Disclaimer: I don't own this universe. I am just having fun with it.

Rating: R for non explicit, mildly kinky sex.

A/N: In a nice bit of synergy, this chapter is toned down from the original version, because it got a little distracting.


The tactical briefing over The Columbia's encounter with the drone ship took two hours over dinner. As dessert finished, Malcolm, The Columbia's tactical officer and T'Pol all excused themselves, and Captain Tucker and Captain Hernandez found themselves alone at the table. Trip ordered the steward to bring him a bottle of Irish Whiskey that Bert had given him before he'd left Ireland.

He poured two glasses, though they were not nearly as generous as the one's Archer would have poured.

"I thought Archer was the whiskey man."

Trip smiled.

"He's a bourbon man. This is totally different," he drawled, turning on his best southern charm for Hernandez.

Erika laughed, but then the two captain's locked eyes. Both of them were thinking the same thing. Jonathan Archer had been getting too friendly with the bottle, and they both knew it.

"Have you heard from the Admiral lately?" asked Trip.

"Yes. He inquired as to the welfare of the ship, and whether or not we needed to return to Jupiter station. I told him I didn't know yet. But you've seen him in a more. . .casual setting than I have more recently . . ."

Trip looked down at his whiskey, thinking of the blood wine at the 602 Club.

"He's going to be a great admiral."

There was a pause, and Erika glanced around to see if no stray crewmen were in the room.

"Provided he doesn't crawl into the bottom of a bottle a drown himself," she sighed.

Trip looked at Erika.

"Are you speaking as an officer who answers to him. . .or a friend?"

"Off the record. And as someone who cares about Jonathan as much as you do. Maybe more."

Trip nodded.

"Neither of us is in a position to say anything or do anything . . .unless it gets bad."

She nodded as well.

"Trip. . .May I call you that? I'd like to think it won't get all the way to bad - but these times have been tough on all of us."

"You can call me Trip, Erika. It's nice to have someone around who does. My wife won't even call me that unless we are alone in our quarters."

Erika sipped on her whiskey.

"Must be nice to have your wife onboard. It must make it a little less lonely at the top."

"It hasn't been smooth sailing always, but I'm glad she's here. Her being a Vulcan makes it a little easier to separate our work and personal lives. Even before I outranked her, she was all business while on duty."

If Erika heard any doubt in Trip's voice, she didn't appear to notice. Instead, she raised a glass.

"To Admiral Jonathan Archer. May he stay the course, never wavering into rough waters."

"I'll drink to that," said Trip.

The irony of them toasting their friend with hard liquor was not lost on either of them.



T'Pol decided she needed some mint tea before heading back to her quarters for meditation. The mess hall was mostly empty, only a pair of crewman in the corner and Hoshi sitting alone in the corner studying a PADD.

After T'Pol got her tea, Hoshi beckoned her to her table.

"Commander," she said, "I think I'm going to be able to apply the information your brother gave me and figure out the Romulan subspace frequencies. I won't be able to decode them myself, but I"m going to forward the messages we intercept to all the alliance joint chiefs - hopefully someone will have a codebreaker that will be able to crack their encryptions."

T'Pol nodded. Her brother, not being a communication's officer, was not able to give Hoshi the exact subspace frequencies used by the Romulans either for military or civilian purposes. However, the communicator he had been captured with plus Enme's recent explanation as to how the communicator functioned had helped her figure out which frequencies it used.

"The V'Shar has had some previous success in breaking Romulan codes," said T'Pol, "but not currently. At least, as far as I've been told."

Hoshi shook her head.

"There's a Navaho community on Mars," said Hoshi, "Their language has been used as a human code for centuries. There's a few linguists among them that are great code breakers. I'm sure Starfleet will send the Romulan transmission to them," said Hoshi in a low voice.

T'Pol glanced over at the junior crewmen in the corner. It was unlikely they could hear the conversation, but she appreciated Hoshi's caution. The incident with Terra Prime had taught her that the loyalty of the entire crew was not a given. She also knew that Reed had initiated a regular protocol that swept the entire ship for listening devices. Thus far, none had been discovered.

