Title: A Brigand's Devoir

Author: Whoa Nellie ([email protected])

Series: TNG

Rating: NC-17

Codes: P/Vash

Summary: Vash's past comes back to taunt Picard when a valuable artifact disappears sending them on a search through the shadows of the Federation. This story was originally posted to ASC on October 6, 2005 and occurs in the Whoa Nellie universe "Reasons of the Heart" timeline, accepting all TNG canon through the movie "Insurrection" while adding Vash (from the TNG episodes 'Captain's Holiday' and 'Qpid') onboard as the ship's chief archaeologist and a post Endgame Chakotay onboard the Enterprise as ship's anthropologist.

As always: Paramount owns all the marbles. We just have a lot more fun playing with them.

Feedback is always appreciated, posted or e-mail.

Whoa Nellie's Romance Star Trek Fan Fiction Stories

http://whoanellie.fortunecity.com

A BRIGAND'S DEVOIR

"If you’re coming with me you need nerves of steel
’cause I take corners on two wheels"

'Mi Vida Loca' by Pam Tillis

"Come," Captain Jean-Luc Picard called out from behind his desk in response to his ready room's door chime. He looked up from the computer screen to see his wife walk into the room. Judging by the simple khaki jumpsuit that Vash was wearing, she had probably been working in her lab.

"Barbara said I had been called up to the principal's office," Vash quipped with a coy smile.

"Actually, that was my doing," Admiral Nechayev replied from her chair in front of Picard's desk. Gesturing to the chair next to her, "would you please join us?"

"Of course, Alynna," Vash replied sitting down.

Picard turned his computer monitor around to face Vash. "What do you make of this?"

Vash scrutinized the image on the screen, a cylindrical bundle of latinum rods bound by gold bands measuring approximately 61 cm long with an axe head protruding from the bundle. "The Praetor's Fasces, it was carried by the First Praetor as he led the first Romulans from Vulcan and held by every Praetor since during his inauguration."

"It was stolen from the Imperial Romulan Museum two weeks ago," Nechayev informed them.

Even though he knew it was an impossibility, Picard couldn't help casting a quick glance at his wife.

"Whoa nellie," Vash blurted out throwing both her hands up. "I didn't do it. I haven't even left the ship in three weeks."

"Actually, the Romulans had the same thought," Nechayev chuckled. Addressing the captain, she continued, "it seems Archaeology Councilmember Vash Picard was the only one they could think of who had the skill to pull off such a heist."

"I'm flattered," the archaeologist replied completely unabashed.

"Vash," Picard chided his wife. "The Romulans are making a serious accusation."

"Starfleet has already provided all of the necessary computer records to account for Vash's whereabouts and the Romulans are satisfied that she didn't have anything to do with the heist," the admiral assured the Picards. "However, the Fasces was brought back into Federation space and the Romulans have demanded that their agents be allowed to work in Federation space to find it."

"Which I'm assuming was unacceptable to the Federation Council and Starfleet Command?" Vash prompted.

Nechayev nodded, "The only compromise the Romulans would accept was for the Federation to send their best person to locate and retrieve the antiquity for them."

His mind already focusing on the mission ahead, Picard addressed his wife, "I'll need you and your staff to compile a complete report on the Praetor's Fasces for me before I leave . . ."

The admiral held up a hand cutting the captain off. "The Romulans want Archaeology Councilmember Vash Picard to recover the Praetor's Fasces."

As stunned silence gave way to cold fury, Picard stood and paced halfway across his ready room, trying to compose himself before responding. Setting his jaw determinedly, he turned back around to face his commanding officer and jerked harshly on the bottom of his uniform jacket. "With all due respect, Admiral, I must object; this is likely to involve unsavory individuals and my wife is a civilian."

"I understand that, Captain."

"Then you understand that you cannot order her." Picard's tone was curt.

"And knowing Vash as I have come to, I'm willing to wager you can't either." Nechayev turned her attention toward the archaeologist. "Vash, can you recover the Praetor's Fasces?"

Vash shrugged. "Sure, why not?" she answered blithely.

"Why can't more people around here say 'sure why not'?" Nechayev wondered, pointedly ignoring the starship captain's objections.

"I would be happy to oblige the Federation on two conditions," Vash continued.

"Which are?" Nechayev asked.

Now it was Vash's turn to pointedly tug at the waistline of her jumpsuit in a somewhat feminine version of the 'Picard Maneuver'. She asserted her demands with the poised authority of expertise. "First, this is my mission; I do it my way, no questions asked."

"Agreed," Nechayev nodded. "What else?"

Vash pointed at her husband. "I want Jean-Luc assigned to me as back-up."

"Acceptable, the Captain will accompany you on your mission to provide you with any assistance you might require. Commander Riker can take command of the Enterprise temporarily. Anything else?"

"Let's see . . . complete control of the mission along with the flagship captain at my disposal. That should do it," Vash said

"Very well then; I'll have the orders drawn up and may I wish you good luck, Vash." Nechayev replied, standing up. She turned back toward Picard, "You have your orders, Captain."

"Yes, Admiral," Picard acknowledged, standing at a very tense parade rest with his hands clasped behind his back. He watched Nechayev nod at Vash and then turn on her heel to leave the room.

After the door closed behind Alynna, Vash stood up, leisurely sauntering across the room to stop in front of Jean-Luc. Her hands moved to rest on the charcoal-grey shoulders of his uniform and she leaned in to brush feathery kisses along his strong jawline. Between the teasing nips, she murmured, "unclench your jaw, Mon Capitaine."

"I have serious reservations about this entire situation," he grumbled.

"Obviously Alynna is completely unaware of that whole 'Vash shalt not leave the vessel without an armed security guard' commandment," she cooed, tracing leisurely circles around the rank pips on the collar of his burgundy uniform tunic with one fingertip. "I never had any intention of going without you; after all, we make a wonderful team."

The warmth of her lush lips along his jaw combined with the feel of her delicate fingertip playing with his rank pips began to wreak havoc on his senses. Reaching up, he swiftly captured her hand in his to still her teasing. His mouth found hers for a deep, passionate kiss and he pulled her against him, his arms encircling her tiny waist. His large hands moved around to cup the roundness of her derriere, while his tongue stole into her mouth to caress the warm, moist depths. When the kiss was finally broken, they were both breathing unevenly. Tightening his hold on her, there was a hint of amusement in his voice as he rasped, "from the moment I met you, I knew you were going to be trouble."

Unable to help herself, Vash glanced over her shoulder, exaggeratedly drawing attention to the position of his hands before looking back up at Jean-Luc and giving the expected retort. "You look like a man who can handle trouble."

.......................

That evening in the captain's quarters, Picard sat at his desk recording an entry in his official log. Glancing up from his work, he noticed Vash standing poised in their bedroom doorway. She idly rubbed lotion into her hands while patiently waiting for him to finish his work. The rich, scarlet satin of her full-length negligee skimmed her curves to fall into sweeping folds around her legs. Completing the log, he raised an expectant eyebrow and prompted, "something on your mind, chere?"

"For many years Arctus Baran ran a brutal operation that monopolized a good percentage of the illicit trafficking of ancient Vulcan and Romulan artifacts. With Baran eliminated," she paused looking over at Jean-Luc for confirmation, "Baran is dead, right?"

Standing up and walking over to the window, he crossed his arms over his chest while gazing out at the vastness of space.

"Look, we're talking about an individual that goes light years past unsavory, as you put it earlier, to diabolically vicious." She walked over to stand directly behind him. Pressing him for an answer on a subject he clearly didn't want to discuss, she demanded, "are you sure that son-of-a-bitch is dead?"

