"I was a complete ass again, wasn't I?" Jonathan gave her a sheepish look.
"Yes, you were, you think with your heart Jonathan, instead of your head."
"I can't help it, I don't like what's going on here."
"Jonathan, can you feel what it does to me when you go off into one of your tantrums?"
Coming back a little to sharply, Jonathan said. "What do you mean by that?"
"Just answer me, our bond is very strong, can you feel my physical reaction?"
"Are you saying you weren't kidding earlier, when you said I was making it difficult for you to breathe?"
"Vulcans do not kid! Perhaps we should wait until we get home to discuss this, I have a terrible headache, none of what has happened over the last few hours makes any sense to me."
"You need to relax, turn your back to me."
T'Pol did as he asked. His hands worked diligently on my neck pain. Relaxing, I leaned back against him. He massaged my temples and my troublesome thoughts melted away. My mind was vacant of all thoughts.
"I learned a long time ago to trust your judgment, T'Pol, and I'm not going to challenge you and V'Lar, I wouldn't stand a chance anyway. I admit that none of this makes any sense to me, either. I keep asking myself why you? Why is Ral so Goddamn adamant that it must be you?"
The stillness and calm was gone. Jonathan had allowed me fifteen minutes of peace and quiet. Now my mind was racing again with confusion and fear.
"Jonathan, I cannot do this alone."
Our transport pulled into our apartment complex and two MACO guards held the door while Jonathan helped me. "Tell the Admiral that Ambassador T'Pol and I will be ready by 08:00 hours, ask him to send a transport around for us."
Once inside we ran into two more MACO guards waiting at our door.
"Ambassador," they each nodded to her as they assisted.
"Sir, may we get the door for you and the Ambassador?"
"Would you please, I hope you guys haven't been here all day."
"No Sir, but someone has been posted here and out front all day. We just came on duty about an hour ago, Sir."
Suddenly I felt myself lifted into Jonathan's arms, the door was open. "Jonathan, I am quite capable of walking."
"I know, I just couldn't resist, its not often that I get to carry my wife. Besides, now I have you where I want you, I'm in control." The door closed behind us. "Just, where are you taking me?" "Patience my Sweet, you'll soon find out."
We proceeded to the bedroom where he sat me on the edge of the bed and slowly began to undress me. "Jonathan what are you doing? We need to talk!"
"Quiet, just close your eyes." As I complied, his lips touched mine, tenderly at first and then in more earnestness. I felt his hands on either side of my face and my mind went blank. All I could feel was Jonathan, the heat from his body, radiating off him. There seemed to be a sudden urgency on his part to remove my clothing. He stopped being careful. "We can talk just as easily in the whirlpool tub. I'm going to run the water; you stay put and relax. I'll be right back."
'Relax. Somehow I don't think talking is what's on his mind.' I find it fascinating how in times of crisis as well as times of joy, Humans turn to the same thing. Mating. But I must admit that my mind is wondering in the same direction. I believe that may be Jonathan's fault. He has melded with me twice since leaving Starfleet less than an hour ago.
Returning a few minutes later, Jonathan nearly ripped the balance of my clothing off of me and then hurriedly carried me into the dressing room. "What's wrong with you Jonathan?" I was now on the heated massage table and Jonathan disappeared again. Suddenly he was back. "I just want to get some of the knots out first, then a steam bath should help you relax. You might even be able to meditate easier, tonight."
I was getting extremely frustrated. "Jonathan, please tell me what's wrong." "I thought you could physically feel what I'm feeling, T'Pol, tell me what's wrong. How do you feel right now T'Pol?" "I'm seriously considering ripping your clothes off of you. I'm sexually frustrated to the extreme."
The look on Jonathan's face told me all I needed to know. He was proving something to himself. And his conclusions had surprised him.
"Forgive me T'Pol. We have exchanged emotions, but everything has always been mind to mind. Earlier when I went off the deep end at Starfleet I could feel my throat constricting. Obviously you felt it too. Just now I worked myself into one very horny husband. I couldn't see how I could transfer my emotions physically to you. I guess I can, can you forgive me for doubting you?"
"There is nothing to forgive, Jonathan, but since we are both extremely frustrated, perhaps we could take care of our mutual problem."
