Ohai.

MaryContrary here.

...

Okay, so, yeah. I've unfinished stories on here I haven't touched in a long time. I know.

And, yeah, not gonna be working on those right now.

So I'm a bad person.

But I had this idea in my head I couldn't shake lose until I did something with it.

Take Firefly. Nix the Alliance, replace with the mirror universe Earth Empire. Or Human Empire. Whatever it's called.

In fact, just nix that whole Firefly universe and replace with the evil, mirror Star Trek: Enterprise universe.

Sorta. Kinda.

Replace Malcolm Reynolds with T'Pol. Throw a few other Star Trek: Enterprise characters in there.

Especially Malcolm. Just to confuse folks that are still thinking "Firefly".

Shake well, rinse thoroughly, stir briskly, bring to a rolling boil...fold, staple and mutilate...crack my knuckles and get to typing.

Just kinda see where it goes.

Maybe I'll even finish it.

Hmm.

So...

Vulcan

The outskirts of Mt. Seleya

T'pol continued forward through the broken terrain, staggering her steps more now out of habit than necessity. One shouldn't take for granted that any particular satellite overhead at the moment wasn't one of the motion-tracking variety. Thermal, life-signs, all the various passive sensors designed to detect enemies on the surface…all of those her recon suit could fool easily enough. Simple movement, though. Leave it to the Humans to design a surveillance system to track movement from orbit. It galled her to admit it would never have occurred to her own people to come up with such a thing.

It was such a contradiction, so like the Humans themselves. Technologically sophisticated, highly advanced…and yet so blatantly, unapologetically primitive at the same time. There was no way to fool something like that without being invisible. And while there were stealth suits that had since been developed, at least effective enough to fool orbital sensors of that sort, they were practically useless against every other form of detection. Which left her staggering across the Vulcan landscape as she was.

Three steps…pause for two breaths…eight steps…pause for two…three steps…half pause… six steps…

She was beginning to lose count, somewhere around the one hundred and eighteenth unit of pi. So she began again. It hardly mattered, really. If there were any motion tracking satellites that had her unit in view at the moment, none of them had spotted them yet.

She began again, then. One step…pause for four breaths…one step…pause for five…nine steps…

If she were Human she would have to admit some humor at the irony. Defeating an automated orbital surveillance system by measuring one's steps to the progression of pi. But then again, she thought, if she were Human she wouldn't be in this mess in the first place.

Of course if she were, she'd probably be drunk, participating in an orgy or some other unimaginable and thoroughly disgusting behavior. She honestly couldn't guess quite what the Human invaders up there were engaged in at the moment aboard their orbiting ships. She assumed they'd been provoked to extremes of behavior by the carnage and destruction they'd wrought upon the planet though. Humans lacked all discipline when provoked to emotion, such as their seemingly impeding victory must surely have. Whatever it was, she could be sure it was barbaric, abominable and something she wanted no part of.

If only Vulcan were in the position to take advantage of that somehow. As it was, they were entirely on the defensive.

A crunching step in the sand to her left warned her than one of her team had wandered perhaps a bit too close to her. It was best to keep a distance, she knew. Individuals were easy for satellites to overlook. Groups grew geometrically easier to detect as their numbers grew. Enough that even a group of four, such as they were, might as well light flares and run in circles as walk anywhere near one another. Once you have been detected, there was no shaking the tracking software. Swarms of fin-stabilized steel bars would be descending from orbit to pulverize you before you knew it. How many Vulcans had died before discovering by chance the simple trick of dispersing your numbers when in the open…well, T'Pol did not want to contemplate.

A warning glance in the direction was sufficient to send that one staggering off again at a slight angle, increasing the distance between them again. Still close enough to maintain unit cohesion, but only just so.

But that one wasn't one of her own, exactly. That was the Human, Malcolm. Her prisoner, if only technically, and he was usually as well disciplined as any Vulcan could be expected to be. In fact if she were forced to admit it, he was often more so. He'd always been something of an enigma to her in that way really. At any particular moment displaying a number of stereotypical Human behaviors…and yet still somehow reliably diligent in maintaining self-discipline, so that she found her own subordinates often rallied to his standard. Usually entirely despite themselves.

