What a fan fic writer needs is a good disclaimer, one that says she doesn't own Star Trek, any of the canon characters, nor does she make any profit from her writings. That's still the secret to not getting sued!
Secrets IV
Admiral Pike and Selek presented the proposed starbase site to the full Council of Elders. They approved it and the building plans that Pike submitted. (Starfleet used a standard starbase plan, seldom deviating from the pattern. This saved months in a project's planning phase.) Not only would the Vulcans receive improved planetary defense, but also derive great benefits from the solar power plants, water treatment and snitation systems, and mass transit that would all be built at Federation expense.
Many jobs would be created and new businesses would open, increasing the incentives for Vulcans on other worlds to relocate.
Jim lingered over his breakfast at the Inn, scrambled eggs, oatmeal, Vulcan biscuits, and the best cup of coffee he had enjoyed in months. T'Mardis was going to be very busy once the new base was built. She refilled his cup herself, and set a second one down on the table next to him.
Bones had finally emerged from his room, his neck covered in bite marks and a stupid grin on his face. He sat down next to Jim and drank his coffee.
"Well?"
"Well what?"
"Um, how was your date?"
"She said that what I lacked in stamina was more than made up for by my enthusiasm."
Sarek and Spock had talked late into the night. Sarek wanted to make certain his son knew just how proud he was of him. There were too many things he had never told Amanda, or had not told her often enough. He would not make that mistake with his son. Spock had been somewhat embarrassed, claiming that he had only done his duty.
"Perhaps, my son, but your choices put you in the right place at the right time. Now, tell me of this nighttime ritual, unless it is something best left to bond-mates alone."
Sarek already knew way too much about his son's sex life, thanks to a window left open on his wedding night. Nyota did not lack for physical affection!
"No, Father, it is nothing like that. Every night, since I learned of his conception, I have placed my hand on Nyota's abdomen and "talked" with my son, assuring that him that he is very much wanted and encouraging him to live and grow. I tell him many of the things that you have just told me."
"Your mother would have said that "the apple doesn't fall very far from the tree." I used to speak to you in such a manner before you were born."
T'Sela had risen early and started cooking up a storm. There was poached globefruit, one of Sarek's favorites, flat bread, and a vegetable casserole somewhat resembling a quiche. She had not given birth to Spock, but she could not be any prouder of him if she had. And so, she demonstrated a mother's affection in the time-honored way, stuffing him until he could not move!
Lt. Le Roy Pennington, the Pasteur's Chief of Security, volunteered to accompany Shirela, T'Luris, and T'Vora to the Vulcan Immigration Ministry Office on Starbase 7. It was located in the mall next to the Starfleet Personnel Support Detachment, where he had business.
Yeoman Sbioski had downloaded all the necessary forms for the Immigration Ministry to PADDs and helped the women fill them out. He gave them bottled water and ration bars. They were as prepared for their adventure in bureaucracy as they could possibly be.
Petty Officer Johnson Knowles hated his job. All day long he dealt with irate Starfleet personnel, clearing up incorrect, incomplete, or missing data in their personnel files. Ninety percent of the time, the service member in question had made an error when submitting a form. Ninety-nine percent of the time, they blamed Starfleet Data Processing, and since Knowles was the local embodiment of that department, they yelled at him.
He had not joined Starfleet to be a "paper-pusher." He joined to fight the Klingons and Romulans. Knowles felt certain he'd never meet any in the Personnel Support Detachment Office.
Tolvin was also not very fond of his job. Once he had been a student of archeology at the Vulcan Cultural Institute. He had been visiting Egypt at the time of the Genocide. New Vulcan currently had no need of archeologists, as there were no ruins to investigate. He had been assigned to the Immigration Ministry Office on Starbase 7 because of his skills as a linguist. Some of the immigrants he processed spoke little Vulcan, while others were hardly even literate.
As far as Tolvin was concerned, the only good thing to come from his employment was his lovely bond-mate Resha, an immigrant from Melenia V.
Jack and Lewis had gotten their newly expanded family as far as Starbase 7, where they would have to wait two days for the next transport to San Francisco.
Thanks to constant feedings and the nutrioan supplements Bones had give him, baby Karl had been growing by leaps and bounds, and could hardly fit into any of his clothes. Fortunately, Starbase 7 had a Nebula Galactic store, so they decided to take the whole family shopping. They rented a motorized chair for Chernal and a stroller for Karl and loaded a PADD with a list of at least thirty items.