Our quarters can only be described as plush, especially our bathing facilities. Jonathan calls it a sunken tub with a whirlpool. Vulcan has nothing like this. I could remain in such a state indefinitely and his ministrations leave me feeling like liquid in his hands.
The steam room is a experience too. Deep meditation can be achieved rather quickly, provided Jonathan leaves me alone long enough to reach that higher plain. He has become an expert at neuropressure massage.
Our discussion was postponed nearly two hours; one thing did lead to another. I cannot say that I did not contribute to our change in plans. I did not want to talk. 'I am considerably more relaxed, now; any more relaxed and I couldn't walk.'
I have tried to curtail Jonathan's spontaneous outbursts, but I have for the most part failed miserably. 'Besides, I do not wish to break him of all his spontaneous habits.'
Jonathan lost his Admiral's Commission because of me. He hit a Vulcan medical research Assistant that he recognized from the Vulcan Research Institute, the one he went to for help after my ordeal. He knocked him out cold; he was a newly appointed Diplomat to the Federation Council. Jonathan convinced me that it didn't matter, that getting, what was the word, oh yes, busted in rank, allowed him to go back to what he loved, Captain of his own ship. He said getting back into the middle of things would make him happy. I did not pursue the matter further, he was correct, he was much happier.
The first stipulation in our proposal, however, is the reinstatement of his Commission.
With Soval and V'Lar both retired, the Federation appointed me Chief Negotiator in charge of their Diplomatic Corp. Slowly the Federation is bringing the more unruly planets into the Federation.
Now Salanacon. I feel like I have been left adrift in space and time, unable to get my bearings. It's like a fog, and it is sweeping over me. 'How do I disassociate myself from a waking nightmare?'
Ral must hold a high-ranking position with his government; otherwise, he could not lead the Salanese Delegation. It's obvious they still want nothing to do with Vulcans, so why me?
'What he did was vile, how can it suddenly be unimportant?'
"T'Pol, hey, are you alright?"
Startled, I suddenly realized that Jonathan was talking to me and had resorted to shaking me. "Jonathan, please stop shaking me so hard."
"I'm sorry, are you sure your alright? I've hollered at you three times. A communiqué is coming in from Shran, he wants to talk to both of us."
Looking down I realized I was not properly attired for viewing. "Give me a moment to put something on, Jonathan."
He looked down and smiled, 'Well if it was just me, I'd much prefer what you have on."
"But, I'm not wearing anything."
"I know. I'll entertain Shran for a couple of minutes, hurry up."
"Alright, I'll be there shortly." Sometimes Jonathan is a complete contradiction.
I had sensed something was wrong, and as I approached, I heard Jonathan screaming at Shran. "Have I missed something, Jonathan? What's wrong?"
"That Bastard, admitted everything, he knows he can't be prosecuted, so he's boasting." Jonathan was glaring at Shran.
"I didn't say that Jonathan, Ral said he wasn't going to hide what happened only to have it come out during the negotiations. He wasn't boasting. He said he didn't want T'Pol to use it against him and Salan, that's all."
Shran looked up, seeing me. "Good afternoon, Ambassador. Uh, I hate to ask this Maam, and maybe you think it's none of my business, but I assure you that I need to know, is, what Ral said true?"
I simply nodded. His reaction was not unexpected for a male; he simply dismissed the conversation, moving away from the topic as quickly as possible.
"Anyway, as I started to say, the threats against you, Ambassador, are real. Supposedly, there are two factions that broke away from their central government. They don't want this agreement with the Federation, to them, the Federation is just an extension of the Vulcan Empire."
"Then, why, is he insisting on me? I assume his feelings are mutual. A non-Vulcan negotiator can be arranged, immediately, that would be more to his liking. There are several high ranking diplomats from Andoria or Earth."
"No Ambassador, Ral was adamant about it, he is demanding you. He said to tell you that he would prove to you that he is not a Rodaran. He wouldn't elaborate on what that meant, he said you would understand."
"I know what he means." Shran was hanging on her every word, he fully expected her to explain. But she wasn't going to.
"You weren't a Rodaran, why did he go after you?"
"To them, I was the next best thing, I was a Vulcan; they resented us. I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Hatred fueled by to much drink started a frenzied attack."
"How many were there?"
"Too many." T'Pol refused to elaborate further. She could feel Jonathan's anguish.
