Author: Whoa Nellie (whoa_nellie40@hotmail.com)
Series: TNG
Rating: PG-13
Codes: P/Vash, W/T
Synopsis: With the Federation-Klingon treaty up for renegotiation, the Enterprise is assigned to escort the Federation's diplomatic envoy to Qo'nos. The Klingon High Council is divided between pro-Federation and pro-Romulan factions. The Romulans have decided to openly pursue a treaty of their own by sending their own ambassador to the Klingon Home World. The Enterprise crew soon discovers the only thing more perilous to the Klingon Empire than a vote for the Romulans maybe a vote for the Federation.
Author's note: This story takes place in Whoa Nellie's "Double Entendre" timeline (reminder: in this universe, Worf is Chief of Security and married to Deanna; there is no Crusher/Chakotay relationship and Riker still has his beard). However, this story can stand on its own. This is an edited version, if you would like to read the NC-17 version, it can be found at our Picard/Vash Romance fanfiction website listed on our author's page.
As always: Paramount owns all the marbles. We just have a lot
more fun playing with them.
Feedback is always appreciated - posted or e-mail.
In the Line of Duty
Chapter 1
On board the Enterprise E, Captain Jean-Luc Picard sat behind his desk in his readyroom staring at the painting on the wall across from him. The formal bridal portrait of Mrs. Vash Picard had been a wedding gift from Lieutenant Commander Data. Data had managed to capture how resplendent Vash had looked in her bridal gown of ivory satin overlaid with lace and completely covered with sequins and seed pearls. Her veil had been held on by a tiara of pearls and Austrian crystals. In the portrait she looked like a queen, each sequin and crystal making her shimmer from head to toe, as she sat so regally with the full ballgown skirt spilling over the sides of the captain's chair on the bridge of the Enterprise E. Picard dropped his gaze back down to where Vash was sitting on the couch right below the painting. She smiled at him with the same serene, self-satisfied smile she had in the portrait; that look was the reason Commander Riker had nicknamed her 'Queen Bee'. He glanced quickly at his first officer who was leaning against the wall next to the couch and seemingly very amused by the whole thing. He turned his full attention back to his wife.
"You sold your security guard to Quark?" Picard asked incredulously.
"It's not like Quark could have actually caught him," Vash defended herself. "Besides, I wasn't selling him to Quark. It was a couple of the Dabo-girls and it was just for the night. They found Lieutenant Massett entertaining and wanted to keep him as a pet. And George didn't really seem to mind."
"We have discussed your habit of ditching security guards before, on countless occasions. I assign them to you for a reason," he stressed in an exasperated tone. "Why do you insist on doing this to me?"
Vash appeared to think that over. "Maybe because you have buttons this big," as she held her hands about two feet apart, "that just say 'push me!'"
"Even if you weren't the wife of the flagship captain," he continued as if he hadn't heard her, "you are still one of the foremost experts on the Gamma quadrant. Protecting you from the Romulans and the Cardassians was one of the reasons the Archaeology Council assigned you to the Enterprise in the first place."
"I understand that, dear, and I never leave the sight of my security guards in situations where I don't feel secure," Vash assured him as she stretched out on the couch. She began to study the sparkle of the one carat diamond in her wedding ring.
"When has Your Majesty ever felt insecure?" Riker looked down at her and quipped in an amused and slightly sarcastic tone.
Vash laid her head back and gazed up at Riker. She cooed, "Oh, please don't hesitate to speak up, Will." She looked back at her husband and rolled her eyes. "I just think you're being a tad obsessive."
"Indeed," Picard arched an eyebrow, "How so?"
"Is it really necessary to send a security guard with me every time I leave the ship?" Vash badgered.
"Yes," both men asserted.
"On DS9, the two of you and Captain Sisko were all right there in the bar. And why did I need one on Risa? Were you afraid the cabana boy was going to massage me to death."
Riker couldn't quite stifle a laugh. Picard shot his first officer a look. "Don't encourage her, Number One." Then looking back at Vash he continued, "If I were you, young lady, I wouldn't bring up our last visit to Risa."
"Was it my fault that you sent 'Lieutenant Adonis' with me on a girl's night out? Besides, I wasn't the one who decided to make that particular stop. Lwaxana Troi wanted to see Risa's famous all-male review, and apparently the women of Risa thought that the Greek god in a Starfleet uniform was just part of the show. He seemed to enjoy it not to mention that he made some serious money," Vash explained, not the least bit ashamed.
"Be that as it may, I've assigned a new security guard to you. You are not to sell him, lose him in shopping bazaars, lock him in a holosuite, turn him into a male stripper, or auction him off to the highest bidder. He does not need to be measured for a new uniform, he does not want to marry an Orion princess, and he will not enjoy snipe hunting. You will stay with him at all times when you are not on the ship. Am I understood, young lady?" Picard couldn't wait to see her try some of her usual tricks on this one.
"Yes, dear." He could be such a killjoy, she thought to herself. She decided she would just have to be more creative with this one.
"Number One, would you bring in Lieutenant Lar." Picard sat back in his chair feeling quite pleased with himself.
"With pleasure, sir." Riker couldn't wait to see Vash's reaction to this. Riker, along with most of the crew, had secretly reveled in Vash's antics. But, as amusing as Vash's antics had been, he had to agree with the captain that enough was enough.
The door opened and in walked a pleasant-looking young officer in a security uniform. He wasn't too tall, Vash thought, about 5'1O, she estimated. He had short, dark, wavy hair which accented his dark eyes. He was built, but not too bulky. Cute, she thought to herself, I'll lose him in five minutes, tops.
