Disclaimer: Not mine. No profit made. This is all for fun.
Rating: R to NC-17 depending on your sensibilities.
Enterprise reached Hirku station, and Trip immediately saw The Columbia, which had been docked there for several days. The ship looked like hell, with huge black, twisted scars across her bow and one small part of the saucer section was missing all together.
"Captain Tucker to Captain Hernandez," said Trip, "Can we be of assistance?"
Erika Hernandez appeared on the viewscreen. She looked tired but otherwise unharmed.
"Yes," she said, "Our doctor died from injuries this morning. We've got medics treating the casualties, but I'd like to transport the five still-critical patients to Enterprise for treatment. We can use our shuttlepod."
"Understood. Ensign Sato, alert Phlox. Anything else?"
After delivering some orders to her crew, Hernandez nodded.
"We've got a laundry list of repairs. Our warp drive is off line, and Kelby is one of the critical wounded with plasma burns on one third of his body. The repair teams from the station have been helping us, but they are hardly familiar with Starfleet warp technology."
Trip nodded.
"I'll have Hess put together a team and sent them over. If need be, I'll come over myself."
Henandez smiled just a little, though there was still sadness in her eyes.
"Old habits dying hard, Captain?"
Trip sighed, and he glanced over at T'Pol.
"My first officer has standing orders to prevent me from doing my chief engineer's job."
"Speaking of your job," replied Hernandez, "My tactical officer has prepared a report on our encounter with the drone ships. I understand you and your tactical officer have some expertise in this area. We're going to put together some recommendations for the brass based on our experience. We appreciate you and Lt. Commander Reed's input."
"You and your tactical officer can join Reed and myself for dinner tonight, here on Enterprise. I'll wager you are sick of rations by now. How's 1900 hours?"
"We'll be there. Hernandez out."
Trip sighed. He knew exactly what the crew of The Columbia were going through, and he didn't envy them, but he was glad to be there to lend assistance.
****
Enme spun around in his quarters. He was wearing traditional Vulcan robes.
"How do I look, sister? Do you think I can pass for one of you?"
"Not if you keep smiling that way," replied T'Pol smoothly.
"Ah, but I'm a Vulcan without logic," said Enme, laughing bitterly at his own joke. As far as he was concerned — all Romulans were Vulcans without logic.
T'Pol looked at her brother. Since Malcolm had given them permission to visit Javon on the station, Enme had been in a good mood. It was the first real sign that he was starting to earn the trust of his new allies. Malcolm also felt that if Enme tried to escape, it would be a good gauge as to whether they could trust all the intelligence he had given them.
"It will also be highly suspicious that you don't speak Vulcan," said T'Pol, "though I believe your English is coming along nicely."
"The Terran language has been easy to pick up," said Enme, "not nearly so with Vulcan. But Hoshi says that Starfleet intelligence is working on a mini-universal translator that I could implant in my ear. It might solve my little Vulcan language problem."
T'Pol straightened her brother's robes. She was dressed in similar civilian clothes, all the better to blend into the Vulcan section of the station. They had arranged a meeting with Javon to learn if there was any word of Ravel reaching the station.
"Until you have that UT embedded," she said, "I suggest you keep contact with any Vulcans besides Javon and myself to a minimum."
Enme nodded.
"Ironic," he said, "I was offered a slot in intelligence training. I turned it down, believing I wouldn't have the knack for it. Who knew? Ravel speaks Vulcan fluently, as you know. She's been a cracking good agent — I think she'll have a far easier time adjusting that I will. Father told me that she actually liked living on Vulcan. She thought it was an adventure."
T'Pol sighed. There had been no word of Ravel at the station.
"When do we head off to the station?"
"Anytime you are ready, Tirak."
"I don't know how I'll get used to that," he said, "at least Ravel's name works in both languages. I wish mine did."
T'Pol's hands were behind her back, her face emotionless.
"My husband sometimes jokes I should adopt the name Polly while we are on Earth. I have objected to the notion even in jest."
Enme searched his sister's face for any sign of irony. He saw none but was unconvinced it wasn't there somewhere behind her eyes.
"Is that your way of saying you sympathize with my identity being ripped from me?"
T'Pol nodded, and she gestured toward the door.
"Shall we, brother?"
"Are you going to make me hold with the vegetarian thing?"
"You are V'tosh Ka'tur. They are not always vegetarians."
"Thank the gods for small favors."
