A Stitch in Time - Ch 07 - The Sanctuary
A STITCH IN TIME
BY SOLEDAD
Fandom: Star Trek - Enterprise/Whoniverse x-over
Genre: Action-adventure, Alternate Universe, Romance
Rating: T, for now
Series: This is a sequel to A Matter of Time and would only make real sense if you’ve read that part first.
Disclaimer: Star Trek belongs to Gene Roddenberry, first and foremost, and secondly whoever happens to have the rights at the moment. It’s hard to follow. I don’t own anything just a few secondary characters and the alternate plot idea.
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CHAPTER 07 - THE SANCTUARY
Author's notes:
The Vulcan Elder - nameless in the finalized episode - was supposed to bear the name T’Kosh in the early draft script. Since that would be a female name in Vulcan (if we take canon seriously, which the screenwriters usually do not), it inspired me to be a little creative where the monastic community on P’Jem is concerned.
Some aspects of the Discipline of the Ancient Thought have been borrowed from the novelization of the movie “The Search for Spock”, with slight alterations to fit this story. They originally belong to Vonda McIntyre.
T’Pol’s clan name was created by Blu’nblack and was first mentioned in their story “Father To The Man”. I’m simply using it because I can’t come up with something better (and more complicated). Come on: Sh'hiran'lin'iijyliunh'rei'iy'iukn'hy'wen'lhia'ehrm'n - how could I possibly outdo that? ;)
As for the Andorians, I use the book-canon established in the Deep Space Nine re-launch series as background, hence the differences.
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CHAPTER 07 - THE SANCTUARY
P’Jem, the planet - the Vulcan star charts give no name, just a registration number that only a Vulcan would remember - couldn’t be more different from the homeworld by any stretch of imagination. Vulcan is a hot and arid desert world with limited natural sources yet with limitless intellectual and ethical powers of the people inhabiting it.
P’Jem, on the other hand, is a lush planet of untamed, wild beauty; an uninhabited one, save for the monastery situated on the northern hemisphere, on a high plateau above a deep and swift river. It is a beautiful place, no doubt, yet Ianto can’t help but wonder why Vulcan monks would choose such an almost idyllic world for their retreat.
Monks of all kind are supposed to lead an ascetic life, after all. Even Terran hermits used to retreat into the desert or other desolate places, where there’s little distraction and they could focus on their meditation and prayer. Spartan surroundings are generally considered helpful for an ascetic lifestyle.
But perhaps Vulcans are different. Coming from a desert planet, perhaps the cool, moderate climate of P’Jem is a challenge for them.
Ianto can’t follow the line of his thoughts because Archer now turns the shuttlepod around to set it down on the landing platform - lightly and easily as a feather, of course. It is a relief that he hasn’t inherited Jack’s reckless driving style. Well, flying style, in his case.
The landing platform is on the other river bank, opposite the monastery. A long, narrow bridge with an arched roof leads across the river, to the main entrance of the complex, which is an impressing sight. The buildings are vaguely oriental-looking (for the human eye anyway) with their green, arched roofs and wood-framed, square stone towers. The fences, with their arches resting on wooden pillars, are rather symbolic, as there are wide gaps between them, and short flings of stone stairs lead up to the complex from several different directions, also disconnected and interspersed with large, ancient trees.
Definitely not something one would except from the Spartan, utilitarian Vulcan architecture known from the embassies they keep on Earth. But again, this is a pre-Reformation complex, built based on a different, much older philosophy.
“It reminds me of the monasteries I’ve seen in Tibet and Nepal,” Archer comments quietly.
“It is old, very old,” T’Pol replies in an equally low voice. “Like the Temple of Ancient Thought on Mount Seleya, back on the homeworld, it has grown and changed during the many generations since its foundation. What you can see is merely the tip of the iceberg, as you humans would say. Its corridors and galleries reach deep into the living rock. It is said they bend forwards and backwards in an endless loop and one might walk them for a lifetime without using the same path twice.”
Archer shakes his head. “Surely that must be a poetic exaggeration.”
He expects the usual protest about how Vulcans would never exaggerate but T’Pol merely inclines her head in agreement.
“Possibly,” she says. “The description pre-dates Surak’s time by at least one millennium. In that era the adepts of Ancient thought liked to describe their mental struggles in ways that could mislead those unfamiliar with their speech patterns.”
Her answer surprises the humans - they haven’t expected her to agree - so they leave the shuttlepod in silence. There is a small, square stone cottage with an arched wooden roof near the landing platform, presumably assigned to a porter or groundkeeper or somesuch, but it is currently empty.
“They don't even know we're coming?” Tucker asks in surprise.
“It was not possible to hail them,” T’Pol explains. “The monks consider technology a distraction from their spiritual pursuits.”
Technology is a distraction while the wild beauty of an untamed planet surrounding them is not? Ianto has the feeling he’ll never understand Vulcans.
Archer, for his part, seems uncomfortable. “I don't like dropping in on people unannounced.”
“It will not be a problem as long as we observe the proper protocols,” T’Pol replies. “Besides, Master T’Kosh, the current spiritual leader of P’Jem, is from my clan; and family is always welcome.”
“T’Kosh? Isn’t that a female name?” Hoshi asks with a frown.
“Indeed, it is,” T’Pol agrees. “She was the Eldest Mother of our clan before her calling brought her here.”
“But you called her Master,” Hoshi says uncertainly.
T’Pol nods. “I did. That is the proper title for the adepts of the Ancient Thought, males or females alike. Monks of the Discipline of the Ancient Thought fall into two categories: adepts and initiates. Reaching adept status can take decades; and even then, the Masters consider themselves initiates in many aspects, since the universe contains more secrets than any single person could ever hope to understand.”
“Hmmm… “Archer blinks a few times before steering the conversation back to more practical matters. “You spoke of proper protocols. What are we expected to do once we reach the sanctuary?”
“It is quite simple, actually,” T’Pol explains. “When we arrive, we'll be greeted by one of the adepts. They are properly addressed as Elder, but you should not speak to them or any member of the order unless spoken to first. If they appear to be meditating, do not approach them or attempt to make conversation. Also, maintain quiet at all times and do not touch or disturb any artefacts, relics or ornamentation.”
“What if we happen to arrive at their time of communal kolinahr?” Hoshi asks. She has studied Vulcan customs in thoroughly while learning the language, so she has a more in-depth understanding of how things are done on Vulcan than the others. “Is it likely that we'll be turned away?”
“Normally that would be the custom, yes,” T’Pol allowed. “However, as I said, I am family, and for family there are different rules. We shall likely be asked to wait in silence until they have finished their exercise.”
