Title: Incendiary
Author: Whoa Nellie ([email protected])
Series: TNG
Rating: NC-17
Codes: C/Chakotay, P/Vash, R/T, crew
Synopsis: The Enterprise is assigned to evaluate the final
stage of a planet's application for admission into the Federation. When Chakotay becomes a last-minute addition
to the sociology team assisting with the evaluation, Beverly and he enjoy a hot
reunion. Meanwhile, is someone trying
to sabotage the membership application?
This story was originally posted to ASC on June 29, 2002 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.
Feedback
is always appreciated, posted or e-mail.
Whoa
Nellie's Romance Star Trek Fan Fiction Stories
http://whoanellie.fortunecity.com
Find
the prequel to this story here: Playing Doctor
Incendiary
"Mr. Data, have we received
all of the available information on the Eillen?" Captain Jean-Luc Picard looked to his android officer. There was one final item of business in
their regular senior staff meeting, a status report on their current
assignment.
"Yes, Captain," Data
replied. He activated the
viewscreen. "Eillen is the fifth
planet and the only M-class planet in this binary system. It has no natural satellites and a
planet-wide population of 626 billion people.
They attained warp capability 73 years ago, but did not choose to join
the Federation at that time. The Eillen
government contacted the Federation three years ago expressing an interest in
joining."
"Three years?" Riker asked. "That means they should be in the final stage of the
process."
"Correct, Number One,"
Picard said. "Based on our
evaluation and the findings of the sociology team assigned to this mission, we
will be making a final recommendation on accepting or denying their
membership."
Data continued his report. "The Eillen are technologically as
advanced as the Federation in every area except offensive weapons, although
their defensive capabilities have not been field tested to our knowledge. They have developed a power supply system
that is more efficient than our own and the Federation scientists are eager to
study the possible applications in Federation technology. The planet has abundant mineralogical
resources that the Eillen have protected and preserved throughout their
recorded history."
Counselor Troi spoke up. "We've received a communique regarding
the sociology team assigned to this evaluation. The transport ship carrying the team will rendezvous with us in
about five hours. The anthropologist on
the team had a family emergency, so Starfleet has dispatched a
replacement. He will arrive tomorrow
afternoon."
"Do we know who they're
sending?" Picard asked.
"Yes, sir," Deanna
pulled up the personnel file. "A Starfleet
officer with an extensive record of first contacts and interaction with alien
races, his name is Commander Chakotay--"
"The Maquis?" Riker
interrupted.
Deanna, meanwhile, was buffeted
with very strong, completely opposite reactions from two of the staff at the
table. Struggling to control her
senses, she focused on the information in front of her. "Former Maquis, most recently he was
the first officer of the Federation Starship Voyager during their time in the
Delta Quadrant. Following their return,
as you may know, the Federation council granted full pardons to all of the
Maquis on Voyager over the objections of the Cardassians. Based on his record of service and the
recommendations of both Captain Janeway and Voyager's security chief, Lieutenant
Commander Tuvok, Commander Chakotay was offered reinstatement in
Starfleet. He accepted a posting to the
Starfleet First Contact teams as an anthropologist."
"Well, let's postpone the
reception for the sociology team until tomorrow night to allow Commander
Chakotay time to arrive," Picard said.
"If there's nothing further, we're adjourned."
As the assembled staff was
preparing to return to their duty stations, Deanna isolated one of the
reactions that she had sensed earlier.
"Will, what's wrong?"
"Tom didn't get a
pardon;" Riker couldn't look at Deanna.
He knew it wasn't the same, Tom hadn't been on Voyager--but it rankled
nonetheless. It was nothing personal;
he didn't know any of Voyager's Maquis.
It just didn't seem fair that his . . . other self, for lack of a better
term, hadn't gotten the same break.
Deanna reached out to coax his
chin up so he was looking at her.
"He also didn't get massacred.
Commander Chakotay and his people spent seven years isolated from the
Federation on a Starfleet ship living and working under Starfleet
regulations. Their service records
reflect repeated dedication to Starfleet principles, the ship and their
crewmates--they earned those pardons.
If Tom had turned himself in to Starfleet, he might have served time and
been rehabilitated by now instead of being in a Cardassian prison. You can't blame Commander Chakotay for
getting thrown into the Delta Quadrant any more than you can blame Tom for not
ending up in the Delta Quadrant."
Wrapping his arms around
Deanna's slim waist, his lips sought hers for a long, deep kiss. He pulled her against him and reached out
with his mind to find her thoughts. The
warmth of her love for him was evident as he let his mind entwine in hers. For a few brief moments, nothing else
existed but her. Finally breaking the
kiss, he sighed deeply. "I
know. I also understand why they were
pardoned. After their historic trek
back through uncharted space and the Dominion War here, everyone needed a
celebration and the Federation needed the knowledge and expertise that not only
the Starfleet crew but the Maquis on Voyager possessed in the rebuilding
process. It was a win-win situation for
everyone."
"Are you going to be all
right with this?"
"Yeah, if nothing else he's
fresh meat for the poker game," Riker grinned.
.........................................................................
"Either that Terellian
Fudge Decadence is better than usual, or something else is responsible for that
dreamy smile on your face." Vash
reached across the table to snag a spoonful of the concoction in front of
Beverly. Deanna, the doctor and she
were just settling in for one of their usual 'chocolate fests.'
Deanna briefly savored a bite of
fudge-covered brownie. "I think
it's more of a someone than a something."
Flushing slightly, Beverly
spooned a large dollop of the Terellian Fudge Decadence into her mouth. Even as she shrugged innocently, she knew it
was a lost cause.
"This wouldn't have anything
to do with a certain last-minute addition to the sociology team joining us,
would it?" Deanna asked, spraying
whipped cream on her next bite of brownie.
"Oooh, paydirt," Vash
crowed. "I don't need to be
empathic to read that blush." She
pointed her own can of whipped cream at Beverly. "Okay, spill it."
Beverly paused, thinking back to
that magical week in medical school.
Across the table, Deanna moaned
softly.
"God, that good," Vash
breathed in amazement. "Come on,
share--out loud."
"It was during medical
school--he was a senior at the Academy."
Vash interrupted her at this
point. "Um, I'm not privy to your
staff meetings, so could someone fill me in on who we're talking about?"
"Commander Chakotay, former
and current Starfleet officer with a stint in the Maquis in-between,"
Deanna supplied.
"Chakotay is . . .
?" Vash trailed off, waiting for
either of them to finish the sentence.
"Indian," Beverly
said. "He was born and raised
off-world, but his ancestry is Earth."
"A flame-haired doctor and
a wild Indian brave--I think I have a bodice-ripper with that plot," Vash
winked at Deanna.
"Would this be the
toe-curler?" Deanna asked,
remembering a comment Beverly had once made to her.
Smiling broadly, her cheeks
burning, Beverly nodded yes. "God,
he was nineteen, bronze, muscled with the most sensuous voice and absolutely
insatiable. The chemistry was so hot,
practically all we did was . . . "
"The mattress mambo,"
Vash cackled. She handed the doctor the
Ktarian chocolate puff. "A younger
man, Bev, I'd have never guessed. You
go, girl."
Deanna took a sip of her hot
fudge-chocolate. "How did the two
of you meet?"
"The infirmary,"
Beverly replied. "He was injured
in a boxing match--"
"And you kissed it and made
it all better." Vash collapsed
against the back of her chair in a fit of laughter.
"Playing doctor with your
patients, Doctor? Deanna couldn't
resist the jibe, joining in the amusement.
"I know you have a good bedside manner, but isn't that carrying things
a little far?"
Chuckling along with her
friends, Beverly threw in a comment of her own. "Bed, nothing; as I recall it was more like ground, supply
closet wall, the shower in the men's locker room . . . well, I guess there was
a bed involved once."
"Oh my God! The shower in the men's locker
room?" Vash gasped, erupting into
a fresh round of giggles.
"I never knew you were so
wild, Bev," Deanna teased.
Beverly sighed, remembering the
intense sensuality of those deep, brown eyes, "Only with him."
"This is the relationship
that only lasted a week?" Deanna
asked. When the doctor nodded yes, she
posed her next question. "He
obviously made you very happy. What
happened?"
"Fear," Beverly
said. "He was young and full of
life. He was command track and wanted
adventure; I was still in medical school and looking for stability. I was afraid of . . . Oh God--"
"What is it, Bev?"
Vash asked, concerned.
Beverly buried her face in her
hands. "I told him I was afraid
that I would end up a widow with children to raise on my own. In a way, that was part of it, but I was
also overwhelmed by how fast things happened.
It was such an intense week with him--I'd never felt that way with any
man before, or since. I just felt so
out of control with him. I loved Jack
and our life together, but Chakotay could make me weak in the knees just
flashing those dimples of his. I wasn't
myself whenever he was anywhere near me."
"Maybe you were
yourself," Deanna suggested, "free and uninhibited instead of being
responsible and in control."
"But--," Beverly
began.
Vash broke in. "Bev, Jean-Luc and I made a similar
decision, remember? Then he got a
glimpse into some sort of alternate universe and saw how a different decision
turned out for him--another him. That's
why I'm here, because Jean-Luc decided to follow his heart instead of his
head. Yes, your past is ironic given
why you ended things with him, but he's here now--or will be soon. Your paths are crossing again, whether by
chance or fate--who cares? You've got a
great opportunity, jump on him--I mean it," Vash finished with an impish
shrug.
"I couldn't have said it
better myself," Deanna was still grinning at Vash's 'slip of the tongue.'
"You know, this could all
be moot," Beverly stole a spoonful of Risan Chocolate Mousse from the dish
in the center of the table. "For
all I know, he's happily married or involved."
"No and no," Deanna
helped herself to some of the mousse as well.
"I read the psychological profile from the debriefing team. There was a young woman--a former Borg
drone--from the ship whom he had just begun a relationship with before their
return. By the end of their debriefing,
they had parted amicably. She had
apparently perceived him to be a safe, non-threatening partner for some
experimenting with human courtship; whereas on his part it seemed to be more of
a reaction to enforced isolation. Back
on Earth, they just naturally drifted apart.
He is quite single and emotionally unattached."
"Forget emotional
attachment," Vash spoke up.
"Go for the physical attachment--those are much more fun, not to
mention great exercise for working off all this chocolate."
"Jean-Luc isn't a young
man, anymore," Beverly pointed out.
"Thank God," Vash
rolled her eyes. "If Jean-Luc had
any more stamina than he does now, I'd never be able to walk."
The three women broke into gales
of laughter once again.
................................................................................
"Did the sociology team
members get settled in all right?"
Riker had a stack of books in his arms as Deanna and he walked through
the corridors. They were on their way
to meet the captain and Vash for a quiet dinner in Ten Forward. Deanna hadn't explained the books, just
asked him to carry them and said that they'd be dropping off a box of stuff,
including the books, at Beverly's quarters on the way.
"Yes," Deanna
replied. They stopped at the door to
the Picards' quarters, and she rang the door chime.
Inside, Vash was sitting on the
floor near an open trunk with books strewn all around. "Come."
"I brought the books,"
Deanna said, walking in.
Right behind her, Riker spoke
up. "Correction, I carried the
books that she wanted to bring."
"You can be a good boy and
just keep right on carrying them all the way over to that box on the table,
William," Vash instructed without looking up. "Aha! I found it;
Wild Hearts Healing Touch by W. Nellie.
I knew I had it."
He dutifully crossed the room to
the indicated table and deposited the books beside the box. "These are for Beverly?" He glanced through some of the books that he
had been carrying. "First Love
Wild Love, Beloved Savage, Silken Savage . . . am I seeing a theme here?"
"Yep," Vash answered. She scooped the books back into the trunk
and closed the lid. "They're to
help Bev prepare for her reunion."
"Where's the
captain?" Riker suddenly decided
he didn't want to know what the two ladies were up to.
"Changing," Vash
said.
Almost on cue, Picard appeared
in the bedroom doorway. "Number
One, Deanna," he nodded in greeting.
"How many times do I need to tell you not to play with them, Number
One? Asking Vash anything just
encourages her to give you an answer."
"Since when have I waited
for him to ask before I share those delightful TMI's that always make his ears
turn red and you sigh like a plasma leak?"
Picard dropped a perfunctory
kiss on her upturned lips.
"There's a reason that it's referred to as Too Much Information, dear."
"A little knowledge is a
dangerous thing," Vash chirped.
"In your hands it's
practical lethal, Vash," Riker said.
Deanna started to put the books
into the box and noticed some things already there. "What else do you have in here?"
"Just a couple of things to
help set the mood," Vash shrugged almost innocently. "To answer your question, William,
Beverly and a certain Commander Chakotay knew each other a long time ago. We just want to help Beverly get excited
about this little reunion."
"Motion lotion?" Deanna laughed as she pulled the items out
of the box to get a closer look.
"To help get things heated
up properly," Vash winked.
"There's also some cherry body gel but since all of Beverly's beds
come equipped with restraints, I didn't think she'd need the chains, and whips
really aren't her style."
"Vash," Picard sighed.
"Bio-bed restraints,
Jean-Luc. All of her bio-beds in
Sickbay have restraints," Vash laughed.
"I also threw in a box of belly button candies--cinnamon to be precise,
nice and hot. Don't worry, Jean-Luc, I
have a full box of them in my nightstand."
All he could do was heave
another sigh.
..........................................
"That was quite an impressive
collection of novels Deanna and you presented to Beverly," Picard noted to
his wife, slightly sardonically, later that evening. He turned off the bathroom light and walked over to his side of
the bed.
Already in bed, Vash glanced up
from the PADD she was working on and smiled, allowing her appreciative gaze to
travel over the masculine power of Jean-Luc's body emphasized by the short,
grey pajamas he wore. "We've been
reading them since our late teens, so we both have amassed something of a stockpile. Deanna had more of the westerns like we gave
Beverly."
"Those were not exactly
what I would call westerns," he chuckled pulling back the covers. He climbed into bed next to her, noticing
that she wore one of his favorite negligees, the sapphire satin one, which
molded itself to her perfect curves. He
regretted his next question before even asking it; however, curiosity was
killing the cat. "Just out of
morbid curiosity, ma petite, does this stockpile of yours contain any novellas
featuring a Frenchman as the heroic lead?"
"Well, now that you mention
it . . ." Vash trailed off as she leaned over to open the drawer of her
nightstand. After rummaging through
various mementos, she sat back up holding a very ragged, well-read, well-worn
book. She coquettishly gazed at her
husband through her lashes and handed him the book, "This happens to be
one of my favorites."
"A Coeur Ouvert,"
Picard read the title out loud as he looked at the picture on the front
cover. He had noticed that these novels
always seemed to have rather lascivious pictures on the cover. On this one, a French Marshal of the
Napoleonic era held a lovely young brunette who was dressed in a elegant gown
from the same historical period, bent back over his arm. Considerably more cleavage spilled over her
décolletage than would have been acceptable for the time; not that it would
have mattered. Judging by the
expression on the man's face he wasn't planning for the young lady to wear the
gown for very long. The picture went a
long way toward earning the book the 'bodice-ripper' moniker so often used by
Vash, Beverly, and Deanna. Allowing the
book to fall open, he began to read.
**********
Upon learning from one of the
field colonels that Mademoiselle Chandal was alone at her family's countryside
estate, Grant shouted a few final orders to one of his generals as he mounted
his horse. The idea itself was enough
to nearly panic the usually unflappable military officer. The Chandal chateau lay right in the path of
the retreating Prussian forces. What in
the world was Marguerite thinking? He
spurred the horse to a frantic pace, desperate to reach her in time. As he raced through the war-torn
countryside, he prayed, 'God save me from stubborn women.' He had told her to go to her aunt's home in
Paris. His precious Marguerite never
followed orders, not even from a French Marshal. He topped the hill overlooking the chateau and his heart
faltered. The Prussians were closer
than he was--he'd never make it in time!
Determinedly, he urged the horse faster, uncaring if he drove the beast
into the ground; he had to save his darling Marguerite!
Inside the chateau, Marguerite
tightened her grip on her father's sword as yet another round of cannon fire
volleyed and thundered just beyond the walls of the house. The large windows rattled from the nearness
of the explosions. Just then, a shout
sounded from outside and she turned, dragging the sword around in front of
her. It took all of her strength to
pull the tip of the sword off the floor and, holding it in both hands, point it
toward the approaching invader. Even
though she knew someone was coming, she screamed shrilly when the horse and
rider crashed dramatically through the large, stained-glass window in the Grand
Hall, the rider's cloak flowing majestically behind him. The horse was dripping sweat, the
barrel-chest heaving with exertion. On
the horse was the most magnificent sight she'd ever seen-- her Grant, come to
her rescue. In spite of the looming
danger, she nearly swooned at the strong, dashing figure that French Marshal
Renault cut in his gold-braided, ornate military jacket and riding pants which
emphasized his sleek, muscular build as his powerful thighs gripped the sides
of the horse.
