Rating: NC-17 Again for sex, drug and alcohol use and a brother with a creepy fixation on his sister, its all about the characters.
Archer entered the bridge and sat down in his chair. He had just received an alarming report about a new minefield that appeared around a small, uninhabited system in the vast no man's land between Romulan Space and that claimed by the new alliance. This no man's land was shaping up to be the major front in the upcoming conflict.
"You have the coordinates, Travis," he said grimly, "Take us there."
"Yes, sir," said Travis.
"T'Pol," said Archer, "Join me in the ready room."
T'Pol nodded and followed her captain, where he sat down at his desk.
"I just received this report," said Archer, "That another one of those cloaked minefields has appeared. A tellarite freighter happened upon it two days ago, all hands were lost."
T'Pol said nothing. It wasn't a surprise that this kind of incident had occurred. If anything, it was a surprise how few of them had occurred.
"Our orders are to gather any intelligence as to why the Romulans would stake their claim on this particular system. There's got to be something there they want. And it's in our best interest to know what that is, whatever it is."
T'Pol nodded. After their first encounter with a cloaked Romulan minefield, they had learned to modify their sensors to detect the cloaked mines.
"We'll take whatever scans we can from Enterprise, but a team will probably need take a shuttle down to the surface to investigate whatever we find. I'll put you in charge of that."
T'Pol nodded again.
"The sensors in Shuttlepod Two have already been modified to detect the mines. But you'll need to take Travis along to navigate around them. As for the rest of your team, we'll see when we get there."
T'Pol nodded yet again, hands behind her back. Archer paused. He hated getting personal with his crew, but he needed to know if she was okay.
"How are you? I haven't really spoken to you about what happened since the debriefing."
T'Pol tilted her head to the side a little bit.
"I'm fine, Captain."
Damn, Vulcans, he thought. I don't know how Trip does it. He supposed he and T'Pol must communicate with each other in some way or another.
"Glad to hear it," said Archer, "I just want you to know that the information you have provided has been invaluable. And I am sure that you will be of great assistance in the upcoming crisis. As you always have been," he said.
"Thank you, captain," said T'Pol, hating the fact that the captain felt the need to verbalize this sentiment.
****
Trip and Malcolm were together in the armory, working diligently on adding more power to the various weapons they might need. If they encountered anything other than mines, they would have to be ready. If that were possible, which Malcolm doubted.
"Hopefully," he said, "This is just a precaution."
"You don't believe that anymore than I do," said Trip. Both of them knew a confrontation was inevitable.
"Well," said Malcolm evenly, "Let's just say I hope the confrontation comes later rather than sooner. The more time we have to upgrade, the better."
Trip examined the console he was working on. He had added several conduits in order to amplify the power.
"I can't argue with you there," he said.
"How's married life?" asked Malcolm, looking to change to the subject.
"Good," said Trip, "Great. . .actually. It's kind of a miracle considering everything that's happened. . "
Malcolm nodded.
"How's T'Pol? She seems the same as always to me. Cool as ice. Professional, but I imagine you're privy to cracks in that armor."
Trip didn't say anything, he just shot Malcolm a look.
"I'm not trying to butt in," said Malcolm, "But I am worried for her. I would imagine the Captain is, too. I just want to make sure you're taking care of her."
Trip started to look annoyed, and he remained quiet.
"I know you love her," said Malcolm graciously, "all I"m saying is. . .hell, I don't know what I'm saying. It's just that we need her on this mission. And the last thing I want is . . ."
"For the boys at Section 31 to have their worst fears confirmed?"
Malcolm returned to his work.
"If you want to put it that way. . ." said Malcolm.
Trip's face relaxed a bit. He knew Malcolm was just concerned, and he was in their corner. T'Pol didn't have any family left, at least on Vulcan. And he was now estranged from his. The Captain, Malcolm and the rest of the crew were now their family.
"I appreciate the concern, Malcolm," said Trip, "and while T'Pol is shaken up, she'll be fine. I'm in a position to know."
Something in Trip's words gave Malcolm pause. He's heard his friend say a few things like that before, since returning from Vulcan. Malcolm didn't know much about Vulcan marriage practices, but he guessed that that steely Vulcan reserve might not be as constant as they let everyone believe. But he knew better than to pry.
"I believe you. And if there's anything I can do to help either of you," said Malcolm, "let me know."
Trip nodded. Section 31 or not, he was glad to have a friend in Malcolm.
****
Ston paced on the bridge of a cargo ship, one that had been designed and built to completely resemble an older Vulcan freighter. It was a perfect disguise. Maleek had seen to it that they all got Vulcan-style clothes and haircuts. That way, any out-worlders they happened to encounter would simply believe them to be Vulcan.
