stood silently in the empty corridor just outside the High Council Chamber. Watching his first officer crossing her arms before her, Archer knew her outer layer of Vulcan calm was a faade; TPol was as tense and taut as a snare drum.

Do you believe the Klingons will decide to enter the conflict? TPol asked, her words echoing off the polished stone walls despite the quiet tone of her voice.