Rating: R bordering on NC-17 for explicit sex, language and drug & alcohol use.
Author's Note:
I have no idea if the McGuffin in this story has anything to do with canon, but the Romulans had to be up to something very serious.
Enme crossed the busy street outside the capital building on Romulus. People who saw him, generally got out of his way, given that he was wearing an Imperial Guard Uniform and carried himself like he had somewhere important to be. A couple of young women admired the uniform and the relatively young man in it, something he dutifully pretended to neither notice or be flattered by. If it were another time or place, he would have happily stopped to make conversation with the prettiest of the young women, but this day he had too many pressing concerns to indulge in such distractions.
There was a young woman standing on the steps of the capitol building that he did notice, however. She also wore an imperial uniform and the boxy-haircut that went along with it, though her hair and eyes were much darker than his.
"Ravel," he said in his own language, "you look well."
"Good to see you, Enme," said Ravel, "It's been a long time. In fact, the last time I saw you was when we graduated from the military academy. How many years ago was that?"
"Too many," replied Enme, "I was sent far away after that. Father thought I needed toughing up."
She had heard that the ProConsul had sent his favorite, eldest son to the toughest battle zones of the Empire as an attempt to some how make up for his son's privileged upbringing.
"I hear you acquitted yourself admirably," said Ravel.
"I've heard the same about you," said Enme, "that you went deep undercover on Vulcan and provided father with copious amounts of intelligence. I never would have pegged you to go into intelligence. I guess that shows how much I knew you."
Ravel looked up at Enme, who was nearly a head taller than she, and smiled.
"You never really knew me at all," she laughed, "not that I would have allowed myself to become another notch on your belt, Enme. I have too much pride for that."
Enme smirked. His womanizing ways had slowed down quite a bit since the academy, but there was no need for Ravel to know that.
"How's his mood?" asked Enme.
Ravel gestured to the section of the capitol where the ProConsul's office was located.
"He's tense," she replied, "Did he tell you about my recent assignment? The special, personal assignment?"
Enme nodded. He had received a long letter along with orders to return to Romulus. Apparently, his father had an errand that he wanted run, and he only trusted Enme to do it.
"What was she like?" he asked.
"She's admirable," replied Ravel, "and she's no ordinary Vulcan. She's not as afraid of her emotions as most of them. I suppose that should be expected, but she's not one of us, either. I'll wager she doesn't have the taste for copper blood that runs particularly acute in your family."
Enme was wearing the black gloves that went along with the imperial uniform, but it was a hot day, so he removed them and put them in his coat pocket. He looked down at his hands and wondered if Vulcan hands looked the same. He supposed they probably did.
"You're taller," continued Ravel, "but she looks enough like you. I knew exactly who she was the moment I set eyes on her."
Enme shook his head.
"Father thinks Ston has gone off to try and find her," he said simply.
"You know Ston better than I," she said, "Do you think he would be that reckless?"
Enme thought fro a moment. He was was closer to Ston that his two younger brothers, and even he didn't really understand what went on in the young man's head.
"I doubt he would see it as reckless," replied Enme,"He would see it as - romantic, and that is what frightens me."
"I assume you're going to have to go after him," she said.
"It appears so," replied Enme, "Would you be interested in joining me? But I'll warn you, I doubt we'll be traveling in a first class warbird. Not this time"
"You're father would never let me go," she said, sounding somewhat disappointed.
Enme tried to not look too crestfallen, but he didn't relish heading out into no man's land by himself.
****
The evening after obtaining the box, T'Pol and Trip worked together to secure the contents of the in one of the labs on Enterprise. As much as they enjoyed their time alone, it was a blessed relief to be back aboard the ship where they felt secure and in control of their surroundings. The captain didn't want to leave space dock without knowing what, if anything valuable had been obtained, but even docked Enterprise felt more secure than the wide open station. There were just too many strange variables there.
Safely ensconced behind radiation proof transparent aluminum, T'Pol used a robotic arm to open the box. Inside, there were some hard, white crystals that could have been any number of elements. However, when she dropped them into the scanner, it did not recognize the crystals. T'Pol looked over the data and was suddenly relieved that they hadn't opened the box. The element appeared highly radioactive.
