A/N: Welcome back! Thanks for the support. Away we go.

See first chapter for content disclaimers.

Let Me Take You Out

Chapter Two

The ride down from orbit was almost tortuously long given the splendor that Jonathan knew awaited them in the capital.

Hoshi had apparently helped herself to the records of B'Saari culture in the Vulcan database, and all along the way, she peppered them with various curiosities that might or might not prove to be useful as they faced the unknown. Jonathan felt a touch apprehensive, though the excitement of stepping onto another far-flung inhabited world overpowered it tenfold. T'Pol, by contrast, appeared perfectly indifferent, serving as a counterpoint to their tactical officer, who looked like he was about to crawl out of his skin.

"You can afford to be a little more subtle, Malcolm," he chided gently, indicating the phase pistol strapped to his waistband. "We're not exactly walking into a firefight."

His brows knit together in concern - despite his best efforts, Lieutenant Reed remained somewhat of an enigma, and hadn't cared to make friends with anyone during his ten months aboard. Trip was practically the only one who had partially broken through his thorny exterior, and had suggested that he invite him to breakfast in the captain's mess, just as he had a majority of the rest of the senior staff.

The fact remained that Malcolm made it exceedingly difficult to converse about anything other than duty, and now was no exception. He had intended this to be a long-awaited opportunity to bond with him, but for the moment, his dire expression told him he intended to play this mission to the letter.

"Never hurts to be too careful, sir," he replied, self-consciously running his thumb over the safety. Jon had no doubt he would be lingering behind them, arms crossed confrontationally, jaw clenched and gaze locked as he was on the lookout for any trouble. It wasn't exactly the kind of image they wanted to portray, but given their track record as of late, he didn't have a leg to stand on, and resolved to leave it alone, turning his attention back to the controls.

"My sentiments exactly," T'Pol confirmed, earning the briefest flash of a smile as Malcolm relished in the positive reinforcement. She was busily studying their trajectory, preparing for their final descent into the city, and when she reached out to give him the signal, he complied, easily ducking the nose of the pod into the clouds, cloaking them in a thick, white mist. "Ensign?"

Hoshi piped right up, swiveling towards the window and chasing the waning light to study her notes. "Alright, so the B'Saari have two heads of state…"

Heads. Jon couldn't help but chuckle at that, earning a reproachful look from his science officer.

"I know, I know. Traditionally, they're a married couple elected by the public vote. It's meant to emphasize balance and collaboration. For the past few years, that's been Veela and Nallim." She turned the screen towards them, and Jon briefly took his eyes off the controls to study the four smiling faces there - they were green-eyed and fair, and seemed friendly enough, even though their very appearance produced that kind of unease reminiscent of the uncanny valley. "They've recently had a son. Phlox says that mothers are revered in B'Saari culture, so I recommend you address Veela first, and when you meet him, compliment her on her progeny."

Jonathan found that a little strange, but had little time to comment on it, because in the next second, they broke through the cloud cover over a towering, sparkling skyline that put even the most magnificent cityscapes on Earth to shame.

Every building was made of the same silvery, iridescent material, making it shine in the waning afternoon sun to an almost unbearable degree. The skyscrapers were tall, winding, and spired, packed so densely together that he could scarcely tell where one ended and another began. Just like back home, hovercars were ducking and weaving between the buildings, intermittently soaring into the air before diving back down towards the street. Even from a distance, he could hear the roar of industry, and as they touched down at the city center surrounded by government offices, he had to admit that nothing, no debriefing or advanced warning, could have prepared him for his first glimpse of the B'Saari homeworld.

"How fast did you say their ships go again?"

"Warp eight," T'Pol intercepted the question effortlessly, rising to her feet. In the reflection of the rearview mirror, he could see her smoothing her hands over her uniform and arranging her hair just so, and it fascinated him that for just how much she claimed to not care about her appearance, she seemed to appreciate aesthetic beauty more than anyone. "This is also the species which can revive their dead within a few hours of expiration. They're only capable of little more than basic metabolic and neurological function, but don't be surprised if you see an individual propped up behind an observation glass as they pay their final respects."

Of course. No matter how odd their customs seemed to them, the B'Saari were far more technologically advanced than Starfleet or even the High Command, something that he found comforting. If they made a good impression, perhaps they might allow them to upgrade their sensors or hull polarity to match their own. Swallowing his trepidation, Jon turned and reached for the hatch, exposing them to the warm, temperate breeze and a flood of conversation.

