—Chapter 21—
As the Defiant scouted the way for the rest of the fleet, the ship came across a dozen Terran StarFleet scouts while covering the distance between Vulcan and Earth. These scout ships were destroyers, small, fast, agile, a class of ship well suited to the role of scout, but still not equipped to escape the Defiant. There was no communication from the Defiant to these ships, no orders to surrender. The Defiant simply eradicated these scouts as it came across them, ripping them to shreds after chasing them down, like a Greyhound killing rabbits, but only after giving them time enough to report back to HQ of the Defiant's coming. The deaths of those ships and those men was strictly speaking unnecessary, as the Empress surely knew about the fleet heading her way, but it was important to send StarFleet a message, even if a subliminal message. Standing against the Defiant meant death.
The journey from Vulcan's vicinity, where the Vulcan fleet had joined the Andorian, to Earth's star system would take some fifty hours for the fleet to complete. The Defiant would make that journey in fourteen hours, but even with that speed advantage, fourteen hours was still fourteen hours, so Trip left Shran in command and went to his quarters. A shower, five hours of sleep, a few minutes to put on a fresh uniform, and just then his door's chime sounded announcing a visitor. It was Soval, and Trip stepped aside to allow the Vulcan to enter his cabin.
"I'm sorry to disturb you, Captain," said Soval.
"It's no bother, Soval," said Trip. "I was headed for Captain's Mess. I need some coffee. Join me."
Soval nodded his agreement, and minutes later they were seated and served their coffee, after which they ordered a bite to eat.
"So," said Trip, once the steward had left with their food orders, "what's on your mind, Soval?"
"I was wondering what you have planned for the vanquished StarFleet personnel, Captain," said Soval looking earnestly at Trip. "Human, Andorian and Vulcan."
"I plan to issue a blanket pardon for everyone at the end of the battle," said Trip, "except the Empress. You know she has to formally abdicate, or die, else she'll be a constant thorn in my side."
"Oh," said Soval, looking relieved for there were thousands of Vulcans serving StarFleet, and thus standing against Captain Tucker. "I was afraid you meant to make an example of all those that opposed you."
"No, Soval," said Trip. "They're just doing their duty as they see it, and I have no problem with that. Is that all that's bothered you?"
Soval said nothing as the steward entered the room with a tray and laid down two bowls of soup, some crusty sourdough baguettes, and two ramekins of butter.
"Smells good," said Soval, and Trip raised brow at the steward.
"Soupe de potiron et poireaux au foie gras," said the steward, and Trip translated in his head, and then for Soval: pumpkin and leek soup with foie gras.
The captain's steward was French, and he'd been pleased to find that the captain spoke French, and he was not about to let him forget it, thus the constant tests to keep the man's language skills up to par.
"Oh, it's good," said Soval and Trip nodded agreeably with the Vulcan's assessment after a taste: the creaminess of the colorful pumpkin was complemented by the hearty onion flavor of the leeks, and those flavors supported the richness of the seared foie gras, goose liver.
The two said nothing as they ate the soup, and Trip sensed that Soval was trying to figure out a proper approach to the topic he meant to bring up with him next. Minutes later, the steward returned and cleared the bowls, and then set two small plates on the table.
"Escargots a la Bourguignonne?" said Trip, and the steward nodded: snails in an herb and garlic butter.
"Oh, these are delicious," said Soval, studying the large snail on his fork. "What is this?"
"Chicken strips," said Trip, sparing Soval from too close an examination of his food this night, and the steward snickered.
"Doesn't look like chicken," said Soval, "but it's quite tasty."
A few more questions discussing the dish, then the steward returned and brought with him two plates and another basket of crusty bread and butter. Trip recognized the dish easily. It was one of Chef's best.
"Beef Bourguignon," said Trip in explanation to Soval.
A braised beef dish that was the essence of perfection, a stew prepared by braising beef in red wine and beef broth, and flavored with garlic, onions and a bouquet garni, with pearl onions and mushrooms added towards the end of cooking. The tender meat would melt on the tongue and the flavors were both refined and intense. Chef had chosen to serve it with mashed potatoes and sauteed green beans, which was fitting, as the beef was the star of the plate.
"If there's any left," said Trip, "save it for the XO."
"Chef made plenty, Captain. He knows the XO loves the dish as well," said the steward, then left the room.
Trip and Soval each savored a few bites, before Trip said, "Ok, Soval. Out with it. What are you dying to say, but can't get out?"
Soval sighed and laid down his fork, then said, "May I count on your discretion with the following information, Captain? If my people get wind of what I'm about to share with you, and the suggestion I intend to make, they will likely have me executed."
Trip nodded his agreement to Soval's request for discretion.
"Well, then, Captain," said Soval, "I will tell you that in the course of my diplomatic career, I have made many high level contacts, and these contacts are still willing to speak to me, and they tell me that Administrator V'Las is colluding with the Romulan Empire to bring Vulcan into the Romulan fold. I suggest that you kill him as soon as possible, for he seems most determined to bring that union about, and I know him. He will resort to blackmail, threats, bribery, anything it takes to make it happen, sooner or later. I suggest that you kill him, but given that he's the highest member of the High Command, I suggest subtlety."
By subtlety, Soval meant assassination, but Trip thought of the Tantalus Field, and so he wasn't too concerned over the mechanics of V'Las' disappearance, if it should come to that.
"Why is V'Las so committed to the Romulans?"
"He might be a Romulan, Captain," said Soval.
"What's that?" said Trip.
"Well you must understand, Captain, that Vulcans and Romulans are basically identical, genetically speaking," said Soval.