"Commander," she said to Trip in her most professional tone, "come look at this."
Trip examined the screen next to her and caught his breath. His heart started to beat faster.
"I've never seen anything like it," he said, "This makes uranium look like child's play."
"The Vulcan Science Directorate has heard rumors of such an element, but they have not ever confirmed its existence. If this is what I think it is, we may have a first sample of dilithium."
Trip reread the scans over and over. If the energy readings were correct, this stuff could power engines as fast as Warp 8 - maybe even 9. That didn't even include any possible military applications for the substance.
"Damn. No wonder the Romulans want this stuff," he said, feeling a bit weak in the knees. An enemy with ships that fast might prove unbeatable.
Trip looked at her. There was no way the alliance could allow the Romulans to continue accessing dilithium unchecked. If he were an admiral, and he was glad he wasn't, he knew exactly what planet he'd secure once the fighting broke out.
"Captain," said T'Pol into the comm, "Commander Tucker and I have discovered the nature of the substance. You'll want to see this in person."
Archer arrived just a few minutes later, and as the son of Henry Archer, he knew exactly what he was looking at and what it meant. Game changing didn't even begin to cover it.
"Do you think they know how to use this stuff?" he asked.
"We've never heard of them being able to travel faster than Warp 6," said T'Pol, "that would imply that haven't yet figured out how to adapt their engines to be powered by dilithium, but it is safe to assume they are working on it."
"We'll need to get a team to the planet where they are mining this," said Archer, "and see how extensive their operation is. We also need find out why a Romulan would give us this."
Archer paused for a moment and looked T'Pol straight in the eye.
"Although, I have a feeling he gave you this, not us. You didn't recognize him? He didn't give you any hint?"
She shook her head.
"Do you think you could find him again?"
"Yes, Captain. He seemed to count on that."
In never failed to amaze Trip how collected T'Pol could appear, even when she was suppressing a case of nerves. There was no hint of anxiety in her face or her voice. In fact, he could feel the feelings inside her just slipping away. Emotional control was a constant process for her.
"We might just have to do that," said Archer, "but we will also need to confirm that this is in fact what they are mining. My gut tells me it is, but we'll need more than that before filing a report with Starfleet. It's time to bring Malcolm in on this. I'm sure he'll have suggestions on how best to proceed. We're going to have to get in - get the evidence and get out. Then, we'll come back here and figure who the hell decided we should have this information."
"Sir," said Trip, "it could be a trap. This guy, whoever he was, could be trying to lure us there so they can. . . blow us out of the sky."
"Possible," said T'Pol, "but I fail to see why it would be logical to destroy Earth's flagship. Such an action near such a strategic site wouldn't be logical. If war comes, they would want it far away from this system."
"Romulans don't strike me as all that logical," said Trip.
"We'll just have to be extra careful," said Archer, "I'll give Malcolm a few hours to come up with a strategic plan, then we'll be on our way."
****
Enme sat comfortably in the chair across from his father's desk, shaking his head in frustration.
"Father," he said, "surely Ravel would make a more appropriate choice. She has recent experience in retrieval. I've never even left Romulan Space on that side of our borders. I've never met a Vulcan, nor am I interested in masquerading as one."
The ProConsul's chair was turned toward the window, his back to his favorite son. He swiveled around and faced him.
"Ston has come undone," he said softly, "and I fear there is no saving him, but you are the one I trust to try."
Enme nodded.
"What do you think he wants with her?"
The ProConsul didn't move and his face showed no expression. He pulled up a photograph on his screen. It was of Ston as a small child, along with his deceased mother.
"He never adapted after his mother died. He never accepted us as his family, even before then. He wants her to be his family."
Enme had never had much of an interest in his long-lost older sister. He and his full brothers hadn't even known of her existence until they were adults. Ston only knew because their father had been trying to explain why he had taken Ston away from his home. Several times, Ston had tried to engage Enme in conversations about her, that in hindsight, suggested an unhealthy obsession.