"Yes," he turned from the window to face her, his voice like ice.

They silently regarded each other for a long moment before Vash gave a grim, satisfied nod and began again, "with Baran eliminated, we need to find out who is trafficking and fencing Romulan artifacts."

Gentling his tone, he inquired, "so, where do we start?"

"I believe that Kivas Fajo is currently incarcerated at the Tantalus V penal colony," she commented while absently brushing a small piece of lint from the shoulder of his uniform jacket.

Picard sighed heavily, "Kivas Fajo, another individual that goes past unsavory to dangerous, and yes, he is still incarcerated on Tantalus V."

"With Kivas the trick is to make sure you never give him anything he can use as leverage to control you. I need you to access a list of Fajo's correspondents and visitors for the last two years." When he began to move toward his desk, she placed a hand on his forearm stopping him. "Never mind, it'll be easier if I do it myself. I know exactly what I'm looking for."

"I've already had Commander Data change the codes to allow you access to files relevant to the current investigation," he remarked noticing the way her negligee's full skirt swirled around her legs with each step as she crossed the room to his desk.

"Now why do you insist on taking all of the thrill out of this adventure?" she retorted sitting down at his desk to start working with the computer. "Hacking into classified files is part of the fun."

"Before all this is over, chere, am I going to require another artificial heart?" Picard muttered watching his wife rather quickly access the pertinent files.

"Very possibly," she quipped impishly while perusing the information. With a low whistle, she commented, "My, my, Kivas, for a jailbird you're quite the social butterfly. This lists reads like a 'who's who' in the illegal obtaining, trading, and collecting of rare artifacts. I think I should pay a little visit to Kivas."

"I'll have Data alter course to Tantalus V." In a charmingly wry tone, he teased, "you do still need me to actually effect a course change for the Enterprise, right?"

"Yes, I do need you change the course of the Enterprise." She switched off the computer and stood to face him. Reaching up to deliberately circle the pips on his collar with a fingertip, she gazed up at him through her lashes her voice low and seductive, "actually, Johnny, I need you for a lot of things."

Ignoring her toying with his rank pips and her lascivious tone for the moment, he tapped his communicator. "Picard to Bridge."

"Data here, sir."

"Alter course to Tantalus V, warp three," Picard ordered.

"Course plotted and laid in, sir. We should arrive in orbit around Tantalus V in fourteen hours, ten minutes and . . . "

"Thank you, Data. Picard out." He re-tapped the communicator to close the channel. "I don't suppose I could convince you to let security interview Kivas Fajo?"

"He'd tell them nothing. I'll be fine." She made a show of holding up a closed fist and opening it slowly while drawing out her final words to a full four syllables, "let go."

He buried his hands in her silky hair, staring down into the features of her beautiful face with her brilliant blue eyes, delicate cheekbones and lush lips. "Never," he murmured, his mouth capturing hers in a possessive kiss. The musky smell of her favorite perfume tantalized him, a softly-scented combination of roses, violets, and lavender. His tongue plunged past her parted lips to decisively stake claim to everything in its path. His pulse sped up at the sound of her quiet sigh of surrender in unison with her arms coming up to encircle his neck. Her body melted against his, perfectly molding to him at every point from the roundness of her breasts against his chest to the intertwining of their legs. When the kiss was finally broken, they were both breathing unevenly.

"Jean-Luc, we still need to discuss --" she was cut off when his mouth once again seized hers in a kiss even more voracious than the one before. This time she met his intensity, her tongue brazenly challenging his with her own erotic search of his mouth. Her breasts swelled and the peaks stiffened to attention. With her breasts pressed up against the hard wall of his chest, her hardened nipples grazed the rough wool of his uniform through the flimsy fabric of her negligee sending streaks of desire through her. A whimper left her throat when he broke the kiss.

"It will wait until morning," Picard asserted in a deep, gentle baritone easily sweeping up her slender frame and carrying her toward their bedroom.

She let her head fall to rest on his shoulder and just relaxed in the sensation of being carried effortlessly in his powerful arms. Jean-Luc tenderly laid her down on their bed and stood over her, the love in his steel grey eyes touching her as intimately as his body ever did. Tonight wasn't about the chemistry that was always hot between them, tonight was just about them. She wanted him, her body ached for the comforting warmth of his body holding hers.

"Tu es belle, Vash," he marveled, his gaze pursuing his fingertips as he brushed them past her smooth cheek to trail down the graceful arch of her neck. Highlighting the feverish flush of her skin, the scarlet satin followed the curves of her body to drape across the bed in a shimmery fan. His fingers followed the plunging neckline of the nightgown, tracing the swell of her breasts. With every breath, the lush curves of her breasts rose and fell, the taut, darkened crests visibly straining against the flimsy fabric. He reached out with both hands to softly slide the straps off her shoulders, almost massaging the smooth skin as he guided the scraps of silk down her arms. He paused long enough to remove his uniform, wanting no interruptions once he'd undressed her. His body was throbbing in anticipation, the cool air in their bedroom invigorating and brisk against his skin.

She waited, watching him undress and caressing him with her eyes, intimately familiar with every inch of skin that he revealed. It was hard to believe that they'd been together for so long and yet he could still excite her with nothing more than a look. Purring with contentment when he slipped into bed beside her, she gazed up into his masculine features. He was laying on his side, propped up on one elbow and casually trailing his fingers along the length of her body; everywhere he touched tingled with delicious streaks of pleasure. She drew his face down to hers, teasing his lips with short, biting kisses until he took command and crushed her lips beneath his. When he stripped the nightgown down her body, she arched up to help him, delighting in the soft French curses that she heard him mutter at the contact of their bodies.

Knowing that it would drive her to distraction, he nuzzled the skin under her earlobe, feeling her pulse fluttering rapidly beneath his lips. He flicked his tongue against her pulse point to silently coax her head back so that he could lay a heated trail of kisses down the exposed curve of her throat. Savoring the sweet taste of her skin, his mouth made its way down the silken expanse. The swell of her breasts required his tongue's careful attention before placing an open mouth kiss at the center of her cleavage. She never failed to confuse him, his precious enigma; she could be strong and tough yet fragile and tender. She had an incredible body which frequently drove him to distraction, but he would be the first to concede her superior archaeological knowledge. His lips imprisoned the nipple of one of her breasts and he leisurely swirled his tongue over the taut peak. He nipped lightly at the hardened crest before suckling strongly and she tangled her fingers in the fringe of grey hair at the nape of his neck in response. He cherished first one breast and then the other. This woman complemented him perfectly in every aspect of their lives together.

The ardently attentive ministrations of Jean-Luc's strong hands, warm lips and tongue had Vash feeling utterly cherished. Holding his head in her hands, she urged his mouth from her breasts back up to her lips for a deep, passionate kiss. His arousal pulsed against her thigh while their tongues danced in an erotic imitation of the culmination they both yearned for. She reached down, wrapping her hand around the firm length and toyed with the contrasting textures of rock-solid hardness covered by soft, velvety skin. God, he was so hot and hard; her body instinctively responded with an intense surge of arousal. He broke off the kiss with the sharp gasp when her thumb slowly circled the very tip. Shifting her legs open in invitation, she coaxed in a passion-laced whisper, "prends moi."