"Easier thought than done, Mrs. Picard," the young officer smiled. "But thank you for the compliment."
"What?" Vash stood up and looked accusingly at her husband.
"Oh, did I forget to mention that he's Betazoid?" Picard took great joy in the look that crossed his wife's face.
"Geoff Lar, of the planet Betazed, at your service, ma' am."
"Stop laughing, Will." Vash couldn't believe they would do this to her. "Jean-Luc, that's cheating."
"Deal with it, chere," came Picard's succinct reply.
SIX MONTHS LATER
"We will be proceeding straight to the Klingon Home World after picking up the Federation's envoy tomorrow at 0900 hours," Captain Jean-Luc Picard told his senior officers. They were all seated around the large table in the conference room off the bridge of the Enterprise E. They had just finished going over the weekly reports. He looked across the conference table at his second officer. "Data, do you have any background information on Ambassador Fontaine."
"Yes, sir," Lieutenant Commander Data's face twisted slightly with concentration as he accessed the necessary file. "Ambassador Catherine Fontaine, thirty years old. She is the youngest person to ever become a member of the Federation diplomatic corp. She is one of the Federation's leading experts in Klingon politics. She graduated from Oxford at the top of her class with a doctorate in political science; afterward, she spent six years living on the Klingon Home World, serving as a Federation advisor to the Klingon High Council. She speaks one hundred languages including Klingonese, and Cardassian. She is widely respected on the Klingon High Council and, like yourself, Captain, Gowron requested that she be present when the new treaty is signed.
Commander William T. Riker whistled under his breath and looked at Picard. "That's impressive; but just how interested is the High Council in a treaty with us versus the Romulans?"
Picard folded his hands on the table and looked over at his first officer, "That's what I hope the Ambassador will be able to tell us, Number One. Please see to our guest's accommodations."
"Of course, sir," Riker responded.
"Mr. Worf, have you had any luck contacting your brother?" Picard asked the security chief. "Kurn might be able to tell us how much support the Romulan's really have in the High Council."
"No, sir," Lieutenant Commander Worf replied. "I have been unable to reach him. However, at my wedding, he did mention that the faction supporting the Romulans was slowly gaining strength. Considering our family history, he was concerned about it."
"Lovely, just lovely. If there is nothing else?" Picard looked around to see all of his officers shaking their heads. It had been a very long day. "Dismissed."
Picard looked down at the notes he had taken on his PADD. He could hear his officers stretching and getting up. He heard the door to the conference room open. Picard looked up and smiled, now this was a sight for sore eyes. Standing in the doorway was his beautiful wife. Discreetly, he let his eyes sweep over her. His smile grew a little, as he recalled overhearing one young officer on DS7 refer to her as the 'little brunette number with the legs'. She was casually dressed in a crisp white cotton shirt and tight dark blue denim Levi's, which only served to accent her feminine silhouette.
"Am I interrupting anything?" Vash smiled as she noticed a certain look in her husband's grey eyes.
"We just finished." Picard stood and straightened his uniform top. "Please, come in."
"Actually, I needed to see Dee," Vash turned to face Deanna as the counselor walked toward her. "Alexander left his water pistols in my office last week while he was visiting." Vash held up the two water pistols in her hands, they were replicas of old Western six-shooters. She began to hand the guns to Deanna.
"Thank you," Deanna replied as she took one of the water pistols. The two women exchanged a mischievous glance. Deanna lowered her voice to a whisper, "We really shouldn't."
"I know, but I have always had a serious impulse control deficit," with that, the two women pivoted to face their respective mates. Vash gave the command, "Fire!"
Taken totally by surprise, Picard and Worf suddenly found themselves drenched in a hail of watergun fire. Both men wiped the water from their eyes, and began to advance on their attackers.
Vash looked at Deanna and said. "Time to get the hell out of Dodge." Both women turned and bolted out of the conference room.
Behind him Picard could hear the rest of his staff trying to suppress a few chuckles. He shook his head and let out a soft chuckle of his own. Picard turned to Worf. He arched one eyebrow and in a good-natured tone remarked, "Mr. Worf, I think we should consider that an act of war, and as such it cannot go unanswered."
"Agreed," was Worf's gruff, but also amused, reply.
"If the rest of you will excuse us," Picard gestured for Worf to go ahead of him. The two officers calmly left the conference room to go in search of their errant wives.
The door slid shut behind them. Grinning, Data looked over at Riker and Geordi, "Anyone care to wager on who the victors will be?"
Geordi grinned back, "I'd lay my money on the two queen bees."
There was a amused glint in Riker's blue eyes as he chimed in, "I think that would be a pretty safe bet."
Picard stopped in front of the door to the quarters he shared with his wife. He shook his head, smiling to himself. He knew he was walking into an ambush. He was used to that, life with Vash was one delightful little ambush after another. He stepped into the quarters to find them completely dark, except for the starlight coming from the large windows that lined the outside wall. Picard noticed that Charcoal, Vash's small black cat, was curled up asleep in one of the window ledges behind the dining table.
Picard took a cautious step into the room, looking past his desk to the bedroom. Not seeing any obvious traps, he called out cautiously, "Lights."
Just as the word left his lips, Vash popped up from behind the desk chair to soak him again with a second barrage from the water gun. She had a very self-satisfied look on her face.
Picard raised an eyebrow and regarded his wife with mock annoyance. The amusement in his soft grey eyes gave away his true feelings. The desk curved on one side to meet the wall, he had her trapped. As he walked toward her, water still dripping off his nose, he said, "That was incredibly childish."