"Thank God!" he
breathed as he swung himself off of the horse, grateful to see the vision of
loveliness standing before him. Her
dress was simple by Parisian standards, but his precious cherie never needed
fancy things to adorn her. She was the
most amazing jewel without any trappings at all. He rushed to her, pushing aside the sword she held to clasp her
to him, embracing her passionately while his heart slowed its rapid pace. "I told you to go to Paris. Why are you still here, ma petite?"
"As God as my witness, I
will never let those filthy Prussians touch my family home!" She avowed, tossing her head defiantly to
look up at him. She was held captive by
his gaze, his handsome, chiseled features framing those intense grey eyes and
the firm set of his mouth. Her heart
raced at the thought of those lips on hers.
The anticipation of his kiss alone was enough to cause butterflies in
her stomach.
"Oh, that's
brilliant." He pulled the sword
from her, kissing the soft, creamy skin on the back of her hand as he
spoke. "Marguerite, you can't even
take me with this sword, what do you think you could do against cannons with
it?"
Marguerite huffed indignantly
and turned away. "If that's how
you feel about it, then leave and go back to your men, Marshal Renault. I can take care of myself."
"Do you really think I
would just leave you here?" Grant
reached out to grab her arm and pulled her roughly against him. His mouth swooped down to cover hers in a passionately-charged
kiss bespeaking the desire that blazed in his steel-grey eyes.
Marguerite's knees gave way as
Grant's muscular arms slid around her, crushing her against him. She clutched his shoulders, feeling the
sinewy muscles through his uniform and thrilling at the raw strength of his manly
body. In the warm security of his embrace,
the butterflies in her stomach burst from their cocoons as eagles of
desire. She arched into him, his hard,
muscle-bound form overpowering her own soft, yearning body. Thoughts of maidenly virtue fled before the
chastely images of him taking her to heights of passion she had only heard the
whispers of servants about. Gasping for
air, she broke the kiss with a terrified thought, "Grant, if the enemy
finds you here . . ."
"Which is why we're
leaving. " He replied as he took off his cloak and wrapped it around
her. He swept her tiny frame into his
arms, ignoring the cannon balls piercing the walls of the house and vaulted
onto his steed.
************
While it was flamboyant and
ridiculously melodramatic, Picard had to begrudgingly admit to seeing certain
parallels between the couple in the book and Vash and himself. However, he didn't give a damn how petite
she was, no man could just vault onto a horse while holding a woman in his
arms. Any idiot knows you have to put
the woman on the horse first and then mount up behind her. He wouldn't even mention how skittish the
horse would be with artillery going off nearby. He cast a sideways glance at Vash to find she had returned her
attention back to her PADD or at least she was pretending to. Again, he let the pages just fall open and
began reading a second passage later in the book.
*************
"Je t'aime,
Marguerite." Grant vowed in a deep
resonating whisper reaching up to brush his fingers through her silky, brunette
hair while gazing into her brilliant blue eyes. Effortlessly sweeping his beautiful, young bride up into his
arms, he carried her up the staircase, "Bedtime, Madame Renault."
**************
Picard winced inwardly as he
recognized in the short paragraph several--what Vash enjoyed calling--Picard
Maneuvers. He skipped ahead two pages.
**************
Marguerite bit her lower lip,
frightened and yet excited, when Grant pushed forward, his turgid sword of
masculinity piercing the barrier of her maidenhead and sheathing itself deep
within her. She cried out at the pain,
which was quick and sharp, but it soon subsided and, in its place, left a
fullness that was strange and yet pleasant.
She moved her hips in a virginal exploration of this new and exciting
sensation, the initial discomfort forgotten.
After she began to wiggle, she heard him sigh deeply, seeking her mouth
and plunging his tongue in. With his
hands entangled in her hair and without breaking the kiss, he began moving his
shaft in and out of her womanhood, slowly at first--a methodical pace to
accustom her to his body's demands. Her
movements fell into step with his, and she could feel her heated depths
clutching frantically at that pulsating part of him. A mysterious pressure began to build in her; it was frightening
and yet curiously enticing. She tried
to reach for it, pushing her hips up in an effort to speed their tempo. It was if God had designed her body to fit
perfectly with his and they had simply been waiting for this moment of
completion. Her hands clutched his
tightly sculpted upper arms, feeling the strong muscles ripple and bunch with
the forceful movements of his body, afraid that if she released her grip, she
would be lost in the swirling, chaotic sensations threatening to overwhelm her
senses. She surrendered herself to the
strength and sheer virility of this man's masculine presence. Without warning, those sensations took over
and the universe suddenly shattered into a thousand rainbow-colored pieces as
Marguerite exploded with passion, crying Grant's name over and over.
*************
"This is how you ladies
entertain yourselves?" Picard
chuckled as he looked over at his wife.
"Literally," Vash
purred suggestively as she set down her PADD.
"What the devil have you
done to this book?" Picard
wondered as he tried in vain to get the bedraggled book to stay shut. "It won't even stay closed."
Looking somewhat sheepish, Vash
admitted, "There were a few occasions where it accidentally fell into my
bathwater."
"Why not just replicate another
copy?"
"Oh, I couldn't do
that! We have such a history
together," Vash gasped in feigned horror as she snatched the book from
Jean-Luc and clasped it to her.
"Besides, it opens up to all the really good parts."
"I suppose next you're
going to tell me that you find this French Marshal character reminiscent of
me."
"Well, yes. There are a number of striking
similarities. Especially in the part
where the evil Marquis tries to force Marguerite to marry him so he can control
her family's vast estate and Grant saves her by running the Marquis through
with his sword during a duel." Vash answered, managing to keep a straight
face.
For a brief moment, Picard
believed her; after all, it was a plausible plot element for this book. Recognizing the impish sparkle that lit her
eyes, he realized that he'd been had.
"You just made that up."
"Yep."
"Am I ever going to live
down the way I dispatched Sir Guy during Q's little Robin Hood
scenario?" Picard muttered
wearily, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
"Nope."
..................................................................................
"Sickbay to Counselor
Troi."
Deanna reached for her
commbadge. "Troi here." She was on her way to Transporter Room One
to meet Commander Chakotay.
"I've got a minor emergency
here in Sickbay," Beverly said.
"I'm not going to be able to get away."
Knowing that other personnel in
Sickbay could hear the conversation, Deanna parsed her reply very
carefully. "I do hope this isn't
serious enough to keep you from the reception tonight. I'll extend your greeting and apologies to
the Commander." Just before she
closed the channel, she added, "Did you get a chance to review that
material we dropped off last night?"
"Goodbye, Deanna,"
came Beverly's amused reply.
Deanna entered the transporter
room where Will was already waiting.
The transporter chief tapped
panels on his console. "Sir, the
commander is ready to beam aboard."
"Acknowledged," Riker
nodded. "Energize."
The familiar light pattern of
the transporter beam was replaced by the solid form of Commander Chakotay. 'His picture doesn't do him justice,' Deanna
thought to herself.
"Welcome aboard the
Enterprise," Riker stepped forward and extended his hand. "I'm First Officer, Commander William
Riker and this is Ship's Counselor, Deanna Troi."
Chakotay shifted the bag he
carried to shake hands with the two officers.
"Commander Chakotay, Starfleet Sociological Division. It's a pleasure to meet you both."
"If you'll come with me,
Commander," Deanna began.
"I'll show you to your quarters.
Captain Picard is holding a reception in Ten-Forward this evening for
the sociology team. I'm sure you'll
want to settle in first."
Stepping off the transporter
platform, Chakotay remarked, "Thank you, actually I'd love to see more of
the ship. I've never had the
opportunity to see a Sovereign-class vessel up close and personal."
"I'm sure we can arrange a
tour while you're aboard," Riker said.
"If you'll excuse me, I should return to the bridge."
As they exited the transporter
room, Deanna had a suggestion.
"Perhaps Dr. Crusher could give you that tour; she wanted to be
here to greet you, but she had an emergency in Sickbay."
Chakotay paused to allow the
counselor to precede him out of the room.
"I don't believe I know her."
Troi and he went in one direction while the first officer headed in the
other direction.
"You probably know her by
her maiden name," Deanna pointed out casually. "I believe the two of you knew each other at the Academy,
Beverly Howard." Paydirt, as Vash
would say, she was suddenly struck by a powerful surge of arousal from the
commander. He definitely remembered her
and he definitely still had strong feelings for her.
"Yes, she was at Starfleet
Medical; she treated me after an injury once," he hoped his voice sounded
marginally non-committal. "She's
married now?"
"Widowed," Deanna
supplied, inwardly amused by the thrill that shot through him with that
news. "Her husband was killed in
the line of duty more than twenty years ago.
She's been the Chief Medical Officer aboard the Enterprise for most of
the past fourteen years."
"It'll be nice to see her
again."
Stopping at the door to his
assigned quarters, she said, "Here you are, if you have any questions or problems,
just call. The reception is in
Ten-Forward and will begin at 1800 hours."
"Thank you."
"I'll see you
tonight."
........................................................................
"I didn't know push-up bras
were part of the Starfleet dress uniforms," Vash purred quietly as she
joined Beverly and Deanna in Ten-Forward that evening. She was wearing one of her little black
dresses tonight with her favorite pearl choker and matching earrings. One of the perks to civilian life was a more
variable wardrobe than the duty uniforms and dress uniforms that Starfleet
personnel had to choose from.
"I thought they were a
little . . . perkier than usual," Deanna teased. "The male crewmembers here have certainly noticed."
"Ladies," Picard joined
the group just as the three broke out in giggles, Beverly suspiciously flushed.
Riker appeared from the other
direction with a trio of drinks precariously clutched in his hands. "Here we go. Good evening, Captain, Vash.
Can I get you something to drink?"
"No, thank you, Number
One," Picard declined. "I
need to see Guinan and commend her for the usual well-done decor and
refreshments."
The door to Ten-Forward slid
open and Chakotay stepped into the room.
He'd spent the entire afternoon struggling to read reports on the Eillen
in order to get up to speed on the mission, but was frequently distracted by
memories of a certain, incredibly hot redhead, so adorably unsure of
herself. Would she even remember him? Counselor Troi had said that she'd wanted to
meet him earlier, of course it may have just been protocol--a senior officer
duty. He wiped his palms on his uniform
trousers. His hands hadn't sweated this
much as a teenager, where had this nervousness come from? His heart lodged in his throat. There she was, across the room talking and
laughing. What do you say to your first
love and the only woman who ever broke your heart?
"There he is," Deanna
whispered.
Beverly's heart dropped into the
pit of her stomach. What would he
think? She knew that she was still in
good shape, but she was also thirty years older than the last time he'd seen
her.
"You had THAT and let him
go?" Vash gasped, staring at
Commander Tall, Dark and Yummy in the doorway of Ten-Forward. "Thirty lashes with a wet
noodle." Just then Chakotay and
Beverly locked gazes and he smiled, dimples appearing in tanned cheeks. "God, make that forty lashes."
"Should I be worried, ma
chere?" Picard asked in bemusement.
Vash leaned over to drop a kiss on
her husband's cheek. "Of course
not, he's just a tasty little piece of eye candy--very sweet to look at."
Chakotay made his way through
the crowd to where Beverly stood. She
was still as beautiful as ever; she'd barely changed over the years. "Hi, Fireball," he murmured
softly. "It's good to see you
again."
'Fireball?' Vash mouthed to
Deanna who shrugged back in bemused curiosity.
"Hi, Chakotay,"
Beverly could feel her face burning.
She was that awkward, self-conscious twenty-four year old all over
again.
"You still wear your hair
down." Chakotay reached out to
finger some of the auburn tresses, oblivious to everyone around them. "It still suits you."
Picard spoke up. "She's worn her hair down since I've
known her."
Beverly barely heard
anything. She was drowning in the
sweet, brown eyes staring down at her.
"I used to hate my hair. I
always wore it pulled back or pinned up."
"I'm Vash Picard,"
Vash jumped into the conversation.
"I'm the head of the archaeology department aboard the Enterprise
and Jean-Luc's blushing bride."
"I'm sorry," Beverly
said. "I don't know where my
manners are tonight. May I introduce
you to Captain Jean-Luc Picard and his wife, Vash; you've already met Deanna
and Will. Everyone, this is Commander
Chakotay; we knew each other back at the Academy."
"Literally," Vash
coughed, shrugging impishly at the embarrassed glare Beverly shot at her.
As they were shaking hands,
Picard spoke. "It's a pleasure to
have you aboard, Commander. Perhaps
we'll have an opportunity to have tea and discuss some of your experiences in
the Delta Quadrant."
"I'd enjoy that, sir."
Vash was bursting with
curiosity. "Have you seen the ship
yet, Commander Chakotay? I'd love to
give you the full tour."
"Thank you, Mrs. Picard,"
Chakotay said, "but Counselor Troi has already volunteered Fireball here
for that duty assignment."
"Fireball?" Vash parroted back.
"The first time I laid eyes
on her, I was nineteen and with that beautiful hair and incredible looks, I couldn't
think of anything to better describe her," Chakotay explained.
Beverly clarified one point in
that story. "The first time he
laid eyes on me, he was waking up from a concussion."
"You're just as hot as
ever, Fireball," his eyes studied her appreciatively.
Picard firmly wrapped his arm
around Vash's waist. "If you'll
excuse us, I need to see Guinan, the bartender-of-sorts here."
"But I don't and I still
have a whole list of questions," Vash smiled up at the commander sweetly,
trying to slip out of Jean-Luc's grasp.
"I'm sure you do,
dear. I just don't think Commander
Chakotay is up for the Spanish Inquisition tonight."
"The Holy Roman Inquisition
is more my style anyway," a smile tugged at the corners of Vash's
mouth. "They gave people a grace
period to confess themselves before the actual questioning began."
"Thank you, Professor
Vash," Picard steered his wife toward the bar.
Deanna and Riker exchanged
glances.
"Oh . . . yes. Would you care for something to
eat?" Riker suddenly stammered.
Chakotay looked questioningly at
Beverly after Deanna accepted and the two had excused themselves.
"She's half-Betazed, they
can communicate telepathically," Beverly explained. "She's an empath--normally only able to
sense emotions, but with her Imzadi, they have a much stronger mental
link."
"Then that was a very
non-subtle, silent effort to leave us alone," Chakotay theorized.
She laughed, combing her fingers
through her hair nervously. "You'd
think that experienced Starfleet officers would be a little smoother about it,
wouldn't you?"
Moving closer, he could smell
the gentle, flowery scent of her perfume.
He leaned forward to whisper in her ear. "You know what Machiavelli would say, don't you?"
Beverly couldn't even place the
name with his hot breath fanning the creases and folds of her ear. His voice was just as mesmerizing and
sensuous as she remembered.
Chakotay guided her eyes up to
his with one finger under her chin.
"The ends justify the means."
.............................................................
"Beverly wasn't kidding
when she said that she was totally different around this guy," Vash
confided to Deanna later that evening.
They were watching the couple standing by the window, the stars
providing a celestial backdrop.
"Is she all right?"
Somewhat concerned herself,
Deanna had been keeping an emotional tab on Beverly throughout the
evening. The couple had been
inseparable, with Beverly introducing him to some of the crew present and
Chakotay introducing her to the rest of the sociology team members. "She's fine--more than fine,
really. They both have very strong
reactions to one another. I'm not
sensing any duplicity from Commander Chakotay, his feelings toward Beverly are
quite genuine."
"I've just never seen her
like this before," Vash said.
"You've known her longer, Dee, have you?"
"Close, an entity named
Ronin and a Trill named Odan; she felt very deeply for them and there was
passion, but she was more in control of herself with them. Ronin she destroyed to protect the
Enterprise and Odan she ended things with when he ended up in another
body."
"Oh, that would make it a
little odd," Vash had known a few Trills in her day. "You're sure this guy isn't going to
take advantage of her? I could have
Jean-Luc call Geoffrey down from bridge duty to read him."
Focusing on Chakotay, she
replied. "I can't be sure of his
usual demeanor, but he's very relaxed.
He's not making any effort to disguise his feelings for her. There is a lot of unrestrained passion and
tenderness, but it's hard to distinguish between the two of them. I don't think Captain Picard would call his
Betazed security chief from bridge command to eavesdrop on a private
conversation to satisfy your curiosity."
"You'd be surprised at what
I can get that man to do for me. Bottom
line, I don't need to have Jean-Luc shoot him out an airlock just yet?"
"Shoot who out an airlock,
chere?" Picard walked over just in
time to catch his wife's comment.
Vash turned to give him a
perfunctory kiss. "Commander
Chakotay. Dee says he's a nice boy, but
as tightly as he's got Bev wrapped around his little finger, I just don't want
to see her get hurt."
"Beverly is a grown
woman," he reminded her.
"Don't meddle."
"I have no intention of
meddling, but what kind of friend would I be if I didn't provide a little
well-placed support?"
Across the room, Beverly raised
her glass to her lips only to discover that it was empty.
"Would you like more?"
Chakotay offered.