Picard settled between her long shapely legs and braced himself with his arms against the bed on either side of her shoulders. Hovering above her, he paused for a moment to enjoy every exquisite detail of the woman in his arms and everything she gave him. Breathlessly, she implored him in French, reaching up to sensuously brush a fingertip over his bottom lip, which he captured with his mouth and began gently sucking on it. He was rewarded with a pleading whimper and a graceful arching of her hips as she surrendered herself to him in a timeless fashion. He completely buried himself inside her in a slow, deep stroke. With a low moan, she closed her eyes and her head fell back on the pillow. The slick depths of her body were so hot and tight; he forced himself to take several deep breaths, struggling for control. He moved in a gentle, deliberate pace, wanting to make this last an eternity. Her movements fell into step with his and he reveled in the waves of pleasure that washed over him. He gradually increased the rhythm, feeling his needs increase as she matched his movements. The way her small hands slowly dug into his forearms harder and harder with each stroke and the way her body clenched his with uncontrolled fervor were familiar signals of her passion. He knew her body, its every response, and he knew exactly where she was in her pleasure by those responses and the sounds of her moans and whimpers echoing through the room. He was mesmerized by the sight of her laying beneath him, completely open and uninhibited, and the look of total ecstasy she wore on the delicate features of her face. She was never more radiant than when she was at the peak of ecstasy. Wanting to look into her eyes and watch her abandon herself to mindless bliss at his hands, he rasped hoarsely, "open your eyes, Vash, and look at me."

The erotic command penetrated Vash's senses, compelling her to meet his gaze. With great effort, her eyes fluttered open and locked with his. The love, devotion, and passion plainly visible in his desire-hardened grey eyes pierced through the sensual onslaught snapping her control. The knot of urgency shattered and she arched upward, his name on her lips and a strong orgasm rocking her whole body.

Not breaking stride, Picard watched with wonder as her body arched toward him with completion. The profoundly erotic combination of the flame in Vash's eyes and overwhelming pleasure of her body shuddering around his was his undoing, sending him over the edge. He held himself buried inside her and allowed his own climax to consume him. Picard enjoyed the last few tremors of pleasure while catching his breath. His appreciative gaze traveled over her, always so beautiful after lovemaking, with a rosy flush that highlighted her ivory skin, her lush lips swollen from his kisses and her dark hair fanned out across the pillow. He vowed in a deep, resonating whisper, "je t' adore."

"Je t'aime."

"Je t'aime," he echoed. He noticed that particular smile on her face that gave her the appearance of being insufferably satisfied with herself, not unlike the proverbial cat that swallowed the canary. His tone became gently teasing,"Do you ever tire of being completely and utterly worshiped by me?"

Vash made huge doe eyes at him while at least pretending to think it over for a second. "Ummmm, no."

...............................

Kivas Fajo sat in the penal colony's visitor lounge awaiting the arrival of his guest. Having a visitor wasn't unusual for Kivas, he had them quite often; although, this visitor surprised him. He had never met Vash, but he knew that her reputation as an accomplished obtainer of rare antiquities was well-earned. When the door opened and she entered, he stood, smoothing out his olive-drab, utilitarian jumpsuit. The expensive material and impeccable tailoring of her suit suggested that she was either doing quite well for herself, had a wealthy benefactor or some combination of the two. Kivas gestured toward the chair across from his. "Hello, Vash. I must admit that I'm surprised and quite intrigued by your visit. What could I possibly have or know that would interest a member of the archaeology council?"

"This has nothing to do with official archaeology council business; I'm afraid the rumors of my going legit have been greatly exaggerated," Vash replied conspiratorially, gracefully slipping into the offered chair. Well aware of the way the short, pudgy man's eyes traveled over her, she made sure that the hem of her skirt rose an indecent amount as she crossed her legs. "I'm looking for someone in touch with very wealthy patrons who are interested in collecting historically significant Romulan pieces."

He sat back down in his chair and tapped his fingers together nonchalantly. "I might know a few people, if you make it worthwhile."

"I finished Estragon's work . . ." she trailed off noticing the expression of interest on his face. Well, that definitely got his attention.

"You know the hiding place of the Tox Uthat." He sat forward, unable to hide his avarice.

Vash nodded holding up a disk. "This disk contains all of the research notes and maps."

"The man you want is Jonis Arvin. You know him?" Kivas couldn't tear his eyes from the disk in her hand.

"I know of him," she replied noncommittally.

"From what I hear, he's taken over Baran's interests and clientele but he won't be easy to find; some of Baran's former acquaintances have been trying to re-acquire the items that he stole from them. I'm actually almost grateful for this penal colony, the scuttlebutt is that it's a bit of a war zone in my old stomping grounds right now."

"That is most helpful. Thank you, Kivas." Vash handed him the disk as she stood to leave.

"You have a rare talent, my dear. It's a shame we never worked together; I could have made you rich beyond your wildest dreams," Kivas added, almost wistfully watching her walk toward the door.

"Or I could have ended up like poor Varria," she retorted just before leaving and closing the door behind her.

...........................

In Transporter Room Three, Picard stood impatiently drumming his fingers on the transporter console, wondering just how the hell he allowed himself to be talked into this.

"Tantalus V to Enterprise."

"Enterprise here," Picard answered the hail.

"Prepare to receive transport of one individual."

"Acknowledged, proceed with transport," he responded. Relieved when Vash materialized, he signaled Tantalus V that the transport had been complete. He walked over and held out a hand to help her down from the transporter pad. "I hope your little sojourn was worthwhile."

Vash laid her hand in Jean-Luc's and stepped down from the pad, ignoring Captain Overprotective's grumbling tone. "Oooh baby! We hit paydirt. According to Fajo, Jonis Arvin, who happens to be an interstellar fence, has taken over Baran's clientele. It makes perfect sense, Jonis' forte was ancient Vulcan and Romulan civilizations."

"Sounds like you know the man," Picard replied, looking at his wife expectantly.

"We were in the same graduate program in interstellar archaeology at the Daystrom Institute. Well, until he washed out of the program anyway. That happens when you spend all your time chasing loose women, playing dom-jot, and drinking Maporian ale." Vash linked her arm in his and walked toward the door, continuing her trek down memory lane. "I remember once when he showed up hungover to a lecture, Professor Galen chided him and I quote, 'fat, drunk, and stupid is no way to go through life, son.' Although, that wasn't entirely fair. Jonis isn't stupid, in fact he's talented in Vulcan and Romulan art history and quite shrewd in his transactions; however, he has always lacked any semblance of self-discipline and tends to be tripped up by his own excesses. If we start hitting some of his favorite haunts we should be able to track him down."

"Very good," Picard paused, turning slightly to face her. "Just how did you convince Kivas Fajo to divulge Jonis' name. I'm sure it wasn't out of the goodness of his heart."

"I told him I had finished Estragon's work pertaining to the Tox Uthat and offered him a disk containing all of the research notes and maps." Seeing the exasperation in her husband's expression, she gazed up nonchalantly at the corridor ceiling and contended innocently, "all of which was true. I did finish Estragon's work and the disk did contain all of the research notes and maps."

"I destroyed the Tox Uthat, chere," Picard reminded her with a weary sigh.

"Damn, I knew I forgot to tell him something." Vash snapped her fingers in feigned frustration.

Deciding to let the issue drop, he reached up to rub the bridge of his nose. "So, where are we off to now?"

"We need to go to DS9," she answered.

"DS9?"

Vash's eyes sparkled with impish delight. "With as little fanfare as possible, please, in fact I think we should ditch the Enterprise entirely from here on out. We'll take the Cousteau to DS9 and Will can swing by and retrieve it later. The rest of this assignment is going to call for sneakiness and a sovereign class starship is not ideal for traveling incognito, neither is the captain's yacht from the Federation flagship for that matter. So as Deanna likes to say in her Old West holodeck scenarios, we need to see a man about a horse--or in this case a Ferengi about a shuttle--civilian shuttle."