“That sounds promising,” Archer says. “What else?”
“At the conclusion of our visit we'll be offered the Stone of J'Kah as a gesture of salutation,” T’Pel continues. “Accept it, then bow slightly and observe a respectful silence for approximately five seconds.”
“And I thought Starfleet training was tough,” Tucker commented, only half-joking. “How on Earth am I supposed to keep all this in my head?”
Hoshi grinned at him. “You don’t have to. Just watch what I’m doing and copy faithfully.”
The others laugh - with the exception of T’Pel, of course, who is already heading towards the bridge - although the truth is that Hoshi has a better chance not to make any faux-pas than any other human aboard Enterprise. Not even Ianto’s training on Futurama can prepare him better for dealing with such a fundamentally different culture than having studied the various dialects of said culture… and the roots those dialects have originally come from.
They cross the bridge, which leads them - after having climbed several shorts flings of stairs - to the main entrance of the complex: a large, ornate wooden door… that has obviously been damaged, and that not so long ago. The cracks in the time-worn wood appear fairly recent.
“You say this is a place to purge emotions?” Tucker asks in a somewhat lame attempt of a joke. “Looks like somebody had to purge pretty bad. They bashed the door in.”
“The temple is more than three thousand years old, Commander,” T’Pol replies icily. “You cannot expect it to be in pristine condition.”
But she is worried; they can all see it, despite her stoic Vulcan façade.
“What now?” Archer asks.
“Now we must request permission to enter,” T’Pol answers and pulls on a thick rope hanging next to the broken door.
The men can’t hear anything, but after a few moments Hoshi nods.
“It seems that we are allowed to enter.”
“What makes you think that?” Tucker asks doubtfully.
“When T’Pol pulled that rope, a chime sounded somewhere inside the complex,” Hoshi explains. “Then another, different chime answered; I assume to signal us that we can enter.”
Tucker is clearly still in doubt but T’Pol nods.
“That is correct. I am surprised that you could hear the chimes, though. Their pitch is beyond human hearing.”
“Beyond average human hearing perhaps,” Hoshi shrugs. “Not many sounds go beyond mine.”
“Which is why I insisted to have you aboard Enterprise,” Archer says with a smile. “All right, folks, let’s go in before the locals change their minds.”
He pushes the door open and they enter the complex, finding themselves in an airy, sombre-looking atrium. It is largely empty, save for various - presumably sacral - items in the shrines lining all four walls… and a sole person in a long white robe that appears to be made of undyed linen or something similar.
Presumably the Vulcan version of a hair shirt, Ianto thinks. Some things are the same, no matter where.
Upon their entering the person pushes back the wide hood that has hidden his face and they can see that it is a male Vulcan of indefinite age. He must be beyond his first youth, though, as his short-cropped hair is shot with silver and his face is deeply lined.
“How can I be of service?” he asks in the dialect of the Lesser Meres that Hoshi easily understands; for the others the universal translator does the trick.
“I am T’Pol, daughter of T’Lesh, of Clan Sh'hiran'lin'iijyliunh'rei'iy'iukn'hy'wen'lhia'ehrm'n,” T’Pol introduces herself. “I seek audience with Master T’Kosh, in a personal matter.”
“I am afraid that shall not be possible at the moment,” the monk says in his somewhat hollow voice. “You have arrived at the time of kolinahr. The order must remain in silent reflection throughout the lunar cycle. They are not to be disturbed.”
The excuse sounds completely natural and convincing. And yet Ianto has the strong impression that the man is lying. He quickly glances at Archer, who gives an almost unperceivable nod; he’s noticed it, too.
“Oh, that's too bad,” the captain drawls, showing off the wide innocence Ianto knows is just acting. ”Well, at least we got to see the place.”
There’s awe in his voice; awe that he might or might not truly feel.
“You know,” he continues speculatively, “I think the oldest monastery I ever visited was in Ngari, Tibet, but it wasn't nearly this big.”
“I have heard it can take a very long time to explore this site,” T’Pol agrees. “It is unfortunate that we shall not have the opportunity,” she turns back to the Elder. “Your service honours us. Before we leave, may I request the offering of the J'Kah stone for my distinguished guests?”
If her request surprises the monk, he gives no sign of it.
“Please wait,” is all he says, and then he leaves.
Archer looks at T’Pol questioningly. “Something wrong?”
She hesitates for a moment, her expression inscrutable as always. “It is probably nothing.”
“But?” Archer insists.
T’Pol looks around in the room as if searching for suspicious signs.
“This is the main atrium,” she then says slowly. “There should be more than one member of the order present, even at the time of communal kolinahr. Also, the icon in that shrine is perched at an odd angle.”
“Oddly perched, huh,” Tucker comments sarcastically. “We'd better call Starfleet Command.”
T'Pol ignores him, addressing Archer directly instead. “That's not all, Captain. The Elder seems agitated.”
“You call that agitated?” Tucker mutters doubtfully when the stone-faced monk returns.
The man pretends not having heard that; which, knowing the acute hearing of Vulcans in general is rather unlikely.
“Forgive the disarray,” he says. “Kolinahr encourages the members of our order to face their vestigial emotions. The repercussions can sometimes be violent.”
Which is a blatant lie as both Hoshi and Ianto know all too well, but the monk doesn’t seem to care whether they believe him or not. His main concern appears to be to get rid of them, as soon as possible. For which purpose he offers the rather unspectacular item in his hands to Hoshi who happens to be the closest person.
“This is the stone of J'Kah, which represents the foundation of all we believe,” he announces. “A life of order and control through logic.”
Hoshi touches the stone with her fingertips and remains in respectful silence for approximately five seconds as T’Pol has instructed them.
“Ishte acula bestalma itok, J'Kah,” she then says softly in Ancient Golic, shocking the monk into temporary silence.
“And what is that supposed to mean?” Archer demands.
“It is a traditional litany, Captain, passed down among the Thought Masters for uncounted generations,” T’Pol explains. “I am surprised, though, that Ensign Sato would know about it. Few non-Vulcans do.”
Hoshi shrugs. “I’m an exolinguist. And I’ve done my research.”
“She’s the best when it comes to languages,” Archer tells the Vulcan Elder conversationally. “How many languages do you speak, Hoshi? Thirty? Forty?”
“Forty-two at the moment, Captain,” Hoshi replies. “Although my Klingonese is still not what it should be; and I’ve just begun to study the main dialect of the Smurfs.”
“The Smurfs?” T’Pol echoes; her face is as blank as only that of a very confused Vulcan could be.
