Archive of Our Own ^beta

So, the saying went; the ice breaks faster when you are alone, than when you are not. It sounded better in Andorii, without a doubt – but all words sounded better in Andorii than in an alien tongue.

But it sounded the best in Aenarii.

Anishtalla zh'Dhaven has known for three decades now, that she is far too old to command the IGS Thalisar. Her antenna droop with age, and her knees plead for the comfort of a geothermal vent, but there is something prideful in her chest that isn’t quite ready to concede her position. She is still reliable – still able to cross ushaan-tor with the best of them – and the last time the Imperial Guard had tentatively broached the topic of an honourable retirement, she’d told them she’d go back to Andoria when they left whatever remained of her at the Wall of Heroes.

Pride is the one thing that age doesn’t take from either Andorians or Aenar, and it runs especially strong in her bloodline.

It is why, on the way back from a routine mission to deliver a haul of medical supplied to Eketha – and to chew out her zhri'za for not sending her long-suffering parents their monthly update on her wellbeing – when her helmsmen’s head snaps down and he starts frantically pressing buttons she has a moment where she thinks she can handle whatever is being thrown at her.

She is wrong. 

When her communications specialist does the same, she sinks back into her chair and grips the armrests with her wrinkled hands.

Her helmsman is young – her entire crew is too damn young – but they are decent.

“Captain,” Atar says, still pushing buttons on the helm, “I’m detecting some weird readings from Vulcan. I- I can’t make sense of these readings...”

A hush falls over the crew – they have not known the Vulcans of her youth. They have been born into peace, into the Federation, but she has not. She has grown up with stories of treachery and trickery, of open lies and misdirection.

But – she has also become accustomed to peace. It suits her in a way that war would not, and she is not going to be the one who breaks it on paranoia alone.

“Vulcan is broadcasting distress signals on all channels,” Eshev adds in growing concern, “I- They’ve broadcast a planetary evacuation order.”

There is a quiet.

Her crew look to her, and her skin prickles as if a shax has burrowed under her skin. They are positively pink at the thought of something that could threaten the Vulcans.

“We will respond,” Anishtalla announces, “Atar plot a course – maximum warp – Eshev push the broadcast on all Imperial channels on priority – confirmation code shapla-zletha-grelth- go!”

Atar is decent – he gets them into warp and the stars stretch alongside them in a brilliant spectrum of fires. The ship is travelling as fast as the beating of their hearts, and twice as fast as an avalanche.

“Five minutes out,” Atar announces, as he scours over his helm with a critical eye. To his side, his junior helmsmen Thare is visibly trembling, but is doing his best to look confident. Eshev is speaking into the comm, and she is delighted to realise he’s taking charge and delegating tasks to his communications team. Before she can issue the order, Eshev has alerted medical to expect a rush of evacuees.

She grins wide at his back. He’s young, but her most seasoned officer – and it looks like he might finally be ready to be pushed off her ship onto something a little more exciting.

Her pride grows and grows each time she kicks a member of her crew off her rusty old ship.

“Three minutes,” Atar announces, as she tries to politely ignore how his antenna shrinks up in fright, “Readings are growing more erratic – they’re resembling something like an unstable wormhole? Maybe a large energy weapon?”

“Asevi,” She announces, focusing on her weapons specialist, “Shields up, I want us ready to go. If we can help, we do – but anything big enough to take down Vulcan is no opponent for a cargo hauler.”

She glances over to Eshev – face still fat and round from zhiassa – he looks closer to a child than to an elder. She can’t quite decide if youthful optimism is a benefit or not.

“Patch me through to the ship,” She demands, and is pleased when he gives the signal and the ship wide comms are suddenly open, “Attention all crew. We have received an immediate call from assistance from Vulcan. A planet-wide evacuation order is in effect. Report to your stations immediately. Out.”

Andoria borders with Vulcan. It was once a source of wounded pride, spilled blood of all hues, and deep rage. Her own thaven had been an Imperial Officer during the Vulcan-Andorian Cold War and had fought through the Battle of Andoria.

He’d also championed for Andoria to join the Coalition of Planets, and eventually the United Federation of Planets. He’d taken her to see the signing, and witness history blooming as sweetly as a challorn in the spring.

He’d been friends with the crew of the original Earth Enterprise.

“Captain,” Eshev announced, “The Kumari and the Tazras have responded – they’re 15 minutes behind us.”

Anishtalla straightened in relief. The Kumari was a tried and tested battle cruiser, and the Tazras was a medical frigate – she couldn’t have picked better backup if she tried.

“One minute,” Atar warns, and this time, she hears the wobble in his voice.

“No second guesses,” She announces, “Support the evacuation.”

“30 seconds.”

They drop right next to Vulcan, which speaks to just how good Atar is at piloting. They also drop into what looks like a graveyard, with a fleet of ships torn into a hundred pieces. They stare in horror, even as the rubble smashes against their shields. Atar drops their ship into a stomach-lurching drop to move them away from the worst of it.

