Disclaimer: Don't own. Just for Fun.

Rating: R-ish in this chapter.

A/N: Plot moves forth.


It wasn't yet 0600 and T'Pol quietly preparing for the day. She had risen at 0500, showered and changed into her uniform. Following that, she had spent fifteen minutes meditating. She opened her eyes, feeling refreshed, rested and well-prepared to meet the day's challenges.

Both Trip and her needed to be on duty by 0700, and it was to be a long day of assisting The Columbia's crew, intelligence gathering and monitoring reports of Romulan movements in the sector. Given the long distances between systems, deep space warfare often moved at a glacial pace. Aside from the initial opening battle, the conflict had manifested in small skirmishes with drones and reconnaissance warbirds. Unless the Romulans decided to mount some sort of preemptive offensive, it could be months before another major battle occurred.

Trip was also awake, and she could hear him showering in the next room. She got up and moved gracefully toward the sound.

"Good morning," she said.

Trip, fresh from the shower, was standing in front of the closet. He turned around.

"Have you seen my boots?"

"They're beneath the bed. You often leave them there just as you did in our old quarters," she said.

He approached her and kissed her on the lips. He sighed.

"I promised myself I would make use of this bigger closet, but I still stick to my old habits."

"These quarters are far more agreeable," she replied, "They are larger and the space is more logically organized."

Trip smiled at her. Before moving in with T'Pol, he thought Vulcans intractable creatures of habit. Vulcans may have seemed like creatures of habit, but when presented with a more logical option T'Pol had no problem adjusting to new circumstances. Humans, on the other hand, stuck with their routines in ways that defied logic.

He kissed her again, this time harder and more aggressively, forcing her to open her mouth to his. He let the towel drop and pulled her close.

"We need to be on the bridge in an hour," said T'Pol, looking first at the chronometer and then back it him.

"We can make it. Consider this a test of our efficiency."

He continued to kiss her, and his hands found the zipper of her uniform. She did not protest when he undid it.

"I thought human males took pride in their ability to extend the duration of sexual relations," she said in between kisses.

Trip pulled back and grinned at her.

"Not always. Sometimes it's fun to work on a deadline."

Trip glanced over at the chronometer, which read 0607.

"We'll give ourselves twenty-three minutes. That'll leave twenty more to get rearranged and ten minutes to get to the bridge. We should be there will time to spare."

She nodded.

"Enough talk," she said, helping him divest her of her uniform.

They fell together on the bed, and soon Trip used all his engineer's skill at time management and his familiarity with the mechanics of her body to make certain she appreciated his efficiency. She came with a cry, trembling as he thrust deeply into her. Soon, he came as well and collapsed on top of her. As soon as he was capable of coherent thought, he checked the time.

"Okay," he said, "We're ahead of schedule. It's 0627."

"Excellent," she whispered back, her eyes still closed.

Gradually and in synch with one another, their breathing returned to normal. By 0630, they leapt up and began cleaning up and dressing. By 0650, they were out the door and all business.

As Trip disappeared into his ready room at 0667, he turned to T'Pol.

"Have a good day, Commander."

"You too, Captain."

Hoshi, who was at the comm, was testing a new message encryption system. She sent a message to Malcolm, who was working in the armory.

They totally did it before work this morning. They were just a little too casual with each other when they arrived.

They're married, love, of course they do it in the morning before work. At least a few times a week.

In that case, can I ask you to write that into our vows? Specifically?

It would be my pleasure.


Several hours later, T'Pol received word that an encrypted message had arrived for her from somewhere on the space station. She thought it best to access the message from the armory, and she made her way there and situated herself at a workstation. She brought up the message. Javon had a report of Ravel's possible location.

T'Pol responded that she would return to the station shortly.

"Lt. Commander Reed," she said, "Javon claims to have information regarding Ravel's location. However, as near as I can determine, she is not yet on the station. Javon wishes to discuss that matter in person. I think it would be best if you accompanied me to the station to meet with him."

Malcolm nodded.

"Will you want to bring Tirak with us?"

T'Pol shook her head.

"He is highly emotional when it comes to the subject of Ravel. I believe he will not maintain his cover if he joins us. From the context of the message, I do not believe Ravel's circumstances are positive."

Malcolm began to gather some gear for the excursion. They had learned the hard way to bring transporter jammers, tracking beacons and extra communicators when they went to the station.

"What do you mean? Did he give you a hint?"

"Vulcans don't hint. However, the absence of confirmation of her well-being indicates the lack thereof."

Malcolm nodded.

"I think it should just be you and me, not a security team. There's been some incidents on the station lately with civilians attacking military personnel. We should wear civilian attire again, and try to blend in."