"It was," Vash agreed as she sat on the desk, watching him advance on her. She very quickly raised the water pistol and leveled it at his chest.
Picard stopped. Giving Vash a small nod of approval, he admitted, "That's quite an impressive quick draw."
"Why, thank you, darling," Vash cooed and squirted again.
Picard was ready this time, he dodged the water and lunged toward Vash. Vash swung her legs up and over the desk, jumping off the other side. She wasn't quite fast enough, Picard managed to grab one of the small belt loops at the waist of her jeans. She squealed as he pulled her back toward the desk and turned her to face him. With one hand he held onto one of her belt loops, he held his other hand out, palm up.
"Now, ma petite, let me have it."
"Okay." Vash looked down for a moment, for all intents and purposes beaten. Then she looked up into his handsome face and finished, "Remember, you asked for this," and let loose with yet another round of water. She used the split second distraction to break free and run.
Grinning, Picard, in one smooth move, leapt over the desk to pursue Vash. He chased her around the living room until they were standing on opposite sides of a big easychair that they had just finished circling. "Now, Madame Picard, you are really in trouble."
"And just what will mon capitaine do with me?" Vash laughed as she teased him. "Put me over his knee and spank me?"
Picard regarded his very beautiful, but mischievous, wife. Her blue eyes sparkled with her laughter. During the chase a couple of buttons on her white blouse had come open to reveal a tantalizing view of the white lace trim of her brassiere. The jeans appeared to be painted onto her shapely figure. They emphasized her small waist, flat stomach, and every other curve in that general area. He gave a small smile, "I just might."
"Promises, promises," Vash retorted. Then she leapt onto the chair, and jumped over the back of it. Picard grabbed one of the sleeves of her blouse. Vash managed to wiggle out of the shirt and still keep her grip on the squirt gun. Leaving Picard holding an empty shirt, she ran into their bedroom. Picard dropped the shirt and gave chase once more.
Vash jumped onto their bed and tried to run across to the bathroom, but she got tripped up in the covers. Just as she rolled over on her back, Picard threw himself onto the bed pinning her small body beneath his own muscular one. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her hand with the squirt gun start to move. He captured both of her small wrists and pinned them in one of his large hands above her head. They were both breathing heavily from the chase. With his other hand he held the squirt gun he had wrested from her grasp. He looked down at her with a wicked grin.
"You wouldn't dare," she panted.
One eyebrow twitched and Picard promptly proceeded to squirt her neck and chest with the last little bit of water. Gasping as the cold water struck her heated skin, Vash wiggled and squirmed trying to escape. The water gone, he tossed the toy aside. Slowly, the playfulness was giving way to something else.
Much, much later, Vash raised herself on one elbow and looked down at her husband. "You seem to be fairly relaxed,"
"Uh-huh," Picard muttered, too exhausted to respond.
"Would this be a good time to tell you about the 500 credits I spent on a new evening gown last week?" Vash moved her hand up to idly run her fingers through the hair on his chest. "I needed it to go with the shoes I bought the week before while I was shopping with Dee."
Picard closed his eyes, the shoes had been close to a hundred credits. He had been ambushed again, not that he really minded. It had taken him a long time to find the woman he wanted to share his life with. He enjoyed pampering her and he had the resources to do it. Picard had every intention of seeing to it that she was completely spoiled rotten.
"So, you don't mind that I bought the gown?" Vash asked in her best bedroom voice, still playing with the hair on his chest.
"Of course not," Picard sighed. He opened his eyes and smiled at his wife, gently teasing. "We can't have you running around in just those shoes."
"Thank you," Vash smiled triumphantly back at her husband as she continued to trace designs on his chest.
"You are so spoiled," Picard responded, laughing at her 'I win' smile.
"I beg your pardon, Captain," Vash couldn't keep from giggling, as she teased back. "I work very hard for the things I spend your money on."
...............................................
Elsewhere on the Enterprise, another war was being waged. Worf looked cautiously out of the turbolift before getting off. As he walked down the corridor, he considered possible strategies. He knew Deanna would be lying in wait for him somewhere, the only question was where. Suddenly, he felt the impact as someone collided into him. He'd been so lost in thought about Deanna's plans that he hadn't seen Lieutenant Barclay coming quickly around the corner.
Reg Barclay jumped in response to the growl he heard from the Klingon. As usual his was voice shakey, "I . . . I'm sorry, sir. I . . . I didn't see you. I'm supposed to meet Commander LaForge and I was kind of in a hurry and I guess I . . well I guess I wasn't paying attention to where I was going. He needed my help with-"
"Enough," Worf snarled. The panic on the man's face made Worf recall something Vash had said to the Captain about how intimidating Barclay was like frightening a small, scared puppy. He swallowed and calmed his voice. "It's fine. Just slow down."
"Yes sir." The lieutenant looked relieved as he hurried on.
Worf quickly made his way to his quarters. It was dark inside, except for the twinkling starlight from the large bay window looking out onto the vast space beyond. He allowed his eyes to adjust to the darkness before entering the quarters. Once inside, he moved with his warrior's grace through the quarters looking in every conceivable hiding place for his luscious opponent.
Finding nothing, he called "Lights." As the lights came up, he walked into the bedroom where he saw a piece of the pink stationery Deanna kept in her bedside table. Picking it up, he read the cryptic message: Catch me if you can.
"Computer, locate Counselor Troi." It was very difficult to hide on a starship. She had nowhere to go.