He at least was one glaring exception to the Human rule. This one was hardly engaged in…whatever she imagined the Humans above must be engaged in. He trudged along with the rest of her unit and suffered all the more for it. As a planet, Vulcan was wise enough to remain even more inhospitable to Humans than she was to her own children. And she was fairly harsh with them to begin with. With Humans she was…almost disturbingly vicious. It had long since begun to take its toll on him.

In light of that…she found she had to amend her musing. Were she Human she'd probably be right where she was after all. Trudging and staggering through the sand. Only then as a traitor to her own people, just as Malcolm was. That at least seemed the most likely scenario to her. Better than being up there with…them. Malcolm at least had chosen the right side in this conflict, even it were liable to be the losing side. The route she'd have surely chosen as well, she thought. Traitor though he may be, she had to admit that he was at least the first semi-rational Human she'd ever met.

She suppressed a small smile when it occurred to her then…if she had to chose…well, she'd chose to be Romulan. Every bit as disagreeable as Humans in many ways but at least possessed of some rationality. And, more to the point, they alone among the scores of advanced star-faring civilizations for many, many light years around had managed to keep the Human Empire at bay.

So far, at least. The humans weren't invading their home planet anyway, and likely wouldn't be any time soon. She'd take all the shortcomings of the Romulan race in exchange for that alone.

As the bunker drew close T'Pol was immediately alarmed that there was no lookout posted. Naturally, they not be in clear evidence but she knew what to look for. And there was no one on post, she was certain.

Coming to a halt, she sent a vague hand signal over her shoulder. Malcolm was there almost quickly enough to startle her. Probably having stepped in front of S'Ten to get there.

"Trouble, commander?" Malcolm huffed.

He was far too close and well into her personal space. Something she learned to diligently ignore by then, though it surely offended her comrades still. His panting breath from the thin Vulcan atmosphere and…overall odor…were more difficult to overlook. But she was becoming accustomed to the constant offense this one Human managed to generate, as she was sure he was completely unaware of it. No offense where none is taken, after all.

T'Pol squinted ahead, still watching the area carefully. "I am not sure. There should be a lookout here. One, at the least." She frowned. "I see nothing."

Malcolm was gone before she could give the order. Staggering ahead, keeping to the shorter cliffs to minimize his visibility to anyone at the bunker while allowing him to keep it in view himself.

He was expendable, after all, and he knew it. Better he takes the risk than one of the only two remaining Vulcan members of her own squad. And, she knew, he was quite aware that if they succeeded and lived to return to the remaining forces at Mt. Seleya, he would be returned more properly to "prisoner or war" status. And all that suggested.

It had been obvious for some time that he didn't mind risking his life helping his Vulcan captors achieve their goals. T'Pol supposed some random manner of violent death must be preferable to him than imprisonment. Even imprisonment at the hands of Vulcans, who typically treated their captives well.

But he was Human, after all. His motives did not require rationality, so she didn't expect them to make sense to her.

T'Pol and her subordinates waited patiently. Waited on the Human. Hunkered down in the sand…though none of it would really matter if the bunker had been compromised. If it had fallen, then the occupants had fallen. And their gear would have been confiscated or destroyed. Specifically the tight beam microwave communicator these Vulcans had salvaged from the abandoned spaceport she'd only just come from.

Without that their mission was lost. Everything hinged on it. It was what they'd trudged all this way to reclaim, suffering so much loss in the process.

Malcolm was at the bunker now, she saw. He'd reached the half-hidden entrance without encountering anything untoward. Which was fortunate, as a Human skulking about would not have been met with any other greeting than a quiet death, had a lookout been on post.

A quick gesture from him then. No lookout, as she already knew. But there were apparently Vulcans inside the bunker after all. She staggered forward again immediately, her subordinates at a proper distance behind and to either side.

Inside the dimly lit bunker T'Pol suppressed some measure of despair. And distaste. The Vulcan soldiers here were…loitering. She could think of no other apt description for what she saw. No lookout on post outside, no one manning the comm…the jury-rigged microwave comm she'd come to confiscate…she couldn't even tell which of them was in command here. That one should have already presented themselves. To question her at least, if not offer a proper greeting and acknowledgement of her superior rank.