"I've transferred a dossier on her to you," said the ProConsul, "Read it on your way. Ideally, you won't encounter her, but we both know this is a less than ideal situation."
Enme nodded to his father, and he wished fervently he was back at his training station with his men. Things were uncomplicated there.
"Good Luck," said The ProConsul, who turned to stare at the window again. Enme knew that was his cue to leave, which he happily did.
****
"It's glowing," said Malcolm, as he stared at the dilithium.
"What do you mean?" asked Trip.
"Don't you see the glow? It's emanating some sort of radiation or something."
"The radiation it emits shouldn't be visible to the human eye," said T'Pol.
The three of them stood behind the barrier in the lab, staring at the small crystals.
"Well," said Malcolm, "unless I've gone mad, I can see them."
T'Pol approached Malcolm and examined his eyes.
"Can Vulcans see them glowing?" asked Malcolm as he widened his pupils.
"No," said T'Pol, "Vulcan sight isn't as acute as human sight. Even the color spectrum we can see is slightly less than the one human's see."
"Maybe its genetic," suggested Trip, "Maybe Malcolm's got a trait that lets him see it."
T'Pol kept examining Malcolm and crinkled her brow.
"Lt. Commander," she said, "Do you realize that your pupils are dilated?"
"No," said Malcolm.
"I suggest you see Phlox," she said.
"We'll my eyes have been a bit sensitive to light since Hoshi and I breathed in some Andorian aroma therapy last night."
T'Pol raised her eyebrow.
"Go see Phlox," she said, "and I'll have Lt. Sato join you. That's an order."
"Yes, ma'am," said Malcolm.
He headed off to sickbay, as ordered.
Trip looked at T'Pol, his curiosity piqued.
"You don't think he's sick. What's up?"
T'Pol looked at him intently.
"Commander, it would be inappropriate for me to reveal personal information about Lt. Commander Reed's condition unless I can count on your discretion. The information is relevant. . ."
"Spill it."
"Andorians don't just enjoy their ale. They habitually inhale strong hallucinogens that they believe enhance their latent telepathic abilities. If Mr. Reed and Ms. Sato inhaled one of these substances, it might explain why his eyes are suddenly able to register a broader spectrum than normal. There might be other side effects as well."
Trip was suddenly not so amused.
"They could have really been hurt," he said.
"It seems they were lucky," replied T'Pol, "Only time will tell what, if any lasting effects the substance might have."
"I wonder if it was fun," said Trip, still looking worried.
"From what little I know," she replied, "the substances cause a general sense of euphoria as well as psychotropic visions."
"Well," said tentatively Trip, "at least we weren't the only one's enjoying ourselves last night."
She raised that familiar eyebrow, but she said nothing.
****
Ston and Maleek had had enough of the Vulcan Section, and since Ston didn't expect his sister to return for awhile, he didn't feel it necessary to be there. They instead, dined at a Tellarite establishment that had a nice view of Enterprise.
"You won't see her in the windows," said Maleek.
"No," said Ston, "but I like knowing she's there. I like knowing I did her a favor."
Maleek's stomach turned.
"A treasonous favor," he sighed. If he had known what Ston had intended to do with that dilithium sample, Maleek never would have given it to him. Ston had told him that he wanted the sample for his father, and that the ProConsul would greatly appreciated the favor. Maleek could kick himself for believing Ston, whom he had always found diverting, interesting and a little bit insane. Now, Maleek was starting to think Ston had gone a lot insane. However, his merchant family wasn't nearly as powerful as Ston's patrician one. He wasn't in a position to make an enemy of Ston.
Nevertheless, it was one thing helping Ston meet his long lost sister, but helping him pass industrial secrets to a Vulcan was quite another. Maleek was starting to feel in over his head, but he wasn't sure what he was going to do about it.
"Once I'm friends with my sister, " said Ston, "I'll have her introduce you to the linguist. The one you said was cute."
Maleek rolled his eyes. He had remarked that the human linguist, the first human female he had ever laid eyes on, was very pretty. However, Ston was letting his imagination run a little bit wild.