"Counselor Troi is currently in holodeck four."
So, that was her plan. In the interests of being prepared, Worf stopped long enough to grab two silk scarves from Deanna's dresser drawer to take with him.
On his way to the holodeck, Worf had to grin. Life with Deanna was never dull. He relished having a wife who could, and would, meet him on every level. Despite their size difference, she never hesitated to challenge him, in and out of the bedroom.
Outside the entrance to holodeck four, Worf checked the program Deanna had running. It was one of her nature programs. He entered the holodeck and placed a security lock on the door. For what he had in mind, he didn't need unexpected visitors. Now to find his wayward wife. Looking around, he saw, off in the distance, a splash of color against the trees. Carefully making his way around in a flanking maneuver, he came up behind the tree where he had seen her and sprang out to grab the sleeve of her dress, only to have it fall to the ground. She had apparently left the dress hanging from the tree branch to distract him. He immediately dropped into a crouch and scanned the surrounding woods, expecting an ambush. What he saw, off in the distance, appeared to be a bra hanging from another tree. Still a bit uncertain about what Deanna was doing, he carefully made his way over to her next calling card.
Several articles of clothing later, he came upon his wife swimming leisurely in a small, isolated mountain pool. Growling in triumph, he waded into the water toward Deanna.
"What took you so long, dear?"
"Submit to me now, or pay the consequences, woman." Worf could see no avenue of escape for her, nor did she have much chance of subduing him in the water.
Deanna smiled innocently up at her husband, "what makes you think this chase is over?" With that she brought her hand up out of the water holding the newly recharged water pistol. Letting forth a well-aimed shot, she sent a stream of water directly at the bridge of his nose. While he was blinded by the water, Deanna dove down and swam between his legs, upending him.
Worf got to his feet, spluttering. When he got the water out of his eyes, he looked around. Deanna was floating serenely on her back a few yards away. Stealthily, he sank into the water and swam to where she was floating, surfacing next to her, he grabbed his playful wife and removed the water gun from her possession.
Deanna gasped as she felt herself drawn upward, out of the water. She tried to shoot Worf with another blast of water but lost her grip on the gun as he pulled it away from her and threw it to the shore. Immediately, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself into his large, muscular body. She had been anticipating this ever since the conference room where this had all started.
"It's time to pay the consequences." With that Worf carried Deanna over to the waterfall he had noticed. When Deanna saw where he was headed, she immediately began to struggle.
"Worf, don't you dare. Worf. WORF!" Deanna squealed as Worf thrust her unceremoniously beneath the cold water.
......................................................
Just before 0900 hours the next morning, Commander Riker made his way to transporter room 3, to greet Ambassador Fontaine and get her settled in her quarters. As he walked into the transporter room, he smiled to the transporter chief on duty. He searched his memory for her name; she was single, midtwenties, and a very pretty little blue-eyed blonde. He just couldn't remember her name. 'Oh William, my boy,' he thought to himself, 'you're getting old. There used to be a time when you would know her name, her cabin assignment, her favorite perfume, and her measurements.'
"Good morning, Chief," he greeted her, the name still forgotten.
"Good morning, Commander," she smiled back.
Riker turned to face the transporter pad and adjusted his uniform jacket.
"Energize," Riker ordered, his eyes never leaving the transporter pad.
"Energizing, sir," came her reply.
The figure of a very attractive young woman materialized on the platform. She stood about five foot ten. Her green jumpsuit accented her svelte but very feminine silhouette. Her silky, brunette hair was gently pulled up, framing the classic features of her face. Riker couldn't believe it as he stared at her emerald green eyes and seductively pouty lips. 'MINUET!' his mind shouted. 'This is impossible!' he thought to himself. But there she was -- a dead ringer for Minuet. Minuet was a holodeck fantasy he had experienced once, created by a temporary computer enhancement. The Minuet program had been designed by the Binars to be his ideal woman, to capture Riker's attention and distract him from their activities. Here she stood, a fantasy come to life.
"I'm Ambassador Catherine Fontaine," she introduced herself. Sizing up the officer in front of her she thought, 'Hello there, Commander tall, dark, and handsome. This assignment might be more interesting than I had anticipated.' In her most pleasant, but detached, professional voice she asked, "Permission to come aboard?"
"Permission granted, welcome aboard, Ambassador Fontaine," Riker heard himself saying, totally on autopilot. He had been floored, even her voice was the same. The only thing saving him was nearly twenty years of Starfleet training. "I'm Commander William Riker, first officer of the Enterprise. If you will please come with me, I will show you to your quarters so that you can settle in. Captain Picard has asked if it is possible for you to meet with him in his readyroom in one hour." Riker gestured to the door as she stepped off the platform.
"Of course, we have a lot of important ground to cover," she responded, her mind back on track. The movers and shakers in the Klingon High Council had been very busy lately, busy killing each other off, that is. She knew Picard by reputation only and was looking forward to working with him. If anyone in Starfleet could convince the High Council to keep its treaty with the Federation, it was Picard. The Klingons considered him a great warrior. The Federation regarded him as a brilliant military tactician and their best field commander. Lately though, he had been gaining notice for his diplomatic endeavors. Together, she and Riker walked out of the transporter room.
...............................................
In his readyroom, Picard sat behind his desk going over progress reports from the civilian science labs. His eyes went wide as he read the report for the archaeology lab filed by his wife. Vash and her team had their latest paper accepted for publication by six of the top archaeology journals. She hadn't said a word to him about it last night. It was a ship's first, as far as he knew it was a Starfleet first. He allowed himself a proud smile. He would have to find some way to publicly recognize the archaeology lab for a job well done. He already had a few ideas about how to privately congratulate the head archaeologist. He looked up as he heard the door chime ring.