Ston played with his hair a bit and smiled to himself. It wouldn't be easy, masquerading as a Vulcan, especially since he had never met one. He had only read reports of how they never laughed or smiled or showed any emotion. This was something he could not understand, and he felt very bad for his sister having been raised that way.
"When will we arrive?" he said impatiently to Maleek, who rolled his eyes.
The harbor master at the outpost they had recently stopped at had told them of a system that had been recently annexed by the empire. This action had drawn the attention of the alliance and a ship was allegedly on its way to investigate. The harbor master did not know if it was an Earth ship or not. But Stron had an instinct, a gut feeling that this was the place he would find what he was looking for.
"It's going to be days," snapped Maleek.
Stron nodded.
"Then I'll be in my quarters," he said, sighing deeply.
Once there, Ston continued to pace. He was nervous, didn't know what he would do. He didn't want to frighten or overwhelm his sister. In fact, he had resolved that he might have to take a subtle approach in meeting her. He looked in the mirror and did his best to effect a cool, Vulcan-like demeanor. He would show no emotion in his face. That worked for about two minutes before a sly grin appeared. But in the moment, when he needed to, Ston was certain he could keep his cool.
Ston had decided it was unlikely that his Vulcan sister would accept a long-lost Romulan brother right away. But he thought she might want to make a new Vulcan friend, seeing that she was so far from home.
****
Trip arrived home to find T'Pol seated in front of a candle, eyes-closed, meditating. She didn't even open her eyes, though he knew she knew he was there. He tiptoed around her and into the bedroom where he quietly undressed. He was glad she had found the time to go into a deep meditative state. While she was in that state, the bond was very vague, but he could still feel serenity emanating from her mind.
And he needed the serenity. All the preparations for the upcoming mission were taxing him and his crew. It wasn't as though they hadn't been through worse, but the Romulans were menacing enough to make everyone a little jumpy.
Trip shed his uniform, carefully placing it in the laundry. The mere idea that he would leave in on the floor might snap T'Pol out of her bliss. Vulcans were neatniks, he had learned. Now and then he left the pillows on the bed disorderly just to see how long it would take for her to straighten them, which she often did without thinking.
What he needed was a nice, long shower. He went turned on the hot water on. Soon, the small room filled with steam, and the water cleansed away the dust, sweat and grime from engineering.
In his mind, he felt the serenity gently dissipate. She had finished her meditation.
Care to join me?
A few moments later, he looked up to see her standing in the bathroom door. She slowly unbuttoned her top and hung it on the hook behind the door. She slipped out of her pajama pants and hung those up as well, but she made no move toward the shower. She just stood there.
Trip grinned at her. He lifted a finger and crooked it at her, knowing fully how illogical it was for her to get under the water again since she showered earlier. But she was going to have to humor him. And he fully intended for her to get wet in more ways than one.
She raised an eyebrow and finally approached him. He made room for her next to him and gently pulled her under the water with him. Looking into her eyes, he placed his hands on her hips and and began slowly caressing her now wet form. She reached up and placed her arms around his neck.
"I missed seeing you today," he said, "I can usually count on seeing you once or twice during the day."
She reached up and brushed her lips against his his, very gently.
"We were very busy on the bridge," she replied softly, "But I was surprised to not see you. You usually make an appearance there at least once a day."
She looked down and noticed he had become aroused. She stood on her tiptoes and pressed again him so she could feel his hardness against her stomach. He kissed her deeply, twirling his tongue with hers. His hands moved up to her breasts, his thumbs tweaking her nipples.
He broke the kiss for a moment, giving her another devilish look. Since she was in a mood amenable to illogical activities, he had a few others in mind. She flushed a bit green, but she began slowly depositing kisses down his neck and to his chest. She brushed his nipples with her hand but continued lower to his stomach and then even lower. Her fingers grasped his shaft and she kissed the top, very lightly before taking it into her mouth.
Trip groaned loudly as he leaned back against the shower wall. T'Pol continued to suck on him with Vulcan precision and concentration, paying no mind to the fact that she was being doused with water. He wondered briefly how she was breathing as his fingers curled into her wet hair.
Finally, she sensed he couldn't take much more. So, she raised her head and dotted kisses along his chest as his arms wrapped around her. She reached up and turned off the water. In response, he led her into the bedroom. Not bothering to dry off, they both laid down on the bed. He looked in her eyes and saw anticipation there.
He continued to gaze at her as his hand slid up her thigh and between her legs. She was already deeply aroused and wet, so he gently slipped a finger inside her. She closed her eyes in response. He slipped another finger inside her and she moaned. He smiled and slid down her body, careful not to removed his fingers as he did so. He gently spread her legs wider and began to move his fingers. He leaned down and pressed his tongue on to her exposed nub, applying pressure in the same rhythm his fingers were using. Her fingers curled into the bedspread and then she grabbed a pillow to muffle the sound of her cries. He felt her quivering and knew it wouldn't be long. He felt her flesh contract and her body rock with pleasure as she cried out into the pillow. He gently removed his fingers and crawled up next to her.