"Look," said Maleek, "you met your sister. You did her a really risky, very big favor. Maybe that should be enough. We could go home now. . ."
Ston threw down his fork in shock and frustration.
"She doesn't even know who I am yet," said Ston.
"There's no way of knowing if she'll be back," replied Maleek.
"She'll be back," said Ston.
Maleek sighed. This excursion was rapidly becoming less than fun.
****
Malcolm and Hoshi walked together side by side, leaving sickbay.
"I suppose we should feel lucky we didn't kill ourselves," said Hoshi.
"No," said Malcolm, "we'll just be feeling strange side effects for the next. . .six months or so. Not including being able to see otherwise invisible radiation, dilated pupils and spontaneous mild hallucinations."
"You don't get those normally?" she asked.
He gave a strange look.
"Kidding," she said, "You heard what Phlox said. It's nothing we can't control or handle, and he's going to be discreet about it."
"I just feel so stupid," he said.
"Hey," said Hoshi, "It was my idea. I'm the one who should feel stupid, but really in the grand scheme of things, this is better than most bad things that could happen."
They had reached Hoshi's quarters.
"Well," he said, "goodnight."
Hoshi looked up and down the hallway.
"Do you want to come in?"
Malcolm froze. He had no idea what to make of the invitation.
"I want to see if I can induce some of the hallucinations," she said, "for research purposes."
She quickly ushered Malcolm into her quarters, which were about the same size as his, with shelves filled with language books and mementos from their early missions. Hoshi stepped over to her console and turned on some ambient music. She turned off all the lights.
Malcolm was starting to feel a little awkward. He had no idea what she was about to do.
"Lie down," she said, gesturing to the bed. She clearly wanted his head at the foot.
Malcolm couldn't think of anything else to do, so he obeyed. She tossed him one of the pillows and grabbed another for herself.
"Scoot over," she said.
Again, he obeyed.
"Now we'll just listen to the music and look at the stars," she said, "I like them so much better when they are not a blur. Don't you?"
"They're getting kind of melty," said Malcolm.
"Uh huh," she replied wistfully.
****
It was nearly a week later when Enme's small vessel found its way to the Romulan mining planet. He had gotten some intelligence from the foreman that his brother had been seen on a nearby space station, but he wanted to stop off and speak to the man personally before heading off to the station. Standard intelligence reports over subspace could be notoriously inaccurate. Also, he wasn't quite ready to board a station filled with dozens of different unknown species. He thought the foreman would help him understand what to expect.
"Damn you, Ston," he said, exiting his vessel and taking in the small but sophisticated mining operation.
The foreman met him on the landing pad. He was a middle-aged man, chosen for his competence and loyalty to the empire.
"Good afternoon, sir" he said, with a nod that deferred to the younger man's rank and class.
"Good Afternoon," replied Enme.
"I believe that I have some news for you," he said, "I have word about your brother. He is currently at Hirku Station. It's no rumor. He's there, as of the report I got this morning. Moreover, he's contacted us asking if he can have some space here. I told him he could have one of the smaller out buildings that we're not using - as a favor to your family."
Enme nodded. It appears that Ston might be on his way to Enme, rather than Enme having to go to Ston.
****
"Malcolm thinks it will take at least two weeks for us to figure out a way to navigate a shuttlepod around the cloaked mines in order to get scans of the mining operation. That should give us plenty of time to modify the sensors to detect dilithium," said Trip.
The engineer was lying face down on the floor of his quarters, shirtless. His wife knelt next to him, applying pressure to each neural node in his spine. She sensed a great deal of worry in him since the discovery of what the Romulans were probably mining nearby. In fact, it was the first time in many months T'Pol sensed worry that didn't directly have to do with her. Although she didn't like him worried at all and the direction of her thoughts seemed illogically selfish, she preferred not to be the direct cause of his concerns.
"It should be a simple matter of getting the shuttlepod in and out quickly, before any cloaked vessels discover its presence," she replied, pressing deeply with her fingers.
He caught his breath as he felt the tension ease from his body, if not his mind.
"What's troubling you, Thy'la,?" whispered T'Pol.