T'Pol also glanced at the bejeweled ring on Hoshi's finger. She knew what it signified, but she said nothing. Clearly, the relationship between Sato and Reed had progressed to a high degree of seriousness. She did not object to this turn of events because she of all people knew that the more serious and settled their relationship, the less likely it was to cause disruption.

"Has there been any word on Ravel?" asked Hoshi, who had security clearance but was not kept in the regular loop about intelligence matters.

T'Pol raised her eyebrow.

"I'll take that as a no," said Hoshi, "If it were yes, you wouldn't have reacted at all."

T'Pol did not say a word, and Hoshi smiled.

"I didn't mean to upset you," she said, "and I can only read you on certain yes or no questions. But you Vulcans are way more revealing that you'd like to think."

"I'm not upset. But I am impressed at your observational skills. You should consider transferring to intelligence officially," said T'Pol smoothly.

"No," said Hoshi, "I'm happy to just lend the spooks a hand. I'm way too transparent to be a spy."



T'Pol returned to her quarters, showered and dressed in her silken pajamas. Trip had not yet returned, and she suspected he would not for awhile. The two NX captains undoubtedly had much to discuss.

She sat down at her low table and began her meditation. She soon found herself in her white space, and she felt serenity all around her. Some time later, she sensed Trip had returned to their quarters and was preparing for bed. She guessed it was quite late, and at least an hour had passed since she began her meditation. She gradually brought herself back to the reality of her world and opened her eyes. She blew out the candle and made her way into the larger, adjacent room, where their bed and the shower was. Trip was in bed, reading a PADD.

"It is agreeable you have returned," she said.

"Nice to see you too," he said.

She crawled up on the bed next to him, and he kissed her on the cheek.

"You appear tired," she said, "you should rest."

"I am tired," he sighed, "and I'll rest. Right after I spend some time with my beautiful wife."

He placed the PADD on the table by the bed.

"What were you reading?"

He sighed.

"The report about the drones . . .I'm pretty sure we can modify our warp engines to make it harder for the drones to target them. There's a lag time between them getting new orders - and I think we can exploit that lag and a glitch in their AI to prevent a drone from ever successfully targeting one of our warp engines. I don't think smaller engines would be able to do it, I am going to suggest the changes to Hernandez.. . .but enough work."

Trip leaned over and kissed her on the lips. She kissed back, then she snuggled up against him, enjoying the close physical contact.

"I believe Lt. Commander Reed has proposed marriage to Lt. Sato," said T'Pol casually.

Trip looked down at her.

"Are you gossiping about my bridge officers?"

"Vulcans don't gossip. I'm simply informing you of a turn of events that will affect how you relate to your officers. They are also both your friends, and I believed you would be happy for them."

Trip reached up and absently caressed her ear.

"I am happy for them. I always thought he had a crush on her. On the other hand, he nursed crushes on half the women on this ship — including you darlin'."

T'Pol ignored the last part of his statement.

"You don't foresee their closeness causing difficulties?"

Trip thought about this for a moment.

"She doesn't answer to him. She answers to you. As does he. It's less awkward than our arrangement, with you directly answering to me."

"Yes," said T'Pol, "but I am Vulcan and more adept at keeping my — affection for you — from interfering with day to day operations. A human couple might not have the same discipline."

Trip leaned down at kissed her again.

"Thanks for keeping me disciplined, by the way."

She raised her eyebrow.

"Not in that way. . .well, not specifically."

She was silent for a moment, then she sensed that he was done discussing work.

"Perhaps it is time for you to show me just how disciplined you can be, human," she said firmly, her voice very serious.

T'Pol stood up and folded her arms. Trip grinned. He had taught her this game before. Sometimes he was in control, but other times it was fun to let her be in control. Especially now, since he gave orders all day long.

So much for getting a full eight hours of sleep, thought Trip.



One hour and twenty minutes later.

"The game is over," declared T'Pol, "You may call me by my given name and are no longer required to follow my orders."