Another drink would extend the
evening a little longer and she really didn't want to see it end. "No, thank you. It's getting late, I should probably call it
a day."
"May I walk you to your
quarters?"
Blood raced through her body,
her heart beating furiously. "I'd
like that."
Chakotay took the empty glass
from her hands and set it down on a nearby table along with his. Turning back, he extended his arm toward
her.
Beverly nearly stopped breathing
at the sensation of her hand settled snuggly in the crook of his strong arm.
"I realize that this isn't
as big as the Galaxy-class ships," Chakotay said as they left Ten-Forward,
"but after seven years on an Intrepid-class, it seems huge."
His scent was clean, natural--no
colognes or aftershaves, she noticed once they were alone in the corridor. As a young man, Chakotay had been almost
lanky with a sinewy strength; as a man, he was solid, muscular with a powerful
presence. The voice, which had been so
soft, was now low, almost melodious with an erotic timbre that sent shivers
through her entire body. Those lips had
just gotten more full and sensuous over the years. The tattoo he now sported gave him a more savage look; briefly
she imagined him clad only in a breechcloth like a character from one of those
romance novels.
"Beverly."
Startled out of her reverie, she
looked up at him. "Yes?"
"What deck are your
quarters on?"
Dragging her eyes away from his
face, she realized that they were standing in a turbolift. For a split second, she couldn't remember
where her quarters were. If she went to
his quarters with him, she wouldn't need to ask the computer where her quarters
were. "Deck four," she
answered finally.
She looked so beautiful, her
big, blue eyes staring up at him, her bright auburn hair flowing gently across
her shoulders. Chakotay bent his head
to brush his lips softly against hers.
Her mouth was pliant to his entreaty, opening readily at the urging of
his tongue. He pulled her against him,
her supple curves molding to the hard contours of his own body. His hands tightened around her, pressing her
closer to him, his tongue reacquainting itself with hers.
"Ahem."
Springing away from Chakotay,
Beverly looked at the door to the turbolift.
Geordi and Robin Lefler stood there with equally goofy grins badly
hidden.
"I believe this is your
deck, Dr. Crusher," Geordi almost managed to say without laughing.
Her face flaming, she nodded to
the two as she exited the lift, a bemused Chakotay trailing her.
"You're adorable when you
blush," he murmured.
Sighing in resignation, Beverly
started along the corridor toward her quarters. "Why is it that every time I'm near you, I turn into this
wild, wanton woman?"
Chakotay stopped and turned her to
face him. "It's not me, Fireball,
it's you. It's who you really are
inside." As he spoke, he trailed a
finger lightly down the front of her uniform to emphasize his response. "It's who you've always been."
Somewhere low in her body, his
soft words and tender caress sparked an ache.
She knew that she should say goodnight and go to bed, alone. Of course, it was doing what she 'should'
that had separated them thirty years ago.
She was tired of a lifetime spent doing what she should instead of what she
wanted. "Would you like to come
in?"
Inside her quarters, Chakotay
wandered around, studying the clues to the woman she had become. Several plants around the room told him of
her love of nature and beauty, while the books scattered on the table and
resting on the bookcase revealed a mind hungry for stimulation and
knowledge. Beverly had gone into the
bathroom to get out of her uniform and into something more casual, so he idly
picked up one of the books on the table and began flipping through it. There was a bookmark almost halfway through,
and he allowed the book to fall open there.
Reading only a couple of sentences, he slammed the book shut and looked
more closely at the cover. A
bronze-skinned man with long, dark hair and rippling muscles clad only in a
breechcloth--obviously meant to be an Indian--stood triumphantly over a
red-haired woman wearing a flimsy chemise and laying at his feet.
"That's not mine,"
Beverly was starting to think her face should just be painted red; it would
save time since she had been blushing almost constantly over the past day
anyway. She had changed into a
cream-colored tunic, after a brief debate with herself deciding to leave off
the leggings. The tunic fell to a
decent length and, thanks to her dancing, she still had nice, trim legs. Crossing over to where he was grinning
broadly as he held the book out to her, she explained. "They belong to some friends of mine, I
just . . . I mean . . . they just . . ."
God, those dimples were so inviting, just begging for her to stick her
tongue-- "Would you like something to drink?"
"No."
His answer was so low, she
barely heard it. His eyes were boring
into her, so dark that they appeared almost black. Wetting her lips, she stepped closer until their bodies were not
quite touching, and asked her next question in a voice husky with
anticipation. "What would you
like?"
"You," he uttered
hoarsely. Her skin was warm and smooth
under his fingers as he found the hem of her tunic and slid his hands under
it. An erotic thrill shot through him
when he encountered only the silky skin of her tight, rounded buttocks. The fabric bunched against his wrists as his
hands slid higher, caressing and stroking every inch of the creamy flesh that
he uncovered. He stripped the tunic off
and discarded it, feasting his eyes on the vision in front of him. She stood bared before him for a moment
before self-consciously raising her hands to cover herself. "No," he caught her hands and
pulled them aside. "You're
beautiful, my little fireball."
It was ridiculous, she was a
grown woman with a grown son, yet his words excited her, made her feel
beautiful. Her nipples hardened under
the mere scrutiny of his eyes. With nothing
more than an intense gaze, he had her entire body thrumming with need. She couldn't speak, her lungs clamoring for
air, so she held his hands and pulled him back with her toward the bed in a
silent invitation. Their bodies still
hadn't touched and not a word spoken when she felt the bed against the back of
her knees. She reclined gracefully onto
the bed, releasing his hands when his knee came up and pressed into the
mattress beside her. Her hands were
shaking as they found and released the fastening of his trousers.
Chakotay took deep breaths,
struggling to slow things down despite the painful throbbing of his body. He wanted to just bury himself in her,
ravage her until the past thirty years were erased from both their
memories. Making short work of his
jacket and shirt, he covered her with his body, reveling in the feel of his
bare skin pressed against the mounds of her breasts. His mouth found hers, his tongue slipping in to explore the
moist, warm depths. For long moments
they lay there, their lips crushed together and their tongues caressing each other
passionately. This was something that
he'd never felt with anyone else, this sensation that nothing else existed or
mattered. He shifted against her,
feeling her nipples rake across his chest.
One hand slid down her body, a dark contrast to her peaches and cream
complexion. His thumb dipped briefly
into her navel before his fingers entwined themselves in the forest of auburn
curls below. Tugging gently, he was
rewarded with a sharp gasp as her body arched against him. He broke the kiss, lowering his head to her
breasts as his fingers slipped into the slick heat of her body and his thumb
stroked her intimately. Her body
writhed beneath him, responding of its own volition to the movements of his
hand. Her fingers entwined in his hair
and pulled almost painfully as he dragged his tongue across the stiff pebble
and nipped at it with his teeth.
Beverly wanted to tell him how
good it all felt, his fingers sliding in and out of her as his thumb stroked her
to feverish delight; she wanted to beg him to suckle her breasts, but she
couldn't force the words out. Pulling
his head to her breast, she whimpered helplessly, lost in the heat his hands
were building in her. Her whimpers rose
sharply when he nipped at a hardened peak, followed by a groan of pleasure as
he pulled it into his mouth and began alternately licking and sucking at the
sensitive tip. The pressure of his
thumb increased, and he added another finger to those already inside her,
speeding up the tempo. He had always
known how to make her body respond, he would probably have had the same effect
on her heart if she hadn't been so scared thirty years before. Her hips were lifting off the bed with each
thrust of his fingers, the conflagration in her body totally consuming her
every breath. Finally, her screams of
pleasure echoed around the room as her body convulsed.
Spirits, she was so beautiful,
lost in pleasure and tasting of an erotic combination of sweet and salty. After the tremors of her orgasm had
subsided, he wasted no time getting his boots and trousers off. He wrapped his arms around her
sweat-dampened body and moved them both up onto the bed, her hair a curtain of
fire against the pillows. He captured
her lips, crushing them under his in a demanding kiss. His entire body was throbbing with every
beat of his heart, all he wanted or needed was to bury himself back where he
belonged--his fireball. His knee urged
her legs apart and he settled himself between those creamy white thighs. He took several deep breaths, trying to slow
the pace down. It had been so long
since he'd been with anyone and Beverly had felt pretty tight when his fingers
had stroked and explored her, he didn't want to hurt her when he entered
her. His hands slid down her sides to
grip her hips, holding her steady as he began to probe at the slick
opening.
God, he was going so slowly, she
thought she would explode. She wrapped
her legs around his waist, digging her heels into his back to urge him into
her. In spite of her earlier orgasm,
her body was clamoring to feel him inside her.
She bucked her hips against his, breaking the kiss with a cry of triumph
as his body impaled her. She could feel
both their bodies throbbing in unison as he lay buried completely inside
her. "Please, Chakotay. . . God,
please," she begged. She locked
her legs around his waist and tried to push herself up against him.
Hearing her pleas broke the
tenuous control Chakotay had managed to that point. His body set the pace, a hard, driving pace born of primal
need. The long strokes took him to the
brink of pulling out of her body only to plummet back into the hot depths. He could feel her hips twisting up to meet
him, her fingers entwined in his hair gripping handfuls of it painfully each
time he withdrew. She was pleading
mindlessly, begging incessantly for more from him. He responded by increasing the tempo, the heat of their bodies
spreading through him, firing his own desire to new heights. Her eyes were open and he lost himself in
the crystal-blue beauty of them. The
crest of his passion was close, he could feel his body reaching for ultimate
pleasure. He watched, fascinated, as
her eyes seemed to glow for a split second, her body convulsing around him and
the sound of his name caressing his ears an instant later. Her orgasm triggered his, his body jerking
into her one last time, gripped with the tremors of release.
Beverly tightened her legs
around his waist, reluctant to lose the close, physical contact with Chakotay
just yet. Her body was drenched in
sweat, her heart pounding, and her breathing heavy, but in spite of her
exertions, she felt energized. She lay
there admiring the stark contrast of his dark, muscled body with her pale,
svelte form. Her hands drew circles in
the beads of sweat that dotted his broad back.
Drawing his tongue across her
damp skin, he smiled against the shiver of her body. "You are still hot, Fireball."
"You're still pretty
incredible yourself, Chakotay."
He lifted his head to look into
her flushed face, his brown eyes twinkling with amusement. "What would Eyes-of-a-Hawk say right
now?"
Her face flooded with even more
color. "Goodnight."
Chakotay shifted to lay beside
her and settled her comfortably against his chest, kissing the top of her
head. "Goodnight
Flaming-Hair-With-Red-Face."
.........................................................................
"So your son, Wesley,
became a traveler? It must be hard on
you, not being able to see him."
Over breakfast in Beverly's quarters the next morning, Chakotay was
listening intently as she told him all about the past three decades of her
life. He poured them both more coffee.
Nodding, she looked wistfully at
his picture. "The consequence of
parenting--you raise them to be their own person, and that's exactly what they
do. I'm very proud of him, I just miss
him sometimes. You never had
children?"
"I could never quite forget
a certain redhead who dumped me at the Academy," Chakotay replied with a
cocky grin and a shrug.
"Picard to Crusher."
Beverly's heart skipped a
beat. Motioning for him to be quiet,
she activated her commbadge. "Yes,
Captain?"
"It's nothing official,
Doctor, I was just calling to see if you were joining Vash and me for breakfast
this morning."
Burying her face in her hands,
she shook her head. She often had
breakfast with the Picards, a tradition that pre-dated the captain's
relationship with Vash. The question
was how to get out of it gracefully.
Chakotay wasn't helping, he was waggling his eyebrows and leering at
her, almost daring her to tell Jean-Luc exactly what he would have interrupted
a mere forty-five minutes earlier. She
had been awakened by the delicious sensation of large hands gently stroking her
and when she had responded, he had pressed her down into the pillows for a
morning romp.
"I'm sorry, Bev,"
Vash's voice came over the comm.
"I only left him alone for five minutes. I hope Jean-Luc interrupted something that I will let you get
back to now. Hopefully the reading
material came in handy, I'll talk to you later."
With each word, Beverly's face
got progressively redder. By the time
Vash closed the comm channel, her face felt like it was about to spontaneously
combust. Across the table, Chakotay was
laughing uproariously, his head thrown back and his arms holding his sides
during his unrestrained outburst.
"You are so not helpful," she said as she began putting the
breakfast things away.
Catching her hand, he pulled her
onto his lap, breathless from his merriment.
"You're a beautiful, vibrant woman. Is there anything that has happened between us in the past
twenty-four hours that was wrong or a violation of any regulations?"
"No," her hair flew
around her face as she answered him.
She put her arm around his shoulders, her fingers alternately massaging
his neck and slipping into his hair to toy with the thick, dark strands.
"Thirty years ago, you
broke up with me out of fear, a fear that actually did come to pass for you and
you survived, raising a son, becoming an accomplished physician and an amazing
woman." When she would have
spoken, he covered her lips with his fingers.
"Nothing can change the past and you can't escape your destiny--as
I found out when I ended up back in this uniform aboard a Starfleet vessel more
than seven years ago. I have never
found anyone as hot and exciting as you.
I won't let you push me away like you did before; we were both young
then and I accepted your decision because I thought you were wiser than me
about life. I'm a lot older and wiser;
with so much time between us, as different as our lives are now, maybe things
could be different this time."
Beverly pulled his hand from her
mouth and tangled her fingers in his hair.
Angling his face up, she lowered her head to softly brush her lips
against his before pressing her mouth hard against him. Her tongue forced its way into his mouth,
frustration at what her youthful fear had cost her fueling her passion. She cupped his face with her other hand,
imprisoning his mouth for her demands.
He acquiesced easily, allowing
her to control the kiss, as sure in his feelings now as he'd been so long
ago. When she finally broke the kiss,
they were both breathing heavily.
"As much as I would love to stay and finish this," Chakotay
panted. "We'll be arriving at
Eillen shortly and the sociology team is scheduled to meet before then. I need to stop by my quarters to pick up the
material for the meeting."
"Dinner tonight?"
Setting her on her feet, he
kissed both of her palms. "I'll
bring the dessert."
Beverly called out to him just
before he left. "You are the
dessert."
..................................................................
Geordi was already waiting in the
transporter room after lunch when Data entered.
"Everything is
arranged," he informed La Forge.
"The Energy and Resource Coordinator will meet us at the central
power supply facility."
Once they were both on the
transporter pad, Geordi nodded to the transporter chief. "Energize."
Materializing on the surface,
they were greeted with bright sunshine although the temperature was
comfortable. All around were signs of
activity, but the atmosphere wasn't hurried or chaotic. People walking past were dressed in widely
disparate attire from long, flowing robes to very skimpy, barely-there scraps
of cloth.
"I believe that building to
our right is the central power facility," Data indicated a large,
two-story building that appeared to span thousands of meters in each direction.
"Good guess."
Inside the entrance, they were
greeted by a middle-aged Eillen man in a loose-fitting tunic and trousers. "Commanders Data and La Forge?"
"Yes," Data
replied. "You are Coordinator
Relme?"
"Yes, welcome to Eillen's
central power supply facility. If you
are ready, I will conduct the tour personally, we're very proud of our Energy
and Resource Management Department."
Geordi fell into stop beside
Relme with Data following behind.
"From what I've read, you have every right to be proud. Your means of energy production is
fascinating."
...................................................................................
"Administrator Sivade, it's
a pleasure to meet you," Riker stepped forward to greet the planet's head
government official. "I'm
Commander Riker of the Federation Starship Enterprise; this is Counselor Troi
of the Enterprise and Dr. Lenak of Vulcan and Dr. Dara Olmeade of Earth
representing Starfleet Sociological Department."
"Greetings," Sivade
bowed in traditional greeting.
"Commander, per your request, I have arranged for our Coordinator
of Transportation to take you on a guided tour on the communal transportation
system. Dr. Lenak and Dr. Olmeade, if
you would come with me, I have a meeting room prepared for you."
..............................................................................
"Through here,"
Coordinator Relme was saying, "Is one of the more isolated areas of the
facility. It's completely self-contained,
it even has its own ventilation system to avoid any possible source of
contamination. Once the decontamination
cycle is complete, the inner door will open."
"How many people work in
this area?" Geordi asked.
Relme consulted his notes. "Six technicians are on duty
generally. Allowing for breaks and
absences, there is always a minimum of four techs on duty at all times. This section is pressure control and matrix
calibration. The computer system
manages most of the functions, the technicians are a quality control measure to
guard against unforeseen circumstances and to maintain the control
components."
As the three exited the
decontamination antechamber, the door silently sealed shut behind them. A woman wearing the gray jumpsuit characteristic
of all of the facility employees left a panel to approach the group. "Coordinator Relme, it has been too
long," she greeted him. "How
is your family?"
"Very well, Mada, thank
you. Commanders La Forge and Data of
the United Federation of Planets- Starfleet, this is Chief Technician
Mada. I'm sure she will be able to
answer any of your questions."