"Shran, has Ral sent his Protocols or demands for me to go over?"
"I am ready to forward everything that Ral has provided for you. By the way, he says that these two factions are extremely dangerous. We're taking their threats very seriously. Security will necessarily be tight. I am sorry to curtail your activities, but I believe him. As soon as you have your schedule, Ambassador, please forward it to me. I need enough time before you arrive to put your security in place. We have ample space for you, but we are not sure of your requirements. Also, we were told that the cold may restrict your mobility, can we help in anyway to make your stay as comfortable as possible?"
Surprised, I looked intensely at him. "Thank you for your concern, I believe we can compensate for your extremely cold temperatures. Who told you I might have a problem, Shran?"
"Ral said you might have an issue with the cold because of some old injuries, I believe. I gather that he's correct."
All she could do was nod, again. She was shaken by the fact that Ral knew that much about her; it was unsettling. There was that feeling again, of not being in control of the situation.
"Ral strongly believes they will make an attempt to kidnap you, Ambassador, he's heard rumbles of an assassination attempt too, by someone in the central government. He has more information but he wants to speak to you personally. He went on and on as to why he needs to see you immediately. But, the short version amounts to this, assassinate you and they will put an end to the talks in a hurry, and probably future talks as well. There was one very interesting aspect of his conversation, though; he believes the assassination plot is coming from inside his own government.
"Ral is asking to have one-on-one negotiations with you, and he would like them to start very soon."
"Never! My Assistant accompanies me at all times, Shran, I have no intensions of being alone with him." Jonathan's anger was getting ready to rear its ugly head. She looked up, warning him.
"Alright, we need to make some decisions now, Ral wants the negotiations to be one-on-one, behind closed doors, he called it a lock in; meals to be brought in, with cots for sleeping in the chambers off the main conference room. Remaining until an agreement is complete. He also believes this is the best way to protect you."
Jonathan did lose it this time, he began shouting at Shran, "Are you crazy, for Christsake she's a Vulcan, he's already tried to kill her once. Can't you see that this is a Goddamn setup?"
"Jonathan, please, he is only relaying Ral's terms, remember negotiations are just beginning. Shran, I need his list of conditions. Do you have them?"
"The documents should come through as soon as I sign off. Please try to get back to me early tomorrow. Ral needs your Protocols as soon as possible, too. I guess the only thing I can add, is get your rest now, Ambassador, because I have a feeling that Ral is going to be a difficult. Now I bid you goodnight Ambassador; Jonathan."
I felt numb, 'I cannot let him dictate the rules.' My mind was scrambling trying to make sense of what Shran had just said, but I couldn't think clearly. I have handled difficult negotiations many times, why do I feel like a novice here? 'I cannot let him do this to me.'
I looked up into Jonathan's face, sensing he was watching me. "You're not going to offer your opinion, too, I hope."
"I think you have enough on your mind, Sweetheart, you don't need to hear my apprehensions."
"Thanks, Jonathan because I have enough doubts."
"I would like to know what you're thinking right now though, what you're trying to suppress." "What makes you think I'm trying to suppress anything, Jonathan?"
"Come on, your trying to hide something from me."
I let out a deep sigh, "Oh, very well, I'm thinking that I'm perfectly capable of killing him right now, Jonathan. As terrible as that is, what is even more frightening is that I don't know if these are my thoughts or if they are yours."
He grinned. "Well, I think its safe to say the thought has crossed both our minds. I wouldn't be Human if I didn't want to avenge my wife's honor.
"T'Pol, with all that's just happened, are you going to go through with this? You'll be forced to come face to face with Ral, even share close quarters with him. Can you function effectively? Let alone remain productive."
"I don't want to go, nor do I have the answers to all of your questions, but yes, if all the criteria can be met, I'll go through with it simply because as a Vulcan I owe it to his people to at least try to undo some of the pain and suffering that we helped to create."
"I knew you would, so where do we start, T'Pol; with your list, his is full of crap!" I totally agreed with Jonathan's description of Ral's conditions.
Sitting down at the table, T'Pol ran her fingers through her hair, pulling it back behind her ears. "Jonathan, if you had to make an educated guess, how much of our demands can the President and the Admiral actually come up with?"