There’s no way she might get the reference, of course, but Ianto does and becomes highly alert at once. Hoshi wouldn’t have mentioned the Andorians, of all people, without a very good reason. She might appear young and naïve but she’s razor sharp; and better informed than most people aboard Enterprise, with the possible exceptions of T’Pol and Ianto himself.
“Oh, well, you know,” Archer gestures vaguely and Tucker suddenly becomes hyper-aware of their surroundings. “Little blue guys with a bad disposition, easily agitated… and often popping up uninvitedly.”
He nods to Tucker and the two of them move like the well-oiled team that they are, breaking through a partition and yanking out of hiding a short, blue-skinned person with white hair and two antennae rising from the top of their head.
“Well, I’ll be damned!” Tucker whistles, which makes the sensitive antennae of the Andorian (because what else could the eavesdropper be?) tremble. “If this ain’t the Grouchy Smurf! Friend of yours?” he asks the Vulcan Elder innocently.
“Somehow I don't think so,” Archer comments dryly as three other intruders appear with weapons.
They surround the Enterprise team, aiming at them with their disruptors, and one of them, a gaunt-faced chan (and a Bishee by the look of him, Ianto decides) hisses at them. “Move!”
“Do you think they’re taking us to their leader?” Tucker grins.
“I think they’re taking us to Papa Smurf,” Hoshi replies.
The Andorian pointing his weapon at her scowls. “You think this is a joke, pink-skin? I’ll enjoy having you as a prisoner.”
Coming from an Andorian, a member of a species known for their violent tendencies, this is a serious threat. But after Guantanamo Hoshi isn’t easily intimidated anymore.
“I doubt it,” she says coolly. “I had a Smurf once; it didn’t end well for him.”
“What did you do with it?” Archer asks with interest.
“I bit off his head,” Hoshi replies; seeing the baffled faces of the others, she shrugs. “I was three years old. I thought it was candy.”
“Candy?” The Andorian glares at her suspiciously. “What is this candy?”
“Sculpted sugar, often given to children as a treat,” Archer explains. “It comes in many bright colours, including blue.”
“Don’t worry, though,” Hoshi gives the Andorian a wicked smile. “Such a swollen head as yours would be too big for me; so much candy is bad for one’s teeth anyway.”
The Andorian tries to decide whether he’s been insulted or not - he clearly isn’t the sharpest tool in the toolkit - but one of his comrades interferes.
“Leave her alone, Keval. The commander will deal with them.”
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They are taken to a large, mostly empty room where the Andorian leader has made his temporary headquarters. He is a short individual of wiry strength; also a Bishee… and a chan, which is surprising, as Ianto knows that the Imperial Guard, whose black uniform he is wearing, usually prefers the larger, more muscular thaan when recruiting. But a glance of those sharp blue-grey eyes reveals that the commander is someone of great experience and cunning.
There is a Vulcan monk with him: a young, gaunt-faced male who is desperately trying to appear indifferent. He cannot be an entirely successful kolinahr initiate yet, though, as even the humans can see that he is nervous.
The Andorian leader turns to Archer. The fact that he barely reaches to the tall human’s shoulder doesn’t seem to bother him - why should it? Andorians are almost as strong as Vulcans; he could break the human in two without conscious effort.
“I am Commander Hravishran ch’Zoarh(1) of the Imperial Guard,” he announces. “You may address me as Commander Shran. This,” he waves at the big, beefy thaan at his elbow, “is my second-in-command, Tholosan th’Yethe. Who are you and who are the others with you?”
“My name is Jonathan Archer,” Archer replies. “I am captain of the starship Enterprise, and these are my senior officers: Commander Tucker, Subcommander T’Pol, Ensign Sato and Chief Petty Officer Daniels.”
Shran glares at the young Vulcan. “Why didn't you tell us one of your people was aboard?”
“It is an Earth vessel,” the Vulcan replies nervously. “I did not know.”
“What does that mean, Earth?” the chan whose name is obviously Keval interrupts. “What is that?”
The question is something of a surprise; at this time Andorians ought to know what - and where - Earth is. But perhaps the old cliché: military = big, beefy and stupid is true for more than just one species, Ianto thinks.
“It's where we're from,” Archer explains patiently. “It's our homeworld. Perhaps you’ve heard it mentioned as Terra.”
“Why did you come here?” Shran demands. “Answer me!”
Archer shrugs. “This planet was along our course. We only came to visit the sanctuary.”
“Liar,” Shran says in a deadly whisper and Ianto tenses. He knows that tone, he witnessed an Andorian use it on a record, back on Futurama. The person to whom the Andorian had spoken was dead five minutes later. “What's your mission? Are you a supply ship bringing them more surveillance equipment?”
“We're not bringing them anything,” Archer replies, clearly annoyed now.
“You brought her,” the thaan points at T’Pol.
Archer rolls his eyes. “She's my science officer.”
“So you admit you're working with the Vulcans,” Shran says, with a hit of triumph in his voice.
“I'll admit I have a Vulcan science officer who’s made it possible for us to visit the sanctuary,” Archer corrects. “Now, if you don't mind my asking, what are you doing here?”
The thaan attempts to hit him, but Ianto is faster. He rams his knee into the Andorian’s equivalent of a solar plexus, and when the thaan bends forward in pain, she grabs his sensitive antennae and gives them a brutal twist. At Torchwood one has learned to fight dirty.
“There is no need for violence,” he says calmly. “Captain Archer is telling the truth. We came for a visit, that's all.”
Shran shakes his head. “We scanned your ship in orbit. You're very well armed for people who came for a visit.“
“We’re on our way to find a lost Terran space station near the Delphic Expanse,” Archer explains with forced patience. “We were told that’s a dangerous place; only a fool would go there without defensive weapons.”
“Then why stop here?” Shran clearly isn’t buying it.
“We came here because of me,” Ianto gives Archer an apologetic look. “No need to protect my privacy, Captain,” he turns back to Shran. “I’m having difficulties dealing with traumatic memories. We hoped the monks here can help with that, so that it wouldn’t interfere with my duties any longer.”
“What is your rank on your ship?” For the first time, Shran seems genuinely interested. “Are you a warrior?”
“I’m the quartermaster,” Ianto replies simply. “It’s my job to make sure that the scientists and the warriors on board always have everything they need to work efficiently. I cannot afford any distractions… like insomnia or nightmares.”
It is not easy for him to reveal his weakness in front of complete strangers. But it’s imperative that Shran - who will represent his people in the Federation Council one day - believe him.