After a few moments, her eyes opened, and she gave him a look of pure, unadulterated lust. She pushed him down against the pillows and kissed him. He met the kiss back, aggressively pushing his tongue inside her mouth and guiding her body to a place where he could slip his hardness inside her, groaning as he did so.
She waited a few moments before beginning to move, gazing down into his eyes. She took his hand, the one that had given her so much pleasure earlier and kissed it. He caressed her cheek.
"I love you," he whispered.
She started to move, quicker and quicker. He followed her movements with his hips until finally he released himself inside her. As he did so, she felt what he felt, and she shivered into her own climax.
After a few moments, he carefully lifted her off him and placed her next to him. She had recovered, too, and her face was serene. But there was a glint in her eyes, and he felt something akin to joy inside her. It was a Vulcan kind of joy, but it filled him with a peculiar but satisfying feeling of accomplishment.
He sat up a little and pulled her into his arms. Vulcans didn't cuddle, and he knew she was still getting used to this kind of affection. It wasn't that she didn't like it, he knew she did, but it still felt foreign to her. She rested her head on his shoulder, and they both felt the bond energy ignite between them.
"You know," said Trip, "It feels good to be back on a mission again. I know things are likely gonna get rough, but when we're just floating around doing diplomatic errands for Earth - it just doesn't give me the same sense of purpose."
He felt her puzzlement through the bond. Pillow talk was another adjustment for her. Inwardly, Trip was amused. He'd had to make plenty of adjustments, too. These included avoiding expressing any physical affection for her in public and having a wife that could sense what he was feeling. Really sense what he was feeling. But they were working out their differences.
Sometimes, he would let her be very Vulcan, and they would use their hands and fingers to show affection. Other times, she would submit to his very human desire to hold and touch her more fully, just like she was doing now. He did thank his lucky stars that she hadn't just adjusted to human mating practices but had come to completely enjoy them. And thanks to the bond, there was no faking that.
"I have always found my service aboard Enterprise to be most gratifying when the mission is - relevant," she replied.
Trip sighed.
"Me too, I guess. Though sometimes I long for the days of the first year we were out here. You know, when there was a new adventure around every corner."
T'Pol raised an eyebrow, amused.
"You mean when there was a new disaster around every corner," she teased flatly.
Trip playfully nipped at her shoulder.
"Back when you couldn't stand me. When a day wasn't complete when I didn't get on your nerves. . ."
She raised her eyebrow again. He started to sense something from her. It was like an admission of guilt but better. He grinned and then laughed.
"Well, now, I always kinda thought you enjoyed our little arguments. I didn't realize how much," he said.
"I had never experienced simultaneous annoyance and pleasure. It was fascinating."
"And attraction. You were attracted to me - even then."
"I had never been attracted. . ." she said carefully, "And didn't recognize the feeling until later. But you are in no position to judge me, Commander."
"I'm certainly not," he said, "I thought about what it would be like to kiss you the first time we were in decon together. I was so pissed off and that thought made me even more pissed off. I couldn't believe that such an uptight, snippy Vulcan could be so beautiful."
"Well," she replied, "I'm glad you were able to control yourself. It would have been awkward. I wasn't yet ready to receive your affection."
"Well," he said, "I barely admitted it to myself. Wouldn't even admit it to Malcolm when we were trapped in the Shuttlepod. He was going on about how pretty he thought you were. . ."
T'Pol raised her head, and Trip laughed out loud. He so rarely got a chance to surprise her.
"Don't tell him I told you that. He only admitted it because he thought he was dying. . .really, I know you won't, but you know Malcolm, he's so reserved."
T'Pol realized there was more to this story. She looked at Trip, but he suppressed what he was thinking so she couldn't get at it. This was good practice, he thought, in case I have to hide something really embarrassing from her.
"He specifically said you have a nice ass," said Trip, "And I can't say he was wrong about that. Oh, and he used the more British term. .bum."
Trip reached down and squeezed T'Pol's bum for emphasis.
"Don't tell him," pleaded Trip, "He'll be mortified."
"I can't imagine it ever coming up in conversation," she replied cooly.
Trip leaned down and kissed her on the lips.
"Back then, I never would have dreamed this. . .this thing between us would have gone anywhere. I'm one lucky guy," he said.
Suddenly, he sensed a change in her mood. His words had triggered memories of all the pain she had caused him - and of Elizabeth.