T'Pol allowed herself a cold glare around the room. It seemed appropriate.

"Which of you is in charge here?" She demanded.

After an unacceptable delay, one of the Vulcans in the rear finally roused himself enough to step forward.

"It would seem that I am, as all the officers here have been killed." He said, looking her over. "I assume you are not here to relieve us, as there are only three of you."

Not counting the Human prisoner, of course. This man's languid manner provoked her to some irritation, despite his apparent ability to count to three successfully. In light of the disorderly state of affairs, which he'd just claimed responsibility for, she would not have granted him even that.

"Sergeant." She said, a cursory glance at his rank insignia revealing this to her, since he hadn't bothered identifying himself in any way.

"I've no time to address the obvious deterioration of discipline here, as pressing a matter as that may be." She said, stiffly. "We have come to commandeer the microwave communicator you salvaged from the spaceport."

The sergeant seemed momentarily confused at that, though his glance at the nearby comm unit indicated he'd understood that much.

"The private, T'vel, whom you left for dead was not, in fact, dead." T'Pol explained. "At least not at that time. She was able to inform us that you'd salvaged the unit from the wreckage of the spaceport and give us your approximate location before she died."

"I…see." The sergeant replied. "However…unfortunately…I cannot relinquish the unit. It represents our last remaining possibility of establishing communications…"

"Excuse me for interrupting, Sergeant." T'Pol said. "But this is inconsequential and I do not have the luxury of discussing it. We require the communicator and I outrank you. You will turn it over to Private Sorel now." She gestured to her subordinate at her side.

"I'm regret that I am unable…"

"Corporal S'Ten." T'Pol said sharply.

"Yes, commander." Her other subordinate, standing at her side now as well. With the battered pulse rifle he'd taken from the Human he'd killed only yesterday, now ready at his shoulder.

"It is my belief that the men here have abandoned their duties and deserted their post." T'Pol announced. "Would you agree with that assessment?"

"Indeed, commander."

"Very well. Private Sorel will confiscate the microwave communicator…as well as spare power cells for our weapons and one week's worth of food rations from the stores here…if anyone interferes, take the opportunity to execute them for desertion. And everyone else here as well. Understood?"

"Understood, commander."

Her continued glare at the inadequate leader of this rabble was probably unnecessary. He was already thoroughly cowed. Or…perhaps simply didn't care enough to object any further.

Regardless, she continued to glare at him anyway. It seemed appropriate.

"Message away. I estimate sixteen minutes minimum before it arrives, thirty-five minutes minimum before we receive a response, Commander", Sorel said.

T'Pol nodded acknowledgement. She could only hope that Chairman V'Las had been correct. If the tight beam microwave burst were able to pierce the jamming going on in the atmosphere above, the incoming Vulcan Fleet would at least receive some manner of intelligence on the current situation…before stumbling blindly into it.

She turned to Malcolm. "The delay will be substantial, as expected. We will wait for acknowledgment and any appended communication before returning to Mt. Seleya. I realize there are only two of you, but you and S'Ten must do your best to secure the perimeter in the mean time."

Malcolm only nodded before turning way. S'Ten had already anticipated her orders and disappeared into the surrounding dunes moments ago.

After a moment's hesitation, watching the Human stumble tiredly away…

"Malcolm." She called after him.

He stopped and turned her way again. She found the look on his face indiscernible, having not nearly enough experience reading Human expressions. But she assumed that he was already contemplating what she was about to suggest.

"If you were to take this opportunity to attempt escape, I would be forced to send S'Ten after you." She warned.

Malcolm smiled slightly. "Of course, commander."

T'Pol nodded and return her attention to Sorel…as she continued to speak.

"I doubt he would be successful in retrieving you." She said. "And I suspect he would not devote considerable effort in doing so. Especially considering our time constraints would not allow for an appropriately determined attempt."