......................

After materializing in a unlit corner on a lower level of DS9, Vash's eyes swiftly traveled over Jean-Luc. His usual Starfleet uniform had been replaced by a long sleeved tunic, trousers and boots all in brown suede and leather. The v-neckline of the tunic was underscored by the two leather bandoleers that crisscrossed over his chest, held in place with a large metal buckle. Instead of Starfleet's standard issue Type II phaser, he had a personal weapon--a Klingon disrupter pistol that was a gift from Worf, holstered on his belt. She found herself idly wondering which boot hid his d'ktahg dagger.

"Something wrong?" Picard whispered.

"No, just noticing that my gallantly dashing starship captain also makes a roguishly sexy desperado," she replied her gaze resting on the coarse chest hair exposed by the V neckline of his tunic. With a come-hither expression, she motioned with a finger for him to follow her. "Come on. Here's where the fun begins."

She led him through a dimly-lit labyrinth of deserted passageways to a set of personal quarters. Her unassuming jacket of muted colors and brown trousers were quite a departure from the chic, high fashion couture that he was accustomed to seeing her wear outside of her lab. She pulled out of her jacket pocket a small packet holding a number of high-precision tools. He watched her adroitly work on the door's locking mechanism suddenly realizing this is how she must have broken into his own quarters on the Enterprise D all those years ago. "Whose quarters are these?"

She knew exactly what memory lane he had wandered down and chuckled softly, "You worried they're the station commander's?"

"A little," he admitted looking on with morbid fascination while she readily circumvented several security devices.

"Relax, they're Quark's," she replied still working on the lock. Almost there.

"The Ferengi barkeep?"

"Uh-huh" she answered just as the door slid open.

Picard pulled her back and moved in front of her with his weapon drawn. Stealthily, he entered the dark quarters, listening for any indication that someone else was there. Leading with his disruptor, he moved through the quarters, checking for threats. When he found everything clear, he walked back over toward the doorway where Vash stood with her arms crossed over her chest, watching him.

"You're supposed to be my back-up; not a front man," she hissed, pointedly guiding his hand to re-holster his weapon. She pushed him into a darkened alcove, "Now, stay out of sight."

From the shadows, Picard watched while Vash stripped off her jacket and laid it on the couch. Bathed in the soft starlight, she seductively moistened her lips with just the very tip of her tongue, the scoop neckline of her shirt exposing a tantalizing hint of the curves beneath. Gracefully seating herself on the couch, she crossed her legs and waited for Quark.

It was a short wait; barely five minutes later Quark entered his quarters and noticed his unexpected guest immediately. "Vash, what a lovely surprise."

"This is business," she informed him.

"Well, that makes it even lovelier," the Ferengi bantered back.

"I need a ship, small, fast with a cloak."

"That sounds like the 'Defiant'." Quark raised an eyebrow at the request.

Hidden in the alcove, Picard paled at the mention of the Starfleet vessel.

"Tempting, but I think Starfleet might notice her missing." Vash smiled, suppressing an urge to glance over and see Jean-Luc's reaction. "I need a civilian ship."

"One hour and one hundred thousand bars of gold-pressed latinum," Quark stated flatly.

Rising from the couch, Vash seductively sauntered across the room using just the perfect amount of sway in her hips and bounce in her step. She stood face to face with him and reached out to caress his earlobe. In a low and sultry voice, she purred, "Twenty minutes and forty-five thousand."

Quark groaned at the talented fingers giving him oo-mox. "Just for you, I could do it in forty-five minutes and if you keep that up for another couple of minutes, I'll take twenty thousand off the price. Oh, yes!"

Vash looked over at Picard in the corner and twisted her face into a disgusted grimace before blowing him a kiss. She held the Ferengi's lobes in both of her hands and began massaging hard, finding every pressure point she knew of. "Twenty-five minutes and sixty thousand bars."

"Thirty minutes and fifty thousand," Quark gasped, his body shaking.

She slipped a data card into his vest pocket, "Deal. The latinum is in this account"

"Be at upper docking pylon three in thirty minutes," the Ferengi panted.

In the alcove, Picard involuntarily winced at Quark's sharp intake of breath when Vash gripped his earlobe hard pressing her long fingernail into it slightly. Her sweetly dulcet tone was completely incongruent with her words.

"If you double-cross me, I'll pierce holes all the way up your lobe with a spoon."

"Wouldn't dream of it,"Quark swallowed hard as she released her hold on him. Rubbing the tender spot, he beat a hasty retreat from his own quarters.

Picard emerged from the shadows and commented wryly "Given your talent in other areas of male anatomy, I shouldn't be surprised at your oo-mox skills, should I?"

"Probably not."

.............

Relaxing in the cockpit of the Sangrida, a small, civilian scout ship, Vash reclined in the co-pilot's chair watching the stars pass outside the window. Pleased with the clean, sleek, sophisticated lines of the ship's interior, she ran her hand over the control console and mused, 'well, Quark, it looks like you get to keep your lobes intact. Of course, my final decision will depend on what Jean-Luc's inspection of the primary ship's systems turns up.' She turned her head to see Jean-Luc enter the cockpit. "So, did I get your money's worth?"

"All ship's systems are online and functioning, most well exceeding their civilian parameters. The circuitry in the propulsion and tactical systems have been outfitted with Starfleet issue bio-neural gel packs meaning this ship could probably out-run and out-maneuver a number of the older ships in the Fleet. The ship is equipped with pulse-wave torpedoes. The defensive system has been upgraded to include ablative armor, metaphasic shield technology and topped off by a Romulan-style cloaking device," Picard answered, wondering just how in the hell a civilian vessel had ended up with so many accouterments that were either supposedly restricted to Starfleet use only or outlawed all together.

"Hot damn!" Vash squealed spinning her chair completely around. "Looky what I bought you for me!"

"Vash, none of these upgrades are even close to being legal on a civilian vessel."

"Oh my, how shocking," Vash gasped staring up at him feigning wide-eyed innocence.

Seeing the large pools of liquid blue gazing up at him through thick lashes, Picard cupped her chin and teased, "These are my 'doe eyes.' I use them to distract any and all males in the area from anything of actual importance."

"Ah well, you go with what works," she cooed.

"Indeed." He took the pilot's chair.

"Set course for Beltane IX," Vash said somewhat brusquely.

"Aye, Captain," he replied sardonically

Playfully swatting at his shoulder, she continued, "I have an pretty good idea about where to start looking for our friend, Jonis Arvin. He has a few well-known vices."

......................................

After obtaining the commercial shipping schedules that Vash had sent him for, Picard received a message from her asking him to meet her at a bar called the Tintagel. He discovered the place to be what could best be described as a seedy dive. The music blaring through the sound system reverberated with a hard, driving rhythm and lyrics that were salacious to say the least. He immediately spotted Vash on the other side of the bar at a dom-jot table with a group of three raucous men in various stages of intoxication and undress. Alarm bells went off in Picard's head, this was Vash at her most brazenly vampish and dressed to thrill. Her hair fell in curls to her shoulders, framing her glossy, cherry-red lips and the flutter of her suspiciously-dark lashes. The delicate material of her hot pink blouse followed her body like a second skin, trailing over the lush curves of her breasts and down her flat stomach to her slim waist. The matching leather mini skirt molded itself to the her tiny waist and the feminine flair of her hips. Hot-pink, thigh-high boots with stiletto heels showcased the shapely length of her legs. 'Merde, what the hell is that woman up to now,' the captain cursed to himself. He shook his head in disbelief when she missed a very easy shot that she should have made with no problem. His eyes went wide with shock at the sight of his wife nonchalantly peeling off her blouse and tossing it over to join her jacket on a nearby barstool. The lush curves of her breasts appeared to overwhelm the confines of her hot-pink, sequined brassiere--a brassiere that was obviously intended to be seen. With an eye on the game, he made his way to the bar and ordered a glass of Aldebaran whiskey. Nursing his drink, he moved in closer, preparing to act in an instant if Vash needed him while taking care to keep a discreet enough distance to not be noticed by the men.