There are two ships standing - she knows exactly who she will be standing with, purely on sight.

“Identify vessels,” Anishtalla snaps, “Federation?”

“USS Enterprise,” Eshev responds, “Friendly. Enemy vessel is a Romulan Mining Ship. They’re directing a high energy drill into Vulcan’s core. Enterprise is asking us not to engage.”

“Agreed,” Anishtalla replies, “Keep us away from the Romulan vessel. Scan for evacuating ships.”

“Two vessels, limited shielding all around,” Thare responds, “Transport vessels.”

“Get us close enough to extend our shields,” Anishtalla responds, and feels the air leave her lungs as the viewscreen swings to reveal the borehole the Romulan vessel is directing at the planet, “Eshev-“

“I have them,” Eshev responds, and by Uzaveh, is she going to write a glowing letter of recommendation if they live, “Hailing Vulcan vessels, this is the IGS Thalisar responding to your planetary evacuation order, please adjust your heading towards us – 111 mark 14- “

The ship shuddered as the shields were extended around the tiny Vulcan transport ships. The metal threatened to buckle, and she grit her teeth to suppress a hiss as the sound rippled from her antenna straight down to her toes.

“Captain,” Eshev interjected, “Enterprise has advised that Romulan Mining Vessel is in possession of some kind of technology – they intend to destroy the planet.”

“Atar,” She announces, as she tunes out Eshev’s rapid fire instructions, “Keep us flying – I want these ships at a safe distance – then turn around – Thare - scan the ships for any survivors in the Federation wreckage– check behind bulkheads – emergency forcefields – give me a full scan.”

The chorus of yes Captains did nothing to quell the horror of a world devouring ship. The IGS Thalisar was not a ship which could withstand a shot from a ship currently blasting through Vulcan with the ease of a child sweeping away a swarm of ice-bore. But she is made to be study.

“Thare, tell me what’s happening down there,” She demands, once the Vulcan ships are far enough away to be out of the fight. She doesn’t like leaving defenseless ships out in the middle of nowhere, with shields meant more for lifting out of an atmosphere than solar system travel – but there is no other option.

They glide through wreckage, and she is wrecked when she realises there are Andorian ships torn asunder in this graveyard.

They had not been the first to arrive.

“Romulan vessel is still drilling– I don’t have enough sensor power to calculate how long until they reach the core,” Thare replied, his hands moving as fast as his eyes, “But when they do – planetary collapse will be… imminent.”

The bridge quiets.

“This is an extermination.”

Anishtalla glances over at Asevi, who has gone as pale as the snow.

“Thare- “

“I’ve sent co-ordinates to navigation,” Thare responds, “37 Federation life signs – we can transport them straight into medical if we’re quick- “

“Atar do it- “

“On it”

The ship lurches, and they make it halfway through the field of ships before the drill dangling over Vulcan snaps and breaks – they watch it with a dawning feeling of dread. Asevi’s face is wild at her console, and Anishtalla knows the exact moment that the Romulan ship hightails it out of there that nothing good will happen here today – there will be no miracles, no final act save.

“Can we beam anyone up from the surface?” Anishtalla asks, but already knows the answer.

“Not enough range,” Asevi responds, “We – we’re a cargo hauler. We’re only designed for short range transportation.”

“I want options!”

“Thirteen shuttles and eight ships have made it out of the atmosphere. Three more in the upper atmosphere – I – they’re too low.”

“Captain – the planet is imploding.”

Vulcan twisted and seemed to wither and die as something pulled from deep inside the planet and wretched the outside in. The sands of the desert swirled into the core of the planet – lightning storms deep in the planet sparked and flared. Anishtalla felt her stomach lurch and her bones wail in terror at the sight of a blackhole – the great devourer claw Vulcan into itself.

The force of it shook the ship, and for a moment, Anishtalla was sure her entire ship would be consumed too. The Vulcan ships were gunning for her location – in the background, Eshev had broken out his rusty Vulcan to direct them closer and closer.

Vulcan screamed.

The death of a billion telepaths felt like a nuclear bomb just went off right next to her ear. For a second, the sound of pure agony rippled through her – and if she hadn’t already been sitting down, it would have knocked her to her knees. As it were, it stole the air from her lungs, and plunged her under the great ice of the Northern Wastes.

From deep in her ship, she can feel it ricochet – there are other Aenar onboard here too – a handful that preferred to serve under an Aenar-Andorian Captain, rather than anyone else.

It hurts.

They will drown.

“Atar- “

“Course plotted.”

“Thare- “

“Ten seconds.”