Trip sighed deeply and then laughed. They were sprawled on the floor, his head in her lap. They were both naked. He was sporting a small bite mark on his shoulder, to which T'Pol was applying pressure.

"Thanks, baby. Do you think I need to see Phlox for that?"

"No," she said, "It will not leave a scar. But I am unsure as to why you purposely fail at my simple instructions, knowing the game requires me to exact punishment."

Trip laughed again.

"That's the point, darlin. Wouldn't be much fun if you didn't get to exact some of that punishment."

"I thought the game was to test your ability to follow exact orders — successfully."

He hugged her close and kissed her on the cheek.

"C'mon," he said, "You had to have sensed how much fun it was — to fail — I know you did."

"I sensed it," she said defensively, "I just found your pleasure at failure confusing."

"Next time we play, we'll reverse roles. I promise to come up with a task that you will fail to complete and a punishment you'll enjoy."

She gave him a skeptical look, but she nodded. She remembered something he had said just after their first encounter during the Expanse, when she had thanked him for showing her how human sexuality functioned. He had laughed at her.

Honey, we've barely scratched the surface. I'll wager it would take your whole, long Vulcan lifetime to experience all the nuances of human sexuality.

She hadn't thought it was possible then, that she would be able to spend her lifetime letting him show her all those nuances.

"I look forward to your instruction, husband," she whispered, slipping her hand into his.

"Good," he said casually beginning to prepare for bed, "but that will have to be another time. Right now, I really need to get some sleep."



The next morning Trip met with Malcolm and Hess to discuss the upgrades to the engine defenses. T'Pol had breakfast in the mess hall, joined by her brother. He wore his Vulcan garb and rarely smiled as he drank orange juice and ate waffles.

"Your crew is terribly friendly," said Enme, "They all want to know my background and whether or not I like it aboard the ship. Your doctor has asked to examine me — he knows the truth of course — but he is very curious as to why we Romulans don't have the telepathic abilities that our cousins do. At least, we don't think we do."

T'Pol picked at her fruit salad.

"Does Phlox believe Romulans might have latent abilities?"

Enme nodded.

"You see, five thousand years isn't long enough for us to have lost the genetic ability, or so he believes. It's just the sensitivity to it that we've lost. He has asked to experiment on me — see if I might trigger some ability."

T'Pol considered this.

"I thought it might make my cover as a Vulcan more believable," said Enme, "Besides. Phlox is right. Our father had a strong telepathic connection with your mother. He told me about it once, after my mother died. He kindly informed me that he didn't grieve for my mother because the true love of his life lived — albeit far away."

T'Pol suppressed the surprise and shock. She knew that Vulcans could bond with a non-telepathic species, however, she wasn't ready to share that very personal information with her brother. But having bonded with Trip, she knew that Enme's story did not necessarily mean that Romulans were latent telepaths.

Nevertheless, the implications of his news disturbed her. She suspected that T'Les and her father had bonded on some level, but she hadn't thought clearly about what that had meant. Did it mean her mother knew his secret? Did she know he was alive? Had she continued the charade to spare T'Pol the shame of the truth? Now that both her parents were dead, it was unlikely that she would ever find out the truth. T'Pol did find herself hoping that her father was a skilled enough telepath that he had hidden the truth from her mother, as unlikely as that seemed.

"He loved my mother?" she asked, sounding merely inquisitive.

"I believe he did," said Enme, "He wasn't one to lie about things like that. And he always spoke very fondly of his time on Vulcan. I always got the feeling that he would have rather stayed there."

Enme's voice trailed off. T'Pol heard pain in his voice. She realized that she found the notion that her parents had been in love disagreeable while Enme clearly found that notion that his parents weren't in love disagreeable.

"He loved you deeply," she said, "When I spoke to him over the subspace transmitter, he clearly desired your return — whatever Romulan codes of honor say about the matter."

Enme sighed and sipped on a cup of coffee.

"Thank you for telling me that," he said, "It. . .it is good to know."