****
When T'Pol and Enme arrived at the airlock, T'Pol found her captain there waiting for her. Trip knew she wasn't going to like what he had to say, but he was determined not to let her talk him out of the order he was about to give her.
"Is there something you need, Captain?"
Enme raised an eyebrow at his brother-in-law, but he said nothing.
"I need a word in private, Commander."
"Don't mind me," said Enme, "I'll just wait for you here. No worries that I'll dash off. I'm an exile not a prisoner."
Trip resisted the urge to roll his eyes at T'Pol's brother. The guy had a sense of humor, but that didn't mean Trip trusted him or had forgotten how dangerous he was.
T'Pol followed Trip into a nearby alcove. He reached up and almost put his hands on her shoulders, but he stopped short.
"He's no danger to me," she said, "not now."
"That doesn't mean it's safe on that station. The last time you were there you and Hoshi got snatched. I know you've added a jammer to your communicator that would prevent unauthorized transport — but who knows what else could happen? You need take Malcolm with you as a precaution. I've seen reports of a few — incidents — on the station since the alliance took over. It's not that I don't trust your skills. I just think it's better policy that you have backup."
T'Pol inhaled.
"My brother has reason to dislike Lt. Commander Reed."
"That's why I'm sending him, specifically."
"So this is an order?"
Trip nodded, and he dropped his hands at his side. He sensed that she was not pleased. She probably thought Malcolm would draw unnecessary attention, and he could tell that she didn't believe that there wasn't something personal behind his orders. But Trip was the captain, and she was going to have to accept his decision.
"I've already called Malcolm. He should be here momentarily. And remember. I want you and Malcolm back by this evening to be in on the dinner with Captain Hernandez."
"Yes, sir."
Trip resisted the urge to say something more, something that was personal, but instead he nodded and headed down the hallway.
***
T'Pol returned to her brother, and as she explained to him that Reed would be joining them, she kept her eyes on the floor. Enme had made a game of trying to decipher hints of emotion in his sister, and he saw more than hints at this moment. He couldn't resist needling her.
"So, you used to outrank him. Now he outranks you. How does that work?" asked her brother.
"Very well. . . most of the time."
"Well, I hope you don't let him order you around when you are alone," said Enme.
"Not unless I'm in the mood," she replied coldly.
Enme resisted the urge to laugh out loud. Vulcans and Romulans were perhaps more alike than he first thought.
***
About an hour later, T'Pol, Malcolm and Enme sat at a table in the Vulcan section of Hirku station. Javon, the V'Shar operative stationed there, sat with them and seemed almost amused at the entire situation. The human was dressed as a civilian trader, and the two siblings wore traditional Vulcan robes. T'Pol wore them well, naturally. Enme carried himself as though he was on his way to a costume ball, and he knew it.
"Let's see. I have a Vulcan, albeit one married to a human. I have a human. And I have a Romulan, who is doing a terrible job of pretending to be Vulcan," said Javon, "If there are any Romulan agents among us, I'm sure we've revealed ourselves already."
Enme glared at the man, and his hand moved for a disruptor that wasn't at his hip.
"Have you heard of a Romulan female on her way here? She's very good at pretending to be a Vulcan. Have you heard of a Vulcan. . "
Enme's voice drifted off as T'Pol glared at him. He knew he was revealing too much, not just of his of his true ethnicity, but also of his feelings for Ravel. Reed glanced quickly at T'Pol. No doubt he thought that having an amateur along on any kind of intelligence mission was a trial.
"There's been no such reports," said T'Pol, "but that could only mean Ravel is adept at keeping cover."
Enme sighed.
"So," said Javon, "I have heard of all the recent goings-on on Romulus. It's quite unfortunate all around. It now looks like its going to be a long war."
"I'm going to do my best to help shorten it," said Enme.
Javon raised his eyebrow.
"We'll have to see that you get the opportunity," said Javon, "as that would be agreeable for both sides."
Enme glanced over at Javon and the human then at his sister. Whatever the differences between this quadrant's species, their common enemy had united them.
****
T'Pol returned to her quarters late that afternoon, well in time to shower and change into a uniform for the dinner with Captain Hernandez. Javon hadn't been forthcoming with very much information about the situation on the station, but he had read Enme easily.
T'Pol made a note to school her brother in the basics of intelligence operations. Rule number one: don't reveal anything you don't need to reveal, even if to your allies.