"Well, being realistic, if they have enough time they could conceivably come up with all of it, yeah, they could pull it off."
"The Salanese Delegation is already on Andoria, they have in effect put a time limit on it, wouldn't you agree."
"Yes, I guess they have at that." Realizing that something was bothering him, she finally asked, "Jonathan is something else on your mind?"
"Okay, V'Lar told me this afternoon that you feel that you're no longer Vulcan, why would you say a thing like that?"
"A moment of weakness I guess, or perhaps self pity. I don't know how to describe how I feel, Jonathan. I must confront as an equal, the man who tried to take away everything I am and everything I ever believed. He wanted me dead Jonathan, body and soul. I want very much to believe that he did not succeed. But there are times I feel that he has.
"He hates Vulcans. Yet I must face him as a Vulcan, I understand how important that is to both of us. Before we can make any real progress, he must accept me as a Vulcan. And to make it more difficult on myself, I can no longer relate to what I was, I'm no longer that person, Jonathan. What I'm trying to say is I don't understand what I have become. I am fearful that I will fail."
"The only difference in you now T'Pol, is that you are visibly more emotional than you were before you encountered Ral on Salanacon. He cracked your foundation, even perhaps to its very core, but he didn't destroy your Katra, your essence. Every one has their breaking point, T'Pol. Male, female, it makes no difference. The physical body is only able to withstand so much punishment, when it reaches its limitations, something has to give."
Feeling his arms tighten around her she fought back the tears. He carried her over to the sofa and sat holding her. His hands moved through her hair, stroking her temples. His touch was so calming. "Is it a bad thing for me to be more emotional, Jonathan?"
"Your fellow countryman would say so, but I beg to disagree with them. I believe in time you will agree with me too." "I hope so, Jonathan, I truly hope so." T'Pol cradled her head under his chin.
"T'Pol, why is it so imperative that I have my Admiral's Commission before we leave?"
"Negotiating leverage. You're going to be my Assistant, Jonathan."
"Then you're going to need more leverage, T'Pol, that scares the hell out of me. I'll be damned if Ral's going to undermine your confidence. Why isn't V'Lar going to be your Assistant?"
"I will try to bring her into the conference room with me. He's going to be looking at two Vulcans. I don't know if he will accept both of us."
"You need to look so Vulcan that when Ral sees you his stomach does a flip-flop. You'll gain the upper hand and you'll control those negotiations. What did you call it? Oh, yes, leverage, yes, and don't forget control." His hands were beginning to roam, she wasn't sure he even realized it, but she certainly did.
"You will look confident and in total control, even if you don't feel it, my Love. I need to talk to Hoshi and V'Lar. We need the richest looking Vulcan robes they can come up with, the largest IDIC they can find; and anything else that V'Lar might think would help with a visual concept of authority."
T'Pol groaned out loud. She couldn't ignore his ministrations any longer; he was applying them both physically and mentally, now. Looking up, she could see that he was getting that look in his eyes. He called it getting jazzed. She was all too familiar with his facial expressions, whenever he got high on adrenaline he also got very aroused. "Jonathan, not now, we still have to go through the documents that Shran sent us."
Jonathan was giving her that innocent look. At the same time his advances were getting quite bold. There was no doubt now that he had been deliberately arousing her. He knew all along what it was doing to her, of course he did, he could feel her physical reactions, she realized. Suddenly he pinned her down on the sofa. "Oh, come on; lets work on building your confidence. I dare you to try and dominate me!"
He called it foreplay, whatever it was it had been extremely effective. His aggression only fueled her heat. A growl escaped her lips from deep down in her darkest primitive Vulcan places. She had tried to warn him, he wasn't listening.
Jonathan was wearing her favorite grin on his face, and soon, she was afraid that would be all that he was wearing. He wasn't going to be talked out of it; that was certain. "You're going to get hurt again, Jonathan, but, I suddenly don't care, I find that it is acceptable because you started it."
"I believe I have an overly aroused Vulcan female on my hands." Jonathan grinned and got up. While never taking his eyes off me, he began backing toward the bedroom. "Try not to tear my clothes off me again, okay."
"Perhaps." She hoped he understood the gravity of his situation.
