Dinner in the captain's mess was exactly that, a mess. Everything felt forced and strained between Lt. D'Arcy and Archer as they tried to make polite chit-chat about engine overhauls and upgrades as well as what she thought needed to be done with it. Making it even more awkward was the understandable curiosity of everyone in the room regarding what had happened to the captain's face. Everyone wanted to know and yet for most of the meal no one dared mention the elephant in the room. It was addressed by T'Pol and was answered with a nonchalant 'looks worse than it is'. This response raised eyebrows and caused the three guests to exchange confused looks.
The captain had hoped to talk with Danaë when the meal was over and the others left, but that was not to be. Before they could finish their enchiladas the call came over that a Romulan ship had been detected in the vicinity. To say that they were close was an understatement as Archer barely made it into the lift before they started firing on the Enterprise. When he finally made it to the bridge he discovered that he was not facing a single enemy ship, but nine. He ordered Malcolm to start leveling everything they had at the vessel before them and he was not the only one. Thirty-three coalition ships moved into position and began to fight back against the Romulans, but inexplicably the Vulcans made no appearance.
Even without the Vulcans the Romulans were outnumbered and many were quickly destroyed, but their defeat was not without heavy losses. Starfleet lost three ships and the Andorian's and Tellarite's lost nearly all of their ships. What no one could explain was why the Vulcan's had remained on the far side of the planet and offered no assistance. The answer turned out to a horrifying one. There had been no Vulcan ships at all, but Romulan drone vessels masquerading as Vulcan allies. Archer deployed MACO ground forces to ensure that the planet was secured and its people safe. What they found was that thousands of Denevan colonists had been slaughtered by enemy soldiers. While the Coalition ships were distracted, enemy troops hidden on the drone vessels beamed down and massacred men, women and children. This was the punishment for giving aid.
Horrified by the slaughter of innocent victims, Archer gave orders for each colonist to be identified and given a proper burial. After that he retired to his quarters and remained there for four days. His meals were delivered by the chef while he sat through a number of briefings regarding the situation and remained silent through most of them. He didn't even attempt to persuade the delegates of Tellar and Andoria to continue fighting with Earth, only nodding in understanding as each one pulled their forces. Shran had urged his leaders not to abandon the 'pink skins' just yet and reminded them that the humans were resilient. They were not convinced. In his despair Archer found himself once more thinking that perhaps the Vulcan's had been correct in holding back Earth's advancement into space exploration. Everything they had hoped to achieve had fallen apart time and time again.
By day five he finally emerged from his quarters restless and desperate for an escape from all the fighting, death and carnage. He really should have been asleep, but his mind was too active and awake. Unable to take another moment of lying in bed dwelling on the Romulans, he wandered down to the mess hall to grab a snack. Surely no one would be in there at this hour and indeed, his instincts were correct at least initially. As he pondered whether to take a slice of pecan pie or a dish of Eton Mess (how could you ever go wrong with berries, meringue and whipped cream) he heard the doors slide open and saw T'Pol walk in. Resting his hands on the display before him, the captain dropped his head with a sigh, his shoulders becoming stooped as silently prayed she wouldn't say what he knew she was undoubtedly thinking.
"You cannot hide away forever. What happened to the Denevan colonists was not your fault" there it was, exactly what he had expected and as always the sub-commander did not disappoint.
"Isn't it?" he responded, turning his head to look at her. "The Vulcans have been more than clear about how much support they are willing to give and yet I still allowed myself to believe those vessels were allies. When I saw how many there were I should have seen it as a red flag."
"There was no way for you to have known those were drones. They fooled the Andorians and the Tellarites. I am a Vulcan and believed them to be what they appeared." She pointed out and he knew she was right, but it didn't make it easier.
"I was the one who had contacted the colony and asked for aid. I should have left them out of it and found another way to get supplies. They were murdered because they helped us. That is my fault. At the very least we should have had MACOs on the ground to protect them, but instead I let myself get distracted by..." Here he stopped. He couldn't bring himself to tell her how he had been preoccupied with ship's gossip or that it led to a fight with the major. It was childish and he should have known better. "I should have paid better attention."
"The Romulans made it clear that they would retaliate against any planet aiding and abetting Earth. The colonists believed in your cause enough that they were willing to risk everything. If you want to honor their sacrifice then keep fighting, stand strong and don't give up." T'Pol suggested, to which Archer could only nod softly. Her logic was sound and he knew she was right, but it was so hard to see it through the raw emotion wrought by such a senseless massacre. Seeing the bodies of grown men and women had been tragic enough, but the children... my God, the children. They never had a chance to live and the sight of their corpses broke the captain more than anything could have.
Foregoing his late night snack, the captain decided to distract himself with a solitary game of pool in the game room. He had done this numerous times before and found it to be an excellent way to think things through while blowing off some steam. He also knew that no one was ever in there at this hour. Unfortunately, once again his assumption proved wrong. The door no sooner opened and he found himself unexpectedly staring directly at a fine, curvy, female derriere bent over a pool table. He might well have ignored it, but he knew this one all too well. Sure enough with the crack of a cue stick hitting the white ball, Danaë's blond curly hair raised up. She glanced back over her shoulder at the captain then moved around the table to her next shot.
"So the dead have arisen," she commented. "The entire crew was starting to worry about you."
"I've had a lot on my plate. I've been in constant meetings and it has been announced that the Andorian's and the Tellarites will no longer be supporting us in this endeavor. They both sustained too many casualties in this last go around for them to continue lending us aid. I can't say that I blame them. I would do the same. Right now my mind is still trying to process everything. In particular, what could I have done to prevent it."
"It's not your fault." She smiled gently at him knowing everything that had happened was being placed squarely on his shoulders.
"That's what T'Pol said, but I can't shake the feeling that it is."
"I suppose it's normal for any captain to feel that way." The lieutenant commented.
"You would have a better understanding of my situation than some," he sighed. "You probably watched your father go through this a million times." She didn't answer, but there was a knowing look in her hazel eyes that told him hevwas right.. "Anyway I came here looking for a distraction, not to rehash my misery." He looked over at the table she was playing on and saw that the lieutenant was down to only two balls. Sliding the stick through her fingers she bounced the white ball off the bumper and into the solid blue number two ball which gracefully rolled into the side pocket. "I didn't know you played pool."
"It's been a while, but yes. When I was still recovering from the nerve damage caused by the Yamanu, Dr. Phlox suggested billiards as a way to work on my fine motor skills. A form of occupational therapy as it were."
"Is it helping?" he asked. The lieutenant carefully balanced the stick right between her thumb and pointer finger. She bent over, her hazel eyes looking down the wooden shaft and visualizing a straight line from the cue ball to the eight ball to the pocket.
"Eight ball top right corner pocket." With that the tip hit its mark sinking the ball exactly where she wanted it. "I guess it is," she smirked. "Table is yours."