She immediately noticed the room was filled with steam, and the shower was in use. Trip was obviously preparing for the dinner as well. As she sat down on a chair and began to remove her shoes, she situated herself with a view of his form in shower.
As much as as she admired the view, she remained irritated that he had sent Malcolm to the station with her. Malcolm's presence hadn't been overly obtrusive, but she remained doubtful Trip would have sent him with anyone else.
She closed her eyes, and she began to slowly suppress the negativity she felt. Trip was her captain, and she was required to respect his wishes. However, she had found it much easier to follow Archer's disagreeable orders.
She heard the water turn off, but she kept her eyes closed. She heard him stirring around their quarters for a few minutes — then sensed him near her. She opened her eyes and saw him kneeling next to her in his bathrobe.
"How'd it go on the station?" he asked.
"I shall prepare a full report later this evening, but the mission concluded without incident."
Still mad about Malcolm?
She knew better than to deny it. He now knew very well she was capable of feeling emotions.
I would not have allowed my brother to compromise our goals.
"I know you wouldn't have done it on purpose. But one of my goals is to make sure that Starfleet remains absolutely confident in your loyalty. If he had escaped on your watch — that might have cast you in a bad light. Who knows what those paper pushers at the head office would do if they decided they couldn't trust you? I'm not going to risk losing my first officer, even if it means having her pissed off at me."
She met his eyes, and she inhaled deeply, enjoying the scent of his freshly showered body. His thought process was logical, and her anger started to dissipate. She glanced at the chronometer and saw that they still had nearly an hour before Captain Hernandez was to arrive.
She stood up. Trip stood up next to her. He kissed her ear as he ran his fingers over the outline of her breasts, which were still encased in the traditional Vulcan silk of her robes. He inhaled the Vulcan spices and perfumes that had clung to her while on the station, which had mixed with the copper of her skin and hair.
"You know," he said, "you look really hot in your Vulcan outfit."
She raised her eyebrow at him. He covered her mouth with his, attempting to kiss away the last wisps of anger he sensed in her mind.
Can't afford to lose you, darlin. If I had another XO, I wouldn't be able to do this when they disagreed with my orders.
T'Pol kissed him for awhile, then she stepped back and turned around. She lifted up her hair to reveal the hook at the top of her robe. Trip undid it, then slid his fingers down her back to the tie that was at her waist. He undid that as well. He then lifted his hands back up to her shoulders and pushed the robe off her shoulder. The garment fluttered to the floor, pooling at her feet. Trip kissed the back of her neck and pulled her against him.
"I've been meaning to ask you. Do all Vulcans go without underwear beneath their robes?"
She felt his erection pressed against her backside, and she found herself amused that her lack of underwear aroused him so much, especially since she knew that she owned underwear that had an equally arousing affect on him. It was contradictory.
"Traditionally the robes are worn without undergarments. But logic dictates that that tradition should not always be followed."
He nipped at her neck and cupped her breasts with his hands. He teased her nipples into taut little buds.
"Well, in this case I'm going to side with tradition. Logic be damned."
T'Pol turned around in is arms. She undid the tie on his robe, and it soon joined hers on the floor.
"We have only a short time, husband. I suggest we make the most of it."
She kissed him passionately, opening her mouth to his. Without breaking the kiss, he pushed her toward their bed. She fell backwards, taking him with her.
She opened her legs to him, and he rubbed his erection against her without entering her. He teased her that way until he sensed she had enough. He slipped inside her, and soon all the stresses of the day had washed away and were replaced by the depth of their feelings for one another. In their linked minds, she saw him visit the wounded in sickbay and felt his fear, knowing it could have easily been his own crew so terribly harmed. He understood her mistrust of Javon; her fear that her brother would compromise them all - on purpose or by accident. Their minds soothed each other. The bond energy swirled around them brought them to mutual euphoria.
Afterwards, Trip held her close.
"God, T'Pol, I love you," he said, "I couldn't live if something happened to you. . . "
She brushed a stray blond hair from his face, sadly thinking of the truth of his words. She felt a pang of guilt for embroiling him in a telepathic bond that could be fatal to one party if the other died.
"It's okay," he whispered in her ear, "It's okay. But I just have to protect you."
Deep inside her mind, she blocked and suppressed a worry. She feared it wasn't proper for a captain to be so concerned for one member of his crew. Nor was it wise for a first officer to be similarly obsessed with her captain. She hoped that this would not cause harm to them or the ship.
