Warnings and Disclaimers in Chapter One, but remember that this includes adult themes. Sorry for the delay; took me awhile to figure out how to keep this T-rated and still have it make sense. Hopefully, it still does.


Tucker said, "Kendra?"

She shrieked and nearly dropped the weapon she'd scrambled for when Vehlen had finally released her. Her grip on the gun tightened and she kept it trained on the Romulan where he now lay obliviously across the bed. It was hard to believe he was the same man who had just…

"Kendra?" Tucker said again, softly.

Finally, she turned and looked at him, realizing as she did that her tears and her bare legs under the robe she had taken earlier must be telling the story.

Grimacing, Tucker held out his hand for the weapon, which she reluctantly handed over. He put a commiserating hand on her shoulder, then tipped her chin up so she would look at him. This just made her cry harder, so he sighed and held her against his chest while she sobbed.

"I'm so sorry," he said, and patted her back awkwardly.

Eventually she said, "Is T'Pol all right?"

He nodded. "Out cold," he said grimly. "Like him."

She couldn't look at Vehlen. She wouldn't look at him ever again, if she didn't have to.

"Are you all right?" she asked, finally backing away from him. "Any injuries?"

He shook his head no and smiled tiredly, though his eyes looked sad. "You?" he said, and she said, "I'm okay." He gestured at the bathroom, the question obvious.

She nodded shakily and picked up her discarded leggings next to the bed before she went in. There were distinct red marks on her neck – chain marks and thumb prints – though the skin hadn't been broken. She was sore below too, but that was only to be expected. She turned on the water and stood under the hot shower until it finally clicked itself off to conserve water.

She wondered if she would ever feel clean again.

x x x

When she came out she did so carefully, checking to assure herself that Vehlen was secure. Tucker had switched his cuffs behind his back and tied his legs for good measure, and the Romulan was either still asleep, or unconscious, on his side, his breaths crackling with moisture. In a distant part of her brain Kendra thought that was not a good symptom, but she couldn't bring herself to investigate. It wasn't like she could do anything about it anyway.

"You okay?" Tucker asked. He was sitting at the computer again.

She nodded.

"I'm sorry," he said again.

She sighed. "Your speech is much better."

He shrugged and arched an eyebrow. "Maybe I just needed to get laid." His tone was ironic. Tucker didn't look much happier than she did.

"Rutting like animals in heat just isn't the same as making love," Kendra ventured.

He nodded without looking up from the screen in front of him. "I think I finally truly understand why Vulcans find it so embarrassing."

"You don't feel your bond is any stronger?"

He paused, almost as if he seemed to be listening to something inside for a moment, then shrugged and shook his head. "I don't really notice any difference. Honestly ... I feel kinda used. But I know she didn't have any choice. I mean, clearly, she would have even..." His voice caught and he gestured at the bed.

Kendra wondered how much of his bitterness arose from simple resentment that T'Pol had started this process with someone else.

Tucker sighed. "I guess this is just another instance where it would be handy if I were a Vulcan, not a human. I could have just ... you know, gone along for the ride without being freaked out." He swallowed. "But at least I love her. And it's not like it didn't have its moments." He raised his eyebrows wryly. "But you..." He shook his head. "I'm so sorry, Kendra."

She looked down. The miserable truth was that even in the midst of awful humiliation and mortal fear, she had actually responded to Vehlen. To her horror, her body had eventually cooperated … even to the fullest extent. There was a small part of her that wanted to confess that to Trip now, but she was far too ashamed. Instead, she said, "I'm not the only one here who's going to have to deal with having been raped."

"I don't think of it that way," he protested. "It wasn't..."

"I'm not talking about you and T'Pol," she said. "I'm talking about you and the Orions."

Tucker paled.

"You need to talk about it with someone, Trip, now that you can. T'Pol, perhaps. Someone."

He shook his head, looking sick. "That... that was just ... that was just getting beaten up in a humiliating new way. It's just someone beating the crap out of ya just to see how bad they can make you feel. It sucks. You hope it never happens again. End of story."