Shran stares at him in suspicion as if trying to figure out if he’s telling the truth.
“And you’d trust a Vulcan to help you?” he finally asks.
“Right now I’d trust a Klingon if there were any chance to get some help,” Ianto replies with a shrug. “I haven’t got much to lose - and a great deal to win.”
The thaan clearly doesn’t believe a word of what Ianto’s saying but Shran becomes thoughtful. Perhaps Andorians, too, have their own version of PTSD; or perhaps he has had his fair share of traumatic experiences in the line of duty. In any case he ignores the thaan’s angry comments, hissed into his ears in their own language (of which only Tosh does understand every tenth word).
“Take them to an empty room till we’ve finished searching the place,” he orders. “Put the two Vulcans with them and watch them closely. Make a head count every hour to see if they haven’t escaped somehow; Vulcans are dishonest, and who knows what the pink-skins are capable of.”
The thaan clearly isn’t happy with those orders but Shran is somebody who’s used to be obeyed. So the Enterprise team, accompanied by the Vulcan Elder and the initiate, are led away.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“Now these guys are agitated,” Tucker comments when they are left alone. “Each and every one would give the Grouchy Smurf a run for his money.”
Ianto suppresses a smile. The chief engineer has obviously done his research since that outdated pop culture remark had last been made. The Vulcans react with their usual, blank-faced lack of understanding. Not that not understanding would be their fault - this time.
“They are Andorians, Commander,” T’Pol finally says. “They're known for their suspicious and volatile nature.”
“Our two species are from neighbouring systems,” the Elder adds in an attempt to enlighten the ignorant humans. “We have been in conflict for many years.”
“What for?” Archer wonders. “Conflicts of interests perhaps?”
“They resent our superior reasoning and our technology,” the gaunt-faced Vulcan initiate explains with no small amount of self-imposed superiority. “They even believe that we intend to mount an invasion on their homeworld.”
“And? Do you?” Archer asks, only half-joking, because he could easily believe it, if he wants to be honest. He’s learned long ago that what Vulcans say and what they do are two very different things.
The Elder shakes his head. “Of course not; but to persuade them of that is not an easy task. In order to alleviate tensions, we negotiated a treaty, but some Andorian factions - the Imperial Guard in particular - still believe we're bent on conquest.”
“What do they want with a three thousand year old temple, though?” Tucker frowns; indeed, imagining the Vulcan Elder as an aggressor is hard. He seems to be a very… balanced individual who has long found his right place in life.
“They believe we are hiding a long range sensor array,” the initiate doesn’t actually snort (Vulcans would never do that), but it is a close thing.
“Are you?” Archer asks mildly, but his eyes - Jack’s eyes - are hard and suspicious. He wouldn’t put something like that beyond the Vulcans, either, whom he likes to summarily describe as ‘a sneaky bunch’.
The Elder takes no offence; such overly emotional reactions have been purged from him due to the decades-long practice of kolinahr.
“This is a place of introspection, Captain,” he replies simply. “There are no spies here, and no technology.”
Which is a blatant lie as Ianto (alone from the Enterprise crew) well knows. But he begins to suspect that perhaps the monks don’t even know what’s going on under their sanctuary. At least the majority of them. He would not put his hands into the fire for the initiate.
“So what are you going to do, just sit here and let them ransack the place?” Tucker demands.
The Elder raises an eyebrow. “What would you suggest to do? Answer to violence with violence? That would cause much more damage, both in buildings and lives, than letting them have their way.”
“Typically, they make a great display of their indignance,” the voice of the initiate is dripping with disdain. “When they find nothing, they leave.”
“The Andorians were here twice before and both times left within a day,” the Elder adds. “Unfortunately your arrival has amplified their suspicions.”
“You've endangered us all,” the initiate says with thinly veiled hostility that seems to surprise the Elder.
“Peace, Sulok,” he says. “They had no way to know; and under normal circumstances our sanctuary does stand open for those who seek out our help.”
It is interesting how much Vulcan non-expressions can reveal, Ianto thinks, interested, because upon hearing the name of the initiate T’Pel actually stiffens. Well… if a Vulcan can get any more stiff than usual. The name obviously does ring a bell with her.
“Are you certain that it is our presence that endangers the sanctuary, Initiate Sulok?” She asks coldly. “We came here to seek guidance. Can you say the same about yourself?”
“My reasons are my own,” the initiate replies, his voice equally cold. “I expect you to respect my privacy.”
The Elder looks from one to another in confusion. “What are you referring to?” he then asks T’Pol.
“Nothing,” she replies. “Whatever the truth is, it is not my story to tell. We came here to meet Master T’Kosh, the Eldest of my clan. Since there is obviously no communal kolinahr-practice in progress, I insist to know where she is and why is she not available.”
The Elder looks like he is about to sigh; but in the last moment he stifles the un-Vulcanlike reaction.
“She is being held hostage,” he confesses. “That is how the Andorians begin each time they search the place: by separating her from the rest of the order and keeping her under guard.”
“A logical solution,” T’Pel admits. “She is not being threatened or hurt, I presume?”
The Elder shakes his head.
“That could change, though, should the Andorians find something suspicious,” Archer reminds them darkly.
“There is nothing to find,” the Elder states simply, certain in the truth of his words.
But the initiate’s eyes are shifty, and Ianto sees that Archer has noticed it, too.
“Perhaps not,” the captain allows, though he clearly believes otherwise. “Still, it might be prudent to even out the chances a little, don’t you think?”
He is looking at T’Pol, not at the Elder, and she slowly nods. “What do you have in mind, Captain?”
“I believe,” Archer says with Jack’s wide, white grin, “that it’s time to call in the cavalry.”
“The… cavalry?” T’Pol echoed, and the other two Vulcans displayed identical blank expressions of non-understanding.
“Human expression, based on outdated historic facts,” Hoshi explained; then she turned to Archer. “But Captain, how are we supposed to contact Enterprise? The Smurf confiscated all our equipment; including our communicators.”
“Then we’ll have to find another way, don’t we?” Archer returned and looked at the Vulcans. “If anyone has a suggestion, I'm all ears. No offence intended.”
For a moment the two monks remained silent; finally the Elder gave in.
“There might be a solution,” he admitted.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
(1) Yes, I know that Memory Beta lists Shran - aka Hravishran th’Zoarh - as a thaan. However, thaan are supposed to be the biggest, beefiest of the four Andorian genders; which actor Jeffrey Coombs definitely is not. So I’ve assigned Shran to the other male Andorian gender, as chan are described as smaller and of wiry strength. Since the four genders are book canon anyway, I took my creative freedom with Shran here.