It was early, that much she could tell even without seeing the clock. Rolling away from Jonathan, T'Pol lay on her back, every muscle ached. She had to smile though; she knew Jonathan was going to feel much worse. 'Serves him right.' The scent of mating was still heavy in the room. She inhaled deeply, 'Oh, that hurt.' Another bruised rib perhaps? He was going to have to buy another shirt and he might need a pair of pants, too.
Slowly the euphoria wore off. Another hour must have gone by, she couldn't shut her mind down; before she could muffle it, a sigh escaped her lips.
'I need answers to so many questions and they can only come from Ral. We need to go over his Protocols, we need to find a way for V'Lar to assist me.'
"You're not going to go back to sleep, are you?"
"Oh, I'm sorry, Jonathan, I guess my thoughts are bombarding me. I might as well get up, perhaps you will still be able to sleep if I go into the other room."
"I can't stop thinking about things, either. I think we're bombarding each other. How about I get up and make us breakfast and you can jump in the shower. I'll get the stuff Shran sent over and we can start on it while we're eating."
"Perhaps you are right."
T'Pol suddenly arched her eyebrows; Jonathan had kicked the covers off, but not without almost screaming. He had bit down hard on his lip until it bled. His bite marks and scratches glistened angrily.
He hoped she wouldn't hear the pain he was trying to hide, "God you're so sexy when you do that."
Startled by his comment, T'Pol's eyes narrowed, "Do what?"
"Raise those damn eyebrows of yours, makes you look sexy as hell. Get your hot body in the shower, T'Pol; and stop looking at me like you're ready for seconds. We'll never get to Starfleet.
"While you're in the shower I'll upload the information from Shran to your PADD. And T'Pol, take a COLD shower! And stop gloating."
The hot water helped to clear her head. She still couldn't figure out why any one would want to take a cold shower. She pondered the images of Jonathan's bruised and bloodied body. T'Pol unconsciously ran her tongue over her lips, wetting them. 'He said stop gloating, it will be his only acknowledgment of what happened.' She smiled.
It was impossible to stop thinking about him; T'Pol cooled the water down. Perhaps she could understand the reasoning behind his suggestion after all.
His injuries were going to need to be treated and he would have to let her do it; some of the worst ones were going to be on his back. Otherwise he would bleed on his shirt. Her mate's sexual appetite was equal to hers; he made her feel very Vulcan. She contemplated that last thought. 'She was Vulcan.'
Grabbing the towel she dried off and slipped into her robe. The smell of coffee was permeating the bathroom. Then she smelled bacon. Her stomach was repulsed by the odor.
Jonathan was sitting in their small kitchenette, he had set the table and it was completely covered with breakfast ingredients. T'Pol grabbed her orange juice and got herself a bagel.
"Well, Sweetheart, we certainly are in a good mood, aren't we?"
"You're going to need help treating your injuries, Jonathan, shall I get the supplies." She arched her eyebrows.
"I've already tended to them, my Sweet, and I assure you I am quite capable of taking care of myself." He turned around to grab his coffee. The back of his T-shirt had blood spots on it; several blood spots. T'Pol's eyes smiled, "Of course, whatever you say, Jonathan."
"T'Pol is there a chance that Ral could wind up as part of your Diplomatic Corp?"
Startled, she looked up. "It's possible, I guess. I should think he would be more interested in a position within his own government, something with a higher profile perhaps." "What makes you think that?"
"I don't honestly know, just a feeling, I guess. Why subject himself to this, and then meeting with me can't be something he's looking forward to; unless the payoff is going to be extremely beneficial for him."
"Here's his Protocols and list of Stipulations if that's what you want to call them. After what Shran said, I was expecting a lot more; at least information that would mean something. This looks like a bunch of garbage, you know, useless stuff. I guess this is where the first negotiations start, but I thought he would at least give you something to work with."
"Well, each side usually asks for the limit, then the compromises begin. I see his so-called lock-in is here, he says that should I refuse he expects me to stay on Andoria for the duration of the talks. He wants me to be available at all hours, should he feel the need to resume talks. Our meals should be brought in so that we can continue working with no interruptions. He wants a staff of three. He wants a round conference table. Oh yes, he believes that we should dine together in the evenings so that we may continue with our talks. His government intends to host a banquet to celebrate the signing of the agreement. We are expected to attend."
"Obstinate, Bastard isn't he."