The seconds ticked by – Anishtalla watched as four Vulcan ships made it close enough to get under their shields. Her vision was blurry – and she was suddenly reminded of how she’d accidentally dropped a stun grenade as a cadet - Then a fifth ship – a shuttle then another and then-

“GO” Atar announced as he hit the console and the ship launched into a short warp hop. The force of it was enough to snap her neck uncomfortably – inertial dampeners straining under the high-warp hop. Somewhere in the engine room, she was sure her chief engineer was swearing up a storm.

“Report!”

“Clear of the anomaly,” Atar reported, “USS Enterprise made it too.”

“We got nine short range ships and six shuttles,” Thare finally said, and could feel the weight of the room sour, “Two transport vessels – T’Pau class - still accounted for – wait – there’s a Vulcan science ship that wasn’t here before.”

“Where’s the Kumari and the Tazras?”

“Two minutes out,” Eshev called, before going back to his ugly Vulcan. It's still better than his fledgling Federation Standard.

“Get the Vulcan Science Vessel on the screen,” Anishtalla demanded, “Eshev – call Andoria and then call the Vulcan embassy on Andoria and tell them to expect incoming.”

“I have the Vulcan Science Ship T’Alaro waiting for you,” Eshev said, even as his fingers were working on sending more messages, “They’re asking for you.”

“Put them on screen – send info updates to my touchscreen.”

The viewscreen flashed to the ship, and Anishtalla couldn’t help but stare at the Vulcan woman on the other end. She was old – probably older than even Anishtalla herself – a woman who had also lived through the Cold War, the invasion – the times before the Federation. Back when they were mortal enemies who had fought and killed for planets less important.

This woman is no more, but no less, than any other Vulcan.

But how do you find any words to convey anything important at all, after a mining vessel destroyed your home world?

How do you say that you felt them all die.

That you know you both did.

“I am T’Paal of the Vulcan Science Ship T’Alaro,” The woman spoke first, and seemed to regard the bridge crew with what was possibly, the most distressed face she had ever seen on a Vulcan. It's as wrong as a heatwave on Andoria.

“Captain Anishtalla zh'Dhaven of the IGS Thalisar,” She greets, and feels the tears tracking down her face, “I am so sorry - I grieve with thee.”

She can see the moment that T’Paal finally looks at her – the moment that it clicks that she is speaking to someone who might just understand.

There are less than 2000 Aenar left on Andoria.

Most are like herself – with mixed Andorian and Aenar heritage.

Most of them are sterile.

As a people, they have already reached the conclusion that the Vulcans may yet realise.

“I – we have room in our cargo holds for any ships that launched over capacity - we're not a big ship and we're pretty near capacity– we can probably hold about 35 or so? How many – “

T’Paal is weary, but she dutifully looked off screen.

“We are still receiving reports from the second wave – we have accounted for 1382 life signs on the Avarak and the Lodzhal,” She paused for a second to tap at her console with a shake to her hand that Anishtalla ignored, “A further 46 across the six shuttles – and 1145 on the short-range vessels.”

Anishtalla suddenly felt like she was going to throw up. She had always been good at mathematics – enough to run calculations to know that 2573 lives – out of billions – was nothing more than a horrifying defeat.

The planet had collapsed in 14 minutes.

“The Vulcan people owe you a great debt of gratitude,” T’Paal responded, and the brutal honesty has Anishtalla reeling, “I… must contact the rest of our fleet and the Federation Council.”

Andoria trained their fleets to evacuate a planet over 12 hours.

The Federation trained for 8 hours.

The planet had collapsed in 14 minutes.

“T’Paal,” Anishtalla offered what she hoped was a reassuring smile, “We have a hospital ship and a battle cruiser on their way – let us help.”

“Captain,” Eshev said quietly, and then motioned towards the screen on her Captain’s chair.

Anishtalla swallowed hard and looked down at the screen in her chair – the light blinked green, and it took only a few moments to breathe a sigh of relief.

“T’Paal, I have official orders from Andoria to offer you and your people sanctuary – we’ve notified the Vulcan Embassy on Andoria – they’re starting preparations to receive refugees,” The word stuck in her throat, and it was with a bizarre kind of realisation that she realised it was true, “They’re the largest Embassy in this region - and the closest - and we can start the process of notifying local Vulcan outposts and scientific stations to take a census. You are welcome on Andoria for as long as you need.”

T'Paal quite frankly, looked relieved, and the fact she did made Anishtalla’s nerves burn as hot as a radiation burn. They both received comm beeps when the Kumari and the Tazras dropped out of warp in concert.

They are seconds too late – she knows the Captain of the Tazras – knows that he felt it too.

Knows that he has Vulcan crewmembers on his ship.

“It is much appreciated,” T’Paal responded promptly, “I will liaise with your crew to determine reallocation of personal to avoid overtaxing our oxygen reclamation systems. Contact me if you require any further information. We will contact the Vulcan Embassy directly.”

Then she was gone.

Anishtalla let out a slow exhale, and suddenly felt like the silence was roaring in her ears.

And felt perhaps, like the rules of the universe had changed.