Forwarded by the ASC-VSO 
Posted: 6 Jan 2004 09:30:20 -0800  
In: alt.startrek.creative 
From: shouldknowbettertt@yahoo.co.uk (shouldknowbetter) 
 

Title: Illicit Trade
Series: ENT, Second in Series
Begins with "A Logical Proposal" "Illicit Trade" is second
in a series of 9 stories.
Part: 1/3 Story 5/34 Series
Author:  Shouldknowbetter
Email:   shouldknowbettertt@yahoo.co.uk
Rating:            PG13
Codes:    Tu/T, all Enterprise characters, eventually, Forrest and
Soval, action, angst, drama
Summary:      An accident in Engineering leads Enterprise to investigate

Author's Notes:
1.      This was written post-Series 1 but before any rumours of Series 2
materialised.  Hence it may not be consistent with any broadcast
episodes of Series 2, although I have tweaked it slightly.
2.      I didn't try to represent a southern USA accent in type.  You all
know how Trip sounds – just read the words with the correct accent.
3.      This story is set about three months after ‘A Logical Proposal'.



ILLICIT TRADE 

Part one

"Trip!"  Archer was reduced to sheer volume to try to get his chief
engineer's attention.  "Commander Tucker, report!"

      There were a few more seconds of confused shouting and frantic
activity over the comm. then, "Cap'n," Tucker sounded breathless,
"plasma pressure's still rising.  We can't shut down the fuel flow."

"Evacuate, commander.  That's an order."

"Have done mostly," was the response then there was a background
shout.  "Shit!  Cap'n, lock down engineering.  Now!"

"Trip!" Archer yelled but there was no answer and the captain's lips
compressed.  "Lt Reed, do as he says; close emergency bulkheads. 
T'Pol, what's the pressure doing?"

"It is currently in excess of 200% of normal levels; and rising."

"Are you sure venting plasma would ignite the nebula?"

"Positive."

There was time for no more.  They all felt the rumble of an explosion
through the deck plating as over the comm. system they heard it,
together with a scream, abruptly cut off.

"Trip!"  Archer hit the button on his command chair.  "Bridge to
Engineering.  Report."

"No good, sir," Reed reported.  "Comm. to Engineering's down."

"T'Pol, any life signs down there?"

She tried to check but shook her head fractionally.  "Radiation levels
are too high for sensors to penetrate."

Archer was already out of his seat, heading for the lift.  "Get damage
control parties to Engineering and have Phlox meet us there."

The science officer gestured to Sato to comply and took a step
forward.  "I will accompany you."

"No.  Stay here and coordinate repair and rescue.  Malcolm, with me."

The two men departed and T'Pol moved calmly to the centre seat,
already organising activities in her well disciplined mind; and if
there was a small part of her that was desperately anxious for a
certain engineer, it was well under control.  Probably only one person
on the ship would have noticed that she was worried sick and he wasn't
there.



A tense thirty minutes later, the comm. line to the bridge activated. 
"Archer here."

The Vulcan woman reached sedately for the control.  "Yes, captain?"

"We've got the plasma leak sealed.  Have Mayweather start to move us
out of the nebula on manoeuvring thrusters."

"Very well."  She struggled with the question she wanted to ask and
gave up.  She didn't think that she could mention his name without
giving away … something.  "Can repairs be effected?"

"I don't know yet."  Archer sounded sick and T'Pol swallowed.  He was
dead then; and in the long term that was undoubtedly best for her
peace of mind and body, but just now she wanted to howl.

"Do you require assistance?"

"No.  Archer …"

"Captain," Sato cut in before he could sign off, her gaze on T'Pol
accusing, "are there any casualties?"

"Two fatalities, two seriously injured."

Briefly T'Pol closed her eyes.  She didn't want to hear it said, not
now, when she was in full view of people who thought she had no
feelings to be hurt.  Why didn't Sato just leave it?

"Who's dead?"  The other woman sounded much as T'Pol felt; she had
always suspected the human comm. officer of being inappropriately fond
of Enterprise's chief engineer.  "Is Commander Tucker …?"

"Lomax and Singh," was the brief answer.  "Trip and Maynard are badly
hurt.  Phlox thinks they'll be OK but he's not certain.  Archer out."

Sato gave T'Pol another defiant look and returned to her board,
leaving the first officer a moment in which to compose her
increasingly erratic thoughts.