"I am a lucky guy," he whispered, "and you know I mean that. And I know you're sorry - and I'm sorry, too. But it's water under the bridge. Come on - let's get ready to sleep. You kinda exhausted me."
She nodded, feeling peaceful again. She felt as lucky as he did, if not more so.
****
The next evening, Trip and T'Pol dined with Captain Archer in his private mess. He served wine, which T'Pol decided to drink. Archer looked at the two of them, marveling at how professional they seemed. If he hadn't known better, he would think they were still just colleagues. Maybe that was why it took him so long to get a clue about their relationship when it had first started.
Still, he was grateful that they seemed to be able to work together without letting their personal relationship interfere with the day to day operations of the ship. Starfleet had originally balked at the idea of letting a married couple serve together, but Archer had argued that if grown adults were going to be serving in deep space for years on end, marriages were going to happen. In fact, Archer was surprised more of his crew hadn't paired off. He knew of a few couples, but Trip and T'Pol were the first to marry. That was probably because Vulcan's mate for life, thought Archer, looking at Trip with a twinge of jealousy. Archer had long since let go of his crush on T'Pol, and he didn't envy Trip all the pain and angst the pair had been through, but they did seem happy. He thought of Erika, who was light years away on the Columbia and hoped that their paths would cross again soon.
"How's the wine?" he asked T'Pol, "It's from the Sonoma Valley."
"I'm not enough of an experienced drinker to judge properly," she replied, "But I find it agreeable."
Trip sipped on his own glass and winked at her. It was the first sign of affection between them that Archer had observed. The wine might be getting to them, he thought.
"I think its an excellent vintage, Captain," said Trip.
"Glad you think so," said Archer, "Now, I hadn't planned on talking business tonight. but I got a report that concerns the mission. You two sober enough to talk business?"
Both his officers nodded.
"I'm just barely sober enough," said Archer as he poured himself another generous glass. Then, he poured Trip and T'Pol each a glass.
Trip took a sip of his, and T'Pol soon followed but with a smaller sip.
"There's a space station not far from our destination. Vulcan intelligence has an agent planted there. The latest briefing is that there is some kind of terra forming operation happening at this new Romulan outpost. The Romulans may be using surrogates at this station to help equip themselves. We're going to stop there first, see if we can get any information. It sure would be helpful if we knew what they were looking for before we arrived."
T'Pol stared down into her glass of wine, not meeting the captain's eyes.
"As you know, Romulan terra-forming technology appears very advanced. We saw some evidence of highly sophisticated atmospheric processing," she said.
"Technology that had been in use for years," added Trip, "That place we were at - it wasn't new. There was evidence of wear and tear, decades of it."
"Well," said Archer, "I'm going to need both of you to be on the away team. You two haven't let your relationship interfere with your work on the ship, but you don't often work in the same space. An away mission is different. T'Pol will be in charge. Can both of you handle it?"
Trip and T'Pol looked at one another.
"Yes, Captain."
"I can if she can," said Trip.
"Good," said Archer, "Starfleet wants me to keep an eye on how you two work together, on top of everything else I have to deal with. I'd rather keep those reports short and uninteresting. . . .I don't want to be responsible for a new rule preventing newlyweds from serving together."
"Neither do we," said Trip.
****
Ston sat across the table from a real Vulcan, one he had only met days before. The Vulcan was stoic, as expected, and his dress quite fine for such a rough section of no man's land. But Ston looked at the burn marks up and down the man's arm and knew that the infamous Vulcan control had failed the man. Stron sniggered to himself. He knew all of that logic and control had to be a myth. If they were Romulans, as was assumed, that had to be all a lie. This man proved that.
"Did you send the report? Just like I asked," asked Ston eagerly.
The intelligence officer gave Ston a deadly look. Filled with emotion, thought Ston. Typical of a junky.
"Good," said Ston, "Then I'll have the rest of your supply transported to your quarters. And just because I'm in a generous mood, I'll throw in a case of Romulan Ale."
The Vulcan nodded.
"Thank you . . .Ston."
"You're welcome. But you have to tell me if you hear which Earth vessel is being sent here to investigate. If you don't, well, kiss the third batch goodbye. And my friend Maleek provides the best, I promise you."
The Vulcan nodded.
"You'll have the information you want," he said smoothly.
"Good," said Ston, "And if it turns out its the ship with the Vulcan first officer. I'll double your payment."
The Vulcan nodded. Then, he got up from his seat and left the bar without looking back at Ston. Ston resisted the impulse to grin, since he was trying to pass for a Vulcan. Though the Vulcans around here were. . .well, it didn't matter.
He hailed a waitress. She was Andorian and wearing a hopelessly short skirt.
"Bring me something . . interesting," said Ston.
Her antennae twitched.
"To drink," huffed Ston.