"Shall we depart at 1300 hours?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"I shall alert the Captain of our plan. If he has no objection, we shall leave at 1300 hours."

With that, T'Pol turned on her heels and left.


At 12:15, Hoshi and Malcolm met in the commissary for lunch. They found a table for two in the corner and situated themselves close to one another as they ate. They had made no secret of their relationship, but they hadn't yet made an official announcement.

"How long to you think you'll be over there?" asked Hoshi.

Malcolm shook his head.

"It's difficult to say. I don't suspect very long. Javon does't trust our encryptions so he's not wanting to send anything that could be useful - to anyone - over the comm system."

Hoshi rolled her eyes.

"Our encryptions would challenge the Vulcans' encryptions any day of the week. All you need to do to crack a Vulcan code is search for the most logical patterns overlayed on other logical patterns. It's tough stuff, but it's not impossible. I prefer my codes with a dash of chaos here and there."

"That makes sense, by the way, Javon is the most chaotic Vulcan I've ever seen. . .anyway, I downloaded a marriage license last night. I filled it out, but it needs your digital signature before we can send it to Starfleet."

"But it will only be good for six weeks. . .you want to get married in the next six weeks?"

Malcolm nodded.

"I know your parents will want to have a big celebration when we get back to Earth. But I don't think there's time to wait. Whatever happens in the next few months and years with this war. . .I want you to be my wife."

Hoshi took a sip of water, and her hand trembled a bit. They both knew why people tended to get married more often in a time of war.

"Okay," she said, "I can't wait to see the look on the Captain's face. I'm pretty sure he's never performed a wedding ceremony."

"Maybe we could ask him to do a tea ceremony?"

Hoshi laughed.

"No. . .no. Too easy. There's a tribe of humanoids on Alpha Centari that has a four hour ceremony that culminates in the officiant burning tattoos into the bride and groom with an hot iron. We should ask for that. Or maybe an Xindi Aquatic ceremony - underwater and in Aquatic. But it's only about twenty minutes. We'd have to wear scuba gear, of course."

Malcolm laughed.

"I'll ask him for the standard British civil ceremony. I think he can handle it," said Malcolm, "Unless you would rather have a Japanese one."

"No. The simpler the better, but you know," said Hoshi, "Starfleet should really develop its own ceremony. With all the ships away from Earth for months at a time, more and more people are going to pair off. Maybe I'll take a look at the text of the British one and see if I can make it more generic Terran, so to speak."

Malcolm smiled.

"You do that love," he said, "In the meantime, T'Pol and I must be off to the station."


Several hours later, T'Pol and Malcolm sat across from Javon in the little cafe in the Vulcan section of the station. Javon showed her a PADD of information, written in Vulcan.

"You believe this to be accurate? And the woman in question to be Ravel?"

Javon nodded.

"We can't be 100% sure, but the V'Shar put out word that we were seeking a woman of Ravel's description and that we would pay handsomely for her safe delivery."

T'Pol turned to Malcolm.

"A group of Orions are in possession of a female that matches Ravel's description. She was apparently apprehended in a section of the no-man's land just beyond Romulan space. Refugees from the Empire make good targets, and a female traveling alone, even one as well-trained and armed as Ravel, would be an easy target."

If T'Pol was remembering her own time in the hands of the Orions, she showed no sign of it.

"They obviously want an excessive amount for her," he said, "I've been authorized to pay the amount upon proof of her identity. You've only met her once, but would you be able to identify her?"

T'Pol nodded.

"Can we arrange for the transfer to take place here on the station?"

"No," said Javon, "The Orions have been banned from this place, ever since the Alliance took possession of it. I have suggested the barren wasteland that used to be the Romulan mining colony as an alternate site. It's heavily guarded and properly desolate. As long as the Orions don't believe we intend to interfere with their business, they should agree. My . . .companion Arian has agreed to act as as an intermediary."

"I shall also bring Tirak," said T'Pol, "He is acquainted with our target, and she trusts him. She will be more manageable if he is present."

Javon turned to Malcolm.

"I don't think I need to tell you that a large security contingent will be the order of the day," said Javon as he sipped on his Vulcan tea.

Malcolm shook his head, and Javon turned to T'Pol.

"Enterprise's shuttlepods are too small for our purposes. There's slightly larger, better, well-armed transport available for hire on the station. It should hold you, Tirak, Mr. Reed and his security team comfortably. With more than ample room for Arian and myself."

T'Pol glanced at Malcolm.

"Provided Mr. Reed's security team has ample access to the transport prior to our departure, that idea has merit."