Even though the Pasteur had increased her speed, Vilas and Hurev managed to keep track of the women. When the two spies arrived at Starbase 7, they claimed to be immigrant Vulcan traders from the Rigel system. They had been born in space and their births had never been registered.
Starbase security heard similar stories all the time, so they allowed them to land their small ship and proceed to the New Vulcan Immigration Ministry.
As she gave them directions to their desired destination, the Security officer noted their strange attire. She thought to herself "Either those boys are down on their luck and had to sell their clothes, or they just have no fashion sense! The boots are nice, though."
The three Vulcan women were sitting on a bench outside the Immigration Ministry Office. Le Roy had gotten them there safe and sound, and registered them with the clerk, who assigned them numbers. She explained that the numbers would be announced over a public address system and also displayed on a screen over the door to the office. They had been issued numbers 87, 88, and 89.
As they sat down, a mechanical voice announced "New Vulcan Immigration Ministry now serving number 12." It was going to be a long wait.
After a few moments, a cheerful Human woman in a red smock came to give them "Welcome" packages.
"I'm sorry ladies, but I seem to be out of the adult packettes. I hope you don't mind the kiddie version."
Shirela loooked at her sisters and then back at the woman. Who would dare complain about a freely offered gift?
"We do not mind at all. Anything you might give us is more than what we had. Thank you."
"You are most welcome. Good luck with Immigration and your new life."
As the woman moved on to the next group of immigrants, T'Luris spotted Vilas and Hurev. Vilas gave them a wicked grin. The spies had not been detected, as the women had hoped would happen.
Shirela touched the hands of her two friends.
"Be on the lookout for an opportunity."
T'Vora had been studying the contents of the "Welcome" packette, as some of the items were unfamiliar to her. Inside a re-closable bag she found a juice box, granola bar, two packaged wetwipes, bandage strips imprinted with carton animals, crayons and a coloring book, and a coupon for a free boxed meal at a restaurant nearby. She watched to see what the other people who were waiting did with them. As each item's function became apparent, T'Vora devised a plan.
She touched T'Luris' hand, communicating what she intended to do.
"T'Luris, may I borrow your hairbroach?"
"Certainly."
T'Luris removed the ornament from her up-do, careful not to injure herself with the sharp points. She handed it to T'Vora, who headed to the ladies' restroom.
Once inside, she sat down in a stall and locked the door. She removed the heavy metal bracelet from her wrist and used one of the wetwipe to disinfect her arm, and the points of the hairbroach. She carefully cut into her skin and removed the transponder, wrapped it in tissue and placed it in the re-closable bag that the "Welcome" packette had come in. She held pressure on the wound until the bleeding stopped and coveded it with one of the bandage strips, then put her bracelet back on.
She left the stall, cleaned herself and T'Luris' hairbroach up and returned to the bench.
"I have changed my mind. It looks better on you."
A private security firm called O'Neal's had just brought in several more immigrant families. The waiting area of the mall was getting quite crowded. Perhaps the women would get their escape opportunity soon.
Rhurin had just arrived with his three sisters. His father had entrusted him with the task of delivering them safely to their bond-mates awaiting them on New Vulcan. Rhurin hoped to find a mate for himself. The burly farmer sat down on a bench in the waiting area, somewhat annoyed at the slow pace of the Immigration Ministry's processing procedure. He was number 169.
"New Vulcan Immigration Ministry now serving number 49." It was going to be a long wait.
Rhurin studied the curious package the woman in the red smock had given him. He would study the others who were waiting. Perhaps he might deduce the purpose of some of the items.
As he looked up, he locked eyes with the most attractive female he had ever seen in his life. She was wearing some type of ornament in her hair.
T'Luris was the only one of the three who could read and write Vulcan. None of the women were literate in Federation Standard. T'Luris used her crayons to write a message to the large and handsome male who sat across from her.
She held up the paper in his field of view and quickly lowered it again. "Help me" was all that it said. That was enough. Rhurin was at her side in an instant.
T'Luris did not speak, but continued writing.
"My friends and I are under surveillance by Romulan spies. You and I must look as though we have just struck up a casual acquaintance."
"Greetings, my name is Rhurin. Are you seeking to immigrate to New Vulcan?"
"I am T'Luris. Yes, that is my desire."
Vilas was now glaring at the pair.
The two in heavy black boots by the restrooms. You must return to your seat, for they watch us. We await an opportunity to escape. Please be ready.
"Perhapswe may get to know eachbetteron the planet."
"I would like that."
Rhurin went back to his bench, satisfied that at least his wait would not be boring.