Before anyone could say anything
further, an alarm sounded. An instant
later, a control panel in the far corner of the room exploded, flames erupting
from the jagged opening. Mada hurried
to the master control station in the center of the room and punched in some
instructions. Geordi pulled a
technician back from the area. The man
hadn't been close enough to bear the brunt of the explosion, but he had
suffered some severe burns. Another
technician was slightly burned attempting to shut down a nearby computer.
"Why isn't the fire
suppression system engaging?" Relme yelled above the crackle and din of
the energy-fed fire.
One of the technicians was
scanning system readouts. "It's
malfunctioning."
Data used his tricorder to
analyze the smoke coming off of the fire.
"The oxygen in this room will be depleted in approximately
forty-one minutes; however, the temperature will rise above human tolerances in
twenty-two minutes."
"I agree, we should
definitely get out of here," Geordi shouted, attempting to access the fire
suppression controls from one of the panels.
Mada shook her head. "We can't, the systems are crashing,
the explosion is causing a cascade failure.
The door won't respond to commands and if we don't get this crash
stopped, it won't matter. The energy
matrix will destabilize and destroy everything within two thousand
meters."
"Data to Enterprise,"
the android tapped his comm badge.
There was no response.
"This room is shielded from
transmissions," Relme explained.
Geordi moved over to study the
door panel. "I can't access the
fire suppression systems, but I think I can get this door open. Data, see if you can help Mada stop the
cascade effect. I'm going to see what I
can do to get us out of here." He
pulled the control panel plate off and began tracing energy flows in the
circuitry.
Data quickly scanned the
computer screen. "Perhaps if we
can use the communications system to divert the energy off of the matrix and
onto another one somewhere else, the collapse will not be as destructive."
"Good idea, if I override
the flow regulation protocols, I think we can route the energy streams through the
auxiliary calibration controls and into the communication system from
there," Mada said. "We'll
have to divide it up between three of the other facilities, though. Without being able to warn them in advance,
I don't want to risk overloading their systems."
Smoke began to fill the room,
the self-contained ventilation system not functioning. Two of the technicians were trying to help
the two injured techs while the sixth technician helped Geordi with the door. Mada and Data worked feverishly to dump as
much energy as possible out of the matrix.
"I don't understand, the
failsafe systems should be taking over," Relme was pacing between the
master control station and the door.
"Okay, run this cable to
that console right there," Geordi said, handing one end of the cable to
the technician.
The station where Mada was
working exploded, sending her flying backward to slam into a bank of
equipment. She slumped to the floor,
unconscious.
"Ow!" Geordi
yelped. He jumped back from the door
panel.
"Are you injured?"
Data asked, not looking up from his work.
Geordi shook his hand,
"Just a burn. I'm almost ready
here."
"I need a few more
minutes," Data said. "Get the
technicians out, I will follow."
"Okay, power up that
console," Geordi instructed the tech.
"The surge should overload the circuitry." A shower of sparks flew from the door panel,
but the door opened only a millimeter.
"Damn, this is going to take some old-fashioned muscle. I could use your help over here as soon as
possible, Data." He shoved the
plate from the door panel into the crack and wedged the door open wider. Blood dripped from his hands where the cover
cut into his skin. When the door was
open wide enough, he threw down the panel cover and used his hands to pull the
door open, ignoring the pain.
"All of the energy has been
transferred," Data announced. He
crossed the room to add his strength to opening the door. Once the door was sufficiently ajar for them
to squeeze through, he turned back to lift the unconscious Mada into his arms.
"The outer door can be
manually operated," one of the technicians yelled. "There's an emergency handle on the
left, just lift the lever to release it."
As soon as everyone was out and
accounted for, two of the technicians slammed the door shut while Relme
activated the general alarm to clear the building.
"La Forge to
Enterprise. There's been an accident
down here, nine to beam directly to Sickbay."
...........................................................
On one of the numerous transit
cars humming throughout the city, Deanna looked over at the transportation
coordinator. "Everything is so
quiet, with all of the activity and bustle, you'd expect the environment to be
noisier."
"The power cells that operate
equipment are shielded for maximum energy conservation," the coordinator
explained. "The shielding also
serves to silence the energy conversion process." A small, oblong device at his belt
chimed. After a brief conversation, he
turned back to them. "I'm afraid
there's been an explosion at the central power facility. It won't affect the tour, but a council has
been convened to investigate the matter, so I must have my assistant take over
for me here. She will join us at our
next stop."
"I hope no one was
seriously injured," Riker said.
"No, some minor injuries,
but everyone has received treatment and the facility has been shut down for
repairs."
The transportation coordinator
had barely finished speaking when the transit car suddenly lifted into the
air. Deanna noted, almost
surrealistically, that she didn't hear the explosion until a split second after
the car jolted under her. Seemingly in
slow motion, the transit car rolled, sliding several hundred meters before
slamming into a building.
"Deanna! Are you all right?" Riker's voice carried over the screams of
injured and frightened passengers.
"Deanna!"
"I'm here, Will. I think my wrist is broken, but otherwise
I'm all right."
Emergency crews were already
arriving to assist the injured by the time Deanna and Riker crawled from the
wreckage. His shoulder was bleeding
from a large gash. The transportation
coordinator was right behind them and sat against the mangled transit car,
breathing heavily. Riker checked him
quickly. "We can beam you back to
the Enterprise for treatment."
"No, our crews are equipped
to handle this, thank you. I'll be
taken to one of our medical facilities once the situation has been
secured."
"Riker to Enterprise,
there's been an accident. Beam Counselor
Troi and myself directly to Sickbay."
............................................................................
Later, after the cut on his
shoulder had been healed, Riker reported to Picard's ready room. "According to the Eillen officials, a
power grid blew causing the car to derail.
Several failsafe systems malfunctioned for unknown reasons."
"Are you and Counselor Troi
all right?" Picard asked.
Shifting in his chair, Riker
grimaced. "My shoulder's going to
be a little sore for a while, and Deanna's wrist was broken--she's still in
Sickbay undergoing osteoregeneration treatments; nothing serious, though."
"Good. Could this be related to the explosion at
the power facility?"
"I don't know," Riker
said. "The officials whom I spoke with
didn't seem to think so. They're
investigating, but they seem to be more concerned with the malfunction of the
failsafe systems than with the events themselves."
"I have Commander Data's
report on the first explosion; Commander La Forge and he were touring the
facility when the explosion happened.
They were trapped briefly along with several Eillen, but they managed to
escape with only minor injuries."
Picard sat back in his chair, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I'd like reports from Counselor Troi
and you as soon as possible."
"Are you thinking that
these are attacks aimed at Starfleet personnel?"
"I'm not discounting the
possibility," Picard replied.
"To that effect, I want a security detail to accompany anyone
beaming down to the planet with a constant transporter lock maintained on each
individual and regular check-ins. Let's
minimize our exposure until we've looked into this. I want you to work closely with Eillen authorities on their
investigation."
.................................................................
Riker let himself into Deanna's
quarters. He had finished his report on
the incident down on the surface and stopped by to see how she was
feeling. "Deanna, are you here?"
"Hi, Will," looking up
from her computer console, she smiled enigmatically. "I was about to comm you.
I just finished transmitting my report to the Captain."
"How's the wrist?" he
asked, perching himself on the edge of her desk.
Deanna picked up a red feather
sitting on her desk and waved it under his nose. "Good enough to best Capitaine Diabolique himself."
"Deanna, it's been kind of
a hectic day--," Riker began.
"Well, I was hoping for
more playtime," she cooed, lightly caressing his face with the feather;
"But if the Black Mephisto is already yielding to the Crimson Witch, then
we can get right to--"
"I yielded last time, it's
your turn."
Deanna sauntered toward the
door. "Well, Capitaine La Folle is
in the mood for some fun and does not wish to yield just yet. See you on the holodeck."
Barely twenty minutes later,
Riker was dressed in tight black breeches, a white shirt with a black silk sash
tied at his waist. He adjusted the
black mask that covered his face and tilted his plumed hat--black feathers, of course--forward
to a rakish angle. Long strides covered
the deck of his ship quickly, and despite his initial reluctance in Deanna's
quarters, he found himself relaxing and enjoying the game. "Unfurl the mainsail," he yelled
to his crew. "We search for that
daring fiend, the pirate known as the Crimson Witch."
On the deck of her own ship,
Capitaine La Folle was issuing orders to her own men. "Look sharp, tighten those lines and get someone up in that
nest. The Black Mephisto sails these
waters." Deanna tightened her red
sash tied diagonally across her torso and fastened at her hip. The sash matched the tight-fitting red
breeches and red boots, providing a stark contrast to the white shirt she wore. Her long, dark curls flowed freely under her
red, plumed hat, adding a wild mystique enhanced by her crimson mask. The explosion and subsequent crash had
shaken her somewhat and this pirate game that Will and she played was an ideal
way to release the adrenaline.
"Sails ho," called the
lookout from the crow's nest.
Holding the spyglass to her eye,
she could make out the ship in the distance.
Even better was the rugged, dashing figure pacing the quarterdeck. Every inch a holonovel pirate in his
costume, Deanna could feel a rush of desire as she watched Will shouting orders
to his crew when they spotted her ship.
She closed her eyes, reaching out across the distance to him, feeling
his excitement equal to her own. He had
needed this release as much as she did.
"She'll try to use the wind
to flank us," Riker guessed aloud.
"Let her think it's working and be ready to drag anchor and turn on
her."
"Catch the wind,"
Deanna said. "Helmsman, turn us
fifteen degrees starboard. Make it look
like we're trying to flank him and then make a run straight at him. While his men are trying to compensate, we
can grapple and board."
The two ships continued toward
each other, a watery game of cat and mouse.
The Crimson Witch cut toward the stern of the Black Mephisto, her crew
manning the sails with cutlasses at the ready.
Both captains eyed the rapidly narrowing distance between them
carefully. At just the right moment,
simultaneously they yelled, "Now!"
Riker watched in astonishment as
Deanna's ship veered suddenly. His men
were already dropping anchor to execute a turn. They saw the ship coming but couldn't get the anchor back quickly
enough. "To the rails," he
shouted. "Prepare to be
boarded."
Off guard, his men were quickly
overpowered. Soon, only the two
captains faced each other on the deck of the Mephisto.
"Touche," he saluted
Deanna's maneuver. "You've been
studying."
Their hearts were both beating
furiously, desire-tinged adrenaline coursing through their bodies. Deanna's voice was a husky whisper when she
spoke. "Computer, discontinue
characters in this program and engage privacy lock." Whipping out her rapier, Deanna decided on
just a little more foreplay.
Riker pulled out his own rapier
and did his best pirate snarl, feeling Deanna's shiver at the sound. "Yield to me now, Capitaine La Folle,
and it'll go easier on ye."
"I prefer it hard,"
she taunted, flashing her foil. Her own
desire was a white-hot fire, fed by the growing intensity of Will's arousal.
They danced across the deck,
parrying and thrusting. Grunts and
gasps wafted through the air as they both felt closer and closer to the
culmination of their interaction.
"You've been
practicing," Deanna gasped, breathless.
Bearing down on his nimble prey,
Riker grinned. "The captain is a
very able instructor."
Deanna was being consumed by
their shared arousals. She stopped,
leaning against the main mast to catch her breath, and held her rapier out to
Will, hilt first. "I yield."
His eyes flashing, he threw both
foils aside and trapped her lush curves between his body and the mast. Her lips were full and yielding to him when
his mouth crushed hers in a forceful, demanding kiss. He wasted no time stripping off her sash, shirt and brassiere,
baring her to him. Breaking the kiss,
his mouth sucked and nibbled its way down the swan-like column of her
neck. His tongue found the tender spot
where her pulse flittered excitedly in her throat and flicked it.
The sea air brushed across her
breasts, the nipples responding with an almost painful intensity. Will was still fully clothed and his mask
grazed her sensitized skin, sending shivers through her body. When his tongue found the rapid pulse in her
throat and began lashing it with hot, wet strokes that tantalized and excited
every nerve ending, Deanna moaned aloud.
Her fingers entwined themselves in the dark hair and tried to pull him
back up to her mouth.
Catching her hands, Riker pulled
back long enough to whisper, "Oh no, my pretty prize. I intend to enjoy my bounty to the
fullest."
An electric thrill shot through
her when he followed those words by knotting a rope around her wrists. Her hands tied to a ring over her head,
Deanna felt utterly exposed. Will was
totally focused on her pleasure, determined to drive her to the edge of sexual
satiation. All coherent thoughts of
protest fled, she wanted anything and everything that he wanted to do to
her. Her pants and boots were stripped
off and her ankles tied around the mast, securing them completely open to him.
He grabbed a line, Deanna's
excitement fueling his spiraling visions of the pleasures they would
enjoy. Riker pulled on the line,
hoisting her body off the deck. He
secured the line with her full breasts bobbing right in front of his eyes. It was so tempting to just take her right
then, hard and fast. She desperately
wanted him to, he could feel it.
Instead, he located her hat where it had fallen on the deck and plucked
the feather from it. He tickled her
chin and throat, the feather dancing across her skin. Lower, across both shoulders, he deliberately traced each
collarbone before beginning to torment her breasts. Sweat beaded under his mask as he watched her twist and squirm
under the gentle caresses. Goosebumps
puckered the satiny surface of her sweat-dampened flesh, her whimpers filling
his ears. The peaks of her breasts were
already hard and aching, he couldn't resist soothing them with soft strokes of
his tongue. The sounds she was making
grew in intensity, matching the flare of passion that she shared with him. Her desire was almost overwhelming through
their bond. Stepping back, Riker raised
her up further and re-secured the line.
All of his erotic intentions were nearly undone at the sight of her glistening
wet thighs. He pushed aside the
tempting vision and untied his sash. Tying his sash to hers, he used them to secure her hips to the
mast, wrapping the red and black satin chain around her waist and the wooden
pole. Briefly, he trailed a finger
through the moisture on the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. His dagger was still in its sheath on his
belt, and now he removed it. Her dark
eyes were pitch-black orbs in her face, she knew what he wanted, he could feel
it and paused, waiting for her response.
No words were needed, she wanted him so much that she would refuse him
nothing. With the certainty of her
feelings, he approached her. One large
hand gently splayed her open while the other hand carefully drew the dagger
though the damp, brunette curls. He
could hear her whimpers, pleading for him to hurry. Ignoring her begging, he continued slowly, methodically scraping
away every strand of hair until she was truly bared to him. He paused to admire his handiwork, caressing
the smooth skin with his fingers before leaning in to drag his tongue across
the pinkened skin. Resting his hands on
the insides of her knees, his tongue located the origin of the moisture
dripping down her thighs.
Deanna tried to focus on her
breathing; by the time Will hoisted her even further off the deck, she was
ready to burst. She tried to hold still
as he shaved her, but the dagger and his hands were so close to where she
needed him so badly, tantalizing and caressing her. Her struggles had only increased her need, the movement exciting
him and feeding back to her through his own heightened desires. When his tongue dragged roughly across the
freshly exposed skin, she bucked against him, the satin chain holding her to
the mast and the taut ropes giving her little room to move. The barest caress of his tongue at the
center of her throbbing arousal sent her over, spasms of pleasure sending
violent tremors through her. Before she
could even catch her breath, his tongue was delving into her, stroking her
still-trembling depths. He wanted more
from her, and her desires re-ignited with the knowledge that he was far from
finished with her. His powerful hands
gripped her thighs, forcing them even further apart as he increased the
pressure of his mouth. She could only writhe
helplessly beneath the hot invasion of his tongue, her arousal building once
again.
The smell and taste of her
coursing over him was intoxicating, her rapture flowing through his mind was
the most powerful aphrodisiac he had ever felt. In spite of her bound position, he could feel her trying to rock
her hips in time with the pace of his tongue.
Releasing one of her thighs, he dipped his fingers into her wetness and
smeared the fluid across the newly bared mound. His fingers returned to collect more of her several times, his
mouth and tongue still tormenting her, while he trailed the essence of her over
her belly and circled the hardened peaks of her breasts. When his fingers found her mouth, he could
feel her suck them inside to lick them clean.
She was gliding on pleasure, floating closer and closer to the
pinnacle. Using their bond, he kept her
tethered there, not giving her enough to climax, but not allowing her to
relax. Patiently, his tongue toyed with
her, his fingers twisting and pinching her rock hard nipples. Finally, it happened; every barrier in her
mind came down, everything she was invaded his mind and heart with only one
thought: Imzadi.
Deanna was completely open,
utterly exposed to Will not only physically, but mentally, emotionally and
spiritually--they were truly one mind, one heart and one soul in that
moment. She cried out, not sure if her
cry was only in their mind or actually aloud, when a powerful orgasm rolled
through her.
Riker untied the sash and slowly
lowered her back to the deck, licking his way up her body. As he re-secured the line, somewhere in his
mind, more deeply entwined with Deanna's than he had ever been, a thought
flashed through, 'this pulley has some serious possibilities.' His tongue traced the outline of her lips,
moistening them before plunging between them to ravage her mouth. Making short work of his own clothes, his
hands gripped her hips to steady them.