BY SOLEDAD
Fandom: Star Trek - Enterprise/Whoniverse x-over
Genre: Action-adventure, Alternate Universe, Romance
Rating: T, for now
Series: This is a sequel to A Matter of Time and would only make real sense if you’ve read that part first.
Disclaimer: Star Trek belongs to Gene Roddenberry, first and foremost, and secondly whoever happens to have the rights at the moment. It’s hard to follow. I don’t own anything just a few secondary characters and the alternate plot idea.
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CHAPTER 07 - THE SANCTUARY
Author's notes:
The Vulcan Elder - nameless in the finalized episode - was supposed to bear the name T’Kosh in the early draft script. Since that would be a female name in Vulcan (if we take canon seriously, which the screenwriters usually do not), it inspired me to be a little creative where the monastic community on P’Jem is concerned.
Some aspects of the Discipline of the Ancient Thought have been borrowed from the novelization of the movie “The Search for Spock”, with slight alterations to fit this story. They originally belong to Vonda McIntyre.
T’Pol’s clan name was created by Blu’nblack and was first mentioned in their story “Father To The Man”. I’m simply using it because I can’t come up with something better (and more complicated). Come on: Sh'hiran'lin'iijyliunh'rei'iy'iukn'hy'wen'lhia'ehrm'n - how could I possibly outdo that? ;)
As for the Andorians, I use the book-canon established in the Deep Space Nine re-launch series as background, hence the differences.
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CHAPTER 07 - THE SANCTUARY
P’Jem, the planet - the Vulcan star charts give no name, just a registration number that only a Vulcan would remember - couldn’t be more different from the homeworld by any stretch of imagination. Vulcan is a hot and arid desert world with limited natural sources yet with limitless intellectual and ethical powers of the people inhabiting it.
P’Jem, on the other hand, is a lush planet of untamed, wild beauty; an uninhabited one, save for the monastery situated on the northern hemisphere, on a high plateau above a deep and swift river. It is a beautiful place, no doubt, yet Ianto can’t help but wonder why Vulcan monks would choose such an almost idyllic world for their retreat.
Monks of all kind are supposed to lead an ascetic life, after all. Even Terran hermits used to retreat into the desert or other desolate places, where there’s little distraction and they could focus on their meditation and prayer. Spartan surroundings are generally considered helpful for an ascetic lifestyle.
But perhaps Vulcans are different. Coming from a desert planet, perhaps the cool, moderate climate of P’Jem is a challenge for them.
Ianto can’t follow the line of his thoughts because Archer now turns the shuttlepod around to set it down on the landing platform - lightly and easily as a feather, of course. It is a relief that he hasn’t inherited Jack’s reckless driving style. Well, flying style, in his case.
The landing platform is on the other river bank, opposite the monastery. A long, narrow bridge with an arched roof leads across the river, to the main entrance of the complex, which is an impressing sight. The buildings are vaguely oriental-looking (for the human eye anyway) with their green, arched roofs and wood-framed, square stone towers. The fences, with their arches resting on wooden pillars, are rather symbolic, as there are wide gaps between them, and short flings of stone stairs lead up to the complex from several different directions, also disconnected and interspersed with large, ancient trees.
Definitely not something one would except from the Spartan, utilitarian Vulcan architecture known from the embassies they keep on Earth. But again, this is a pre-Reformation complex, built based on a different, much older philosophy.
“It reminds me of the monasteries I’ve seen in Tibet and Nepal,” Archer comments quietly.
“It is old, very old,” T’Pol replies in an equally low voice. “Like the Temple of Ancient Thought on Mount Seleya, back on the homeworld, it has grown and changed during the many generations since its foundation. What you can see is merely the tip of the iceberg, as you humans would say. Its corridors and galleries reach deep into the living rock. It is said they bend forwards and backwards in an endless loop and one might walk them for a lifetime without using the same path twice.”
Archer shakes his head. “Surely that must be a poetic exaggeration.”
He expects the usual protest about how Vulcans would never exaggerate but T’Pol merely inclines her head in agreement.
“Possibly,” she says. “The description pre-dates Surak’s time by at least one millennium. In that era the adepts of Ancient thought liked to describe their mental struggles in ways that could mislead those unfamiliar with their speech patterns.”
Her answer surprises the humans - they haven’t expected her to agree - so they leave the shuttlepod in silence. There is a small, square stone cottage with an arched wooden roof near the landing platform, presumably assigned to a porter or groundkeeper or somesuch, but it is currently empty.
“They don't even know we're coming?” Tucker asks in surprise.
“It was not possible to hail them,” T’Pol explains. “The monks consider technology a distraction from their spiritual pursuits.”
Technology is a distraction while the wild beauty of an untamed planet surrounding them is not? Ianto has the feeling he’ll never understand Vulcans.
Archer, for his part, seems uncomfortable. “I don't like dropping in on people unannounced.”
“It will not be a problem as long as we observe the proper protocols,” T’Pol replies. “Besides, Master T’Kosh, the current spiritual leader of P’Jem, is from my clan; and family is always welcome.”
“T’Kosh? Isn’t that a female name?” Hoshi asks with a frown.
“Indeed, it is,” T’Pol agrees. “She was the Eldest Mother of our clan before her calling brought her here.”
“But you called her Master,” Hoshi says uncertainly.
T’Pol nods. “I did. That is the proper title for the adepts of the Ancient Thought, males or females alike. Monks of the Discipline of the Ancient Thought fall into two categories: adepts and initiates. Reaching adept status can take decades; and even then, the Masters consider themselves initiates in many aspects, since the universe contains more secrets than any single person could ever hope to understand.”
“Hmmm… “Archer blinks a few times before steering the conversation back to more practical matters. “You spoke of proper protocols. What are we expected to do once we reach the sanctuary?”
“It is quite simple, actually,” T’Pol explains. “When we arrive, we'll be greeted by one of the adepts. They are properly addressed as Elder, but you should not speak to them or any member of the order unless spoken to first. If they appear to be meditating, do not approach them or attempt to make conversation. Also, maintain quiet at all times and do not touch or disturb any artefacts, relics or ornamentation.”
“What if we happen to arrive at their time of communal kolinahr?” Hoshi asks. She has studied Vulcan customs in thoroughly while learning the language, so she has a more in-depth understanding of how things are done on Vulcan than the others. “Is it likely that we'll be turned away?”
“Normally that would be the custom, yes,” T’Pol allowed. “However, as I said, I am family, and for family there are different rules. We shall likely be asked to wait in silence until they have finished their exercise.”
