Looking across the table, Jon lowered his glass and asked his question, "T'Pol, may I ask you something?"

The Vulcan looked into her captain's earnest gaze. "Of course."

He didn't mince his words, asking flat out, "Why do your people make such an effort to avoid `cultural contamination'?" Though he didn't speak the words, Jon's eyes added. `Only to interfere at every turn once First Contact *has* happened.'

If she saw, she gave no sign. Instead, she clasped her hands lightly behind her back and met his gaze evenly. "It is not something we have had much cause to discuss."

Her reluctance wasn't surprising. He'd yet to see a Vulcan who volunteered information so he'd expected resistence. "You have cause now." Leaning back in his chair, he added. "You can't expect humanity to adopt a Vulcan policy if we have no idea why the policy was enacted to begin with."

Looking into his face, T'Pol had to admit his logic was sound. It often was. Despite a strong tendency to lean toward emotion, when he chose to be, Jonathan Archer could be quite a strong logician. If he so wished, she suspected he could hold his own with almost any Vulcan.

Her head moved slightly in a nod of acquiescence. "Very well; but you must respect our wishes that this not become public knowledge. My people are not in the practice of freely dispensing such information to offworlders."

Archer considered her conditions for a moment then nodded. "All right; I can't say I won't discuss it with others but I won't broadcast it across subspace either." He had his problems with the Vulcans but he couldn't deny that - whatever the reason - they were an intensely private people. Be it military or cultural information, they did not share it easily.

It wasn't the answer she truly wanted but she couldn't say it wasn't unexpected. He was as frankly honest and open as she was private and reserved. She would never say, but she found him refreshing.

Moving across the floor, she looked into the coldness of space, taking a few moments to compose her thoughts. "It occurred many years ago, on a planet 185.7 light years away. A survey vessel encountered a severe ion storm which sheared off a nacelle. The crew was forced to abandon the ship as a a core breach was imminent...one lifepod became separated from the others..."

"It crashed on a planet?"

T'Pol looked over her shoulder to find him watching her intently. "Yes." She returned her gaze to the stars. "There were two aboard the pod: an exobiologist and a doctor. The biologist was injured and could not walk. The doctor managed to move him to a nearby system of caves she had found. After removing useful equipment from the pod, she destroyed it to hide their presence."

She paused and turned. "It was her hope they would not be discovered."

"But they were." Jon prompted softly, his mind visualizing the scenario as she described it.

"They were," she affirmed. "A healer from a nearby village was gathering a plant at the mouth of the cave. It was a considerable shock to encounter the scientists; the religious beliefs of his race didn't allow for the possibility of life on other worlds, nevertheless, he thought them harmless and tried to help."

T'Pol's expression seemed to grow even more solemn. "Despite all efforts, they were discovered..."

"Oh god..." Though she'd yet to actually describe what had happened, he knew it couldn't be good. T'Pol was not an overly expressive woman but the gravity of the situation was readily apparent. "How bad?"

"The leader of the village and the local religious leader had the Vulcans seized, the healer and his family arrested."

Jon closed his eyes. He could only imagine the scene as they were led out of their sanctuary. That very image had been played out so many times on his own planet - centuries ago - and made up some of the worst periods of history. Religious zealots were anything but merciful; especially when their belief system was challenged.

"One of our ships was able to rescue our scientists but not before a public trial was held: the result of which was the execution of their benefactor and his family." T'Pol hesitated before adding. "Eventually, due to the cultural contamination, the planet became embroiled in a so-called holy war. Millions died."

"Horrific." He agreed, standing. "But surely you don't expect every time to end as devastatingly as that."

One feminine eyebrow rose delicately and Jonathan felt as if he were sixteen years old and had just been caught by Mrs. Dandrige sending notes to Mary Zeuwicky. She'd used the *exact* same look. It was a somewhat ridiculous thought but for a moment he wondered if Mrs. Dandrige hadn't learned that look from a Vulcan.

"We are well aware, Captain, of the possibilities of such a result occurring: I could recite those very statistics if I so wished but I do not want to belabor the issue." T'Pol turned, as if to leave, but apparently thought better of it. "There is a saying among my people, `I am a Vulcan, bred to peace,' it is a truth we hold dear. The very thought of causing harm to others is abhorrent to us. One life lost because of our presence is one life too many." We will not rush blindly out to meet a race only to cause death."

"An admirable goal," he replied after some thought. "Very noble of you, but forgive me, it doesn't exactly fit with the picture humanity has of the Vulcans."

Though she showed no sign of it, his words shamed her. She had long wondered if the spirit of her people's mission to guide humanity in their reach for the stars had been lost. Had they allowed their concerns and fears to overwhelm their logic?

She fully believed they had done the right thing in helping the human race, that she believed without question. Her doubts lay in the execution of that guidance. Had they gone wrong?

T'Pol had wondered this before but only in the most abstract of ways. Since being assigned to the Enterprise, however, those doubts had assailed her with a new and intense clarity.

And another concern had been added.

What would Surak think of how they approached humanity? Would he understand their concerns? Or would he abhor them?

"T'Pol?" Archer's voice pierced her reverie and she found the captain's eyes watching her with concern. Looking back, she realized he was worried his comments had hurt her. "Are you all right?"

For the first time in many years, she had to struggle to hide her emotions. "I am fine." She replied curtly, drawing her control about her like a shield. "Vulcans have a code of behavior that we strive to live by. We do not always succeed but that should surprise no one. We are not infallible and we would be so arrogant as to claim to we were. Vulcans are not perfect but we struggle to be better than we are. This is the reason for our concerns, why we avoid cultural contamination. The risks of tragedy far outweigh the possible benefits we could offer. I believe your race has an expression; the road to hell..."

Moving to the door, she hit the control to open it.

Vulcans had a saying too: one attributed to Surak.

`The spear in the other's heart is the spear in your own: you are he.'

 

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