It was very late in Enterprise's night.  The ship had been edged
cautiously out of the nebula and was now lying almost dead in space
while her crew drew breath and wondered what to do next.  At least
their ship was no longer in imminent danger of self-destruction, but
she was in no state to go anywhere and with her chief engineer in
sickbay and his second dead they were temporarily stuck.

T'Pol finally left the bridge to a relief crew and headed towards
sickbay.  They knew by now that Tucker was going to survive but she
had an entirely irrational need to see him for herself.  Perhaps even,
if he were unconscious and no one was looking, to touch him.  She
didn't think he would mind; they were friends and human friends
touched each other.  He would never know how much she needed the
contact.  All her logic and lifelong habit of repression couldn't
suppress that need and she had been denied all day.  Every time she
thought she had an excuse to visit sickbay or simply a few moments to
herself to slip away without anyone noticing she had been thwarted. 
Now most of the humans were asleep and she could indulge herself.

It was an unpleasant surprise to find Sato just leaving sickbay as she
arrived.  T'Pol managed a grave nod as the ensign scuttled away. 
Jealousy was irrational, of course, but …

"Ah, Sub-Commander T'Pol."  Phlox sounded resigned.  "I'm afraid if
you want to see Commander Tucker, I must refuse.  He has had quite
enough visitors, thank you."

All female of course, T'Pol thought viciously and glared at the
Denobulan.  "I assure you, doctor, that my business with Commander
Tucker is entirely professional."

"Then you certainly can't see him."  He was ushering her from the
room.  "He is on sick leave until further notice."

T'Pol gritted her teeth and sought urgently and unsuccessfully for an
excuse.  ‘We were supposed to have dinner together' did not sound
dignified nor in keeping with her Vulcan heritage.  "Then perhaps you
will see that he gets this."

She held out the PADD that she had had the foresight to bring and the
doctor took it dubiously.  "A damage report?  Really, sub-commander …"

"He will wish to know."  Otherwise Tucker would lie in bed fretting
that the damage was worse than it was, although the report could well
make him attempt to return to duty too soon.  She turned away and came
face to face with Archer.  "Captain."

"T'Pol," he acknowledged.  "Everything OK?"

"As far as I am aware."

He nodded and continued on his way, straight past Phlox and into
sickbay.  T'Pol stared after him.  It wasn't fair!



"Really, captain," Phlox said as he pursued Archer across the room
towards where Tucker was stretched out under a protective hood, "I
would like Mr Tucker to get some rest."

"Two minutes, doctor."  Archer closed a hand on Tucker's uninjured
shoulder; the other was covered with dressings although the burns down
one cheek had been left open to the air.  "Trip, how d'you feel?"

"Fine."  Tucker sounded distinctly spaced.  "What did Phlox give me?"

"Don't know."

"Must be good stuff," the engineer mumbled then frowned.  "What's the
damage?"

"Third degree burns to the left side of your body."  Archer's fingers
tightened reassuringly.  "Don't worry, Phlox says he can save your
boyish good looks."

"I meant to Enterprise!"

"Sorry."  The captain's lips twitched.  Of course Trip would be more
worried about his ship.  "Engineering's a mess but nothing we can't
fix."  Given access to repair facilities they didn't have.  "Don't
worry about it."

"Sub-Commander T'Pol brought you a damage report, commander," Phlox
had been hovering to supervise Archer's visit, although he moved out
of reach of Tucker's questing hand, "which I may allow you to read in
the morning."

"Spoil sport," the injured man muttered and yawned, wincing as it
pulled at the burns on his cheek.  "Nice of T'Pol to bring it. Why'd
she not come to see me?"

Phlox frowned; perhaps he had overdone the pain-relief compound.  "You
are in no condition for professional consultation, commander.  I sent
her away, as I am about to do with Captain Archer."

"Oh."  Tucker yawned again, barely opening his eyes after.  "Was she
pissed?"

"I don't believe so."

"Don't worry, Trip, we'll keep her out of your way until you're
feeling stronger."  Unlike Phlox, who thought that Tucker was anxious
to avoid the Vulcan, Archer had some quite different suspicions and
the slurred, sleepy reply didn't reassure him.

"Damn.  Gonna have dinner.  Thought maybe …"

"Get some sleep, Trip."  His captain decided to ignore the rambling. 
"That's an order."

"'Kay.  Tell T'Pol sorry, hmm?"

"If you want."  The other man seemed already asleep and he turned to
Phlox.  "Is he OK?"