“That sounds promising,” Archer says. “What else?”
“At the conclusion of our visit we'll be offered the Stone of J'Kah as a gesture of salutation,” T’Pel continues. “Accept it, then bow slightly and observe a respectful silence for approximately five seconds.”
“And I thought Starfleet training was tough,” Tucker commented, only half-joking. “How on Earth am I supposed to keep all this in my head?”
Hoshi grinned at him. “You don’t have to. Just watch what I’m doing and copy faithfully.”
The others laugh - with the exception of T’Pel, of course, who is already heading towards the bridge - although the truth is that Hoshi has a better chance not to make any faux-pas than any other human aboard Enterprise. Not even Ianto’s training on Futurama can prepare him better for dealing with such a fundamentally different culture than having studied the various dialects of said culture… and the roots those dialects have originally come from.
They cross the bridge, which leads them - after having climbed several shorts flings of stairs - to the main entrance of the complex: a large, ornate wooden door… that has obviously been damaged, and that not so long ago. The cracks in the time-worn wood appear fairly recent.
“You say this is a place to purge emotions?” Tucker asks in a somewhat lame attempt of a joke. “Looks like somebody had to purge pretty bad. They bashed the door in.”
“The temple is more than three thousand years old, Commander,” T’Pol replies icily. “You cannot expect it to be in pristine condition.”
But she is worried; they can all see it, despite her stoic Vulcan façade.
“What now?” Archer asks.
“Now we must request permission to enter,” T’Pol answers and pulls on a thick rope hanging next to the broken door.
The men can’t hear anything, but after a few moments Hoshi nods.
“It seems that we are allowed to enter.”
“What makes you think that?” Tucker asks doubtfully.
“When T’Pol pulled that rope, a chime sounded somewhere inside the complex,” Hoshi explains. “Then another, different chime answered; I assume to signal us that we can enter.”
Tucker is clearly still in doubt but T’Pol nods.
“That is correct. I am surprised that you could hear the chimes, though. Their pitch is beyond human hearing.”
“Beyond average human hearing perhaps,” Hoshi shrugs. “Not many sounds go beyond mine.”
“Which is why I insisted to have you aboard Enterprise,” Archer says with a smile. “All right, folks, let’s go in before the locals change their minds.”
He pushes the door open and they enter the complex, finding themselves in an airy, sombre-looking atrium. It is largely empty, save for various - presumably sacral - items in the shrines lining all four walls… and a sole person in a long white robe that appears to be made of undyed linen or something similar.
Presumably the Vulcan version of a hair shirt, Ianto thinks. Some things are the same, no matter where.
Upon their entering the person pushes back the wide hood that has hidden his face and they can see that it is a male Vulcan of indefinite age. He must be beyond his first youth, though, as his short-cropped hair is shot with silver and his face is deeply lined.
“How can I be of service?” he asks in the dialect of the Lesser Meres that Hoshi easily understands; for the others the universal translator does the trick.
“I am T’Pol, daughter of T’Lesh, of Clan Sh'hiran'lin'iijyliunh'rei'iy'iukn'hy'wen'lhia'ehrm'n,” T’Pol introduces herself. “I seek audience with Master T’Kosh, in a personal matter.”
“I am afraid that shall not be possible at the moment,” the monk says in his somewhat hollow voice. “You have arrived at the time of kolinahr. The order must remain in silent reflection throughout the lunar cycle. They are not to be disturbed.”
The excuse sounds completely natural and convincing. And yet Ianto has the strong impression that the man is lying. He quickly glances at Archer, who gives an almost unperceivable nod; he’s noticed it, too.
“Oh, that's too bad,” the captain drawls, showing off the wide innocence Ianto knows is just acting. ”Well, at least we got to see the place.”
There’s awe in his voice; awe that he might or might not truly feel.
“You know,” he continues speculatively, “I think the oldest monastery I ever visited was in Ngari, Tibet, but it wasn't nearly this big.”
“I have heard it can take a very long time to explore this site,” T’Pol agrees. “It is unfortunate that we shall not have the opportunity,” she turns back to the Elder. “Your service honours us. Before we leave, may I request the offering of the J'Kah stone for my distinguished guests?”
If her request surprises the monk, he gives no sign of it.
“Please wait,” is all he says, and then he leaves.
Archer looks at T’Pol questioningly. “Something wrong?”
She hesitates for a moment, her expression inscrutable as always. “It is probably nothing.”
“But?” Archer insists.
T’Pol looks around in the room as if searching for suspicious signs.
“This is the main atrium,” she then says slowly. “There should be more than one member of the order present, even at the time of communal kolinahr. Also, the icon in that shrine is perched at an odd angle.”
“Oddly perched, huh,” Tucker comments sarcastically. “We'd better call Starfleet Command.”
T'Pol ignores him, addressing Archer directly instead. “That's not all, Captain. The Elder seems agitated.”
“You call that agitated?” Tucker mutters doubtfully when the stone-faced monk returns.
The man pretends not having heard that; which, knowing the acute hearing of Vulcans in general is rather unlikely.
“Forgive the disarray,” he says. “Kolinahr encourages the members of our order to face their vestigial emotions. The repercussions can sometimes be violent.”
Which is a blatant lie as both Hoshi and Ianto know all too well, but the monk doesn’t seem to care whether they believe him or not. His main concern appears to be to get rid of them, as soon as possible. For which purpose he offers the rather unspectacular item in his hands to Hoshi who happens to be the closest person.
“This is the stone of J'Kah, which represents the foundation of all we believe,” he announces. “A life of order and control through logic.”
Hoshi touches the stone with her fingertips and remains in respectful silence for approximately five seconds as T’Pol has instructed them.
“Ishte acula bestalma itok, J'Kah,” she then says softly in Ancient Golic, shocking the monk into temporary silence.
“And what is that supposed to mean?” Archer demands.
“It is a traditional litany, Captain, passed down among the Thought Masters for uncounted generations,” T’Pol explains. “I am surprised, though, that Ensign Sato would know about it. Few non-Vulcans do.”
Hoshi shrugs. “I’m an exolinguist. And I’ve done my research.”
“She’s the best when it comes to languages,” Archer tells the Vulcan Elder conversationally. “How many languages do you speak, Hoshi? Thirty? Forty?”
“Forty-two at the moment, Captain,” Hoshi replies. “Although my Klingonese is still not what it should be; and I’ve just begun to study the main dialect of the Smurfs.”
“The Smurfs?” T’Pol echoes; her face is as blank as only that of a very confused Vulcan could be.