Rik wavered slightly as he approached the table and lined up his shot. He blinked several times before badly missing his intended target. Laughing, he spun around to face the table. "What'll it be, lady?"

"Well, you don't have a lot of clothing left on to choose from," Vash pointed out. "Off with your pants."

"Take your shot, cupcake," Bula took a swig from his ale as Rik struggled out of his pants. There was only one shot available for her to take. If she made it, she would win the game; however, it was a difficult one, damn near impossible. That fancy bra would soon join her top and jacket on the stool. The large burly man reached out to pat the feminine curves encased by her tight, short skirt, "Arvin's gonna be sorry he missed this. I hope that Toff fellow he's meeting on Ennan VI is real important."

Picking up a cue stick, Vash smoothly avoided the drunken man's clumsy grope using just the perfect amount bounce in her step to take full advantage of her attire--or lack thereof. Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of Jean-Luc. She could feel the heat of those intense steel-grey eyes watching her every move. She gave her drunken companions her most flirtatious smile and cooed, "boys, I'm beginning to think you actually want me to miss this shot."

"Now baby, why would we want that?" a tall, wiry man with a scar over his right eye named Lansky chuckled.

'Just how the devil is she planning to extract herself from this,' Picard wondered. There was no way she was going to make that shot. Vash bent over the dom-jot table, the hem of her extremely short skirt barely covered the perfectly proportioned roundness of her backside and her thigh boots added dramatically to the effect. He tightened his grip on his glass as the provocative sight fired his imagination with incredibly erotic visions. She was playing him and every man in the room with the consummate skill of a virtuoso. Watching her teasingly sway to her hips while she lined up the shot, he grumbled under his breath, "all right, that's just a bit over the top, Vash, even for you."

Vash turned her head her eyes locking with Jean-Luc. She enticingly wet her lips with the very tip of her tongue before giving him just a hint of a smile. 'Okay, big boy, watch this.'

Picard knew from her barely-there smile that she must have gotten whatever she was after. The sensual heat emanating from her vivid blue eyes combined with an enigmatic, come-hither expression on her lovely face had left him breathless and with no doubt that her work was done. She returned her attention to the game and took her shot.

Bula stared at the table in complete disbelief as the sexy woman made the shot and won the game. He turned to his buddies. "Did you see that? That shot was next to impossible. How did she do that?"

Vash laid her stick down and picked up her blouse. She slipped it on but didn't bother to button it. "When I'm good, I'm very good but when I'm bad, I'm better."

'Time to leave,' Picard thought to himself purposely striding over to the dom-jot table, all but ignoring the three men. His eyes hungrily raked over the seductively clad vixen. "How about letting me take on the winner?"

"What makes you think you rate a game of strip dom-jot with me?" Vash baited him shamelessly. She so enjoyed sexually tormenting him with the Brass and Brazen routine.

"What do you have to lose? If you win, I strip and if I win, you strip--all the way down," he retorted wolfishly.

Vash moved closer and trailed her fingers down his chest and further, cupping the front of his trousers. "Well, it certainly feels like there's something here to see," she commented. Before she could say anything else, she was dragged against the hard wall of his chest his mouth descending on hers in a violently possessive kiss. The very masculine combination of his clean-scented aftershave and the slight taste of whiskey in his kiss mixed with the carnal way his tongue plundered the depths of her mouth sent a surge of arousal coursing over her. She was out of breath when Jean-Luc finally broke the kiss.

He brushed his index finger over her kiss-swollen lips, his voice deep and resonating. "You should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how."

"And I suppose you're that someone?" she whispered breathlessly.

Picard grabbed her jacket and steered her toward the door. "There are a great many things I know how to do."

..........................................

"Like shooting fish in a barrel." Vash crowed watching her husband close and lock the hatch, safely sealing them inside Sangrida.

Spinning on his heel, he glared at her. She sounded smug and looked insufferably pleased with herself. "Do I need to explain to you the meaning of the term 'back-up'?"

"Relax, Mon Capitaine. You know what a careful girl I am." Vash reached down into one boot pulling out a small dagger, from the other boot she pulled out a Type I hand phaser and tossed them both onto a control console.

"Anything else in there?" Picard snapped.

"Just a broadsword," Vash teased impishly plucking the disk with the shipping schedules from his hand while strutting past him.

"Do I need to ask how drunk you are?" Crossing his arms, he regarded her expectantly.

"Drunk? This was business and I'm a professional, not some rank amateur." Vash reached into a nearby drawer, pulled out an anti-intoxicant hypospray and waggled it at him. "I took this earlier, so trust me, I'm stone cold sober." Dropping the hypo back in the drawer, she continued in a lascivious tone, "Now, the evening I spent in that bar on DS4 playing dom-jot and throwing back stiff nipples with a dashing starship captain was pure pleasure. I was so drunk that night the good captain could have told me the salvation of the known universe depended on me having sex with him right there on the dom-jot table and I would have bought it."

He was determined not to allow her to distract him with memories of a particularly enjoyable escapade. "You are out of your mind. What the hell were you thinking going into that bar alone? What if the situation had escalated into some sort of a brawl?"

"I've never actually been involved in a bar room brawl. Now that I think about it, however, I may have inadvertently caused a few," she gave a vain toss of her hair not sounding the least bit apologetic. She slipped off her blouse throwing it over the back of a chair. The sequins on her hot-pink brassiere shimmered under the ship's lights. "Look, we need to find Jonis Arvin. He's played dom-jot with those men in that bar for years. I figured his drinking buddies might know where to find him."

"And you thought they would be inclined to share this information with you, why?" he countered incredulously.

"They're called tits, Jean-Luc."

"You still think you're the sexiest trick in shoe leather," Picard shot back. It took considerable effort to keep his gaze off of the creamy mounds of her breasts jutting evocatively against the risqué lines of her brassiere.

She unfastened the clasps that ran along the side of the skirt, allowing the skirt to slide past her hips and down the length of her legs to unveil hot-pink panties covered in tiny sequins. Stepping out of the skirt, she brazenly met his gaze and challenged in her finest sultry tone, "well, aren't I?"

"Can we just get back to the topic at hand?" he muttered. A brilliant scientist in the guise of a femme fatale stood before him clad only in matching brassiere, panties and thigh-high boots with stiletto heels. Mon Dieu, those boots. Vash frequently chose to engage him in these verbal skirmishes while nearly naked using her considerable sex appeal as a frustratingly effective, tactical advantage.

"My drunken admirers back in the bar let it slip that Arvin is meeting someone named Toff on Ennan VI." She put the disk with the shipping schedules into a PADD.

"The name Toff sounds familiar."

"It should. Palor Toff is a very wealthy trader and well-known art collector as well as an associate of Kivas Fajo," Vash said while searching through the shipping schedules. "Mr. Toff has two things in common with his old friend Kivas Fajo. First, he is only interested in acquiring the most valuable and rarest of antiquities. Second, he uses his legitimate trade business as cover for his more unethical dealings. According to this shipping schedule, one of Toff's freighters is scheduled to stop at Ennan VI in two days."