"Oh, yes.  The commander was in considerable pain so I gave him a
strong dose of Belerian mushroom extract.  Some confusion is to be
expected."

"And Lt. Maynard?"

"She will also be fine.  Now if you'll excuse me, captain?  This is a
medical facility, you'll remember?"

"I can take the hint, doctor.  See you tomorrow."

"Goodnight yourself, captain," and the Denobulan returned to his study
of human reflexology.



Staring intently at the flame in her mind's eye, T'Pol knew that it
was not working.  She just could not achieve the proper degree of
concentration and she knew why.  Reluctantly she opened her eyes to
focus on the real flame before her.  She couldn't meditate because her
well regulated mind kept wandering off to wonder how Tucker was,
whether he regretted not having dinner with her, whether perhaps they
might have played pool afterwards and if she could have contrived to
play badly so that he would have put his arms around her to correct
what she was doing.  She broke that thought off quickly but not before
her body had reacted with interest to the idea of having Tucker's
pressed against it.  She thought she had conquered her foolish
infatuation with Enterprise's chief engineer but she hadn't.  The
belief that he was dead had shattered the walls she had erected around
her feelings for Tucker and she could not yet even start to rebuild
them.  The quite inappropriate affection she had for him was still
there and this time she could not blame her own physical weakness for
the admission.  She should have realised that morning when she had
been so pleased to see him alone for the first time in weeks, but she
had deluded herself that it was just friendship.

She had awoken in a state of mind that she could only describe as
restless, just as she had for the previous few days.  She had put it
down to frustration – well controlled, of course – over their lack of
progress in studying the nebula they were visiting and had set off for
the mess hall in search of camomile tea only to halt rather abruptly
at the sight of Tucker, alone for once, pouring over a series of PADDs
while he absent-mindedly consumed a large quantity of … something.  It
had always struck her as entirely illogical that she enjoyed Tucker's
exuberant and often irrational company but she did and somehow,
between away missions, duty shifts, much needed meditation and
Archer's demands on her free time she had barely seen him for weeks;
and she had missed him, although purely as a friend, of course.  Would
he mind if she joined him?  She had wondered if he was avoiding her
but that surely was her own guilt speaking; he could not know of her
brief descent into sentiment.  It would only be for a few moments
whilst she drank her tea and if she didn't disturb him, someone else
would.  "Commander," she sometimes wished she found it as easy as the
humans to be informal, "may I join you?"

"Sure!"  He looked up with a smile that she thought held genuine
pleasure and shoved the PADDs to one side.  "Haven't seen you in
ages."  The smile slid into a teasing grin.  "You done screwing up my
ship yet?"

"If you are referring to our scans of the nebula, no; and Captain
Archer may query whose ship it is."

He shrugged unrepentantly.  "I hope you're getting something real
useful out of this, because you're causing us a whole lot of trouble
in Engineering."

"I do not understand why.  This nebula is interesting but far from
unique."

"I don't know either."  He selected one of the PADDs and shoved it
across to her.  "My best guess is that there's something out there
resonating at a frequency that disrupts the power grid."

She scrolled rapidly through the data.  "I will attempt to isolate the
phenomena."

He shrugged again.  "Don't let it interfere with your real work.  It'd
just satisfy my curiosity."

"How much longer do you believe we can safely remain in this
vicinity?"

"Another 24 hours, maybe.  You gonna be through by then?"

"I believe another 8 hours will be sufficient."

"Great!"  There was a fractional pause.  "What about dinner tonight? 
Celebrate the end of my headache."

"That would be … pleasant," and quite unexceptional.  She often dined
alone with Archer and Tucker was no different.

His smile mocked her gently.  "Don't bust a gut, T'Pol.  You can turn
me down if you've got something better to do.  Meditating, maybe, or
analysing those scans of yours."

"I believe I can spare the time.  The captain is dining with Ensigns
Sato and Mayweather."

"Yeah."  Tucker was frowning.  

"Engineering to Commander Tucker."  The hail cut across their
conversation and Tucker grimaced.  "Commander, please report to
Engineering."

"Hell," he muttered.  "Bet that's your damn nebula again."  He stood,
gulping coffee as he did so, then paused, looking down at her, still
with that faint frown.  "Better go."  Briefly his hand brushed her
shoulder.  "Meet me here at 1900?"  She nodded and he left hurriedly,
leaving T'Pol to finish her tea and to reflect that she really should
remind him that Vulcans did not like to be touched.

