Chapter Ten
Commander Narviat waited impatiently for his distant kinsman to arrive. Commanders Ael and Charvanek were late, again.
Ael walked in briskly, followed by Junior Centurion Zafriana and four Starfleeters. Charvanek hurried in a minute later, looking slightly out of breath.
"So. Why have you brought these Federationers on my ship," Narviat asked Ael, carefully keeping his face devoid of all emotion.
"They wish to help," Ael replied in Rihannsu. Charvanek nodded in agreement.
"Even so," Narviat replied in the same language, "They pose a danger. If they betray your trust, we could very well face dishonor and imprisonment."
"Is it not worth it for the good of the Empire?" Charvanek retorted, "Senator Rethal is overstepping his bounds here and needs to be taught a lesson. We have the Praetor's permission to be here. That should be enough for Starfleet."
Ael sighed, "I want you to take a good look at where we are. We are at Earth, the home of the humans. After the war, they will always distrust us. I happened to find a few trusting hevam. But that will not work for long."
"Very well," Narviat said, "Keep them under close supervision."
"Um, hello?" the young dark-skinned human girl said, "I understand that you may not trust us, but we can cover for you if you're discovered. Just tell Starfleet the truth. And we do want to help."
Narviat barely mastered a slight jump. He replied in Federation Standard, "You understand Rihannsu?"
"Yes. I'm a linguist," she replied.
"Ah. I should have guessed," he said, "Well, I am Commander Narviat. You have already met Commander Ael. This is Commander Charvanek."
The Vulcan woman spoke up, "I'm Commander T'Les Reed. These are Lieutenant Commander Spock, Cadet James Kirk, and Cadet Nyota Uhura."
"A rather diverse group. Yet, you have brought students here," Charvanek commented.
"Kirk happens to have witness the last attack. Cadet Uhura is a gifted linguist. Spock could identify any ship, species, or weapon. I'm just here to provide some breathing room for all of us," Reed said. Spock lifted a very Vulcan eyebrow.
"I was under the impression that you were here to coordinate with the Admiralty and Starfleet Intelligence," he noted.
"Exactly," Kirk shot back, "Breathing room."
The Vulcan raised an eyebrow in return, but said nothing further.
"So. How do we begin?" Ael asked.
! #$%^&*())(*&^%$# !
Jonathan Archer stared at the Romulan in front of him, then at his "niece" and back again.
"I need a stiff drink," he moaned. T'Les laughed.
"We both will when this gets over with," she replied.
"I agree," the Romulan man agreed.
"So," Archer said conversationally, "I never did catch a name."
"I am Commander Narviat," he replied.
"Well, Commander. Perhaps you can shed some light on just what in the actual fuck is going on here."
T'Les gave a low whistle, "You know shit's going down if you drop and f-bomb this early in the morning."
"As I do not recognize that word, I will simply ignore it," Narviat said, "A Senator on Romulus is overstepping his bounds and has drawn the attention of the Praetor. There are three of us tasked with making sure his plan does not succeed."
"And his plan is?" Archer asked.
"He wants to destroy Starfleet Command. I do not yet know how, but the terrorist bomb may have been a ploy. Your Terra Prime may only be a front. He is currently using an agent at the embassy in New York City."
T'Les smiled, "Okay, so I can pull some agents from London and put them there. Got it. If you'll excuse me-"
"I wouldn't do that," Narviat interrupted, "That is exactly what Rethal wants. He wants more attention. He wants an audience for when he destroys you."
"So no pressure at all. Understood."
Archer was staring out the window, completely zoned out.
"Admiral?"
"Oh! Sorry. Just thinking. Didn't you say that you knew some SHIELD agents, T'Les?"
"Yes! I can get a few. There's one in particular that I have in mind," she replied.
"Really?" Narviat asked. He'd heard of SHIELD, but had never actually met any of their agents.
"Yes! She's got the perfect skill set that we need for this…"
! #$%^&*())(*&^%$# !
Natasha Romanoff smiled at the burly bouncer.
"Hi there, big boy! I'm looking for Monsieur Monstrade. Perhaps you've seen him?" she said sweetly, shuddering internally with revulsion as his eyes travelled freely.
"Maybe. You one of his broads?"
"Well, I wouldn't quite put it that way, but yes," she said, smiling.
"Well, come right on in, missy," the bouncer leered. She walked in and found Lester Monstrade instantly. His stench carried for three meters in any direction.
"Well, well, well. If it isn't little Natalia!" one of Monstrade's buddies crowed.
She ignored him, moving with a purpose towards the bar. A hand gripped her upper arm and spun her around. Monstrade himself glared at her.
"My friend over there tells me that you're called Natalia Romanova, formerly of the Red Room. Is that true?" he demanded, "And don't lie to me."
Natasha felt the barrel of a gun being pressed to the back of her head, and played along.
"Yes. But most people call me Natasha," she replied, giving him a flirtatious smile.
"Oh I know. The infamous Black Widow, Natasha Romanoff. Can you not bear to hear the sound of your real name," he snapped.
"Have you ever heard someone mispronounce your name even after you tell them how to correctly say it," she retorted.
"True enough. But I believe you are here to kill me. Am I right?"
"Completely."
"And how do you intend to go about that?"
"Like this," she replied and lodged a knife between his second and third ribs, right into his heart.
The entire conversation, she had been inching the knife out of the sleeve of her coat, slowly but surely. When he had asked "how do you", she had the knife tip in her palm. When he said "intend to", the hilt was in her hand. At "go about", her hand was moving up. The knife tip was touching his flesh at "that".
Guns leaped into hands and bullets started flying as Monstrade dropped dead to the ground. Natasha rolled across the floor and leapt for the stairs, taking them two at a time. When she reached the second floor, she flung open a window and leaped out.
She hit the dirt awkwardly, but shoulder-rolled to her feet and ran for the motorcycle that waited for her. She hopped onto the back and the driver sped off.
His voice came over her ear comm, "Did you get him?"
"Yes, Clint. Mission success. But his friends might be a problem. He knew I was coming."
"Well, shit. On a happier note, we've been assigned to the command of Admiral Archer for our next mission. I'm driving to the nearest transporter station now," Clint Barton replied in his usual no-nonsense attitude.
"Well, this might be fun," Natasha said.
AN- So some of you are probably confused by now as to why Romanoff and Barton showed up, so allow me to explain it to you: In this Charlie-foxtrot of an AU-verse I have here, Avengers happens in the 23rd century, as does a lot of stuff. It will all make sense later, I promise. For now, there's a little button down there crying because it's all alone. See it down there? Give it some friends.