Kendra put a hand on his shoulder and wondered if she could just think of it that way. It had happened, it sucked, end of story, move on. It would be awfully nice if it could be that easy. But it never was - though somehow that seemed a lot clearer in his case than in her own. "You don't get over something like that by ignoring it," she warned him.

"She knows about it anyway. Mind melds, remember? I couldn't hold something like that back even if I wanted to." He sighed unhappily, then stopped and listened, his attention diverted. "T'Pol?" Tucker said, and turned to look at the open doorway. A moment later, the Vulcan appeared, looking so stricken that Kendra couldn't help staring.

"Oh darlin'," he said, and went and all but scooped her up. He turned back to Kendra. "Will you be okay for a little bit?" he asked.

She took one apprehensive look at Vehlen and picked up the weapon. No, she thought, but instead she nodded.

"Thank you," he said, and disappeared out the door with his mate.

x x x

Vehlen had a beautiful carpet in his study. It looked like a fine hand-knotted antique Persian – and perhaps it was. Why spend all those years on Earth if you couldn't get a good deal on a rug?

Experimentally, she shot it.

Green light impacted harmlessly against the fine weave. Apparently this was a stun setting. She looked more closely and realized the characters on his weapon didn't look much like the ones on his scanner. Perhaps he'd picked up the weapon in his travels, too.

She turned the knob a notch. This time a scorch mark appeared and the smell of burnt wool arose. Okay, that was more like it. She hefted the weapon and walked over to the bed.

Vehlen looked up at her from where he lay. She didn't know how long he'd been awake, but he was certainly staring at her now.

She raised the weapon. He kept staring.

"I should just kill you," she said.

He said nothing.

"Don't you want to beg for your life?" she said.

"No," he said, and coughed.

"You sure begged before."

He just continued staring at her. It annoyed her. She would have preferred that he stare at the weapon. "Go on," she said, waving the weapon at him. "Beg."

"I'm sorry, Kendra .... I know you were trying to help me."

"I certainly won't be doing that again."

He coughed. It was a wet cough. "Fair enough," he said, and closed his eyes, coughing some more.

"You're dying anyway," she said, being intentionally cruel. "I'm pretty sure your heart is failing."

"Yes," he agreed, without opening his eyes.

"And even if I wanted to help you with that, I don't have anything to give you."

"I know."

"Besides the fact that you're an awful man who deserves to die."

He smiled weakly as if he found this amusing.

She stared down at him where he lay on his side, breathing wetly. "You should probably try to sit up," she said grudgingly.

He didn't open his eyes. "I'm too tired."

She shook her head and backed away. She couldn't bring herself to help him; that would mean touching him. Disgusted with the whole situation, she walked back to the computer, where Tucker had left the translation program open, and started searching for medical files.

x x x

"Two of the ships are gone," Tucker said.

He and T'Pol were huddled together over the small ship's helm, conferring softly. Tucker might not think their bond had improved any, but from where Kendra was standing they looked more in tune with each other than she had ever seen them. But perhaps they had always worked well together when they had a job to do.

"They could be cloaked," T'Pol said.

"No, there'd still be an energy reading," Tucker said. "He's got his sensors rigged to capture any sign of certain very specific energy signatures – see this one, here, from the remaining ship? This alone is valuable information to get back to Starfleet."

"Agreed," T'Pol said.

Kendra coughed.

They turned from where they had been studying the small ship's helm.

"He says he needs to use the bathroom," she said, with an apologetic smile. She knew they were trying to find a way home, but there was no way she was going to help Vehlen with that particular chore.

Tucker exchanged a quick look with T'Pol. "I'll handle it."

"He could be lying," T'Pol said. "If Romulans are like Vulcans, they urinate a great deal less than humans do."

"Gee, and I thought you were just shy about using alien bathrooms," Tucker said. He seemed much more cheerful. "You know how to fire that thing?" he asked Kendra as they walked back to Vehlen's quarters.

"I've been practicing on the carpet."

He gave her a look.

She shrugged. "I had to practice on something."

They walked in and Tucker smiled at the scorch marks. "Cover us. It's on stun, right?"

"Yeah," Kendra said. "Just in case my aim sucks." She raised her voice for Vehlen's benefit. "But even a stun might kill him right now."