In response to the vivid memory, T'Pol shivered even as she once more
tried to focus on the flame before her.  Just because she desired
Tucker's body was no reason to allow her meditations – very necessary
meditations - to be affected.  She had come very close that day to
losing control and that could not be allowed.  She had to meditate,
not sit here wondering what it would be like to have Charles touch her
bare skin, to touch his, to have him lie with her.  Probably she would
not like it anyway.  Mating had always sounded to her like a messy,
awkward and unsatisfactory procedure, so why did she become aroused
when she thought about Charles?  Why did her body ache to have his
inside it?  She didn't know and never would.  She could not have a
human lover.  She did not even know if he found her attractive in a
way that would provoke the appropriate reaction.  Not that it
mattered.  She could never have him as anything other than a friend;
and he was a friend.  She should be grateful for that and for his
survival and forget all her other foolish thoughts and yearnings.  She
was Vulcan.  She would prevail.



The atmosphere in the situation room nearly 48 hours later was grim
even though Tucker had rejoined his colleagues for the meeting; at his
own instance rather than with Phlox' approval.  Keeping a close but
discreet eye on the engineer, T'Pol thought that he looked far too ill
to have left sickbay, a view Archer evidently shared since he
initially tried to make the younger man leave.

"Forget it," Tucker had said wearily and with little respect.  "I'm
still your chief engineer.  I need to be in on this."

"Are you up to speed on the situation?"

"Yeah, T'Pol's kept me informed."  He interpreted Archer's frown at
the science officer.  "She was right to, Cap'n.  I needed to know."

"OK, but I want you back in sickbay as soon as this meeting's over." 
Tucker nodded agreement and shifted a little, probably, T'Pol
speculated, to ease his left leg.  It hadn't been as badly burnt as
his arm that was still immobilised across his chest but must still be
stiff and sore, as must the healing burns on his cheek.  She had
followed Phlox's reports on his condition – unobtrusively, of course –
so she knew that he would recover fully but he was still in need of
pain medication and … Guiltily she brought her errant attention back
where it belonged as Archer opened the meeting.

"So, if you're fully informed, Commander Tucker," he was jibing at his
friend's stubbornness and they all knew it, "why don't you tell us
where we stand?"

Tucker was still too ill to respond with his normal humour.  "Stand is
about right.  Enterprise isn't going anywhere fast.  Half impulse,
maybe, if you don't want to change direction too quick.  We can't go
to warp.  The engine needs a complete overhaul to check for
micro-fractures before we fire it up again and the main structural
integrity generators aren't right.  They need to be stripped down and
re-built."   He sighed.  "Sorry, Cap'n."

"Not your fault, Trip," Archer said firmly.  "You couldn't have
anticipated the effect of that nebula."  He looked over at T'Pol,
equally firm.  "No one could.  What we need to do now is consider
options.  Any ideas?"

Reed grimaced.  "It's a long way to Earth at half impulse."

"That may not be necessary."  T'Pol crossed to the bank of monitors at
the rear of the room.  "I have researched the problem."  A couple of
deft touches brought up a schematic.  "This is Freeport, private
venture space station less than two days from our current position. 
They provide limited repair facilities but they may prove adequate."

"Trip?"

The engineer moved slowly to the monitor, scanning down the
information available.  "Maybe."  He sounded even more exhausted than
before.  "Enough to get us closer to home, anyway."  T'Pol watched
anxiously as he leant against the wall; he was going to collapse at
any moment unless Archer concluded quickly.

"If it's privately owned, I guess the facilities don't come cheap?"
the captain queried and T'Pol shook her head briefly.

"No.  However there is a small Vulcan consulate on Freeport.  They may
be able to arrange finance."

"I'll contact Starfleet and ask them to speak with the Vulcan
government."

"Captain," Mayweather had been fidgeting for some minutes, "I've heard
of Freeport.  It's got a really bad reputation."

"For what?" Reed demanded, alert to trouble at once, and the helmsman
shrugged.

"You name it, Freeport does it.  Drugs, sex, guns.  I've even heard it
turns a blind eye to slavers."

"Highly unlikely."  T'Pol was scathing.  "If such rumours were true,
Vulcan would not retain a presence there."

"We'll bear the warning in mind, Travis," Archer assured the young
man, anxious to encourage his rare participation in discussions, "but
I don't think we have a choice at the moment.  Set a course, at the
best speed Engineering can give you.  Trip," he added over his
shoulder as he headed for the main bridge, "sickbay.  Now."