He wasted no time driving himself into her waiting body, his need urging
him to set a hard, frantic pace.
Completely filled, she could
only moan helplessly, waves of pleasure crashing over her again and again. Will's mind was so entwined with hers that
she couldn't tell where she left off and he began. So hot . . . so wet . . . they were Will's sensations, she dimly
realized. Curly hair scratched
rhythmically against sensitive bare skin, a new prickling sensation that only
served to enhance their shared pleasure.
A spiraling core of pleasure spread through them, fueled by the quick,
hard strokes as Will's body tried repeatedly to merge into hers. The explosion of passion rocked the both,
the orgasm shattering their shared consciousness. As her mind slowly began to clear, Deanna was grateful for the
ropes that held her up, her legs were trembling so badly that otherwise she would
have fallen. Her chest heaved with
labored breathing, Will's head burrowed against her neck.
"I am definitely going to
have to remember that pulley concept," he rasped, his own breathing
ragged. "Maybe I could install one
in my quarters."
Deanna nuzzled him tenderly
before responding. "Just remember,
Imzadi, what's sauce for the goose . . . "
................................................................
Chakotay stood in the doorway to
Beverly's office for several minutes watching her work. After all of the injuries from the previous
day, she'd been exhausted last night.
He'd served them dinner from her replicator and then put her to
bed. She asked him to stay when he
offered to leave, so he did some reading while she snuggled against him. He fell asleep at one point, spending the
entire night just holding her. They'd
parted just after breakfast with plans to meet for lunch, but she'd commed him
and asked him to come to Sickbay.
"Are you planning to stand
there and stare at me all day?" Beverly finally noticed him standing in
her doorway.
"I could," he murmured
softly. "You wanted me?"
Flushing at his response, she
ignored the innuendo. "I've been
working on the Eillen medical technological development, but there's no real
context for the advances in their database.
I was hoping that you could help me put their medical advances into
proper perspective given the cultural dynamics of the relevant time
periods."
"I'd be happy to help; it
sounds interesting." Chakotay
walked over to perch on the side of her desk.
He pulled up the Eillen historical database and downloaded it onto a
PADD. "I'm not sure that I'd want
to see such an analysis of our own advances, though."
"Why not?"
"It seemed like most of the
technological advances we made on Voyager were either a result of combat or
desperation, sometimes both. I'd guess
Earth history has a similar pattern.
How often do people create something new for no reason other than it was
there to be created?"
Beverly noticed how his dark
eyes seemed to get even darker with each word.
He obviously had a passion for cultural developments of species. Her cheeks flushed again as she recalled
just how intense he could be about his passions. "Necessity is the mother of invention," she quoted.
"Let's see if that holds as
true for the Eillen as it does for the rest of the universe," Chakotay
said.
Bringing the file back up on her
computer, she suggested, "Why don't we just start at the beginning."
An hour later Chakotay glanced
up to see her rubbing the back of her neck.
"Stiff?" he asked.
When she nodded yes, he skirted the desk and stood behind her. Her hair was soft in his hands as he brushed
it out of the way and urged her head forward.
Quickly locating the tense muscles, he began stroking her neck and
shoulders. Gradually, he increased the
pressure, kneading and massaging the knots out of her muscles. Her body was soft and pliant beneath his
hands, his own body paradoxically tightening even as hers relaxed in response
to his ministrations.
"Mmmm," Beverly felt
so good that she could understand why cats purred. "God, you have great hands; that feels wonderful."
"You're not the first woman
to say that," Chakotay baited her.
He chuckled aloud when he felt her stiffen under his hands. "My mother used to get bad headaches, I
was the only one who could ease them."
Beverly laughed ruefully. "I'll bet you were a perfect son."
"Not hardly," he
snorted. "I was her contrary one, always
doing the opposite of how things were supposed to be."
"And she adored you for
it."
His hands stilled, everything
around him temporarily forgotten.
"Yes, she did," Chakotay whispered.
Rising from her chair, Beverly
slid it out of the way and turned to face him.
"I'm sorry, does it bother you to talk about her?"
"No, I'd just never thought
about it like that before," he said.
Shaking off the serious tone that their conversation had taken, he
grinned and winked. "Besides,
she's not the only woman to enjoy a good massage; a few of my commanding
officers over the years have benefited from this particular talent."
"Oh really," Beverly's
hands came up to toy with the hair at the nape of his neck. "Seven years on Voyager, I'd imagine
Captain Janeway enjoyed it a great deal."
Chakotay's hands pulled her hips
closer to his. "Not really, aside
from the occasional shoulder rub, nothing ever happened. There was temptation and opportunity, but it
just never seemed to feel right."
It was getting difficult to
follow the conversation. Her hips were
pressed into the evidence of his arousal, leaving very little doubt about where
this discussion was going to end. She
reached behind her to depress the privacy panel on her desk that closed her
office and blackened the windows looking out onto Sickbay. "Like this?" she asked hoarsely,
grinding her hips against him.
"Spirits," he
gasped. "Exactly, it never felt
like this."
Suddenly inspired, Beverly
continued the direction things had taken.
"And she never felt like doing this?" She dragged her tongue along his strong,
clean-shaven jaw to flick at his earlobe before pulling the small, delicate
lobe into her mouth.
Tingling streaks, just strong
enough to hint at more but not really sharp, raced from his ear to every other
part of his body. All thoughts of their
analysis and their conversation faded, his senses filling with the smell and
feel of the lithe body in his arms. A
particularly sharp nip at his earlobe jolted him, his body leaping at the
sensation. Small hands pulled open his
uniform jacket and swiftly jerked it down his arms, discarding it on the floor.
She could feel how hard his
breathing had gotten as his muscled chest heaved beneath her palms. Tugging his shirt out of where it was tucked
into his trousers, she slid her hands underneath and caressed the warm, bronze
skin. She stripped his top off and
began planting kisses along the smooth expanse. "And how could any woman on that ship resist doing
this?" she murmured softly against his skin.
Chakotay barely heard her
through the pounding in his ears. With
the soft pressure of her lips intermingled with the occasional tease of her
tongue, his skin was humming. His hands
sought out the fastenings of her uniform; her jacket joined his on the floor
without needing to break their contact.
Just then she found a hardened brown nipple, nuzzling it tenderly before
suckling strongly. Sharp streaks of fire
shot through his chest, and he moaned aloud with pleasure. His hands entwined in her long, silky hair
to hold her head close to the torment that she was creating.
Beverly could vaguely remember
that this had all started with teasing, but somehow she'd lost track of what
she had been teasing him about. The
clean, earthy taste of him filled her mouth, his masculine scent and warm,
smooth skin tantalizing her senses at the same time. She rocked her hips against his, trying to ease the throbbing
ache there. The bulge her hips
encountered only inflamed her desires further.
Whimpers tore from her throat in a mindless attempt to communicate her
needs to him. She kicked off her boots,
fumbling with the fastening of his trousers.
God, he was so hot and hard, pulsating in her hands; when she would have
knelt between his thighs to taste him more completely, his powerful arm
encircled her waist, urging her onto the desk behind her. Her uniform pants and underwear were
stripped away in an instant although it felt as though it took longer. Her whimpers turned to a groan of relief
when he finally stepped between her legs, his own trousers shoved down to his
knees.
The soft, supple thighs parted
easily to his coaxing. Her muted sounds
of desire echoed in his ears amid the ragged breathing and fierce pounding of
his heart. His mouth found hers,
crushing her lips beneath his in a deep, demanding kiss, and drove himself deep
into the wet, waiting body beneath him.
Her legs encircled his waist, pulling him tighter against her even as her
hips thrust up at him. Their tongues entwined,
he moved forward, urging her to lie back on the desk. The passionate abandon of her movements sent his throbbing desire
spiraling to new heights. He broke the
kiss, straightening up and closing his eyes to briefly savor the sensation of
completeness and warmth that her body gave him. Gripping her hips tightly, he began stroking himself in and out
in determined thrusts, forcing her hips to match his pace. He watched her face as she struggled to
increase the pressure of his hips, finally surrendering to the pleasure of his
body intimately massaging the very core of her body. He knew the instant that she gave in because she stopped
whimpering and struggling against him, and just closed her eyes, arching into
his every thrust. She was beautiful, lost
in passion with beads of sweat forming on her delicate, flushed features. Her fingertips grasped briefly at his torso,
grazing his bare abdomen before moving up to grip the edge of her desk over her
head. The position of her arms raised
her breasts, and he was momentarily disappointed that he hadn't removed her
shirt and bra.
Beverly was floating on a sea of
erotic sensation. The long, hard
thrusts filled her completely over and over, his pace blunting the driving need
and in its place building an overwhelming wave of pleasure that blocked out
everything but him. The euphoria
swirled through her, consuming every centimeter of awareness. Her only anchor in the bliss was the burning
connection of their bodies, but rather than feeling lost, the strong hands
cupping her hips seemed to be wrapping her in comforting safety. Out of nowhere, the burgeoning desire
snapped and her body arched against him as her body convulsed in release. Taken by surprise, she could only gasp
breathlessly when the orgasm shook her.
Chakotay didn't want this
exquisite feeling to ever end, but watching her body arch off the desk and
feeling her clutch spasmodically around him shattered his control. His hips slammed into hers one last time,
his own climax ripping through his body.
Reluctant to lose the intimate contact, he stayed where he was, and
braced his hands on the desk on either side of her while his heartbeat
gradually slowed. "You know,"
he gasped, trying to catch his breath.
"I still haven't gotten that full tour I was promised."
He was still inside her, and she
tightened herself around him before she replied. "You've already seen more of the Chief Medical Officer than
almost everyone else on this ship."
..............................................................
Materializing on the surface,
Vash was jolted with the familiar excitement of discovery. The ruins were incredible. Intricate, multicolored stonework that had
been standing since before Eillen recorded history, and she was the first Federation
archaeologist to explore them. She had
wheedled extra sensor time out of Data to get a more detailed schematic reading
of the ruins from orbit. It wasn't
really fair to call them ruins since they were still largely intact; they
simply hadn't been used in a millennia.
The building was elliptical with a spiraling corridor that penetrated
ever further into the structure, ending at the exact center. There appeared to be rooms and doorways that
suggested shortcuts through the building, however.
"Wow, is that paint?"
Deryl, one of Vash's assistants asked.
"It's hard to believe it would still be so vibrant after all this
time."
Her mind already racing with
theories and archaeological fascination, Vash answered almost absently. "No, those are all different types of
rocks and minerals seamlessly incorporated into the walls." She ran her hand along the cold
smoothness. "Many cultures believe
that specific minerals and ores have special properties--even ancient cultures
on Earth. This looks to be an intentional
arrangement." Completely focused
on her work, she jumped right to business.
"Dan and Trey, I want a detailed scan of the wall's perimeter;
maybe there's a pattern that could provide a hint as to the structure's
purpose. Barbara, did we get information
on the Eillen folklore and mythology?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Good," Vash nodded in
satisfaction. "That'll help in
determining what properties they attributed to the different rocks. Let's go inside--Whoa!" She pointed at the security guards who had
been assigned to her landing party.
"Stay out here. The last
thing I need is novices blundering around in there while I'm trying to
work."
"Sorry, ma'am, Commander
Lar's orders were very specific," Crewman Kennely said. "No matter what you say, threaten,
cajole, wheedle or yell, we are to stay with you at all times."
Rolling her eyes, she decided to
let Geoffrey have his way; besides with a Betazed security chief, she couldn't
be entirely sure that he wasn't eavesdropping telepathically. "Fine, just stay behind me and don't
touch anything."
As her assistants moved off in
opposite directions around the outside of the building to complete their
assignments, the other five members of the landing party located the entrance.
"No sharp edges," Barbara
noted about the arched entrance.
"Yes, but the corridor
inside is square," Vash added.
"Make a note to get architectural information from the Eillen
government." Stepping through the
archway, she aimed her wristlight at the walls. They were covered in symbols and artwork, some etched into the
stone and others painted on.
"Deryl, give Kennely the holorecorder." She looked over at the security officer. "Make yourself useful, and be sure to
get everything on the recorder."
Over the next hour, the group
worked its way with painstaking slowness through the corridors. Deryl had been leaving beacon lights at
intervals, so the corridor behind them glowed with pinpoints of illumination. Dan and Trey joined them after finishing their
scans of the exterior.
Something along the wall caught
Vash's attention. They were almost a
quarter of the way into the building, having completed one and a half circles
of the building along the spiral corridor.
"This is odd," she murmured.
She knelt down beside the etchings and artwork to get a better
look. Using her finger, she traced
along the wall from just before the section which had seemed strange across the
symbols in question.
Engrossed in what he was seeing,
Kennely wandered past the archaeologist, still recording.
Too late Vash realized where the
security officer was. "No!
Get--" She didn't have the chance
to finish. The structure shook,
rumbling loudly before chunks of debris began falling down on them. Flattening herself against the wall of the
corridor, she winced as a piece of falling stone struck her cheek and a larger
piece slammed into her shoulder. She
reached for her communicator, noting in satisfaction that her assistants were
already flush with the wall themselves.
There wasn't time to educate the security officers about cave-in
procedures. "Vash to Enterprise,
get us out of here now."
............................................................................
Picard kept his pace at a
dignified hurry along the corridor.
Doctor Crusher had assured him that none of the injuries were serious at
first glance, but his wife personally requesting an emergency transport was
serious enough to him regardless. If
Commander Lar was picking up any of his concern, he wasn't saying anything,
just silently keeping pace with his commanding officer. The two men arrived at Sickbay to hear Vash
reading someone the riot act.
"What part of 'stay behind
me' didn't you understand?" she yelled.
"You didn't seem to have any trouble understanding Geoffrey's
orders except I'm almost positive he didn't order you to destroy a structure
that has been standing for a thousand years.
We didn't even get halfway through the ruins and now they're nothing but
a pile of rubble!" The first thing
she had done when they materialized in the transporter room was to have the
transporter chief scan the surface to check the damage.
Picard reached Vash's side,
waiting patiently for her to pause for a breath. His heart caught in his throat at the sight of the ugly bruise
forming on her cheek surrounding a cut which had almost stopped bleeding. "I'll string him up on the yardarm and
you can flog the skin from his back later.
Right now, I want to know if you're all right and what happened."
"There was an explosion,
sir," Crewman Kennely said.
"If I hadn't triggered the booby trap, Mrs. Picard would have been
in front when it blew."
Picard activated his commbadge,
"Picard to Riker, get the Eillen official up here, now!"
"There's more to it than that,
Jean-Luc," the adrenaline rush from having a building collapsing on her
and her team was starting to wear off.
The fear and anger were starting to fade, and everywhere that she had
been struck with debris was beginning to throb. "I noticed something strange along one wall just before the
collapse was triggered."
"Hold off on contacting the
Eillen, Will," Picard said.
"I do want a meeting with senior staff and the sociology team,
though; schedule it for an hour from now." He closed the comm channel.
Lieutenant Commander Lar had
quietly been reviewing the medical status of his security team with one of the
nurses. Satisfied that his people were
not seriously injured, he addressed Vash.
"What exactly did you see, ma'am?"
That was just it, she couldn't
explain it. Something about that
section of the corridor was wrong.
"I'm not sure," she sighed.
"Kennely, where is the holorecorder? I'd like to review that section, see if I can put my finger on
it."
The security officer fidgeted
nervously. "I dropped it down on
the surface."
Before Vash could respond,
Geoffrey spoke up. "I'll scan the
rubble and see if I can retrieve it."
He routed sensors through one of the medical consoles and began scanning.
"I have tricorder readings
of the corridor," Barbara said.
"If it'll help any," she held out her tricorder.
Exasperated, but silently proud
that all four of her assistants were holding their equipment, Vash accepted the
tricorder and skimmed through the data.
"Well, this is interesting."
"I've located the
holorecorder," Geoffrey announced.
"I'm beaming it up now."
"In pieces, no doubt,"
Vash groused, still somewhat sore about not getting to see the inner chamber of
the ruins.
"Are you planning to share
your findings, or do I have to wait for the paper to come out?" Picard
asked his wife dryly.
"According to these
readings, it wasn't an ancient booby trap that caused the collapse; it was
recent. The signatures of the corridor
walls don't match; it was dating the composite materials at around a thousand
standard years up until the section I stopped at--that signature reflects not
only new material, but, if I'm reading this right, replicated material."
Picard reached for the
tricorder, "You're right, there's not enough information to identify the
source, though."
"I've downloaded the images
from the holorecorder into the computer," Geoffrey interrupted. "The data appears to be intact; you can
view it from here."
"Score one for Starfleet
technology," Vash said, heading for the station that the security chief
had indicated. "Show me the last
section of the corridor."
Picard was torn between his own
archaeological interest and the rapt fascination lighting up his wife's
face. He rarely got to see her in
action like this and it was an absolute delight. For all of her impishness, he sometimes forgot the brilliant mind
behind those beautiful blue eyes.