"Come," Picard called as he set aside the reports he had been reading. The door opened and Will Riker stepped in followed by Ambassador Fontaine.
"Captain, this is Ambassador Catherine Fontaine," Riker smiled as he made the introductions. "Ambassador, Captain Jean-Luc Picard."
"Welcome aboard, Ambassador." Standing to shake her hand, Picard greeted the ambassador. He had instantly noticed her remarkable resemblance to the Minuet program. He was the only other person, besides Riker, to see that program.
"Thank you, Captain," Fontaine responded as she shook Picard's hand. "I've been looking forward to working with you."
"Please, sit down," Picard gestured to the two chairs in front of his desk. As all three of them took their seats, Picard continued, "What do we know about the situation in the Klingon High Council?"
"Officially, not much," Fontaine admitted. Then she tilted her head slightly and her tone and expression turned slightly conspiratorial, "Unofficially, I've heard some very interesting things. Out of the twenty-four ruling families on the council, eight support the Romulan treaty, ten support the Federation treaty and the last six are undecided. Which means at least three of those are using the issue to gain more power for themselves. I have prepared a detailed report for you on each family's history and position on this subject. Of course, these positions change, but it is a starting point. Basically, the members of the high council have been very busy forging alliances with each other and killing each other off."
"Lovely," Picard sighed as he leaned back in his chair and interlaced his fingers. "How many deaths are we talking about?"
"Unknown, but three council members have died recently and there have been assassinations in at least nineteen of the houses, including two of the council members," the ambassador explained.
"What about the other dead council member?" Riker asked.
"It's being called an accident," Fontaine answered looking over at Riker. Amused, she added basic math to pretty boy's qualifications. "But I find it suspicious."
"Why?" Picard asked.
"It seems he fell on his own knife." Fontaine looked back at Picard.
"Suicide," Picard suggested.
"It seems Councilmember H'mel fell on his own knife--" Fontaine raised an eyebrow as she noted, "forty-three times."
"Tough day at the office," Riker quipped as he and Picard exchanged a glance.
"Indeed," Picard agreed with his first officer. Then looking back at the ambassador he inquired, "Is there anything else I should be aware of?"
"Yes, you guys are going to love this, because here's the fun part," Fontaine replied in an overly perky tone, her dry humor getting the best of her. "We have unconfirmed reports of several divisions of armed Romulan soldiers on the Klingon Home world. Not to mention the possibility of a couple of cloaked Romulan Warbirds. It seems the Romulans have decided to openly pursue this by sending their own ambassador to the Klingon Home World, Senator Pardek."
With the usual good natured glint in his blue eyes, Riker softly chuckled at the ambassador's sense of humor. He looked back at his captain, "I think the quote that best fits this is 'Oh yippy skippy'."
"One of my wife's favorite sarcastic remarks," Picard explained to the Ambassador. Then he gave in to his own curiosity, "Can you tell me how you managed to learn all this? Especially since no information has been coming through normal channels."
"It's really pretty simple. I don't rely on normal channels, I tend to work in the background. I have found that, in most cases, there is a great deal of information and influence behind the throne. I happen to be close friends with several of the daughters of ruling houses. Gowron's oldest daughter and I are very close." Fontaine stood and walked over to look more closely at the formal bridal portrait of Vash on the wall. She asked "Your wife, Captain?"
"Yes," Picard smiled as he nodded then added seriously, "I have one final question, Ambassador. How much of this information can we trust, would these women really have access to this type of high level information?"
"Captain," Fontaine smiled and gestured to the portrait. "Are you going to tell me that your wife has no idea about the day to day operations of this ship? You've never recorded a ship's log in her presence?"
Riker looked over at his commanding officer, he knew Picard recorded the ship's log in his quarters nightly before Vash and he went to bed. He admitted, "She does have a point, sir."
The ambassador looked back at the portrait. "I love the command chair idea. It kind of makes my point for me, doesn't it? I knew I was going to like Vash from the moment I met her."
"You've met my wife?" Picard was totally taken off guard.
"She stopped by my quarters to invite me on a tour of the ship and to lunch when we finished with the briefing." Fontaine turned back to look at the captain. "In fact she is meeting me here. She said that since her department's latest paper has been accepted by six journals, she gave herself and her assistants the day off. You must be quite proud, that's quite a coup. I don't . . ." The door chime rang cutting her off.
"Come," Picard called. He smiled as he watched his wife walk in. She was wearing a hot pink suit jacket over a short black silk skirt and a tailored black silk blouse. Her hair was pulled up in a hot pink hair clip, which meant she planned to spend the afternoon in the ship's salon.
"Hello everyone," Vash said cheerfully as she walked over to give her husband a kiss on the cheek.
"Hello dear, and congratulations on the journal article. I was impressed," Picard greeted his wife. Then gently batting at her ponytail, he teased "I take it you're planning to spend the afternoon with Mr. Mot."
"Yes, I intend to shoot the works. I want a trim, a manicure, pedicure, and a facial," Vash retorted. "I gave myself the whole day off. So Catherine, are you ready for your tour of the ship?"
"Whenever you are," Fontaine answered, then said to the two officers, "Gentlemen, if you will excuse us?"
"Bye dear," Vash kissed Picard again on the cheek.
"I really do love that portrait. The command chair was a great idea," Fontaine said as she and Vash turned to leave.