Had she more experience with Humans, rather than having spent her entire life up to that point among Vulcans almost exclusively, she'd have recognized the chuckle this elicited from the man. As it was she assumed he'd simply choked at her suggestion. That at least she'd witnessed Humans do from time to time, under stressful interrogation. Either way, it was an emotional reaction and she responded as she would have regardless. She politely ignored it.

Instead she waited patiently for the Vulcan Fleet to respond, leaving Malcolm to slip away into the dunes unobserved.

"Commander, the Vulcan Fleet confirms receipt of message. They…" Sorel hesitated. "We have been ordered to cease communications."

T'Pol's eyebrow twitched at that but more was clearly forthcoming, so she exercised patience. Sorel continued listening intently through his earpiece as the message continued, having been received nearly seven minutes earlier than expected. It would seem the Vulcan Fleet had arrived sooner than command had expected, if only somewhere out on the borders of the system.

"The…D'Vahn and D'Shor have been destroyed." He said. "The Human fleet currently holds all of Vulcan orbit…"

T'Pol turned her attention skyward, to the area immediately above Mt. Seleya. Where the last of the homeworld detachment had made their stand in orbit…and had apparently lost that battle.

They had come all this way, suffered so much, primarily to inform the Vulcan Fleet of the current situation. To enable them to prepare to coordinate with the remaining orbital defenders when they arrived in system. Apprise them of the situation so they could act quickly and decisively, while there was still time…

But time had apparently run out. There was no one left up there holding any part of Vulcan orbit anymore. The Humans had effectively taken the planet already.

"Commander…Vulcan Fleet has…offered their complete surrender…" Sorel said, astonished.

T'Pol blinked in shock, staring at Sorel. Had she misunderstood? The Vulcan Fleet surrendering…at the figurative gates of their own home world? Such a thing would never have occurred to her. It was, quite literally, unthinkable.

Her thoughts raced. With orbit already lost, firmly in the grasp of the Human fleet…perhaps they've simply accepted logic here. That there is nothing they can reasonably do to liberate Vulcan now. Better to spare the fleet for the moment and occupy the Human leaders with talks of surrender. It would fall to them then to resist from the surface. Guerilla warfare was not something they were specifically trained for…but they could adapt…

"They've have asked…Commander, they have asked only that Mt. Seleya be spared…"

T'Pol blanched.

No. No, they couldn't possibly be so foolish…

"When?" She demanded. "When did they do this?"

"I…assume only moments ago." Sorel said. " Mt. Seleya is…it is still…"

It is still standing…

T'Pol's reason…slipped.

She began to suspect this was no mere ruse at all. The commanders of the Vulcan Fleet were exercising extremely poor judgment…perhaps they truly intended to surrender…

How could the they be so stupid? Had they not come directly from a crushing defeat at Axanar? Did they not know how the Humans fought…how they thought…?

How predictably they would react…

"No…" She muttered, unaware that she had spoken aloud. The full horror of what she suspected already tipping the scales in her mind. She was stumbling forward, unaware of herself, climbing the short rise that blocked the sight of Mt. Seleya from her…beginning to panic…

"Commander…!" Sorel cried.

She had to see…it wouldn't be real if she didn't see…

It wouldn't be real…

Hands grabbed at her from behind, but not before she'd nearly scaled the small bluff. Malcolm had returned, though she was completely unaware of him. Had she any awareness to spare she would have assumed it was Sorel, but he had been too overcome to do more than call out to her.

One Human, however timely his arrival, lacked the physical strength to pull a desperate Vulcan away from anything they might be after. But he tried anyway, and perhaps would have succeeded as he was rather determined himself. But unseen and unheard, at least to them, the single missile had already broken through the atmosphere and struck the mountain before Malcolm could begin finally to pull her away. He had almost acted quickly enough, almost been desperate enough…

Almost. If he'd had only a second more, perhaps she would have been spared.

The missile penetrated, detonated, ripped the ancient, sacred majesty of Mt. Seleya cleanly down the middle, before obscuring the mountain completely in dust and debris….engulfing it in a great and terrible flash…unimaginably, unnaturally bright…enough to sear T'Pol's retina's instantly.

The last sight she would ever see with her own eyes.