"When will this exchange happen?"

"The Orions say they can be here in four days," said Javon, "That's enough time for me to obtain the funds to secure our target."

T'Pol and Malcolm nodded, and they began to hammer out details of the plan.


Malcolm and T'Pol walked through the busy halls of Enterprise. The ship was more crowded since two dozen of The Columbia crew had been billeted on Enterprise during the repairs.

"I hate supporting the Orions," said Malcolm, "Part of me wants to just up and rescue Ravel, rather than handing all that money to them."

T'Pol had her hands clasped behind her back.

"That would be illogical, Lt. Commander Reed," said T'Pol, "Paying the money will be the most efficient and least risky means by which to secure Ravel."

"That doesn't make it right, Commander," replied Malcolm, "I used to think humans were above slavery. . .or supporting those who engage in it."

"Think of it as paying a ransom for her freedom," said T'Pol, "Although, I don't know what kind of freedom she will eventually be granted."

"I'll do that," said Malcolm bitterly, "but it won't help."

"I will be briefing the Captain of the situation. Afterwards, he will no doubt wish to be briefed of your team's plans to help secure the mission."

With that, T'Pol headed up to the Ready Room and Malcolm to the armory.


Hours later, T'Pol sat across from her brother in the mess hall. She marveled the range of emotions that crossed his face as she explained Ravel's situation and their plan to retrieve her. She cataloged a mixture of relief, rage, fear and disgust at what she had told him. She wondered if anyone on the ship actually thought he was a Vulcan, V'osh Ka'tur or not.

"She will likely be treated well," said T'Pol, "Since the Orions know of her value, they will not wish to damage her."

Enme leaned over the table and was clearly not even trying to look Vulcan.

"If one hair on her head is damaged, I'll rip every Orion on that colony apart with my bare hands," he said.

"Her captivity will be an unpleasant experience for her, but she will likely be unharmed," replied T'Pol smoothly.

She then told him all about her experience as a captive of the Orions, which only seemed to make Enme more enraged.

"What does the Captain think of you dealing with them again?"

"He believes since I am immune to the special properties of the Orion females, I am an ideal person to lead the team. You and the rest of the male members of the security team will be inoculated against the effects prior to our departure."

Enme picked at his plate, which was piled with pasta.

"Have you ever eaten this, sister?" he asked, "It's most peculiar. It's slivers of bread, dried then boiled then drained - then covered with sauce."

"I have tried it. It contains far too much starch for my liking."

"I did enjoy the fish from yesterday, what was it called. . .catfish."

"That is the Captain's favorite dish. The fish is native to his region of Earth," she replied.

"Speaking of which, why aren't you dining with the Captain?" asked Enme.

"He's dining with Captain Hernandez and her acting Chief Engineer this evening. They are discussing the repairs to The Columbia in detail. It was not necessary for me to attend."

"How long are we to be stuck here at this station? Assuming we retrieve Ravel?"

"That all depends on the repairs of The Columbia," she replied, "Once she is fit enough to make the journey back to Earth, we will no doubt be given new orders."

Enme nodded. Both of them knew that his time on the ship, and the relative freedom that came with it, was short. To her surprise, T'Pol found the notion of parting from her brother disagreeable.


It was nearly midnight when Trip finally arrived home to his quarters. The Columbia repairs were progressing but issue after issue kept popping up, and he and Erika had to deal with each of them in tandem. He found T'Pol in bed, reading a paper book. It was her well-read copy of The Teachings of Surak.

"Good evening," she said softly.

"Feels good to be home," he said, "I'm beat. Wound up but beat. I'm sure glad The Columbia managed to hobble here - she was in worse shape than we were after Azati Prime. If she had been much farther away from help - it would have been ugly."

Trip felt T'Pol's eyes on him as he readied himself for bed. She listened patiently as he chatted about the engines of The Columbia and how they planned on getting the warp drive back on line so they could make the trip to Jupiter Station.

"You always did enjoy challenging repairs," she said.

"I like them better when they are on someone else's ship," he said, "Especially now that I'm the Captain of this one."

He climbed in bed next to her.

"You require neural pressure," she said as she placed her book carefully on the night stand.

"What makes you say that?"

She sighed and reached a hand up to brush his face gently.

"You are simultaneously exhausted and overstimulated. You require sleep, but your restlessness will prevent that."

Trip pulled off his t-shirt and rolled over.

"Couldn't we try something else to help me sleep?" he said as she began to apply pressure with her fingers.

"If this fails," she said soothingly.

It didn't fail, and soon he was in a deep, pleasant sleep.