"It does tend to remind him just who outranks who," Vash quipped just before the door slid shut behind them.
Picard decided to ignore that. He got up and walked over to Riker. He clapped his first officer on the shoulder and said gently, "You can take it easy now, Number one. She's gone."
"Did you see her? She was Minuet, or maybe Minuet was her," Riker stammered. "It wasn't just her appearance, the voice, the sense of humor, the overall presence. It was . . ."
"Breathe, Will." Picard almost felt sorry for his second-in-command, almost. "And yes, I noticed the similarities. It's been a long morning, why don't you take a break."
"Thank you, sir," Riker said gratefully and turned to leave.
"But Number One," Picard called to him. Riker turned around and Picard finished, chuckling, "I'd stay out of the holodeck."
Nodding Riker sighed defeatedly and asked, "You really are enjoying this aren't you, sir"
"Uh-huh," Picard answered almost gleefully and Riker turned and left the room.
............................
Later that afternoon, the senior command staff gathered in the observation lounge for a briefing from Ambassador Fontaine on the current situation on the Klingon homeworld. Fontaine and Riker sat nearest to Picard on opposite sides of the table. When she finished, the Captain opened the discussion to the officers. "Our orders are to go to the Klingon homeworld to give whatever diplomatic support to Gowron and the pro-Federation faction that they need as the treaty vote approaches," Picard said.
"We should also provide military support," Worf stated. "If the Romulans already have military forces within Klingon space, we would be entirely within our rights to engage them according to the Klingon-Federation mutual defense treaty
"That would be highly inadvisable," Data replied before Picard could respond. "Significant factions within the Empire believe that the Federation is already far too involved in internal Imperial affairs. That is the underlying reason for civil unrest in the Empire. If we were to engage a Romulan vessel allied with a strong Klingon faction while inside Klingon space, it would give the pro-Romulan faction all the proof that they need to assert that the Empire is merely a large Federation province."
"Besides," Picard interjected, "We cannot invoke the mutual defense treaty unless we have been formally requested by the Imperial government."
"That is not likely to happen given the current situation," Ambassador Fontaine added.
"Gowron has the authority to invoke the treaty on his own, doesn't he?" Troi asked.
"Yes," Fontaine answered, "but he doesn't have the support. If he invoked the treaty on his own without an open attack on the Empire, the undecided families would side against him and he would be stripped of power."
"And probably executed for treason," Geordi chimed in.
"I'd say that's a safe bet," Fontaine replied.
"All right," Picard summed up. "We cannot overtly involve the Federation in the military aspect of the dispute. What can we do?"
"Just our presence at the Klingon homeworld will send a strong message to the Romulans and their supporters, as well as to the Federation supporters. It shows that the Federation does not abandon their friends," Doctor Crusher pointed out.
"It may further divide the factions," Troi said.
"But we're not interested in converting the pro-Romulan factions to our side. We need to show the undecideds that we keep our commitments," Fontaine answered. "The undecideds should be our primary focus."
"And the Romulans," Worf growled. "We must at least watch them."
"Worf is right, sir," Riker jumped in. "I don't like the idea of the Romulans being that close to the Klingon homeworld unsupervised."
Geordi responded, "The problem with watching the Romulans, sir . . ."
"Yes, Mr. LaForge. Romulan ships are not going to be that close to the homeworld uncloaked," Picard cut in. He glanced around the room with a look approaching disgust. "I cannot believe that even with this brand-new technological marvel, we are still unable to locate a cloaked ship until it appears sitting in our lap."
"That is not necessarily the case any longer, sir," Data said.
Picard immediately perked up, happy that something in this discussion was finally going his way. "Please explain, Mr. Data."
"Well, sir, this 'technological marvel,' as you put it, is equipped with a broad-band, multiphasic spectrometer for measuring the gaseous content of distant star systems."
Picard looked at Data blankly. "Yes, I am aware of that, Mr. Data. How does that help?"
Data was somewhat surprised that Picard did not immediately comprehend what he was saying. He quickly recovered and broke his explanation down. "The cloaking device was originally designed as an invisibility screen. All upgrades since its development have been concerned with making ships invisible to sensors. Its original premise - invisibility through the selective bending of light - has never been changed."
"I'm still not sure where you're going with this," Picard admitted.
Data took an unconscious breath that reminded Riker of a frustrated father explaining something simple to a small child. "By deploying a class 1 probe a certain distance from the Enterprise, we can take a spectrographic reading of a section of space.
Geordi suddenly whistled in amazement. "It's so simple!" he exclaimed. "By using the spectrometer on the ship we can take a reading of the same section of space as the probe."
"Exactly," Data said. "The light being bent around a ship by a cloaking device will have a different wavelength than light traveling straight. The probe will give a comparison sample."
"When the results of the two readings are compared, the light distortions will be apparent," Picard completed the thought.
"Not only that," Data said, "but it should provide an effective triangulation, enabling us to pinpoint the ship's exact position. It also has the advantage over a tachyon detection grid of not requiring a fleet of ships to operate."
"Only the Enterprise and one probe," Picard said thoughtfully. "But, this will not work with ships traveling in warp.
"No sir," Data said. "Only ships moving or stationary in normal space. However, it should be effective to at least one light year.
"That's significantly farther than anything we have been able to do up to now," Picard said. "How long will it take you to configure the probes and spectrometer to detect the light distortions?"