"He doesn't mention the problems his planet is having, or the warring factions and the effect they are having on his people. He doesn't speak of their technology, their space program, their mining problems, or their dislike of Vulcans. He doesn't ask for help from the Federation. They just want to become a member. They want something, but what?"
"Maybe what they really want is for us to stay out of their business. What do you know about Salan anyway, T'Pol."
"Well for one thing, as you may recall they called their planet Salanacon when we were there. Perhaps we should ask why they changed their name."
"Maybe they thought it sounded to much like Vulcan."
"That's absurd." She hesitated, for a minute, "But not impossible, I guess." She looked at Jonathan, puzzled, "You don't really think they hate us that much do you? Well anyway, I know they are highly advanced intellectually and technically, they have one of the finest space programs known, highly advanced. They hate Vulcans."
"Now you've got it, remember they hate Vulcans. Now that that is settled, what do we do now?"
"We come up with our own proposal and recommendations, Jonathan. Starting with this ridiculous list of Ral's. Shall we put together our own draft?"
"I'd love to, first, he knows you would never agree to a lock-in, not even a one-on-one. He's trying to rattle your cage."
"Rattle my what?"
"Rattle your cage, you know, put you on the defensive, like you said, he's trying to dictate the terms, run the show."
"I agree. All right let's see what we have to work with. I have no problem with the table, but put down, one rectangular table. He stipulates a staff of three. Put us down for a staff of three.
"Wait, I want to know who his other delegates are and if, well you know, if I personally know them." T'Pol's eyes fell and she concentrated on the floor.
"God, T'Pol, I don't know how we're going to get through this. What if….?"
T'Pol put her fingers to his lips before he could finish the sentence. "You won't let them undermine my confidence."
Jonathan kissed her palm, "They won't, I promise." For some reason, T'Pol found that comforting.
"I would like the first round each morning to go from 0800 hours to 1200 hours. Break for two hours for nourishment and rest, we will need a resting chamber. We can talk to Shran; I believe he has already mentioned chambers off of the conference room. Jonathan, put down that this is not negotiable. I will need the time to rest. I would like for the afternoon session to go from 1400 hours to 1800 hours.
"We will return to Enterprise each evening, that is not negotiable, either. We can agree to one social gathering, should Shran desire to host something for all delegates."
"T'Pol, what if he keeps insisting on a one-on-one meeting?" "I have not intentions of talking with Ral alone."
"Well, do we have a plan? This is pretty basic, don't you think?" "Yes, but he hasn't been exactly forthcoming, has he. We can play the game, too. We will wait to see what else he throws out. They want something, Jonathan, otherwise why even come to the Federation?"
"Shall I forward this to Starfleet, have them go over it, clean it up, before we get there?"
"Yes, send it to my office. I feel much better now, perhaps there is still time for us to take a nap."
"I can't think of anything I'd rather do with you my Sweet, but we have just enough time for me to shower and get ready before our transportation arrives. You had better get dressed. I'll forward this to Starfleet and jump in the shower."
From the bedroom, T'Pol heard the alert from the Telecom go off. She finished dressing as she moved into the dining area where the Telecom was setting on the counter. "Yes."
"Ambassador, you have a confidential communiqué coming in from Andoria."
"Please put it through." On the screen in bold print was a message from Ral.
AMBASSADOR T'POL
WE NEED YOUR HELP. YOU OWE ME, T'POL.
I WANT TO TALK TO YOU ALONE, IT IS ABSOLUTELY IMPERATIVE THAT WE MEET BEFORE THE PROCEEDINGS BEGIN. THERE ARE SPIES IN MY DELEGATION. I MAY HAVE ONLY ONE OPPORTUNITY TO TALK WITH YOU.
DO YOU REMEMBER MY FOREMAN, WHITOCK? HE IS HERE; I HAVE SEEN HIM AND TWO OF HIS FRIENDS. I AM AFRAID YOU ALSO KNOW HIS FRIENDS.
THEY ARE VERY DANGEROUS, T'POL, AND ARE BEHIND THE THREATS AGAINST YOU. FOR YOUR INFORMATION, I LOST TRACK OF THEM TODAY.