"Yeah, I know the Romulans are on offshoot of the Vulcans," said Trip, "but the Romulan brow ridges—"
"That's a minor thing, Captain," said Soval, "like Humans with blue eyes, or green. Those brow ridges were quite common in several of the clans in the southern hemisphere, and those clans numbered in the tens of millions. It just so happened that most of the Vulcans which left our planet some eight thousand years ago in search of a new home, came from those southern clans, and so, that feature became dominant in Romulans, while it was bred out of the gene pool on Vulcan after the southern clans departure from our planet, and our gene pool."
"Well," said Trip thoughtfully, "it makes sense for the Romulans. Gives them a foothold in this sector, threatens the Terran Empire at little cost to them. Nice plan. Too bad I don't plan to allow them to manifest it."
"So, V'Las?" said Soval.
"Will be taken care of discreetly," said Trip. "Don't worry about it."
"If you say it, I believe it, Captain," said Soval, pushing his plate away, quite satisfied.
"I will remember your loyalty, Soval," said Trip, polishing off the last bite of food on his plate.
The steward entered then, and cleared the plates only to replace them with two plates with a type of cake which Chef had not cooked before and Trip gave the steward an inquisitive look.
"Gateau perigourdin, Captain."
"Nice," said Trip, then told Soval. "It's a walnut and caramel cake."
"Wonderful," said Soval, before digging in.
"Some more coffee please," said Trip, and the steward obliged the captain in short order.
Another ten minutes of chatter then Soval departed for his shift in Science, and Trip resolved to finish a last cup of coffee before relieving Shran of his duty. T'Pol entered the Captain's Mess just then and stood in front of the captain, looking at the man with that intensely inquisitive look she had, and yet without this psychic Bond they now shared, Trip would likely have had no clue what she wanted, without asking. Now he knew, she just wanted a bit of time with him.
"Take my lap," said Trip, and guided T'Pol so that she straddled him, and T'Pol placed her arms on the captain's shoulders, looking the man in the eye.
They kissed then for a bit, then Trip fiddled with the Vulcan's uniform and freed her magnificent breasts from their unjust confinement. T'Pol was breathing heavily now, though he'd handled them for just a few seconds, but then this psychic Bond between them heightened her arousal in ways which was not easily understood by Trip just yet, but he felt the Bond heightening both sensation and desire in T'Pol, and she seemed to have no way of blocking, or regulating her arousal, and Trip had used this fact to toy with T'Pol a bit since Bonding her, though he tried not to make it too unbearable for her.
In any case, he was tasting T'Pol's breasts when the steward walked into the room to see if anything else was required of him, and T'Pol froze, blushing a green as lively as any Orion. She tried to move then, to cover up, but Trip said something and she stopped, though blushing even more furiously.
"Anything else, Captain?" said the steward with a straight face, but then the man was French.
"Not for now," said Trip. "Thank you."
The steward nodded and left, and T'Pol looked Trip over, silently.
"Relax, T'Pol," said Trip. "The man's French. There was nothing unwholesome about our amusement, to his eyes."
"If you say so, Captain," said T'Pol, and despite her mortification, the man had her breathing like a locomotive soon enough, once more.
Twenty minutes and a fierce quickie later, Trip made the Bridge, followed some five minutes later by T'Pol, who had taken a roundabout way to the Bridge, after quite credibly threatening the steward to hold his tongue on pain of the Agony Booth, not that such threats were needed: the captain was a pleasant man to serve under, so far as the steward was concerned, and his secrets were safe.
"XO," said Trip on entering the Bridge. "Chef's holding all the Beef Bourguignon you can eat, just for you."
"Excellent," said Shran, antennas waving quickly back and forth in anticipation. "Excellent!"
"Eat," said Trip, "then hit the mattress. You're relieved of duty for the next eight hours."
"All right," said Shran, and then bolted for the Mess Hall.
Trip felt T'Pol's attention from her station, and he glanced her way, gave her a slight smile, and 'caressed' her through the psychic Bond, though that was an odd way of speaking about something that was quite new to him. No matter, T'Pol felt his touch, and was pleased by it. That was enough.
The joint Romulan/Klingon fleet had moved swiftly towards Earth since destroying Eridon-4, simply wiping out any and every ship in it's way, be it merchant cargo ship, Orion raider, Terran cruiser, Andorian battlecruiser, or the two dozen unrecognized ships they'd destroyed, but two of the ships had managed to transmit their sensor data to Alpha Centauri before their destruction, and that colony forwarded that data to Earth immediately, warning the Empress of the firestorm headed her way.
Seven hours after he had left the Bridge, Shran returned.
"What are you doing back here?" said Trip. "You've still got an hour left."
"You think I'd want to miss this?" said Shran, noting the view of the large video monitor, as the Defiant approached the outer limits of Earth's Sol system, far beyond even Pluto's orbit. "I want to see if this crew's learned what I had to teach them."
Trip nodded and they all waited silently for another ten minutes until the Helmsman said, "We are approaching our designated starting point, Captain. Ten seconds."
"Tactical?" said Trip, sparing a glance for Lee.
"We are ready here, Captain," said Lee.
"Do it, Helm," said Trip.
The Helmsman followed the procedure in which Shran had instructed him, and Andorian method of taking long distance scans, in which the ship dropped out of warp for less than a second, while the computer captured sensor data in much higher resolution than possible at warp, then the ship took a short warp hop, and another brief stop, another sensor scan, twelve in all, and all completed in less than fifteen seconds, and then the Defiant was headed back the way she came…
It was a slick maneuver, and might have passed muster, but the Empress had expected some reconnaissance runs, and had spotted the ship. Not that she could have done anything about it, given how brief a time the Defiant had spent insystem, before departing at speeds which could not be matched by any other ship in the Empress' fleet.