The sidewalks were packed here, and they were surrounded by B'Saari from all walks of life. These were the families and stewards of the government, he was sure of it, and the procession was being minded by a handful of lawmen, who could have blended in perfectly with the crowd were it not for the weapons hidden in the folds of their trousers. Many of them didn't seem to be watching their posts too intensely, conducting two separate conversations at once with people standing to either side of them. Still, Malcolm seemed absolved by the sight, and led the way down onto the pavement, blinking into the setting sun.

Now that they were out in the open, they drew more than a few curious looks from the inhabitants of the city, something that made Jon feel incredibly self-conscious. Without really realizing it, he took a step closer to T'Pol, and his hand came out to ghost over the small of her back just as he glanced up and locked eyes with Hoshi, who was flush with embarrassment at seeing such an inexplicably intimate gesture.

Great. This time, Jon joined Malcolm in crossing his arms over his chest, hurriedly scanning the crowd for the man and woman of the hour. Fortunately, they didn't leave them waiting for too long, as the herd parted ahead of Nallim and Veela, who were surrounded by a circle of guards of their own.

All things considered, they were perfectly indistinguishable from the general populace, wearing cowl-neck sweaters and flared trousers in the same muted, nondescript earth tones, swathed in knee-length coats that quite reminded him of bathrobes. Of course not enough could be said about the two matching heads sticking up at at angle, arranged so closely that their ears almost touched. As he had before, Jonathan fixed his gaze directly in the center and approached Veela, covering his heart with his hand and dipping at the waist, ever eager to show deference to their hosts.

A split second later, he felt his trio of companions mimic his gesture, and then to his surprise, the two of them returned it, holding position until they all straightened up at once, studying one another with wordless trepidation.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the UT inch into his line of sight, and he obligingly leaned into it, testing the waters. "Thank you for hosting us, your excellence. If your hospitality is as wonderful as your city, we're in for a treat."

"You honor us with your presence, Enterprise." The head on the left spoke first, while the one on the right turned to say something to an aide, who hurried off towards the great revolving doors of the nearest building, which was shorter and more squat than the others, likely more ancient than all of recorded history on Earth. When that was done, they had Veela's full attention, and she held out her hands quite expectantly, taking them all by surprise. "We've been researching humanity in the Denobulan database. Your reputation precedes you, Captain Archer."

At that point, he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not, so he just kept his mouth shut and shook her hand, before turning and doing the same to her husband.

There was a split second of expectant silence, then Jon startled slightly, reacting to an elbow that made contact with his ribs. Hoshi had been growing in confidence recently, or perhaps she wanted to redeem herself for their latest encounter with the Kreetassans - whatever the case may be, Jon knew he couldn't delay the inevitable for very much longer.

"This is my first officer, Sub-Commander T'Pol," he began, nodding in her direction. "She's here on a supervisory assignment from the Vulcan High Command."

A ripple of muffled laughter swept across Nallim's entourage, and one of his heads turned towards that of his wife, sharing a private little smile that caused anxiety to surge within him anew. There was no way he had already made a diplomatic faux pas, was there?

"How many mates do you have, Captain?" Nallim spread his arms wide, indicating Hoshi and Malcolm, another unspoken question on his lips.

Damn it all. Beside him, Sato began typing frantically on her translation matrix, hoping to staunch the awkwardness of the moment by affording him a second try.

"I don't have any," Jon assured him, hoping he didn't look as flustered as he felt. Right now, the mere presence of T'Pol at his side was enough to steal his breath away and make him forget how to speak. She didn't seem the least bit perturbed by his insinuation, and for once, he prayed for even a fraction of her emotional control. "I just meant that she's second in command."

"What you two do in your bedroom is none of our business," Veela's left head chuckled good-naturedly, before the right one chimed in, seemingly the more serious of the two. "Come along. We've prepared a welcoming reception for you, and it would be a shame for all of this good food to go to waste."

T'Pol was off in a flash, followed shortly by Lieutenant Reed, and a mortified look from Hoshi was all he got in the way of an apology as she hurried after them, taking the UT with her. It was an understandable mistake, and really he couldn't be irritated with her given that she'd taught the program sixty different dialects in the space of two days. Still, he marveled at the fact that the universe seemed to target the precise thing he was insecure about, zero in, and magnify it to one hundred.

Please, if there's a higher power up there, don't let us mess this up tonight.

Naturally, the hands of fate heard his plea, considered it, and decided to set into motion another course of action entirely.

(to be continued)