WHITOCK IS ESPECIALLY DANGEROUS, AS YOU ALREADY KNOW. HE STILL HAS AN UNUSUAL TASTE FOR PAIN AND IT HAS ONLY INCREASED SINCE HIS ENCOUNTER WITH YOU. HIS APPETITE IS INSATIABLE. MANY OF OUR WOMEN HAVE DISAPPEARED. HE IS QUITE MAD AS YOU KNOW.
THE PRIME MINISTER WILL BE HERE TO SIGN THE AGREEMENT WHEN IT IS FINISHED. WHITOCK'S EYES ARE ON THE PRIME MINISTER'S OFFICE AND HE IS WILLING TO ASSASSINATE HIM IN ORDER TO GET WHAT HE WANTS.
I BELIEVE YOU SOMEHOW FIT INTO WHITOCK'S PLANS, HOW, I DO NOT KNOW YET. I AM FORWARDING PICTURES OF WHITOCK AND HIS TWO FRIENDS. PLEASE SEE THAT YOUR SECURITY DEPARTMENT GETS THEM IMMEDIATELY. IT WOULD BE WISE TO GIVE THEM TO YOUR PEOPLE THERE ON EARTH AS WELL AS SHRAN. I HAVE LOST TRACK OF HIM; HE COULD BE ANYWHERE.
I WILL CONTACT YOU TONIGHT; PLEASE DO NOT AVOID ME, T'POL. IT COULD BE COSTLY FOR BOTH OF OUR PEOPLES.
AMBASSADOR RAL
T'Pol watched the screen as the pictures scrolled past. One jumped out at her filling the entire screen. Her throat knotted up, she couldn't breathe. Darkness ensued.
"T'Pol, oh God, T'Pol can you hear me."
"No, please, no more," she whispered. T'Pol could feel the bile coming up in her throat and the light was too bright; she couldn't open her eyes.
He was holding her down; she tried to push him away. "No," she screamed, blindly lashing out with her hands. His grip was too powerful; he held her head still like a vice. She gasped as his mind locked onto hers. She cried out but then a calm began to fall over her, the terror washing away. Now the smell was clean and comforting, even familiar. It was no longer sour and she was no longer wet and cold. But she was in pain.
"T'Pol it's me, Jonathan. You're safe now, your home. Open your eyes, see you're in your kitchen."
Looking around, T'Pol studied everything closely, than she became aware that Jonathan was on his knees and he was holding her. Pushing away from him she tried to sit up. "I'm bleeding on your shirt, Jonathan. What happened?"
"I was hoping you could tell me, Sweetheart." His hand was gentle as he caressed her face, massaging her temple. T'Pol began stroking his arm trying to reassure him that she was fine. "I felt your distress, than you screamed, T'Pol. By the time I got in here you were laying on the floor right here, in a pool of blood."
"Have I hurt myself?" T'Pol immediately surveyed her extremities.
"Yes, I would say so, you're going to need stitches in your forehead. You might have a concussion from the way your eyes are reacting to the light."
"I was reading the communiqué that came in for me." T'Pol tried to focus on the screen. "Jonathan, a message came in from Andoria while you were in the shower. I had it put through; it was a message from Ral." The contents evaded her. Looking around she tried to remember what she had just been thinking. "I'm sorry, I don't seem to be able to remember anything."
"That's alright Sweetheart, it looks like he attached some pictures to the end of the message. You were looking at them, do you remember anything about them?" "No, perhaps I should see them, Jonathan."
"Let's just wait, you cracked your forehead pretty hard. You must have fainted. I think we'll wait until after Starfleet Medical has a look at you. Our ride is due in a few minutes" Looking down, he said, "I'll run and change my shirt. Don't you dare move; I'll be right back."
"Do I look alright?" T'Pol was still unsettled.
"Well, this cloth has kept you from bleeding all over yourself and I don't see any on the front of your robe. We'll wash as much of the blood off your face as we can then I think you'll pass. I'll be right back, promise me you'll stay put."
"You need not worry Jonathan, I don't think I want to try to get up yet. But could you hand me a clean towel, I seem to have bled considerably for a superficial head wound." She looked at the towel that had been covering her injury. "Perhaps you should forward that message to my office; we can have a closer look at it when we finish at Starfleet Medical."
"Consider it done, okay if I go in and change now?"
"Yes, but hurry." She was suddenly aware that the floor was extremely uncomfortable.
TBC