"Do you know what the symbols mean?"
"Not yet," Vash shook
her head. "It's similar to other
hieroglyphic-style languages, though. Given enough time and a little help from the universal translator,
I may be able to figure it out.
Here," she stopped the playback.
"The symbols change. There
was a pattern to the etchings and paintings up to this point, but here the
configuration balance changes. Actually
. . . " her voice trailed off as her mind began making connections. She pulled out the PADD containing the
sensor data and downloaded it along with the tricorder information. "Yes, that's what I thought. If you overlay the building schematics and
symbol patterns, you can see."
After several seconds of
silence, Picard prompted, "See what?"
"This looks to be an
all-purpose ceremonial facility. These
symbols probably indicate stations of some sort for specific rituals. The etchings match up with where these rooms
are, except I don't think they're rooms as much as passages--direct routes to
the inner chamber. See how the etchings
on both sides of the corridor line up?
There must have been a way to trigger the doors at each etching. But here," she pointed to the
holorecording. "According to the
schematics, there should be an etching right here, except it's almost a half a
meter away. The painted symbols look
like a bad forgery, as if someone copied them in a hurry."
"Someone planted an
explosive?" Geoffrey asked.
Vash sighed, trying to sort out
the myriad of information swirling through her mind. "Yes, but it doesn't make sense. The Eillen have preserved this site for a thousand years, I can't
believe they'd destroy it."
"We'll figure that out
later," Picard advised. "This
is very helpful information, but right now I want Dr. Crusher to take care of
your injuries." He gently brushed
her hair behind her ear to get a better view of the ugly bruise and dried blood
along her cheek.
"It's easier to regenerate
skin if it's not moving," Beverly commented.
Vash wrinkled her nose at the
doctor. "Point taken."
"How is it that you can
tell my wife to shut up without so much as a peep from her when I would be
risking life and limb if I even tried?"
"You're a man,"
Beverly grinned. "I could change
that for you, if you'd like."
"No," Vash
interjected, patting his cheek. "I
like him just the way he is."
..................................................................
Comfort, Vash decided, was
exactly what she was in need of as she removed a pair of pink satin panties
from her lingerie drawer. She
contemplated the contents for a long moment before realizing what she was truly
after. Closing it, she opened Jean-Luc's
top dresser drawer and took out one of his sleeveless, grey undershirts. Although the long, hot bubble bath had felt
wonderful, her shoulders, arms, and legs were still sore from the falling
rubble. She considered such unfortunate
events to be an occupational hazard; however, 'Captain Overprotective' up on
the bridge was not likely to see it that way and would most likely be a mother
hen for at least a week. Even though
Beverly had treated her injuries, the muscles underneath were still moaning and
complaining; Bev had warned her that she'd probably be somewhat tender for a
few days where some of the deeper bruising had been. Tossing the bath towel in the recycler, Vash began to get
dressed. Jean-Luc's Starfleet-issue,
grey, cotton undershirt felt smoothly satisfying against her skin as she pulled
it on and, smiling, she quickly brushed out her hair. Picking up a few PADDs, she laid down on the bed and began to
work on her research notes.
Picard stopped to stand in the
doorway of his bedroom silently watching his wife. Her appearance was more
reminiscent of a young, sorority girl than one of the Federation's foremost
experts on interstellar archaeology.
Attired in only a pair of panties and one of his undershirts, Vash was
sprawled out on her stomach with her head at the foot of their bed and her legs
bent at the knees. Working on several
PADDs, she absently criss-crossed her ankles in the air. Her head bent down over her work, her dark
hair fell in a cascade over her shoulder toward the bedspread, veiling her face
from his view. With a wry smile, he was
reminded of several of his fantasies from his Academy days. She reached up to tuck her hair behind her
ear revealing the telltale pinkish tint of freshly regenerated skin on her
cheek. He caught his breath recalling
the sight of her in Sickbay, bruised and battered.
Vash glanced out of the corner
of her eye and noticed her husband's boots in the bedroom doorway. Without even looking up, she returned her
attention to the PADD and lamented, "I want Geoffrey back, Jean-Luc."
"He's chief of security
now, ma cherie, not to mention the best tactical officer I've had since
Worf." Picard patiently explained,
knowing that Vash had developed a strong rapport with Lieutenant Commander Lar
while he was her security guard.
Rolling onto her side, she
regarded him,"Geoffrey is so unobtrusive.
I hardly know he's there until I need him and then he's usually at my
side before I even say his name."
"Mr. Lar happens to be a
telepath. Although it has obviously
proven useful, telepathy is not a job requirement for Starfleet security
officers." Picard responded,
stripping off his uniform jacket and setting it on the bedroom chair. "Look, I know firsthand how easy it is
to become accustomed to relying on the special talents of those around us. Over the past decade or so, I've had to
remind myself that not all ship's counselors are empaths and that not all
second officers have positronic brains and superhuman strength; and it took a
long time to get used to the fact that I no longer had a large, snarling
Klingon watching my back from tactical."
"All of which boils down
to: 'No, Vash. You can't have Geoffrey back as your
security guard'," she huffed.
"I cannot demote the man
because he's too good at his job.
However, Commander Lar has suggested that it might be a good idea to
have a small number of security personnel cross-trained in basic archaeology
field procedures to accompany your team on sites."
"Once again, Geoffrey
imposes himself between me and utter disaster," Vash cooed,
melodramatically throwing her head back.
"Vash," Picard had to
give his lovely wife points for tenacity.
Once she had looked up and he was sure that he had her attention, he
continued, "You should know that Mr. Kennely was the first to volunteer
for the training, even offering to work on it during his off-duty hours. It seems he was fascinated with the ancient
site and would like a chance to see more sites in the future."
"I'll admit he did seem to
be intrigued by what he was seeing. If
I have to drag around a security detail, I'd rather they'd be interested and
appreciative of what they're seeing and not bored out of their skulls and maybe
even a little useful. Barbara spent
several semesters at the Daystrom Institute teaching introductory courses on
field procedures. Have Kennely set it
up with her."
Picard watched with satisfaction
as her expression softened from irritated scientist to dedicated
professor. He had yet to meet an
academic who could refuse a willing and curious pupil. Sitting down on the bed, he took one dainty
foot in his hand and began to massage it.
"Merci beaucoup, petite amie."
"Ohhh God . . . Right
there, Jean-Luc . . . Oh God, yes!"
Vash moaned closing her eyes and rolling onto her back. The PADD she had been working on was
dropped, forgotten.
"We're usually farther
along before you start sounding like that," he quipped with a deep,
masculine chuckle.
"Just don't stop. That's a direct order." Feeling him apply gentle pressure to the
ball of her foot, her head fell back and her toes curled as she let out another
low moan.
"Was that an orgasm, Madame
Picard?" he chortled softly, picking up her other foot.
"No, but it felt almost as
good."
After placing a kiss on the arch
of her foot, he stood up stripping off his uniform shirt and boots. Still wearing his undershirt and trousers,
he directed. "Roll over,
chere."
Vash turned back over onto her
stomach as he knelt between her legs. She pillowed her head on her crossed arms
and sighed indulgently at the warmth of his large hands slowly traveling up the
length of her legs from her ankles to her upper thighs soothing the complaining
muscles.
"If I recall there was an
injury here . . ." Picard's voice
was low and tender as he leaned in to place a kiss on her delicate cheek. His hands lingered of their own accord on
the satin-covered contours of her backside before moving up to the small of her
back. Splaying his large hands across
her back, his thumbs followed the graceful curve of her spine to her shoulders
and down again. With her earlier injuries in mind, he kept his touch more of a
gentle caress than a massage. "And
here . . . and here . . ." He
brushed kisses across the creamy skin of her shoulder and her upper arm, bared
by the undershirt that she wore.
Sweeping her hair out of the way, he switched sides to continue the
process on her other shoulder and arm.
"And here . . .and
here."
The soft sensation of his warm lips
and strong hands moving over her had Vash feeling utterly adored and cherished
by the man coddling her. As she
relaxed, her body began to become more aware of the epitome of masculine
virility fondling her. Unexpectedly, he
cradled the pliant flesh of her derriere in his hands again and placed a kiss
on one satin covered cheek sending an electric jolt through her system. Looking up at him over her shoulder, she
pointed out in an amused giggle, "There was no injury there."
"I know but it was simply
too perfect a target to pass up," he admitted with one of his barely-there
smiles, moving out of her way as she rolled over onto her back. "Although, there was one here." He leaned in to kiss a spot on her
collarbone. Cupping his head in her
hands, Vash pulled his face to hers capturing his mouth in a deep, passionate
kiss. His body tightened with the
sensation of the lush, fullness of her lips beneath his own, her tongue
rummaging the depths of his mouth searching for and finding his. His tongue followed hers back into her
mouth, her implicit invitation clear.
Every inch of his body throbbed with desire, but out of concern for her,
he forced his own needs aside. After all,
his initial intent had been to administer a little TLC, not to initiate lovemaking. Reluctantly breaking the kiss, he pulled
back slightly to gaze down at her.
"You've had a difficult day, ma petite. Are you sure you're up for that?"
"Shouldn't that be my line
to you, Mon Capitaine? Not that *that*
has ever been an issue." She
impishly cooed, running her fingers through the grey hair at his temples.
"I read Beverly's
report. You suffered some pretty
substantial bruising and lacerations."
His voice was hoarse as he fought to keep his burgeoning passions in
check. Her fingers playing in his hair
wreaked havoc with his senses and she was far too tempting as it was. Now stiff with anticipation, her nipples
were easily detectable through the thin material of the undershirt she was wearing. He wondered why he found the sight of her
nearly naked body clad in a single article of his clothing more erotic than
even the most enticing of her negligees.
"But, you've kissed them
and made them all better now." She
splayed her hands across the muscular expanse of his chest and lightly trailed
her fingertips down his undershirt past the taut strength of his abdomen.
"You should probably rest,
Vash . . ." He broke off sucking in his breath his stomach muscles tensing
as her fingertips coyly slid down his body stopping at his waistband of his
trousers.
"Don't be a tease,
Johnny. You know you want
it." Vash taunted breathlessly
raising her face to his. Gently pulling
his lower lip between her teeth, she deftly opened his trousers. His body leapt at her touch as she wrapped
her hand around his hard length. He
closed his eyes and groaned aloud as she took up the familiar rhythm savoring
the contrast in textures of rock-solid hardness covered by soft, velvety skin.
Picard 's mouth claimed hers in
an impassioned kiss, catching her moan of frustration when he captured the
small hands tormenting him. He drew her
hands up above her head to lay against the bedding and stretched himself out
full-length to cover her body with his own.
Breaking off the kiss, he took several deep breaths to center
himself. His bedroom baritone was
tinged with a hint of amusement, "As you've pointed out, that has never
been an issue."
"Don't be a tease,
Johnny. You know I want it." This time her taunt was more of a whispered
plea. She searched the steel grey of
his eyes; when he lowered his face to hers, her eyes fluttered shut and her
lips opened pliantly under his for another long, slow kiss. The coarse rasp of his tongue along the
sensitive depths sent a wave of arousal crashing over her.
The feel of her supple curves
moving sensuously beneath him was almost maddening. Reaching down, he found the bottom of the shirt that she was
wearing, his hands gliding over soft skin as he pushed it up. His mouth reluctantly released hers so that
she could pull it over her head. An
intense rush of need shot through him at the vision of her breasts with their
lush roundness and ivory skin tipped with deep rosy peaks. He lowered his head to place an open mouth
kiss on the hollow of her throat, flicking his tongue against her pulse
point. He heard her gasp softly, her
head rolling back, baring her throat to his gentle onslaught. Tenderly feasting on the soft skin of her
neck, his hands slid up her body to cup her breasts. He felt her body tremble when his hands cradled the full curves,
the hardened peaks pressing against his palms.
His mouth made its way down the silken expanse of her skin to the firm
breasts he still held in his hands. In
no hurry, he lingeringly traced the swell of her breasts with his tongue before
placing an open mouth kiss at the center of her cleavage. His teeth gently imprisoned the taut nipple
of one of her breasts and he leisurely swirled his tongue over the stiff peak. He nipped at the hardened crest slightly
before suckling strongly.
Vash arched toward Jean-Luc,
streaks of fire racing through her body.
The heat from his tongue along with the sharp pull of his mouth and the
occasional scrape of his teeth had her writhing with need. One large hand slid down her taut midriff, the
heat from his skin sparking against her own.
Slipping beneath her satin panties, his fingers combed through the dark
curls before traveling even lower. His
long fingers were moving against her, inside her, stroking her damp, tingling
flesh, patiently weaving an erotic torment of pure sensation. Her breasts ached in disappointment when his
mouth left to slowly journey down the sensitive skin of her flat stomach,
placing open mouth kisses around her navel before erotically exploring it with
his tongue. Every touch felt like a
lighting strike as his mouth traversed even lower. His hands swiftly slid her panties down the length of her legs,
dropping them to the floor. She closed
her eyes and a low moan escaped her lips when his mouth replaced his hands stoking
the very core of her desire. Vash
writhed helplessly under the carnal onslaught of his mouth and tongue. With the skill of a virtuoso, he took her
closer and closer to ecstasy.
Picard's tongue probed and
stroked her, her scent and taste intoxicating him. Her mindless whimpers in his ears drove his own needs to an
excruciating level. Intending to
quickly rid himself of the rest of his clothing, he pulled away from her to
stand next to the bed. He blinked in
surprise as she rose from the bed to stand in front of him.
Crushing her mouth to his in a
ravenous kiss, she could taste her own essence. She ached to let her hands roam over the firm, muscular planes of
Jean-Luc's hard body. Impatiently, her
fingers tugged at his undershirt. Her
hands glided over the sculpted muscles of his chest as she pushed the thin
cloth out of her way. Jean-Luc broke
the kiss only long enough to strip the shirt off over his head. His mouth recaptured hers in a kiss of
shared hunger. Her hands drifted down
the masculine slope of his shoulders to linger on the bulging biceps of his
upper arms. The play of the strong
muscles tantalized her fingertips. Her
hands journeyed back up to his shoulders, only to slide down the muscular wall
of his chest, delighting in the rippling pectorals and coarse chest hair. Her mouth slid from his to nibble on the
sensitive skin of his neck before moving lower, her tongue tracing along his
collarbone savoring the taste of his skin.
Vash let her mouth drift to the center of his chest, swirling her tongue
through the coarse hair as she went.
She gently took one of his nipples between her lips and rolled her
tongue over it while her hands found the waistband of his open uniform trousers
and pushed them off his hips to fall to the floor. Working her way down his body, she used her lips and tongue to
explore every inch of him, feeling the taut muscles contract under her questing
mouth. Sinking to her knees, she moved
back slightly and held him steady. With
her tongue, she traced very softly around the tip of his hardness. Little by little she eased him into the warm
cavern of her mouth. Tickling him with
her tongue, she began moving him in and out of her mouth. She could hear him moan her name in the
background as he wound his hands in her hair.
Picard thought he might actually
lose his mind at the excruciatingly slow way Vash's mouth engulfed him and
began stroking his straining length.
Unable to tear his gaze away from her, he watched her pause briefly to
look coyly up through her lashes at him.
Once again, she swirled her delicate pink tongue around the tip of his
hard length, making sure he could see her every movement. With an arched eyebrow she redoubled her
efforts and he was overwhelmed by the sensations. With each passing moment, her tantalizing ministrations pushed at
the very limits of his self-control.
Half-pleading, half warning, he gasped,
"S`il vous plait Vash . . .Please Vash . . .. S`il vous
plait."
Not until she was at the very edge
of his limit did she let up. Standing,
she splayed her small hands across the center of his chest, and pushed Jean-Luc
backward to lie on the bed. Vash
straddled his waist and braced her hands against the damp, muscles of his broad
chest as she lifted her hips slightly.
She heard a low growl from the back of his throat as she took his body
into hers. She closed her eyes and
savored the delicious feeling as she slowly lowered herself onto him. Finally, she settled her hips against his,
allowing her body to adjust to the heat and fullness of his body buried deep
inside hers. Opening her eyes to study
his reactions, she raised herself up almost pulling completely away from him,
pausing a moment before gradually lowering herself back down. Continuing her methodical movements, she
sighed sensuously, "Oh God, Jean-Luc . . . you feel so good."
Picard stared up at Vash,
completely transfixed as she sat astride him.
He grasped her hips, her steady, leisurely tempo driving him mad with
desire. He could feel his body bury itself deep inside hers with every
descent. The slick depths of her body
were so hot and tight, gripping him with each long stroke. Her hands rested flat against his chest her
body tightening against him, drawing him in deeper and deeper. He felt her finally increase the tempo
moving against him faster, grinding her hips into his.
Her knees dug into his sides as
she came down on him over and over. She
could feel an overwhelming pressure building inside her and she pushed them
both harder, wanting more. She felt his
hands grip her hips tighter as he thrust up powerfully to meet her, driving her
to increase their cadence to one of furious intensity. Vash clenched her fists, curled among the
coarse hair of his chest. She closed
her eyes as the urgency blossomed. When
her body rocked with overwhelming ecstasy, she threw her head back, screaming
out, "Jean-Luc!"