"What's the matter with him?" Tucker asked, already untying the cord around Vehlen's ankles. Vehlen just lay there quietly; he appeared to be focused on his increasingly labored breathing.

"His heart is weak," she said brusquely. "And his recent exertions"– she grimaced – "appear to have strained it badly." She didn't add that her recent research suggested the water she'd given him might be causing problems as well.

Damn Romulan physiology, how was she to know? Couldn't he have told her he shouldn't have too much? It was a good thing she hadn't found an IV, or he'd probably be dead already.

Of course, she reminded herself, she wished he was dead already.

Which he would have been, or close to it, from the ponvau, if... She shook her head in irritation. Yes, perhaps it was not an impulse he could control, anymore than T'Pol could. This much had become clear in her research. But this was still a man who had purchased slaves just so he would be able to rape one when the need arose.

When they had shuffled back from the bathroom, she told Tucker Vehlen needed to sit up in bed.

"Why?"

"It will help him to breathe," she said. At Tucker's look, she said, "I'm still a doctor, even if the bastard does deserve to die a miserable and lingering death."

Vehlen gave her that odd smile again.

Tucker sighed and arranged the pillows to allow Vehlen to sit in an almost upright position.

"Two of the ships have gone," Tucker said to Vehlen. "You have any suggestions on getting past the last one?"

Vehlen eyed him tiredly. "You could try echoing the trajectory of another passing spacecraft. They'll think the energy readings they get are a sensor echo. This satellite marks a tertiary shipping lane for the colony below. You'll find a schedule in my database. You'll need a fairly large ship to shadow for it to work."

Tucker looked pleasantly surprised. "Okay."

"That's the easy part," Vehlen said. "That traffic will be heading toward Romulus, not Earth. And they're obviously watching for this vessel. That means they will be looking for my warp signature and keeping an eye on all the local ports."

"I can muddy the warp signature. You got any other suggestions?"

Vehlen laid his head back on the pillow. "There are a few stops where I might still be able to buy fuel or passage, but my funds are low and I don't know if any of my previous contacts can still be trusted. But I doubt a human could find anyone willing to do business at all. Not with the little I have on hand. Your mate might have better luck; she could potentially pass as one of us."

"Why are they so intent on finding you, anyway?"

"They probably think I have you. You figure prominently in Starfleet's war plan, Mr. Tucker. Put the two of us together and they have a serious intelligence exposure."

Tucker shared a glance with Kendra. "Starfleet's war plan?"

Vehlen coughed and looked up at the ceiling, grimacing. "In the event of war, Starfleet assigns you to oversee the effort to get its fleet space-worthy and its engineering crews trained. This makes you a primary target for capture or elimination."

"Wouldn't Captain Archer or T'Pol be more important?"

"Yes, but they want to defeat Earth's great space hero in battle. And they know T'Pol will be reassigned as Starfleet's liaison to the Vulcan High Council, where she could be easily neutralized at any point. We have an ample supply of well-placed agents on Vulcan."

"Ample?" Tucker ran a hand nervously over his unshaven face. "Do they know about me and T'Pol?"

Vehlen frowned. "Starfleet thought those rumors were groundless, so I did too. But you should probably assume Zantira told them everything."

Tucker put his hands on his hips. "You're being awfully helpful all of a sudden."

Vehlen nodded at Kendra. "I told her I had secrets." He coughed. "Too bad they're all Starfleet's. Still, it's useful to know what your enemy knows." He looked meaningfully at Kendra. "I pay my debts."

She glared at him. He actually imagined he could pay her?

Vehlen frowned. "She's not going to forgive me, is she?" he said, ostensibly to Tucker, though he was looking at her.

Trip just gave him a disgusted frown.

"Pity," Vehlen murmured, and closed his eyes. "I was getting rather fond of her."

Tucker signaled her to walk to the door with him. "Will you be all right watching him?"

She nodded.

"T'Pol and I need to focus on getting us home."

"I know."

"See if you can find any of those funds he mentioned."

"How?"

He grimaced. "Try asking him. Apparently he was getting rather fond of you."

To be continued...