"Is it that obvious that I'm troubled? I was trying to hide it from you," he said as he sat up.
She looked at him in the candlelight, which made the shadows of his handsome face more pronounced. Even if she hadn't been bonded with him, she would have recognized his unsettled thoughts. If she had been mated with a Vulcan male, she would have shared deep feelings only through the bond, but she wasn't married to a Vulcan. Trip, she had come to understand, needed to actually verbalize his emotions in order to deal with them.
Trip leaned over and took her hand and immediately she felt some of the tension leave his mind. Some, but not all.
"I'm scared," he said, "I don't think the alliance is ready for any of this."
He knew she agreed.
"We're helping get them ready," she said, "Hopefully, full scale hostilities can be put off for as long as possible."
"I suppose that means you're not willing to help find a little out-of-the-way colony on the the other side of the quadrant where we could ride out this storm in peace and quiet. Maybe raise a couple of kids while we're at it?"
She squeezed his hand.
"It is illogical to dwell on what cannot be," she replied softly, "and since you would never abandon your people in a time of crisis the scenario you described cannot be."
"It just seems like you and I have paid our dues already, ten fold," he breathed.
T'Pol let go of his hand, resolving to comfort him in a more human manner. She carefully put her arms around him and pulled him into an embrace. By now she was accustomed to receiving such embraces but initiating them still did not come naturally to her. He squeezed her tightly, rocking her back and forth for a moment before he gently pushed her down to the floor.
He looked into her eyes for a long while before leaning down and nuzzling at her neck. She tried to embrace him again but he used his own hands to pin her hands down next to her ears. His mouth moved from her neck to one of the pointed tips of her ears, tracing it with his tongue. He then slowly moved to the other ear, giving it the same careful treatment. Then, very slowly, his mouth found hers and he kissed her. Everything felt in slow motion, as though he wanted to prolong every second, savor every moment.
She let him take his time, calling on her Vulcan patience to do so, though she was starting to breathe a little heavier and felt a slow ache between her legs. He, too, was aroused. She felt his hardness pressed against her and moaned into his mouth.
He finally released her hands so he could unbutton her top and release her breasts from their confinement. He teased her green hued nipples with his thumbs before leaning down to tease each one with his tongue.
Through the bond, she knew he wanted to test her patience, see how long it would take her to become restless and demand satisfaction. She took the challenge, closing her eyes and focused on every movement of his tongue, every caress of his hands. Practically in a meditative state, she felt him slip her silk pants off her legs, stopping briefly to caress her calves as he did so.
He crawled back up slowly and pressed a nearly chaste kiss on her lips. Even though her eyes were closed, she knew he was looking at her and enjoying every curve of her bronze body. He was familiar with every centimeter by now, and he had become more and more possessive of her as the time passed. He remembered the months when he thought he had lost her to a loveless marriage. Then, their cultural differences nearly tore them apart. But now that she was his, he wasn't ever going to let anything come between them again. T'Pol felt both a promise and something vaguely threatening in this assertion he was making through the bond. He may not have been a Vulcan, but he would fight for her like one if the need arose.
He leaned down and kissed her again, this time harder and more aggressively. Her Vulcan nature, hard-wired by centuries of evolution, responded instinctively. She pulled him closer, nails scratching at his back.
Before she knew what was happening, he turned her over and lifted her to her knees. She felt his hands move down her back to her behind, still slow enough to try her patience. She finally whimpered just a bit. That was all he needed. He got on his knees and entered her. She had long been ready, but it was still sudden and she gasped. He gave her just a moment to adjust, gently caressing the nape of her neck before starting to move inside her. She sensed he had lost patience with his own game, and he now wanted things to go quickly. He reached around her body and began to coax a climax from her. It didn't take long, and she was soon muffling her cries of pleasure in her hands. He kept going for awhile longer, even as she remained dizzy and almost delirious. Finally, she felt him come inside her and collapse against her.
Still in her dreamlike haze, she felt him rest his head on the back of her neck as he put one arm around her. He felt content and at peace; his earlier worries far away.