"With Geordi's help, I can complete the preparations within 24 hours," Data calculated without pause. "The spectrometer on the Enterprise will need no modifications at all. The probe will require adjustment to expand its bandwidth and compatibility with the spectormeter for this type of operation."
"Excellent," came Picard's satisfied response. "If there is nothing else we will proceed to the Klingon homeworld and pay a visit to Gowron and the others." With that, the officers stood up to leave. "Don't forget poker tonight in my quarters," he added as they began to file out of the room.
"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Riker said with a wide grin. "You know how I like to spend your money."
"Better you than Vash," Picard shot back.
"You better watch that," Riker warned, "or she'll be collecting your death benefits rather than your pay."
Picard chuckled as he walked out of the room.
.............................
Early that evening, Vash walked into her quarters to find her husband already there. "Hi," she greeted him, noticing that Jean-Luc was setting up the table for the senior officer's weekly poker game. "Thank you, I was planning to do that as soon as I changed.
"You're welcome." Picard looked up at her and smiled, as usual she looked perfect. Her hair was down and fell in gentle waves to her shoulders. The tailored hot pink jacket over the black silk blouse and matching short pleated skirt gave her a very polished feminine appearance. "You look great. Why are you changing your clothes?"
"Good answer, Captain, the boy can be taught," Vash teased, kissing him on the cheek as she walked past him toward their bedroom. Taking off her jacket, she continued, "The skirt is fine. The blouse and jacket are a bit formal for an evening poker game."
"I see," he answered, he still thought she looked fine the way she was. Although, he did wonder how she could walk so gracefully in those four inch heels.
She stopped in front of the bedroom door and turned back toward him. "I'm glad you're home early. It gives me a chance to ask you something."
"What?" Picard set out the cards and the poker chips.
"What's going on between Will and the Ambassador?" she asked.
"Is there something going on between Will and Ambassador Fontaine?" Picard continued to count out poker chips, not wanting to meet his wife's gaze.
"Oh, I think you know full well what's going on." Vash leaned against the doorway to the bedroom, "But, let me be specific. Will came into Ten Forward while Catherine and I were having lunch. We asked him to join us and he did. It was the first time I have ever seen Will Riker act shy around a woman; in fact, he was downright bashful. At one point she smiled at him and, I swear to God, he blushed. Commander Eternity-never-looked-so-lovely actually blushed like a schoolboy. So, what is going on?"
"I really have no idea," Picard persisted.
"In a pig's eye!" Vash declared as she caught the amused expression he was desperately trying to hide. "Spill it!"
"I'm not saying a thing," Picard chuckled and shook his head.
"You'll talk," Vash assured him.
"Oh, no," Picard said simply, shaking his head again.
"Foolish, foolish boy," Vash playfully chastised him, as her eyes quickly gave her husband the once-over "You have no concept of the scope of my powers." She turned and walked into the bedroom. Picard sighed as he lifted an eyebrow and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
A minute later she reappeared in the bedroom doorway. Instead of the jacket, she was holding a black vest with a bright pink rose design embroidered on it and gold buttons down the front. She walked into the living room and gently tossed the vest onto the couch. She turned slightly to face Picard.
"Last chance, Jean-Luc. What is going on?" Vash asked softly. Receiving no answer, she reached up and very leisurely began to undo each button on her blouse. Picard's heart began beating faster and his eyes widened in alarm as he realized what his mischievous little wife was up to. His gaze helplessly followed her hands as they made their way down the silk, opening it inch by tantalizing inch. Gently easing the blouse off one shoulder then the other, Vash let the smooth material slip down her arms to drop softly to the floor. The sight sent his imagination racing at warp speed. He knew his wife had a weakness for expensive lingerie. She always bought and wore matching sets.
"Are you ready to talk yet?" Vash cooed seductively as she turned back toward the couch.
Poker was the last thing on the captain's mind at the moment. Picard looked up at his wife's face to see the small smile play at her lips. No wonder he was so distracted, she had just done a striptease worthy of Gypsy Rose Lee right there in the living room.
"I am not, as you put it, uncomfortable," he lied. Vash had indeed roused his interest, but she didn't need to know that.
"Liar," she purred triumphantly. She reached down and picked up the vest. She slipped it on but left it unbuttoned. She stood up straight and turned to face him. "Due to certain physiological reactions, I can tell just standing here that you are sexually aroused."
"Don't be absurd," Picard scolded. He still couldn't take his eyes off of the enticing cleavage displayed by the open vest. "There is no way you could tell that through my uniform."
"My, aren't we the braggart," Vash baited him flirtatiously, as she sauntered up to stand right in front of him. "As impressive as it is, that wasn't what I was talking about. I was talking about your eyes. They change color."
"What?" he muttered, totally confused. Her nearness was playing havoc with his ability to concentrate on the conversation.
Putting her index finger under his chin, Vash gently brought his gaze up to her face. "Try looking up here," she softly chuckled. "Poor baby, you haven't got a clue. Your eyes change color when you're aroused."
Her face was only an inch from his. Her eyes locked with his in the seductive battle of wills that had been going on since the day they met. Trying to regain some control over the situation, Picard asserted, "They do not."
"Oh yes, they do, Jean-Luc," Vash declared in a husky whisper. Her eyes never left his as she reached down and slowly buttoned up her vest. "Right now they are a very steely grey. Without fail, when you're all hot and bothered, the steel grey color of your eyes becomes dramatically more intense."