Lt. Le Roy Pennington was doing his best not to shout at Petty Officer Knowles. Pennington was the sole support for his 106 year-old grandmother. He had dutifly, accurately, and completely filled out all the necessary forms to have her declared a dependent and entitled to all the benefits thereof.
However, for some reason Starfleet kept denying payment for her doctor bills and prescription meds. He could not afford to pay for these nor should he have to. Pennington had been trying to get satisfaction from Knowles for over an hour.
Finally Knowles convinced him to take a seat. He could research the problem more efficiently without Pennington looking over his shoulder.
Nebula Galactic had been very crowded. Jack and Lewis forgot that it was the first of the month, the day Starfleet personnel got paid. Corazon was a loyal N.G. shopper all of her life, having raised eight children. She could get lost in there for hours.
Sonrisa loved the shoe department. She owned twelve pairs of sneakers in different colors and was always on the lookout for a new pair. Jack and Lewis had trouble telling her "no, " especially when they remembered that for a long time she had been unable to walk.
Chernal had not been in a retail establishment of any kind in over a century, so she found the whole experience fascinating and exciting. She and Corazon bought three new outfits each.
Baby Karl was just along for the ride, happy as could be as long as someone kept feeding him animal crackers.
After having spent three hours shopping and forty-five minutes in line, they finally left the store with over 100 items, including two new duffels to put it all in. Exhausted from it all, they sat on a bench in the mall atrium, close to the restrooms and the waiting area for the Vulcan Immigration Ministry.
They had no sooner sat down, when Sonrisa tugged at Corazon's sleeve.
"Abuela, I have to make pee-pee."
"Okay, mija, let's go."
Sighing, Corazon stood up and took her granddaughter to the restroom.
Satisfied that the three women were behaving themselves, Vilas allowed Hurev to go get something to eat from the food court. Hurev had been intrigued by the corn dogs he'd seen some Starfleet personnel eating earlier.
He used the coupons that were in their "Welcome" packages to get a pair of corn dog "kiddie meals."
While he was away, T'Vora seized her opportunity. She left the bag with the transponder on the bench with her friends and slipped into the restroom. She waited a few moments, and then peeked out the door. Vilas was distracted. T'Vora darted into the Starfleet Personnel Support Detachment Office and found Lt. Pennington.
She showed him the site on her arm where she had removed the transponder and told him the story of Orinar and the two spies.
A minute later, Starbase 7 went into Security Condition Red. The base was on lockdown, so no one could get in or out. Petty Officer Knowles was ordered to shut down his office and don his sidearm.
Dozens of Starfleet security personnel dressed in civilian clothes were discretely dispatched to the mall atrium.
Hurev hurried back to Vilas with their lunches. There was now a big crowd in the atrium, so they couldn't see the three Vulcan women, but the portable scanner showed the transponders to be all together in one spot. Good. They could relax a bit and eat their lunch.
Lt. Pennington was scanning the crowd. The place was just loaded with pointed-earred men in peasant clothing. Petty Officer Knowles was on the lookout, too. He noticed something out of place.
"Hey, Lieutenant, there's something you don't see every day, over by the restrooms. Vulcans are vegetarians, right? Well those two guys in the fancy black boots are eating meat popsicles."
"Nice catch. Those boots look an awful lot like military issue. We might want to detain those two."
Pennington pulled the security chief aside and indicated to him the two suspicious looking "Vulcans." Security was preparing to make their move when all hell broke loose.
Corazon and Sonrisa were exiting the ladies room when the little girl recognized a familiar and unpleasant face. Vilas was leaning against the wall sipping his drink.
"You killed my father!" she screamed in Romulan at the top of her lungs.
Vilas and Hurev froze momentarily. They recognized Sonrisa, too, and prepared to make an escape.
Shirela seized her opportunity and used her poisoned stiletto pendant to stab Hurev in the leg. This slowed him down enough for Rhurin to tackle him to the floor and sit on him.
Chernal was afraid that Vilas would get away, so she lunged at him with her motorized chair. She pinned him against the wall and started beating him with her cane.
Pennington and the Starbase 7 security chief ran over to stop her. The security chief grabbed the now bloodied cane out of her hand.
"Ma'am, we can take it from here."
"But this bastard is still alive! He killed my granddaughter and her husband, seriously injured their child, and left her for dead."
"Then he deserves to have his suffering prolonged."
Chernal considered this for a moment and then backed her chair away from the wall. Vilas fell to the floor unconcious.
"New Vulcan Immigration Ministry now serving number 87."
Shirela's number had finally come up.
TBC