There’s no way she might get the reference, of course, but Ianto does and becomes highly alert at once. Hoshi wouldn’t have mentioned the Andorians, of all people, without a very good reason. She might appear young and naïve but she’s razor sharp; and better informed than most people aboard Enterprise, with the possible exceptions of T’Pol and Ianto himself.
“Oh, well, you know,” Archer gestures vaguely and Tucker suddenly becomes hyper-aware of their surroundings. “Little blue guys with a bad disposition, easily agitated… and often popping up uninvitedly.”
He nods to Tucker and the two of them move like the well-oiled team that they are, breaking through a partition and yanking out of hiding a short, blue-skinned person with white hair and two antennae rising from the top of their head.
“Well, I’ll be damned!” Tucker whistles, which makes the sensitive antennae of the Andorian (because what else could the eavesdropper be?) tremble. “If this ain’t the Grouchy Smurf! Friend of yours?” he asks the Vulcan Elder innocently.
“Somehow I don't think so,” Archer comments dryly as three other intruders appear with weapons.
They surround the Enterprise team, aiming at them with their disruptors, and one of them, a gaunt-faced chan (and a Bishee by the look of him, Ianto decides) hisses at them. “Move!”
“Do you think they’re taking us to their leader?” Tucker grins.
“I think they’re taking us to Papa Smurf,” Hoshi replies.
The Andorian pointing his weapon at her scowls. “You think this is a joke, pink-skin? I’ll enjoy having you as a prisoner.”
Coming from an Andorian, a member of a species known for their violent tendencies, this is a serious threat. But after Guantanamo Hoshi isn’t easily intimidated anymore.
“I doubt it,” she says coolly. “I had a Smurf once; it didn’t end well for him.”
“What did you do with it?” Archer asks with interest.
“I bit off his head,” Hoshi replies; seeing the baffled faces of the others, she shrugs. “I was three years old. I thought it was candy.”
“Candy?” The Andorian glares at her suspiciously. “What is this candy?”
“Sculpted sugar, often given to children as a treat,” Archer explains. “It comes in many bright colours, including blue.”
“Don’t worry, though,” Hoshi gives the Andorian a wicked smile. “Such a swollen head as yours would be too big for me; so much candy is bad for one’s teeth anyway.”
The Andorian tries to decide whether he’s been insulted or not - he clearly isn’t the sharpest tool in the toolkit - but one of his comrades interferes.
“Leave her alone, Keval. The commander will deal with them.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
They are taken to a large, mostly empty room where the Andorian leader has made his temporary headquarters. He is a short individual of wiry strength; also a Bishee… and a chan, which is surprising, as Ianto knows that the Imperial Guard, whose black uniform he is wearing, usually prefers the larger, more muscular thaan when recruiting. But a glance of those sharp blue-grey eyes reveals that the commander is someone of great experience and cunning.
There is a Vulcan monk with him: a young, gaunt-faced male who is desperately trying to appear indifferent. He cannot be an entirely successful kolinahr initiate yet, though, as even the humans can see that he is nervous.
The Andorian leader turns to Archer. The fact that he barely reaches to the tall human’s shoulder doesn’t seem to bother him - why should it? Andorians are almost as strong as Vulcans; he could break the human in two without conscious effort.
“I am Commander Hravishran ch’Zoarh(1) of the Imperial Guard,” he announces. “You may address me as Commander Shran. This,” he waves at the big, beefy thaan at his elbow, “is my second-in-command, Tholosan th’Yethe. Who are you and who are the others with you?”
“My name is Jonathan Archer,” Archer replies. “I am captain of the starship Enterprise, and these are my senior officers: Commander Tucker, Subcommander T’Pol, Ensign Sato and Chief Petty Officer Daniels.”
Shran glares at the young Vulcan. “Why didn't you tell us one of your people was aboard?”
“It is an Earth vessel,” the Vulcan replies nervously. “I did not know.”
“What does that mean, Earth?” the chan whose name is obviously Keval interrupts. “What is that?”
The question is something of a surprise; at this time Andorians ought to know what - and where - Earth is. But perhaps the old cliché: military = big, beefy and stupid is true for more than just one species, Ianto thinks.
“It's where we're from,” Archer explains patiently. “It's our homeworld. Perhaps you’ve heard it mentioned as Terra.”
“Why did you come here?” Shran demands. “Answer me!”
Archer shrugs. “This planet was along our course. We only came to visit the sanctuary.”
“Liar,” Shran says in a deadly whisper and Ianto tenses. He knows that tone, he witnessed an Andorian use it on a record, back on Futurama. The person to whom the Andorian had spoken was dead five minutes later. “What's your mission? Are you a supply ship bringing them more surveillance equipment?”
“We're not bringing them anything,” Archer replies, clearly annoyed now.
“You brought her,” the thaan points at T’Pol.
Archer rolls his eyes. “She's my science officer.”
“So you admit you're working with the Vulcans,” Shran says, with a hit of triumph in his voice.
“I'll admit I have a Vulcan science officer who’s made it possible for us to visit the sanctuary,” Archer corrects. “Now, if you don't mind my asking, what are you doing here?”
The thaan attempts to hit him, but Ianto is faster. He rams his knee into the Andorian’s equivalent of a solar plexus, and when the thaan bends forward in pain, she grabs his sensitive antennae and gives them a brutal twist. At Torchwood one has learned to fight dirty.
“There is no need for violence,” he says calmly. “Captain Archer is telling the truth. We came for a visit, that's all.”
Shran shakes his head. “We scanned your ship in orbit. You're very well armed for people who came for a visit.“
“We’re on our way to find a lost Terran space station near the Delphic Expanse,” Archer explains with forced patience. “We were told that’s a dangerous place; only a fool would go there without defensive weapons.”
“Then why stop here?” Shran clearly isn’t buying it.
“We came here because of me,” Ianto gives Archer an apologetic look. “No need to protect my privacy, Captain,” he turns back to Shran. “I’m having difficulties dealing with traumatic memories. We hoped the monks here can help with that, so that it wouldn’t interfere with my duties any longer.”
“What is your rank on your ship?” For the first time, Shran seems genuinely interested. “Are you a warrior?”
“I’m the quartermaster,” Ianto replies simply. “It’s my job to make sure that the scientists and the warriors on board always have everything they need to work efficiently. I cannot afford any distractions… like insomnia or nightmares.”
It is not easy for him to reveal his weakness in front of complete strangers. But it’s imperative that Shran - who will represent his people in the Federation Council one day - believe him.
Shran stares at him in suspicion as if trying to figure out if he’s telling the truth.