"Our buyer and our rendezvous," Picard surmised.

"I'd bet money on it," she agreed flashing a triumphant smile at her husband. "Your money of course, but I'd bet money on it." She sauntered past him toward the Sangrida's sleeping quarters. Once inside the sleeping quarters, she paused at the far side of the small room silently counting to herself, '3, 2, 1.' She turned to face Jean-Luc just as he stepped through the doorway.

"That was one hell of a risky stunt you pulled tonight," Picard chided, knowing it was an act of utter futility. At the moment, Vash was at her completely unrepentant, impish best.

"Oh, I don't know. I didn't have to rig the dom-jot table and no one involved lost any vital organs," Vash observed playfully as he stalked over stand just in front of her. She loved this man dearly, but he had big, red buttons that just shouted 'push me.'

Picard refused to dignify that particular barb with anything other than a sigh of exasperation. He knew she delighted in provoking him with these little lascivious cat and mouse games of hers. Her challenges always affected him like a powerful aphrodisiac wreaking havoc with his senses. An impulse to back her up against the bulkhead and wrap one of her thigh-high boots around his hip flashed through his mind. His body tightened, instantly growing painfully hard from the unbidden and incredibly erotic thought. "It was wanton and blatantly indecent."

"Baby, that's why it worked," Vash purred trailing her hands down the heavy, leather bandoleers that crisscrossed over his chest. The lust smoldering in those steely grey eyes was unmistakable. In spite of his protestations, he had obviously been driven to distraction by her performance in the bar. Her entire body flared into a highly charged state of anticipation over the imminent culmination of their battle of wills. The sensation spread across her breasts, the peaks hardening and pushing against her brassiere. "You've known from the moment we met that I was trouble."

"Oh, you're trouble, " he agreed moving in closer and forcing her to take a step backward, her back against the bulkhead. If she wanted to cross swords tonight, so be it. He lowered his face until his lips were just a hairsbreadth from hers, his voice taking on a decidedly wolfish tone, "but never more than I can handle."

"Prove it."

Picard captured her mouth with his in a savage kiss, his tongue ravaging every corner of the warm, moist cavern. She met his intensity, forcing her tongue past his in her own erotic exploration of his mouth. His hands moved to span the smooth, bare skin of her slim waist and pressed her back against the bulkhead. One hand skimmed down the flat plane of her stomach and swiftly ripped the flimsy fabric of her panties away, his fingers combing through her dark curls. Reveling in her sharp gasp, he rasped hoarsely into her mouth, "did the seductress get caught in her own trap?"

"What would make you think that?" Vash retorted breathlessly, while trying to gain control over her own increasing needs. The stirring heat from his powerful hands stoked her desires, hardening it into a tight knot of need.

He allowed only his fingertip to penetrate the damp folds of flesh with a very light, teasing caress. "You're already wet, Vash."

"And I'll bet you're already hard just waiting to drive yourself deep inside me," Vash taunted in a heated whisper, gently pulling his lower lip between her teeth. Almost imperceptibly, her body began moving sinuously in response to the ghostly touch of his finger barely grazing her tingling flesh. Her hands clutched the heavy, leather bandoleers for balance.

He slid his mouth from hers, moving to explore the soft skin of her neck. He nuzzled the skin under her earlobe and reminded her in a smooth, honeyed baritone, "I'm proving just how well I can handle you."

Vash's head rolled back against the bulkhead, baring her throat to the onslaught of his hot, questing mouth. The impassioned timbre of his masterful voice reverberated against her skin. She knew what he had in mind and what it meant. God, had she ever been this wet? With the skill of a maestro, his fingertip lightly brushed against her with tantalizing strokes that, instead of giving her any relief, only served to taunt a throbbing need. With her hips writhing in a futile attempt to increase the pressure of his hand, she gasped, "please, Jean-Luc . . . I need -- "

"I know exactly what you need," he rumbled, the evidence of her escalating desires bathing his finger. He increased the pressure, dipping into the dripping wet depths of her body before returning to manipulating the swollen bud of her arousal. "Right there, chere? . . . Oui . . . right there," he growled with masculine satisfaction. The way her body tightly clenched against his finger with each caress and her frenzied movements silently told him she was nearing the threshold. He continued arousing her overheated body feeling her tremble beneath his hands, every muscle in her body rippling with the pleasure that he was giving her. "You're so close . . . come on, Vash . . . that's it."

"Ohhh . . . yes . . . Jean-Luc . . . Oh God-- " Vash's voice caught in her throat and she gripped his leather bandoleers so tightly her knuckles turned white. The coil of pleasure was building and her hips were rubbing frantically against his hand. The knot of urgency shattered suddenly, her orgasm rocking her whole body. She collapsed back against the bulkhead, the aftermath of her release leaving her entire body highly sensitized and pulsating erotically. She could feel his ragged breathing against the delicate skin on the curve of her neck. Desperate to let her hands roam over the firm, muscular planes beneath the leather and suede, she began to unfasten the large metal buckle that held the bandoleers in place.

The bandoleers hit the floor with a heavy thud as his mouth found hers for another voracious kiss. He gripped the edges of his tunic and ripped it open before yanking it off to throw to the floor. Unfastening his painfully-tight trousers, he gripped her thigh and pulled it up, wrapping her thigh-high boot around his hip. He slammed her against the bulkhead when his body forcefully penetrated her. It was swift and rougher than he'd intended; he nipped at her kiss-swollen lips in a mute apology only to feel her tighten her leg around him in an unspoken demand for more. Raising his head to look at her, he began driving himself into her body, completely burying himself inside her at a fierce pace. She was matching him and challenging him to go higher, to take her further. His mouth latched onto the creamy skin of her throat and he sucked hard, feeling her body buck in his hands in response.

The force of Jean-Luc impaling her against the bulkhead knocked the breath out of Vash and still she pushed herself back against him, meeting his every stroke. The heat and fullness of each powerful thrust of his body into hers sent torrents of intense sensations flooding over her. Her hands glided along his arms, lingering on the solid, bulging biceps and feeling the sculpted muscles ripple and bunch with each movement. The erotic thrill of having her small body caught between the bulkhead and the tightly leashed strength of his lean, muscular build was fueling her own spiraling desires. The familiar, carnal ache deep inside her built steadily with every swift, deep stroke of his body into hers. Once again, he was taking her closer and closer to the peak of ecstasy. It was the sharp pull of his mouth on her neck that finally sent her over the abyss. She arched like a drawn bow as a powerful second release sent spasms of pleasure racing through her.

Picard felt Vash's body gripping him tightly in a powerful orgasm. Wrapping one arm around her waist, he swiftly spun them placing a knee on the bed and lowering them both onto the bed. Still deep within her, he resumed driving himself into her with long, hard strokes. Her hips rocked under him, welcoming every forceful thrust and demanding more. The slick depths of her body were hot and tight, frantically clenching at him with each thrust. She buried her face in the curve of his neck. Streaks of fire shot through his body when her mouth began sucking strongly at the sensitive skin along the side of his throat. He drove into her relentlessly, giving himself up to the burning pleasure of his body moving in and out of hers.