Hearing Vash cry out his name,
he began thrusting into her with an ever-increasing urgency. The tension that
she had been building in him all night finally reached a crescendo. His own passion overtook him and he lost
control. With one deep, final thrust,
he erupted in her with a shout of satisfaction.
Collapsing against
sweat-dampened chest, Vash purred contentedly, "Now, I can sleep."
Picard held her gently against
him and carefully rolled to his side, depositing her on the bed beside
him. He slipped the covers from
underneath her to tuck her in, and commented, "You know, Beverly can
always give you something for insomnia if you're having difficulty
sleeping."
"But your bedside manner is
soooo much better than hers."
.................................................................
"Given their planet's
rotation around the sun, I'd say these symbols would break down into at least
six sections based on the seasons that the continents surrounding the equator
experience. If we run an algorithm
based on a derivation of six and the symbols we've already figured out, the
universal translator may be able to fill in the rest," Chakotay had been
working with Vash in her lab for several hours. She had requested his help in translating the hieroglyphic
language that she had encountered down on the surface.
"That's a good idea,"
Vash said. "Let me just input
these last couple of symbols." She
tapped several keys on her PADD and the computer panel. "There, it'll take a few minutes before
we see the results." Perching
against the computer console, she eyed the commander speculatively.
"Do I have something on my
nose?" Chakotay asked after a couple of minutes had passed.
"No," she assured
him. "I was just thinking how
well-rested you look. The guest
quarters are quite comfortable, not that you would know."
Looking down at the petite
brunette who was obviously quite irrepressible, he had to grin. "Am I to assume that my grace period to
confess myself is over?"
"You're a smart man, that's
definitely a point in your favor."
"What score would a man
need to earn your approval?"
Delighted to realize that he was
actually brave--or foolish enough to banter with her, Vash made a show of
inspecting her nails. "That's
quite a lofty goal, one no mere mortal has ever accomplished."
"Aren't you married to the
captain?"
Strutting over to where he
stood, she deliberately circled him, ending up facing him. In a soft tone, but one that carried a
veiled threat, she said, "If you're going to date one of my friends, you
should know that I'm very protective of them and I once took my husband with
his own sword. I have gone nose-to-nose
with omnipotence, and if you hurt Beverly in any way, I will show you just how
formidable I can be."
Chakotay raised his hands in a
gesture of surrender. "I care very
much for Beverly, I did thirty years ago and I never forgot her. I wouldn't do anything to hurt her."
"Well, then I'll have to
remember to take security off standby for shoving you out an airlock."
"Please do," he
remarked dryly.
The computer beeped, signaling
that it had completed its analysis.
They both turned to study the results.
"It worked, we have a full
analysis," Vash commented.
"I'll download these results and deliver my report to Jean-Luc
personally."
"You will remember to list
your co-authors, won't you?" Chakotay asked, teasing.
"Such impertinence," she
huffed with a toss of her hair. "I
could always have security throw you out an airlock just for that."
Chakotay grinned, arching an
eyebrow. "You like me, you really
like me, don't you?"
"Strong Indian warrior,
huh? I'll tame you, it might just take
me a little longer," Vash winked.
"Of course, Beverly might prefer you wild and clad only in your
loincloth."
"I'm going to hazard a wild
guess that you are the friend who provided those books to her," he
chuckled.
Giving her most innocent, wide-eyed
expression, she exclaimed, "Why Commander Chakotay, what a quick brain you
have."
"Is that another
point?"
Vash picked up the PADD with the
downloaded analysis. "Does
Chakotay mean incorrigible in your language?"
"Nope, contrary," he bantered
back.
"Figures."
Chakotay watched as she waved
flippantly to him and started past him toward the door of her lab. "I do have one more question."
Stopping, she turned around and
waited expectantly.
"Is there some sort of rule
or ship's regulation about you being allowed to play with sharp objects,
hopefully?"
Vash appeared to think the
question over. Shrugging her shoulders
in a very perky manner, she chirped, "Nope."
Chakotay was grinning broadly
when he started to download the results onto another PADD for his own personal
interest. Suddenly he felt Vash smack
his backside with the PADD she held.
She had one more comment before
she exited. "That's another
point."
................................................................
"What do you think,
Counselor?" Picard asked. They
were waiting for the arrival of the Eillen administrator. Riker was meeting Administrator Sivade and
escorting him to the conference room.
"I have sensed no
subterfuge from any of them," Deanna replied. "Their civilization is fairly standard, actually quite
similar to many of the Federation's non-telepathic races. They are genuinely confused by these
incidents."
"Dr. Lenak," Picard
turned to the head of the sociology team whom he'd invited to attend this
meeting. "What is your
impression?"
The Vulcan steepled his fingers,
pausing for reflection before he answered.
"Their admission has been proceeding smoothly. There is no logical benefit for them in
these incidents."
"Unless someone is trying to
hurt their admission into the Federation," the captain proposed. He stood as the door slid open to admit
Riker and their guest.
"Administrator Sivade, thank you so much for agreeing to this
meeting. I'm Captain Picard, I believe
you've already met Dr. Lenak and Counselor Troi, and this is Lt. Commander
Geoffrey Lar, my Chief of Security."
"My pleasure,
Captain," Sivade greeted Picard before acknowledging the others. "I only regret that we meet under such
unfortunate circumstances."
"Yes," Picard gestured
for everyone to be seated. "But we
have reason to believe that these 'unfortunate circumstances' are
intentional. There is proof that the
building collapse yesterday was sabotage, which would lead us to the
possibility that these other accidents were sabotage as well."
"Captain, those ruins
pre-date our recorded history," Sivade pointed out. "Perhaps they simply collapsed from
age; and, while we have not been able to determine a cause for the other
incidents, I think your theory might be a bit excessive. After all, we're talking about three
completely unrelated incidents in which systems malfunctioned for undetermined
reasons."
"Administrator
Sivade," Deanna tried another tack.
"Is there anyone who might oppose your admission into the Federation?"
"Absolutely not! Before we approached the Federation about
admission, there was a planet-wide referendum on the issue. Ninety-eight percent of the adult population
voted in favor of joining the Federation."
Geoffrey spoke up for the first
time. "What about the other two
percent?"
"They're
isolationists--they barely tolerate interaction with the rest of the Eillen
civilization. They live on a small
continent near the south pole. We have
always respected their privacy, it's against the law to travel there without an
invitation. A communication system
enables them to see and participate in everything going on without direct
interaction. The Federation assured us
and them that their privacy would be respected, they have no reason to leave their
continent and are not violent--they simply wouldn't do anything like this. If you have any evidence that might impact
our investigation, we would appreciate your assistance in the matter, but I
cannot believe that any Eillen is behind these incidents."
Picard gestured for Geoffrey to
pass the administrator the PADD with their findings. "The head of our archaeology department managed to collect
data from the ruins before they collapsed.
There were some inconsistencies in the symbols along a wall, which
suggested that it was someone unfamiliar with the ruins and who was in a
hurry. According to the tricorder
readings in the ruins just prior to the explosion, a section of the corridor
was recently tampered with and replaced with replicated material."
Sivade met the captain's
gaze. "We don't possess the
technology to replicate materials, Captain.
Our manufacturing processes are highly refined, but still require solid materials,
either raw or recycled.
...........................................................................
Down on the surface, Chakotay
hung the holoimager on his shoulder and surveyed the deserted corridor of the
school building. After a brief meeting
with Education Coordinator Retsim, he'd inquired about observing at one of their
schools to see their education system in action. Retsim had avidly approved of the idea and offered him his choice
of facilities. The Eillen housed all of
the classes in one large building more reminiscent of a campus. Their children were grouped by developmental
level with each level assigned to its own section of the building. Right now, all of the children were out in
the center compound for the afternoon rest period. The Eillen school day was fairly long, lasting nearly half the
day, but there were several of these rest periods that provided opportunities
for the children to play, eat and socialize.
This was only one of several such facilities in each city.
"Excuse me, sir."
A small voice from right in
front of him got his attention. He looked
down to see a small Eillen girl, probably the equivalent of six or seven Earth
years standing there. Kneeling down, he
smiled. "Hello there, my name is
Chakotay, what's yours?"
"Tiva,"
"That's a pretty name. Can I help you with something, Tiva?"
The little girl shook her head,
her hair flying around her face.
"No, thank you. I just need
to get something from my storage compartment."
Chakotay realized that he was in
front of a bank of student lockers. Standing,
he stepped aside. "I'm
sorry."
"That's okay," Tiva
said, pulling a book out. "I just
need to finish a project for my teacher so I can go outside." She stopped at the door to a nearby classroom. "You're from the Federation, aren't
you?"
"Yes, I am. How do you know about the Federation?"
"We studied it in
school."
Curious about the nature of the
information, Chakotay knelt back down so he was on eye level. "What did your teachers tell you about
the Federation?"
Tiva shrugged. "Just that it's a group of different
people from different planets who all live and work together and help each
other and stuff." Her tone turned
scholarly. "Collaboration is a
means of achieving things on a larger scale than would be possible as
individuals." She cocked her head
curiously, "Is that all true?"
Chuckling at the simple, yet
fairly accurate summation of a federation, he nodded. "On a good day, yes."
Satisfied with his answer, she
opened the classroom door and disappeared inside.
Chakotay made a note on his PADD
about the delightful conversation.
Continuing down the hall, he reviewed the notes he'd made about his
day. If he hadn't turned down another
hallway when he did, the full brunt of the explosion would have killed him
instantly. As it was, the shockwave
slammed him into the opposite wall; he grunted with the impact, feeling his
shoulder dislocate. Flaming debris
immediately began pelting him, and he instinctively covered his face with his
uninjured forearm.
"Enterprise to Commander Chakotay,
we've detected an explosion in your vicinity," a voice sounded from his
commbadge. "Prepare for emergency
transport."
Struggling to clear his head, he
barely heard the message. "No,
wait. I'm in a school, the area was
deserted except for a little girl about fifteen or twenty meters from me. Can you get a lock on her?" The rain of debris had stopped, allowing him
to sit up.
"No, sir. There's some sort of interference. Without your communicator, we wouldn't even
be able to lock onto you."
"Wait for my signal,
Chakotay out."
The hall was littered with large
chunks of ceiling, walls and even furniture that had been catapulted out of
classrooms by the force of the explosion.
It looked like the blast had been a
couple of classrooms away from the one Tiva had entered. Hoping she was all right, Chakotay carefully
picked his way through the blazing obstacle course. He cursed the delays as he kicked desks and chairs out of his way
and scrambled over the massive beams lying across the floor. Ignoring the pain in his shoulder and the
searing heat of the inferno that blazed around him, he forced open the
classroom door. "Tiva! Can you hear me?"
The smoke was burning his eyes,
blinding him so he didn't see the flaming ceiling panel give way. It fell, knocking him to the ground. He quickly rolled, thrusting the panel off
but not before his hands and face were badly burned. Staying on his knees, he hobbled awkwardly through the room with
his right arm nearly useless. He found
her in the back corner of the room, huddled under a desk, not moving. Stripping off his uniform jacket, he leaned
in to grip her ankles and drag her out where he could wrap the jacket around
her, making sure that her head and face were protected. As soon as his jacket, with its
flame-resistant properties, was off, he could feel his skin blistering from the
intense heat, punctuated with fireballs of burning debris. Gathering Tiva in his arms, he activated the
communicator just as a large display board, fire consuming it, crashed down on
his head.
...............................................................
On the Enterprise, Beverly made
a quick check of her trauma team. They
had been alerted to prepare for possible medical emergency just a few moments
ago, but they were all in place and ready to receive any wounded. "Sickbay to Bridge, what's taking so
long?"
"Commander Chakotay refused
transport," Picard responded.
"There's a child in the vicinity of the explosion. He's trying to find her."
Blood rushed out of her face,
and Beverly braced herself on the trauma bed.
It was Chakotay. "Transport
him directly here as soon as he finds the child," she instructed. Turning to her team, she issued orders,
"you heard him, with an explosion we'll be dealing with burns and smoke
inhalation, let's get . . . "
The whine of a transporter beam
interrupted her instructions. Chakotay
appeared on the biobed in front of her clutching a small bundle wrapped in his
jacket. He was badly burned over a
large section of his upper body and face, bleeding profusely in several areas
and his shoulder was bulging out at a very unnatural angle. The bundle in his arms turned out to be a
young Eillen girl.
"Dr. Selar, move the girl
to another bed and take your team to work on her." The initial scans showed that both were
unconscious, but the girl's readings were more stable than his. Beverly gave him an injection to clear the
smoke damage from his lungs before turning her attention to his more severe injuries.
......................................................................
Sivade drummed his fingers
nervously against his desk. There was
something disconcerting about not being able to see his visitor's face. The . . . individual had simply appeared in
his office a moment ago requesting to speak with him. The suit and mask that the visitor wore completely concealed its
features, although its appearance was roughly humanoid.
"My people are aware of the
incidents which have been plaguing you recently, Administrator," the
stranger was saying. "I am here to
offer our assistance."
"Thank you," Sivade
replied. "But the Federation has a
ship in orbit and they are providing help in our investigation of the
matter."
"Surely you have realized
that these incidents began with the arrival of the Federation ship?"
"What are you saying?"
The stranger shrugged
casually. "All of the incidents
have targeted Federation people, but your people have suffered as well, including
an innocent child, I believe."
Sivade rose from his chair, a
sick feeling growing in his stomach.
"Why would the Federation try to harm their own?"
"It is a common Federation
tactic," the stranger sat in a chair in front of the administrator's
desk. "If they discredit you as a
civilized race--deem you unworthy of equitable membership in their Federation,
they can claim you as a colony and strip your world of its resources
unimpeded."
"I find that hard to
believe."
"Are you willing to bet the
lives of your people on it?" the stranger challenged. "Better still, are you willing to bet
your life on it? Colonies of the
Federation have no use for democratically elected heads of state."
Sivade sank into his chair. The first time that the Federation had come
to Eillen, the government had asked them to leave. Maybe they'd been precipitous in requesting membership. "How do your people fit into all of
this?"
"Mutual aid," the
stranger slid a document across the desk.
"The Federation is not the only choice, my people would be
interested in entering into a mutual aid treaty with the Eillen. Good will is the only requirement for this
arrangement."
"Obviously I will need to
review this and take it to my council of coordinators for a final decision,"
Sivade said.
The stranger stood. "Of course, but for the safety of your
people . . . and yourself, I would suggest that you expedite the matter."
...............................................................................
"Doctor," Picard
activated a comm link to Sickbay once everyone else was situated around the
conference table. "Can you give us
an update?"
Even over the intercom, Deanna
could hear and feel the strain in Beverly's voice.
"The little girl is fine;
she suffered smoke inhalation and heat stroke--Eillen physiology is not
equipped to handle extreme levels of heat, that's why she passed out. Dr. Selar has already treated her and is
ready to release her to her parents, they're here now."
"What about the
commander?" Riker asked.
Beverly sighed, "It's still
touch-and-go, barring complications he should recover completely. He's suffered extensive smoke inhalation and
burns to his lungs as well as second and third degree burns over almost 40% of
his body. He has a concussion, multiple
contusions, lacerations and a dislocated shoulder. I'm keeping him unconscious right now to prevent shock from
setting in. I'll know more once I have
his condition stabilized."
"Keep me informed,"
Picard closed the link. "Mr. Data,
what can you tell me about the explosion?"
The android keyed up the sensor
readings. "This was undoubtedly
triggered by an explosive device. The
energy signature of the explosion was unremarkable; however, the sensor
readings of the vicinity of the explosion were quite intriguing."
Picard studied the display
carefully. "This is the
interference that prevented transporter lock on the child?"
"Yes, sir. The Eillen authorities have not yet finished
examining the remnants of the device itself, but the entire area around the
explosion was saturated with molecular residue which interfered with our
scanners and transporters. The signal
lock from Commander Chakotay's communicator was the only source that the
transporters could establish a positive lock on," Data said.
Riker leaned forward in his
chair. "Do we know what kind of
device leaves that sort of residue?"
"Speculating, sir, but the
device was most likely biologically-based technology. Currently, the only known species which utilizes
biologically-based technology is--"
"The Breen," Geordi
blurted out.
"I think we need to have
another talk with Administrator Sivade," Picard announced tersely. "Number One, you're with me. Mr. Data, you have the bridge."
.................................................................
"Hold still," Beverly
cautioned as Chakotay began to regain consciousness. She stroked his hair, her eyes studying him. "You're in Sickbay onboard the Enterprise,
everything's going to be fine."
Blinking several times, his
eyesight gradually cleared to reveal the red-haired vision hovering over
him. "You're still a beautiful
sight to wake up to, Fireball."
His voice was barely a cracked whisper.