"They might be steel grey," Picard whispered back looking down at his very sexy wife. Merde, she had great legs and, even buttoned, that vest showed off an alluring amount of cleavage. She had also made damn sure that he knew exactly what was underneath that outfit. "But I assure you I'm not . "
"Oh my, Captain, what do we have here?" Vash purred happily into his ear. After all, he was just way too sexy and she was having way too much fun. "I don't think that's a phaser."
"No, obviously not," he admitted breathlessly. Then he shut his eyes and took several deep breaths, trying to center himself. Opening his eyes, he inquired, "About my eyes, just when did you discover that?"
"Oh, I noticed it that first night we were together on Risa," Vash whispered in his ear, as she snuggled up to him. "When you made love to me in the cave."
"You've known for that long?" Picard was slightly stunned.
"Uh-huh," she murmured softly. Then she smiled up at him and asked, "You honestly didn't know that your eyes did that?"
"I really had no idea," he confessed.
Vash gently brushed her lips against his. Unable to resist temptation, Picard captured her lips in a deep, passionate kiss.
"We really don't have time for this," Picard breathed as he forced himself to break the kiss. She was still in his arms and her hands were still on his inner thighs.
"Okay, are you ready to talk yet? Or should I continue?" Vash whispered, still breathless from his kiss. She continued in her best bedroom voice, "We could talk about the little trip we took to Jupiter Outpost 92. It was just the two of us and we had only been married three weeks. We took that little joyride so you could try out the new Captain's Yacht. You found out how the yacht handled and I found out how the Captain handled. It's probably a good thing that the Captain's Yacht has an autopilot."
"Mon Dieu, Vash, S'il vous plait!" he rasped, trying desperately to not think about that particular escapade.
"If memory serves me correctly, that's pretty close to what you said at the time," she noted playfully. "Come to think of it, that very spacious command chair on the bridge would give us a lot more room to maneuver than that little pilot's chair did. If we programmed a holodeck to . . ."
"Vash," his gasp cut her off. He really didn't want his imagination to go there. After all, he did have to work in that chair. Shaking his head, he sighed, "You may be the death of me yet."
Vash patted his cheek, "What a way to go." Returning to the subject at hand, she raised an eyebrow and softly challenged, "So are you going to talk, or do we do . . ."
"This the hard way," Picard recited with her, chuckling to himself. Reluctantly, he gently pushed himself away from her. "Now, as entertaining as this has all been, we have guests coming soon. You're dressed now and I'm going way over there." He pointed to the far side of their quarters.
"Suit yourself. It won't do you any good," Vash explained as she stepped back. She turned and walked over to pick up her blouse. Turning back around to face him, she added, "That was a rather simplistic demonstration. The real fun is doing this fully dressed and in a room full of people. Getting your attention has become a game, one I thoroughly enjoy and have had several years to practice."
Picard openly admired his wife's appearance and gave his most suave smile. "Madame Picard," his voice was deep and seductive. If she wanted to play, so be it. "You always get my full attention by merely walking into the room. But you are aware, the sword cuts both ways."
"Oh, impressive," she conceded with a small smile of her own, "And yes, the sword definitely cuts both ways. However, I still have the advantage, my eyes don't change color. You can't tell if you're getting me hot and bothered or not. I can always tell when I'm getting to you."
"I don't suppose you're inclined to level the playing field a bit?" he inquired hopefully. He was very interested in what he could do to turn the tables on his mischievous wife.
"No way. And quite frankly, Mon Capitaine, in the area of seduction you're a tour de force," Vash confessed. "Fifty percent of the time I'm merely responding in kind. Something you've done, intentional or not, has piqued my interest."
"And the other fifty percent?" Picard asked bemused.
"I do it simply because I can." She turned and walked into the bedroom to put away the blouse.
"You seem very sure of yourself," he called out after her.
Vash came to the doorway of the bedroom, leaning against the doorway she inquired, "Jean-Luc, do you remember what you said to me when we returned home the night of the annual Admiral's Dining In?" She watched as an expression of understanding crossed his face. "As you undid the clasps on the back of my gown, you said, and I quote. 'For some reason, I couldn't take my eyes off of you all evening.'" She walked over to the couch, sat down, crossing her legs, and leaned back smiling triumphantly at him.
"I take it you are resting your case," he said as he walked over to stand in front of her.
Vash looked up at her husband and purred, "Here is my closing statement. I've spent the last few years amusing myself by finding out what makes those eyes change color. You're definitely a leg man." He watched transfixed, as she deliberately crossed her legs in the other direction proving her point. "You prefer sheer, black silk stockings. You're always commenting on the absurdity of high heels. But you love the way I look in them, the higher the better. You love a little mystery, you want to be teased. Which is why an 'accidental' glimpse of leg or cleavage drives you to distraction. A well timed glance, sigh, or double entendre is much more effective than an outright proposition."
She dropped her gaze, then looked up at him through her lashes. Giving him a coy smile she cooed, "We both know I can arouse your interest by simply playing with a wine goblet. And let's not forget, you know exactly what I have on under this. That alone is more than enough to fuel your imagination." She saw the look of desire come over her husband's handsome features. "So, do I see how many new ways I can come up with to torment you or are you going to talk?"
"You have me helpless," he sighed in defeat. "I'll talk."
"Smart move," Vash smiled Then she stood to face him, putting her arms around his neck. "Are you aware that I'm helplessly in love with you?"
"Je t' amie," Picard whispered, again taking her in his arms.
Vash let her lips capture his in a slow, deep kiss. Breaking the
kiss, she watched as her husband took several deep, calming breaths.
She could always turn him back on after the poker game She
asked one last time, "Now, what is going on between Riker and Catherine?"
......................................
TBC