Vash splayed her small hands across his chest and pushed up, rolling them so that she was straddling his hips and she sat up straight, looking down at him. His breathing was uneven and the tense muscles of his body glistened under a thin layer of perspiration. With her hands braced against the damp, muscles of his broad chest, her knees dug into his sides as she came down on him over and over. She clenched her fists, curled among the coarse hair of his chest, driving both of their bodies to a cadence of furious intensity. In spite of her previous releases, she felt a powerful tension building and knew that there was still more passion. She was lost in the pleasure consuming her body as the forceful thrusts of his muscular hips countered her every downward stroke, inflaming the explosive force mounting inside her. When her overwhelming release came in wave after wave of pleasure crashing over her, she threw her head back, screaming out, "Jean-Luc!"

Hearing Vash cry out his name, his own passion overtook him and he lost control. With one, last, powerful thrust, he tightly gripped her hips and held himself buried inside her as his own explosive release ripped through him.

Collapsing against his sweat-dampened chest, Vash purred contentedly, "ooh baby, you can handle that way me anytime you want."

"Vash."

With a self-satisfied smile on her face and her blue eyes sparkling, she sat up, "oui, Mon Capitaine?"

He looked up at the lovely imp perched on top of him, "when all of this is over--"

"Hmmmm," she murmured while allowing herself just to luxuriate in the masculine presence of the man beneath her.

"Keep the boots."

………………

After the Sangrida arrived at the port on Ennan VI, Picard finished the docking procedures and headed back toward the main hold in search of his partner in crime. Once again dressed in her plain jacket of muted colors and brown trousers, Vash sat one of the ship's computer terminals working intently. "What are you doing?"

"Oh, some misdemeanors, maybe a couple of felonies--theft of information and such," she commented absently. Not looking up from her current task of hacking into the port's central computer to find Jonis Arvin's location, she off-handedly gestured toward a replicated copy of the Praetor's Fasces. "Not to mention at least one count of forgery . . . a very impressive one if I do say so myself."

"Mon Dieu," Picard sighed.

Hearing her husband's 'plasma-leak' sigh, Vash smiled to herself. There was a wicked part of her that lived to hear him do that. "Jonis Arvin is registered in suite 305 at the Elysium billed to Toff 's shipping company. These are images from the hotel's security monitors." She pointed to the screen just in front of her. "And there's our boy, playing dom-jot in the hotel's lounge while carelessly leaving his merchandise unattended in his suite; of course, he has no idea I'm after his little prize."

"Let me guess, the plan is for us to break into the suite and switch our copy of the Praetor's Fasces for the real one."

"No," she gave the word a full four syllables to impart the true no-ness of her response. "My brilliant, masterful strategy is for you to create a distraction in the lounge to keep Arvin there long enough for me to break into the suite and switch my copy of the Praetor's Fasces for the real one. After the switch, I will signal you to end whatever distraction the great and powerful Picard comes up with and we will get the hell out of Dodge--or Ennan VI as the case may be."

"You do realize that it is probably in some sort of safe inside the room."

"I'd be disappointed if it wasn't. The rooms in the Elysium typically use a standard civilian safe opened by a personal authorization code combined with a verified retinal print." She stood to face him. Stroking her hands down the heavy, leather bandoleers that crisscrossed over his chest, she purred, "Child's play. Don't worry, Mon Capitaine, I know my job. You just do yours."

.....................................

With contortions worthy of an acrobat, Vash managed to slide underneath the security camera on the third floor of the Elysium and create a feedback loop between the lens and the transmitter in 48 seconds flat--a personal best. She checked her chronometer; she'd have twenty minutes before the security program would register and flag the asynchronous time stamp on the images from that camera. She slung a brown duffle bag over her shoulder and casually strolled down the empty hallway to suite 305, glancing down the hallway in both directions to ensure that no one was coming. She knelt down, setting the bag on the floor and quickly pulled a small tool case out of her jacket pocket. It took just over two minutes of work on the door's locking mechanism to cajole it into sliding open. Putting her lock picks back in the case, she grabbed the bag and slipped into the room after checking one last time to ensure that no one had observed her.

Once inside, Vash flipped up the cuff on her jacket's left sleeve to reveal a wrist light. Activating the light, she scanned the darkened suite of rooms while making her way unerringly to the main bedroom. She opened the large closet and slid Arvin's clothes to one side to reveal the safe. It was an older model than she'd anticipated, she tsked mentally at the Elysium's lax security beyond the cameras as she knelt down in front of the suite's safe and got out what she'd need to coax it open.

........................................

Picard sat at the bar between the door and the dom-jot table. Arvin was playing an intense, apparently high-stakes game of dom-jot while two menacing-looking men, presumably his bodyguards, stood behind him and watched the other players and spectators. 'They can just stay right there playing their game and make my job nice and easy,' Picard thought to himself. He continued to follow the game and keep an eye on the time to make sure that Vash had enough time to get into Arvin's quarters, retrieve the Fasces, and get out.

The dom-jot game was finishing up. Arvin was clearly going to win, but the question was how long his opponent would be able to delay the inevitable. Picard silently rooted for Arvin's opponent to stave off defeat as long as possible, already thinking through the delaying tactics that he'd prepared just in case Arvin tried to leave the lounge too soon. The presence of the two men with Arvin was not going to make his job easier if it came to that. As he was studying the game, he noticed one of Arvin's men move toward the corner of the table, away from where most of the game action was happening. While everyone watched Arvin's opponent take a shot toward the far end of the table, the man quickly reached onto the table and slightly moved one of Arvin's pieces to help set up his boss's next shot. 'I thought you were a little too good for your style of play,' Picard thought, watching Arvin's man step back from the table as if nothing happened. Arvin's opponent did a double-take when he noticed the new position of the pieces on the table and then eyed the man who had just moved them balefully. Since neither he nor anyone else at the table--who was willing to say anything-- had seen it, there was nothing he could do except silently fume. Picard smiled to himself as shades of a misspent youth evoked a plan.

After too short of a time, a shout went up from the dom-jot table and Arvin's opponent grudgingly retrieved a credit tablet from his pocket. He angrily flung it at Arvin and stomped off to the other end of the table just glaring at the pieces on the table. Arvin smiled and waved, looking like a conquering gladiator acknowledging the adulation of the crowd.

Instead of having a drink to celebrate as he was hoping they would, Arvin and his men began making their way toward the door and Picard knew that Vash had not yet had enough time to retrieve the Fasces and get out of Arvin's quarters. Waiting until Arvin reached his position, he stepped in front of him, blocking the man's path. "I guess you're nothing but a thief anywhere, Arvin. Where's my property?" Picard demanded with a hard raspy voice in his 'Galen' persona.

Arvin slammed a beefy hand into the man's shoulder, shoving him back. "Watch who you're calling names. I don't know what you're talking about."

He couldn't let Arvin pass until he got the signal from Vash. "The Crown," he growled. "The Crown of Araznor. Baran stole it from me and now you have it. I want it back! Now!"

Arvin rolled his eyes as he tried to again move past. "Not again," he said impatiently. "How many times are you people going to bother me. I don't have anything of Baran's. I don't have your Crown or anything else." His tone became menacing. "If you really want to know what Baran did with your things, I can arrange for you to ask him yourself."

Johnny Picard played his trump card. When Arvin tried to pass him on his way toward the door, he said loudly, "You're a liar, a thief and you're a cheat. I'd guess that the man you were playing dom-jot with just now would be interested in knowing how one of your men rearranged the pieces on the table so you could win. Maybe a lot of other people you've beaten would be interested in how."

Just as he intended, his voice carried across the lounge and Arvin's most recent opponent began to approach with a look of rage on his face. "I want my credits back!" he bellowed, storming across the bar. Other patrons quickly scattered in the age-old tradition of clearing the area in anticipation of an imminent fight.

