Epilogue

Two days later, the captain, Hoshi and Commander T’Pol stood someplace else entirely, outside the door of acting Governor Nala’s office, awaiting the chance to speak with her and other Confederacy leaders-the H’ratoi ambassador, the Pfau trade minister, and General Jaedez, among them-regarding the events of the last few weeks, and their implications for the continued future of the Thelasian alliance. Archer had in mind a proposition for them; an invitation to the peace conference he and Enterprise were on their way to. In his mind, he was rehearsing that invitation.

Hoshi and T’Pol were continuing the discussion they’d begun almost from the instant Archer and his communications officer had returned to Enterprise. A conversation on the possibility of universal telepathic communication-a way to take what had happened to Hoshi during her “joining” of the Barreon group mind and apply it to other instances of first contact.

“Imagine,” she was saying, “a device that reads not LMUs, but intent, as measured by specific brain-wave patterns.”

T’Pol looked now-as she had from the beginning-dubious.

“Such technology is inherently invasive,” the Vulcan said. “I would be opposed to its usage on general principles.”

“But…” Hoshi frowned. “If you’re sending a ship out in space-if you’re out there exploring-it seems to me you want to…”

The door to Nala’s office opened.

The governor, followed by General Jaedez and then-to the captain’s surprise-a Klingon in full ceremonial robes, walked out.

Archer was too surprised to speak for a moment.

The Klingon walked past Nala, right up to the captain, and poked a finger in his chest.

“The crew of the c’Hos,” he said. “There is blood on your hands.”

“On my hands?” Archer’s eyes widened. “Sen is the one who…”

He frowned, and turned to Governor Nala.

“Excuse me,” Archer said. “I had hoped to speak with you in private, Governor, regarding a matter of some importance.”

“I am aware of that, Captain,” Nala said. “And I apologize for keeping you waiting. However, we have been busy ourselves, on a matter of some urgency as well. General Jaedez,” she gestured toward the Conani warrior behind her, “has been briefing us at length regarding the threat posed by the Barreon machine intelligence.”

“Threat?” Hoshi stepped forward now, and shook her head. “There is no threat. General, you were there. All those ships-and they weren’t even really ships, you know that-they’re gone now. The Barreon-I suppose we could call what we encountered out there Barreon-I’m not even sure they exist anymore, in a form we could understand. And they certainly pose no threat to you, they’re not interested in…”

“I beg to differ, Ensign,” Jaedez said, accenting her rank. “In my estimation, a threat of that size and magnitude cannot be disregarded, no matter the circumstances. We must be prepared to defend ourselves.”

“Well.” Archer cleared his throat. “Governor-that brings me to the subject I wanted to address with you. There is a peace conference taking place on my homeworld in a few days-a number of races from sectors surrounding ours, as well as some nearer to you-and while nothing definitive has been decided, there has been mention of the strategic value an alliance of all races attendant would afford…”

“Forgive me for interrupting, Captain, but if this is an invitation to your conference, I’m afraid I must decline,” Nala said. “We have, in fact, just completed an alliance of our own.”

Ambassador Schalk stepped up alongside her, and smiled.

Archer’s jaw dropped.

“With them?” he said, gesturing toward Schalk. “You made an alliance with the Klingons?”

“They are the preeminent military power in this part of the galaxy,” Jaedez said. “Their warriors, their ships, our technology… I believe such an alliance will be mutually beneficial.”

“I suppose it would be foolish of me to point out that they just tried to invade here a few days ago?”

“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.