"Sure," the other man muttered, but his eyes were closed and from
where she stood, T'Pol could see that his skin had taken on an even
more pronounced shade of grey.  She stepped closer.  It wasn't
self-indulgent, merely professional concern.

"You require assistance."   She made it a statement, not a suggestion,
but for once he might have agreed anyway.

"That's probably a good idea."

She didn't even have time to reach out for him, never mind to place an
arm around him – purely for support purposes – when Archer was back,
clearly having overheard the exchange.  "Sorry, Trip."  He already had
a hand on the other's shoulder.  "I wasn't thinking.  Let me give you
a hand."

"I …" T'Pol cut off her too sharp response quickly.  ‘I will take
him!' was not a statement she felt she could logically support.

"Yes, Sub-Commander?"

"I recommend that I consult with Lt Reed and Ensign Mayweather on
possible security measures while we are visiting Freeport."

"Good idea.  Let me know your conclusions.  Come on, Trip."

T'Pol glared after the retreating pair, Archer's arm around Tucker. 
The captain should have allowed her to escort Charles.  Now that she
had a moment to reflect, she was by far the more logical choice.  She
was much stronger than Archer and also shorter so that Charles could
have leant comfortably on her.  It was very unfair; and extremely
illogical of her to think so.



The director of Freeport was most affable, so much so that Archer was
almost grateful for the two stoic Vulcans on his side of the table. 
The head of the Vulcan consulate had proved to be a grey-haired man
who accepted the necessity of aiding humans with less than the usual
condescension.  Archer actually found himself warming slightly to the
man whose grave courtesy seemed genuine; perhaps mixing with many
other races in a place such as Freeport encouraged a more tolerant
attitude.  Archer was certainly grateful for Lakan's astute bargaining
since the director was clearly a master at offering good terms in the
one hand whilst slapping on prohibitive duties with the other.  But at
last a deal was agree that Archer hoped would not bring the wrath of
Earth's government down on his head and the director turned to other
services.  "And will your crew be taking advantage of our leisure
facilities, captain?"

"That would not be wise," Lakan observed.  "Freeport is undoubtedly
less safe than the environment to which you humans are accustomed."

The director must have caught the flash of resentment that Archer
could not quite suppress.  "We will accept personal credit chips."

"I'll take it under advisement."  Common sense told him that Lakan
could well be right but he wasn't prepared to admit that to the
Vulcan.  "We've been in space some time without a break."

"I assure you that all our customers have a good time with us."  The
director was still affable as he escorted them out of the office.  He
caught Archer's eye and added significantly, "A very good time."

"I'll be sure to pass that on."  Archer had a hard time keeping a
straight face.  "Thank you for your help, director."  He waited until
they were out in the corridor before allowing a chuckle to escape.
"Well, I guess some of the crew might want to ‘release some tension'. 
I wonder if Trip's feeling up to it."

T'Pol turned to Lakan and disregarded protocol to ask a brief question
in Vulcan to which she received a dignified nod in answer.  "Captain,
with your permission, I wish to visit with the members of the Vulcan
enclave here."

"Of course.  As long as you think its safe enough."

She gave him a cool look.  "I do not think that will be an issue. 
Good day, captain."  She strode away at Lakan's side, fuming
internally.  Humans!  She would visit with her fellow exiles, engage
in reasoned debate and remind herself just how foolish, inappropriate
and plain disgusting it was to be infatuated with a human male who
didn't have a scrap of respect for her species.  Just a handsome body
and a kindness she had never received from her own people.  Perhaps
one of Lakan's people would be unattached and prove compatible enough
to offer her the lifelong contentment she had once been advised to
seek.  At least that was an option still open to her.  Storan's pride
had prevented him from a public admission that his intended bride
preferred a member of an inferior species to himself so no one else
knew of her weakness.



There were six members of Freeport's Vulcan enclave and, as was
traditional in such situations, they ate communally in reflective
silence.  T'Pol realised that most of her reflections were on the
usefulness of dinnertime conversation.  The human habit of exchanging
pointless information was often irritating, but in this case she could
have continued her discussions with the group's high-energy physicist.
 To do so now would be rude but later there was to be a lyre recital
and again discussion would be impossible.

It came as a shock when the silence was broken by the other woman
present.  "You have been long on the Earth vessel, Sub-Commander?"

"Fifteen months, one week, three days."

"A great deal of time to observe them."