"You bastard. I'll break your neck!" Arvin glared at Picard, but before he could attack, his dom-jot opponent charged.

Picard saw him coming and adroitly stepped out of the way. The enraged man wrapped his arms around Arvin and they both fell to the floor. With the odds a little less unbalanced, he took on the bodyguards and hoped that Vash wasn't the only Picard who could start a good bar fight. He kicked the nearer bodyguard's leg out from under him and threw him backward onto a table where the man rolled off onto the floor, breaking a chair in the process. Throwing a hard right at the second man, he wasn't quite fast enough and the man blocked it, countering with a huge fist that slammed into his solar plexus. Struggling to catch his breath, there was nothing he could do to stop the left uppercut that sent him stumbling back against the bar and he grabbed it with one hand for support while the other hand snatched the bottle of Aldebaran whiskey that the bartender had left out. Bemoaning the waste of good whiskey, he slammed the bottle over the man's head.

He spared a quick second to check the entrance, hoping to see Vash but no such luck. Seeing Arvin wriggling away from his attacker, Picard threw an elbow into his own opponent as he moved into position to deliver a hard kick to Arvin's side, knocking the wind out of him. That shot cost him, the first bodyguard that he'd thrown down had recovered and slammed a fist into his right shoulder, the entire arm going numb in response. The second bodyguard followed that up with a kidney shot and he barely managed to spin in time to block the chair that the first man was bringing down on his head. He kicked the man, a little lower than the stomach which might have been a cheap shot except for the whole 'all's fair in love and war' concept and being outnumbered two to one by professional bodyguards was definitely a battle. The other fights that had sprung up was turning the bar into quite the war zone. He recoiled from the fist that the second bodyguard drove into the side of his head and couldn't stop himself from hitting the ground. Never stopping, he rolled to his side the instant he felt the floor beneath him and just barely avoided the huge boot that came stomping down, intending to crush some very important parts of his skeletal system. He peered through the legs of the other combatants toward the door of the lounge and swore softly when he realized that he was going to have to get up and keep the fight going.

The first bodyguard finally turned to help Arvin with his attacker, landing a blow that quickly rendered him semi-conscious. He helped his boss to his feet and all three of them began closing in on Picard who had just struggled to his feet.

"Get that man!" Arvin yelled to his men pointing to Picard.

..............................

'Damn, I should have just cut the thing open with a phaser,' Vash thought wryly to herself. She set down the high-precision caliper that she was working with and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, 'after all it's not like Starfleet will prosecute me.' Snapping the front of the control panel back into place, she punched in the new authorization code and checked her chronometer with a shrug; not a personal best but she was a little out of practice. She reached into the safe and carefully withdrew a rather heavy, large, black velvet bag. The cylindrical bundle of latinum rods, gold bands and axe head of the Praetor's Fasces glinted in the sparse light of her small work lamp as she took it from the velvet bag. The beauty and historical significance of the artifact gave her a moment's pause. Mentally shaking herself, Vash slipped the counterfeit Praetor's Fasces into the black velvet bag and returned it to the safe. She carefully packed the real Praetor's Fasces and her tools in her bag before checking her chronometer. Pausing only long enough to return Arvin's clothes to where they'd been when she arrived, she double-checked the closet to make sure everything was exactly the way it had been. With nine minutes to spare, she slipped out of the room; it would take five minutes to get back to the ship by way of the lounge to signal Jean-Luc and at least ninety seconds to clear the docking clamps so she had a whole two and a half minutes to spare.

..........................

Arvin wiped the blood from his mouth as his men and he slowly closed on the man who had started this. "You have made a very bad mistake," he hissed.

Picard chuckled quietly to himself. "We'll see," he said and then charged the three men. His momentum drove all three men backward but he managed to maintain his balance so that he had an opening while the three were trying to regain their footing. He landed a heavy right hand on the first bodyguard, spinning him to the floor before whirling around to face Arvin and the second man. Unfortunately for Picard, the other two were a bit more coordinated in their attack. The second bodyguard quickly dove for his ankles, locking his feet together in a clinch while Arvin landed a hard blow on Picard's chin that snapped his head back and threw him against the bar with a thud that echoed across the lounge.

Vash made her through the Elysium's lobby passing the open door way to the lounge just as Jean-Luc's head slammed back against the bar. Sucking in her breath, she muttered to herself, "oooh, that had to hurt."

Picard was slightly dizzy as the two bodyguards lifted him up to face Arvin; his ears were ringing and blood was trickling from his nose and the corner of his mouth. Arvin's men stood him up against the bar, holding him as Arvin landed a swift succession of blows to his ribs and stomach. He tried to kick out, but the two bodyguards quickly corralled his feet with their legs and held him helpless as Arvin took his anger out on him.

"You're going to pay for this," Arvin spat and cocked his arm back to land another vicious blow.

Vash stepped into the lounge pulling out her phaser and fired several shots. All three of Jean-Luc's adversaries crumpled to the ground, stunned. Putting away the weapon, she muttered impatiently to her very disheveled husband, "can we go now?"

"After you," he replied, slightly winded.

...........................

"We left the Ennan system twenty minutes ago, no sign of any pursuers and at our current speed of warp 5 we will rendezvous with the Enterprise in eight hours," Picard announced, stepping out of the cockpit and into the main hold. Vash barely even acknowledged him, engrossed in the readout from the portable scanner that she was using to analyze the Praetor's Fasces. He rubbed his sore ribs and muttered, "I hope that will satisfy your underwhelming interest in our actual getaway."

"You happen to be one of Starfleet's most experienced and seasoned starship captains. I naturally assumed you'd have no problem getting us out of there," she replied, scrupulously noting the results of the latest scan of the artifact on a PADD.

"Just like you naturally assume I'm going to dispatch any arachnid in the bathroom or pay the check at any business establishment that you choose to patronize," he chuckled and then promptly winced at the pain that any excessive facial movement caused.

"That's right," she answered unabashed in a sing-song voice.

She looked like such a kid in a candy store as she intently studied the treasured artifact. A very small smile of admiration pulled at Picard's lips. "I had no idea my wife was an accomplished cat burglar."

"That must make me the best pu--"

"Vash," he cut her off in an almost unconscious habit, knowing full well where that sentence was going. He eased himself gingerly down onto a nearby couch.

Vash looked up from her work to see Jean-Luc bring his legs up, stretching out on the couch and closing his eyes. After securing the Praetor's Fasces in the transport case that she had prepared for it, she walked over to the couch and knelt over him, straddling his hips. Leaning in to nuzzle his neck under his ear, she murmured,"you make a very sexy desperado."

"Ouch," he groaned, flinching slightly. "A well-seasoned desperado in a not-inconsiderable amount of discomfort."

"I could kiss it and make it better," she cooed, trailing kisses down the hard expanse of his chest exposed by the V neckline of his tunic.

"Ouch, that hurt," he grunted when her mouth inadvertently found a tender spot.

Vash reached out to caress the strong line of his jaw. "My poor baby."

"Ow."

Sitting up straight with her hands on her hips, she looked down at him expectantly. "Jean-Luc, where the hell doesn't it hurt?"

"Here," he replied lifting his elbow. Not quite able to hide her smile, she leaned in and kissed his elbow. "Here," he pointed to the top of his head where she dutifully placed a kiss. "This isn't too bad," he pointed to his lips. She responded by pressing the lush, fullness of her lips against his own in a long, deep passionate kiss.

**FINIS**

The Evil Within

Reasons of the Heart Index