“And you’d trust a Vulcan to help you?” he finally asks.
“Right now I’d trust a Klingon if there were any chance to get some help,” Ianto replies with a shrug. “I haven’t got much to lose - and a great deal to win.”
The thaan clearly doesn’t believe a word of what Ianto’s saying but Shran becomes thoughtful. Perhaps Andorians, too, have their own version of PTSD; or perhaps he has had his fair share of traumatic experiences in the line of duty. In any case he ignores the thaan’s angry comments, hissed into his ears in their own language (of which only Tosh does understand every tenth word).
“Take them to an empty room till we’ve finished searching the place,” he orders. “Put the two Vulcans with them and watch them closely. Make a head count every hour to see if they haven’t escaped somehow; Vulcans are dishonest, and who knows what the pink-skins are capable of.”
The thaan clearly isn’t happy with those orders but Shran is somebody who’s used to be obeyed. So the Enterprise team, accompanied by the Vulcan Elder and the initiate, are led away.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“Now these guys are agitated,” Tucker comments when they are left alone. “Each and every one would give the Grouchy Smurf a run for his money.”
Ianto suppresses a smile. The chief engineer has obviously done his research since that outdated pop culture remark had last been made. The Vulcans react with their usual, blank-faced lack of understanding. Not that not understanding would be their fault - this time.
“They are Andorians, Commander,” T’Pol finally says. “They're known for their suspicious and volatile nature.”
“Our two species are from neighbouring systems,” the Elder adds in an attempt to enlighten the ignorant humans. “We have been in conflict for many years.”
“What for?” Archer wonders. “Conflicts of interests perhaps?”
“They resent our superior reasoning and our technology,” the gaunt-faced Vulcan initiate explains with no small amount of self-imposed superiority. “They even believe that we intend to mount an invasion on their homeworld.”
“And? Do you?” Archer asks, only half-joking, because he could easily believe it, if he wants to be honest. He’s learned long ago that what Vulcans say and what they do are two very different things.
The Elder shakes his head. “Of course not; but to persuade them of that is not an easy task. In order to alleviate tensions, we negotiated a treaty, but some Andorian factions - the Imperial Guard in particular - still believe we're bent on conquest.”
“What do they want with a three thousand year old temple, though?” Tucker frowns; indeed, imagining the Vulcan Elder as an aggressor is hard. He seems to be a very… balanced individual who has long found his right place in life.
“They believe we are hiding a long range sensor array,” the initiate doesn’t actually snort (Vulcans would never do that), but it is a close thing.
“Are you?” Archer asks mildly, but his eyes - Jack’s eyes - are hard and suspicious. He wouldn’t put something like that beyond the Vulcans, either, whom he likes to summarily describe as ‘a sneaky bunch’.
The Elder takes no offence; such overly emotional reactions have been purged from him due to the decades-long practice of kolinahr.
“This is a place of introspection, Captain,” he replies simply. “There are no spies here, and no technology.”
Which is a blatant lie as Ianto (alone from the Enterprise crew) well knows. But he begins to suspect that perhaps the monks don’t even know what’s going on under their sanctuary. At least the majority of them. He would not put his hands into the fire for the initiate.
“So what are you going to do, just sit here and let them ransack the place?” Tucker demands.
The Elder raises an eyebrow. “What would you suggest to do? Answer to violence with violence? That would cause much more damage, both in buildings and lives, than letting them have their way.”
“Typically, they make a great display of their indignance,” the voice of the initiate is dripping with disdain. “When they find nothing, they leave.”
“The Andorians were here twice before and both times left within a day,” the Elder adds. “Unfortunately your arrival has amplified their suspicions.”
“You've endangered us all,” the initiate says with thinly veiled hostility that seems to surprise the Elder.
“Peace, Sulok,” he says. “They had no way to know; and under normal circumstances our sanctuary does stand open for those who seek out our help.”
It is interesting how much Vulcan non-expressions can reveal, Ianto thinks, interested, because upon hearing the name of the initiate T’Pel actually stiffens. Well… if a Vulcan can get any more stiff than usual. The name obviously does ring a bell with her.
“Are you certain that it is our presence that endangers the sanctuary, Initiate Sulok?” She asks coldly. “We came here to seek guidance. Can you say the same about yourself?”
“My reasons are my own,” the initiate replies, his voice equally cold. “I expect you to respect my privacy.”
The Elder looks from one to another in confusion. “What are you referring to?” he then asks T’Pol.
“Nothing,” she replies. “Whatever the truth is, it is not my story to tell. We came here to meet Master T’Kosh, the Eldest of my clan. Since there is obviously no communal kolinahr-practice in progress, I insist to know where she is and why is she not available.”
The Elder looks like he is about to sigh; but in the last moment he stifles the un-Vulcanlike reaction.
“She is being held hostage,” he confesses. “That is how the Andorians begin each time they search the place: by separating her from the rest of the order and keeping her under guard.”
“A logical solution,” T’Pel admits. “She is not being threatened or hurt, I presume?”
The Elder shakes his head.
“That could change, though, should the Andorians find something suspicious,” Archer reminds them darkly.
“There is nothing to find,” the Elder states simply, certain in the truth of his words.
But the initiate’s eyes are shifty, and Ianto sees that Archer has noticed it, too.
“Perhaps not,” the captain allows, though he clearly believes otherwise. “Still, it might be prudent to even out the chances a little, don’t you think?”
He is looking at T’Pol, not at the Elder, and she slowly nods. “What do you have in mind, Captain?”
“I believe,” Archer says with Jack’s wide, white grin, “that it’s time to call in the cavalry.”
“The… cavalry?” T’Pol echoed, and the other two Vulcans displayed identical blank expressions of non-understanding.
“Human expression, based on outdated historic facts,” Hoshi explained; then she turned to Archer. “But Captain, how are we supposed to contact Enterprise? The Smurf confiscated all our equipment; including our communicators.”
“Then we’ll have to find another way, don’t we?” Archer returned and looked at the Vulcans. “If anyone has a suggestion, I'm all ears. No offence intended.”
For a moment the two monks remained silent; finally the Elder gave in.
“There might be a solution,” he admitted.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
(1) Yes, I know that Memory Beta lists Shran - aka Hravishran th’Zoarh - as a thaan. However, thaan are supposed to be the biggest, beefiest of the four Andorian genders; which actor Jeffrey Coombs definitely is not. So I’ve assigned Shran to the other male Andorian gender, as chan are described as smaller and of wiry strength. Since the four genders are book canon anyway, I took my creative freedom with Shran here.