"Yes."

"And your conclusion?"

"They are impetuous, overly curious, inclined to meddle in affairs not
their own."  T'Pol hesitated but it would be dishonest not to
continue. "However, they do have some redeeming qualities.  Captain
Archer has demonstrated himself to be a capable captain."

"I have studied many species in my time here," the woman had been
introduced as a physician, "but I have never had the opportunity to
meet with humans.  Perhaps, T'Pol, you could arrange for me to meet
some."

"I believe that will be possible, M'Lek.  Captain Archer is proud of
his ship.  He welcomes visitors."

The other woman bowed her ebony head a gracious inch, ignoring a
raised eyebrow from Lakan.  "I will await the visit with interest."

T'Pol was left with a faint sense of unease.  Why had Lakan appeared
to disapprove of M'Lek's interest?



Within half an hour of bringing M'Lek on board Enterprise, T'Pol had
deduced that the other woman had no interest in the ship but a keen
one in the humans; particularly the men.  She had also made an
observation; human men found M'Lek attractive.  She had not been
positive of that until they visited the armoury and she had seen Lt.
Reed's pupils dilate and his respiration rate increase when M'Lek
stood close and asked a series of naοve questions about Enterprise's
armament that the officer had at least answered professionally.  But
that observation only increased T'Pol's unease and led her to suggest,
as they left the armoury, that their final stop should be sickbay
where M'Lek could consult with Dr Phlox on issues of human physiology.

"I think not."  The dark skinned woman was positively sauntering along
the corridor and T'Pol could sense her … enjoyment?  "I am familiar
with Denobulans."

"I meant that you could ask about humans."

"I prefer to make my own experiments."

"Experiments?"

"Why, yes.  Ones that they will enjoy, I assure you."  T'Pol quashed
her thoughts.  She had lived with humans too long.  The other woman
could not possibly have meant that remark in the way T'Pol had
initially interpreted it.  "They are intriguing, are they not?"

"Denobulans?"

"Humans.  And quite … attractive … in their enthusiasm."  T'Pol gave
her a shocked glance.  If she didn't know better, she could have been
led to believe that the other woman was one of the disgraceful V'tosh
Ka'tur.  "We still have Engineering to visit, I believe."

"Indeed."  T'Pol seethed silently.  Undoubtedly Tucker would not have
had the intelligence to obey the doctor's instructions and remain
resting in his quarters.  He was far too irrational.

Tucker was in Engineering, left arm supported in a sling and the burns
on his face still visible but looking much healthier than the last
time T'Pol had seen him and a great deal more cheerful now that he
knew they could repair Enterprise.  "Hey."  The smile he threw at
T'Pol as he looked up from the schematics he had been studying did
something strange to her stomach then he noticed M'Lek behind her and
it was definitely pain she felt as he appraised the other woman. 
"Who's your friend?"

"This is Dr. M'Lek, attached to the Vulcan consulate of Freeport."

The physician seemed to approve of what she saw for she held out her
hand.  "Humans touch hands on meeting, I believe?"

"Shake hands," T'Pol amended icily.  "This is Commander Tucker,
Enterprise's chief engineer."

"Trip," he offered as he took the proffered hand, grinning.  "The
name's Trip."  T'Pol gritted her teeth; he had said that to her too.

"Trip?" M'Lek released his hand but immediately ran two fingers over
the back, raising an eyebrow as he jerked back, startled.  "You know
something of our customs?"

"Uh, no, not really."  Just that Vulcan's don't touch and that that
particular gesture was the equivalent of a kiss.  But he hadn't
started it so why was T'Pol glaring at him like he was public enemy
number one?  "Um, if you'll excuse me, ladies, I've got … things … to
do."  He backed off as fast as his stiff leg would allow.  Damn, but
he should have stayed in his cabin; and to think that he'd actually
been pleased to see T'Pol too.

"How intriguing."  M'Lek was watching the retreating engineer with
fascination and T'Pol was furious.  How dare the other woman touch
Charles when she had been denied the opportunity for days and days? 
"He is so very undisciplined, his emotions so plain to see.  Is he
mated?"

"No."

"Good."

T'Pol stalked to the exit. "That concludes the tour, M'Lek.  I suggest
you now return to the station.  I will escort you to the docking
port," and if the woman tried to return, T'Pol would personally blow
the airlock on her.


Continued in Part Two

--
Stephen Ratliff
ASC Stories Only Forwarding

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