"And you still have a soft
head," she shot back. "Don't
try to move yet; you suffered pretty extensive injuries."
Chakotay tried to moisten his
lips, "hurts to breathe," he uttered hoarsely.
Cradling his head with her hand,
she tilted his mouth up enough for him to sip some water. "I know, your lungs suffered a lot of
damage. I can give you something for
the pain, just try to take regular, shallow breaths."
He turned his head to watch her
retrieve a hypospray and a dermal regenerator.
She looked so intent and serious, pursing those luscious lips as her
blue eyes scanned the biobed readouts; he caught her hand before she could
administer the hypospray.
"Tiva?"
"The little girl?"
Beverly asked. When he nodded yes, she
covered his hand with hers before she continued. "She's fine, just some heat stroke and smoke
inhalation. We've already released her
to her parents. She was very lucky that
you were there; otherwise she probably wouldn't have survived. As your doctor, I can't exactly commend you
for refusing emergency transport in order to hurl yourself through an inferno
like that; although, I can't exactly yell at you all that much either, since
you were so heroic and all." She
carefully settled his hand back down on the biobed, trying not to aggravate the
burns that hadn't been completely regenerated yet. Now that he was conscious and the more immediate injuries had
been stabilized, they could begin the process of regenerating the burned
skin. As badly as he'd been burned over
almost the entire upper half of his body, that process was going to take at
least a day. Relieved that he was going
to be all right, she was going to handle his care personally rather than assign
a tech or nurse to the dermal regeneration as she normally would.
"Others?"
"No, no one else was injured
and yes, everyone else at the school has been accounted for," she gently
covered his mouth with her fingers.
"Enough talking, now hush.
I'm going to work on some of your burns so you may feel a
tingling."
Chakotay kissed her fingers
before she pulled them away. He had
intended to watch her as she worked on him, but before the hiss of the
hypospray faded, his eyes were drifting shut.
He looked so peaceful, Beverly
mused as she lingeringly traced the tattoo surrounding his eye. The burns on his face were bad, but the
regeneration wouldn't effect the tattoo.
Listening to his still-slightly-labored breathing, his lips drew her
attention. They were so dry and
cracked, for a moment she was tempted to lean in and moisten them, but she
reminded herself that they weren't exactly alone. "Alyssa, bring me a damp cloth, please."
............................................................
Picard strode intently through
the door to Sivade's private office with Riker right behind him. "Administrator, we need to talk."
"Indeed, Captain Picard,
Commander Riker," Sivade greeted them both, partially rising out of his
chair to bow. "I was about to
contact you."
"What do you know about
this?" Picard handed him a PADD with their findings.
Sivade studied the
information. "This is the first
I've seen anything from the explosion analysis; our investigation is not yet
complete."
"Can you explain the
presence of Breen technology in our analysis of the explosion?" Riker
asked.
"No," Sivade
replied. He very deliberately set the
PADD on his desk. "Captain,
Commander, after much deliberation, the Coordinator's Council has decided to
request that the Federation remove themselves from Eillen. Until we are able to independently determine
the causes of these incidents, we feel that it would be better if the likely
targets were not on the surface."
Picard leaned forward, bracing
his hands on the desk. "Several of
my crew have been injured, and one of the members of the sociology team was
seriously injured; I want answers."
Sivade stood, leaning in so that
he was eye to eye with Picard. "A
child was nearly killed in that explosion, I do not want any more of my people
placed in harm's way because of you. More
than seventy years ago, my people asked the Federation to leave this planet;
I'm asking you now, on behalf of my people, to leave."
"How do the Breen fit into
this?" Picard insisted.
.....................................................................
"Hey Mathews," Frank
called out from the shuttle pilot's seat.
They were returning to the Enterprise from a stellar mapping
expedition. "Have you heard about
the pool that Kirrelson is taking up?"
"Yeah," making his way
through the cramped confines of the shuttle, Mathews sat down beside the
pilot. "You in?"
"Yep," Frank checked
his readouts and made a slight course correction. "Extend the proximity alert by two or three hundred meters,
would you? There's a lot of debris
around here, it's like flying through an obstacle course." Getting back to the subject at hand, he
asked, "What did you take?"
"The--" before Mathews
could finish his sentence, the proximity alarm blared a warning. He hurriedly punched up the sensor
readings. "There's nothing
there!"
Both men gaped as a ship
suddenly decloaked just a few hundred meters off the starboard bow. Frank reacted first, altering course and
increasing speed even though he knew they were outclassed. "Shuttle Carl Sagan to
Enterprise."
"We're being jammed,"
Mathews informed him. He gripped the
console for support when the shuttle was hit with an energy blast. "Targeting phasers."
"Hang on," Frank
rolled the shuttle, narrowly avoiding a second weapons blast. Keeping the shuttle moving, he tried to
prevent the other ship from getting a weapons lock. "Keep trying to signal the Enterprise."
On the bridge of the Enterprise,
Geoffrey looked up from the tactical station.
"Sensors detect weapons fire."
"Source," Data
requesting, consulting the readings on the command chair display.
"Other side of the
planet," Geoffrey supplied.
"Breen energy signature, they must have had a cloaked ship in
orbit."
"What are they firing
at?"
"One of our shuttles,"
Geoffrey was reaching for the alarm before the order came.
"Red alert," Data
stood, straightening his uniform jacket.
"Shields up and set a course to intercept. Open a hailing frequency."
"Open."
"Breen vessel, this is
Lieutenant Commander Data of the Federation Starship Enterprise. Cease fire on our shuttle at once or we will
be forced to respond.
Acknowledge."
Geoffrey watched the display
board. "No response. They're firing on the shuttle again."
"Target their weapons
system and fire as soon as we're in range.
Enterprise to Captain Picard."
A moment later, "Picard
here."
"Captain, one of our
shuttles is under fire from a Breen vessel.
We are moving to provide assistance; however, we will be unable to beam
you back up in the interim," Data advised.
"Understood, keep me
informed. Picard out."
...............................................................
Picard closed the channel and
met the administrator's eyes.
"Would you care to explain?"
"There is nothing to
explain," the stranger stepped from a dark corner of the office. "This planet is Breen territory and you
will leave."
"Wait a minute,"
Sivade snapped impatiently. "We
haven't signed anything yet. The Eillen
are not allied with either of you. If
you have any disputes to settle, take it somewhere else."
As soon as the Breen appeared,
Riker had surreptitiously freed his phaser and checked the setting. "You heard the administrator, he wants
everyone gone. You go first."
"I am in the process of
negotiating a treaty with the Eillen," the Breen captain countered. "You leave."
"Until things have been
sorted out in orbit," Picard observed, "No one is going
anywhere."
.....................................................................
"The shuttle has taken heavy
damage," Geoffrey reported.
"Their shields are down to 27%."
"Prepare to extend our
shields around the shuttle. Bridge to
Transporter Room 1, lock onto the shuttle and prepare to beam it directly to
the shuttle bay as soon as it is inside the shields." It had been a long time since he'd been in
command of a ship during a battle, and that was before the installation of the
emotion chip. This was quite
exhilarating.
It took only twenty seconds for
the Enterprise to pull within range of the shuttle, but watching the disruptor
fire from the Breen vessel rock the already-damaged shuttle was
nerve-wracking.
"The shuttle has sustained
a hull breach," the ops officer said.
Data switched on the comm
system. "Bridge to Transporter
Room 1, can you get a lock on the crew aboard the shuttle?"
"Yes, sir."
"Synchronize the
transporters to the shields, you will have only two seconds to initiate
transport." Data didn't take his
eyes off the display console. "As
soon as we have the crew aboard, reverse a tractor beam and force the shuttle
toward the Breen vessel. Target the
shuttle with phasers and fire."
The communications system
activated. "This is Transporter
Room 1, I have them."
"Engaging reversed tractor
beam and firing," Geoffery said, his fingers dancing across the console.
"Full reverse," Data
ordered.
Barely an instant later, both
ships were rocked by the explosion.
"Breen shields down to 80%," the ops officer noted.
"Our shields down to
93%," Geoffrey followed the report with one on their own status.
Data had been doing a quick
analysis of the Breen energy signature.
"Modulate our phaser frequency to this setting and narrow the
confinement beam to the smallest parameters.
Their next blast will most likely be directed at our weapons array,
target their disruptor blast with the modified phaser. It should cause a feedback loop in their
weapons."
"The computer can't get a
weapons lock fast enough to hit their disruptor fire, I'll have to target
manually," Geoffrey summoned his Betazed control, trying to focus on the
instant when he would need to lock and fire.
"They're preparing to
fire," the ops officer announced.
"Firing modified
phasers," Geoffrey said.
"Missed, our shields now down to 86%." He suddenly punched the firing button.
"They've fired again,"
the ops officer's report was a millisecond late.
"Direct hit, their weapons
system is overloading," Geoffrey allowed himself a grim smile of
satisfaction as he watched the readings.
"They're withdrawing,"
the ops officer made the official report of what they could all see on the
viewscreen.
Data stood once again and
activated the communications system.
"Enterprise to Captain Picard."
"Picard here."
"Captain, the Breen ship's
weapons system has been disabled; they are withdrawing. The shuttle was destroyed, however the
crewmembers were safely retrieved.
There were no injuries aboard the Enterprise and only minor damage,
repair crews have been dispatched. We
can beam you up whenever you are ready."
"Good work,
Commander," from the surface, Picard congratulated his officer. "Stand by."
......................................................................
Watching the Breen captain
disappear in a shimmer of light, Sivade regarded the two Federation
officers. "Before you go, would
you please explain what is going on here?"
.......................................................................
A couple of hours later, Picard
prepared to address the Council of Coordinators. They were broadcasting his address across the planet so that the
entire population could hear what he had to say. He straightened his jacket as Administrator Sivade introduced
him.
"Council of Coordinators,
people of Eillen," the administrator began. "For the past several days, a number of incidents have
occurred causing injury, fear and suspicion to mar our peaceful society. We have determined that the origin of these
incidents were sabotage on the part of an alien race called the Breen who
wished to deter us from membership in the Federation. The captain of the Federation Starship Enterprise has asked to
speak with you all today before the Council makes its final decision regarding
our membership application. I will now turn
the podium over to Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the United Federation of
Planets."
Picard stepped to the podium,
returning the administrator's bow before bowing to his audience.
"Four
hundred and twenty five years ago, a great and wise man from my home planet of
Earth posed the
question: 'How far have we come in man's long pilgrimage from
darkness toward
light? Are we nearing the light--a day
of freedom and of peace for all
mankind? Or are the shadows of another night closing
in among us?'
I stand here
today to give you the answer to that question.
It is not a straight and true
path. The shadows are ever-present, requiring
eternal vigilance to defend the truth of
justice, liberty
and peace that are the hallmarks of the light.
Throughout time
it has been recognized that the strength of freedom lies in unity. Five
centuries ago,
that strength drove the founding of the first government of the people, by
the people and
for the people that our planet had known.
That democracy and the
principles
behind it, the idea that every individual was born with an inherent equality
and inalienable
right, remained strong for the next three centuries, through many dark
nights they
emerged as the founding force in a unified world government. There would
be many more
dark nights ahead of the human race, but they would persevere.
It was a mere
315 years ago when Zephram Cochrane achieved warp capability from
Earth and
suddenly humans were no longer alone in the universe. Vulcans may have
been the first
race that we made contact with, but they would not be the last. I stand
here today
representing the United Federation of Planets, an alliance of almost 200
different
races. The Federation is bound by a
constitution that guarantees mutual benefit
and protection
of its members throughout more than 8,000 light years as well as
ensuring the
integrity and dignity of each individual citizen of its member planets.
But a
constitution is nothing more than words. The only true power in the universe
comes from the
ideas, the faith and the principles of individual beings. Freedom can
only come from
those willing to give it freely to all who want it.
That is all I
have to offer you. Freedom, liberty and
equality do not comes easily, but
together we can
explore the wonders of the universe as we continue to strive toward that
day of peace and
freedom for all."
......................................................................
Chakotay was sitting on the edge
of a biobed trying none too hard to concentrate on the instructions that he was
being given. The task was pleasantly
difficult considering that the one giving said instructions was a beautiful,
vivacious, fiery redhead.
"The skin that was regenerated
will be extra-sensitive for a few days," Beverly was saying. "You'll need to be careful with the
settings on the sonic and water showers.
Normally the sensitivity is barely noticeable, but with the amount of
skin that required regeneration, you'll feel things more intensely than
usual."
Reaching out, he caught her by
the waist and pulled her to him. He
settled her between his legs, sneaking a quick look around to make sure that
they were alone. "Care to test it
out with me?" he whispered, dipping his head to kiss her.
His lips were full and sensuous,
gently brushing across hers. She should
say something, she should step back, she should . . . Shoulds kept battering at her mind, but her wants and needs
drowned them out. Parting her lips, her
tongue snuck out to lick at his mouth in a silent invitation to deepen the
kiss. When he did, her body melted
against his, secure in the embrace of his strong arms. Their tongues played and danced together,
the warmth slowly spreading through her body.
The hiss of the Sickbay doors startled them apart.
"Ah, Commander
Chakotay," Picard entered Sickbay with two guests. "I'm glad to see that you're feeling
better."
"Thanks to first-rate
medical care," Chakotay smiled at Beverly.
The captain turned to introduce
his guests. "Commander, I'd like
you to meet Administrator Sivade, head of the Eillen government."
Chakotay stood and shook hands
with the administrator before kneeling in front of the second guest. "Tiva, I remember you. I'm glad to see that you're all right."
Blushing, Tiva twisted
nervously. "I wanted to thank you
for saving me, Commander Chakotay. I
have a gift for you."
Catching Captain Picard's subtle
nod, Chakotay knew that it was an appropriate gift to accept. He held out his wrist and watched as she
fastened a bracelet on him. The
bracelet consisted of polished stones and geodes, some with etchings on them,
set into a soft, malleable circle of some type of black rock. It molded comfortably to his wrist. "It's a beautiful gift, thank
you."
"These are all from our
planet," Tiva explained, blushing again.
"Ancient symbols of protection and friendship for you to remember
me by."
"As if I could ever forget
such a pretty girl," he leaned forward and kissed her cheek. He stood back up.
"I would also like to thank
you for what you did, Commander," Sivade said. "Risking your life for a race that was not even a member of
your Federation was a most honorable act."
"The value of a life should
not be measured by the alliances of a government," Chakotay demurred.
Sivade nodded approvingly. "But, the good news is that, thanks to
the recommendation of Captain Picard and the assistance of everyone on board
the Enterprise, you are looking at the newest, official members of the United
Federation of Planets."
"Congratulations,"
Beverly and Chakotay chimed in unison.
"Doctor," Picard spoke
up. "If you're finished here,
would you escort our guests to the transporter room. I haven't had the opportunity to speak with Commander Chakotay,
yet."
Chakotay knelt to say goodbye to
Tiva. "My people have a blessing
that they wish on friends when they part.
Peace in your heart and fortune in your steps, my little friend."
Beverly shot an amused glance at
Chakotay as she led the red-faced little girl and the administrator out of
Sickbay.
Once they were alone, Picard
extended his hand to Chakotay.
"I've seen your reports, and I want to commend you on your
performance on this mission. You
handled yourself superbly and on very short notice."
Chakotay took the proffered
hand. "Thank you, sir.'
"You know, the Enterprise
could use an officer with your skills on a permanent basis, if you're
interested." He paused briefly
before adding, "I dislike prying into my officer's private lives, but
Beverly certainly seems happy to have you aboard."
"Yes, sir." Hesitating, Chakotay took a deep
breath. As tempting as the offer was .
. . "Do you need an immediate
answer, Captain?"
"No," Picard
replied. "May I ask if there's a
problem?"
"I'd just like to think
about it. After seven years aboard
Voyager, I'm not sure that I'm ready for that life again, even here."
"Of course, the offer
stands just take your time.
Meanwhile," Picard's voice took on a curious tone. "I would like to discuss some of your
experiences in the Delta Quadrant.
Would you care to join me for a cup of tea?"
"Yes, sir."
The two men headed toward the
Sickbay door. "I do hope that my
wife has been behaving herself; although, I must admit, not being the main
subject of ship's gossip has been nice for a change," Picard noted dryly.
Chakotay grinned. "Mrs. Picard has been delightful, but
the way I heard things, there's been a pool going around on which is better:
the Indian Outlaw or the Picard Maneuver?"
FINIS
**First
Love, Wild Love by Madeline Baker, Beloved Savage by Sandra Bishop, and Silken
Savage by Catherine Hart are real bodice-rippers and among the favorites of
Whoa Nellie. The Crimson Witch,
Capitaine La Folle and the Black Mephisto, Capitaine Diabolique are characters
from Desire in Disguise by Rebecca Brandywine, also among the favorites of Whoa
Nellie. The other two are fictional
bodice-rippers created just for the purposes of this story.
**The
quote in Picard's speech about man's pilgrimage from darkness to light is from
Dwight D. Eisenhower's inaugural address, January 20, 1953.