The Lerteiran Chronicles

Episode Twelve: Family Ties

By Reactionary Caveman and Distracted

Genre: Action Adventure and Romance

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: We don't own the Star Trek universe. We just go there to play. Honest.

We do, however, own our original characters and story ideas. You are welcome to borrow them as long as no money changes hands. If we can't make anything from this, nobody else gets to either.

Summary: We meet T'Riss's new Vulcan betrothed, T'Riss and Daniel try to work out their differences, Malcolm gets a crack at the Romulan prisoner, and there are spies in unexpected places.

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Rays of the rising sun illuminated the breakfast room, casting a pink glow between the gauzy tan curtains on either side of the window. T'Rel sat at the table sipping her tea, surrounded by cool stone walls and gazing out over her rock garden. The morning silence was calming. She closed her eyes, breathing deeply to dispel the disquiet which had plagued her of late. Saran's recent retirement from government service had thus far been difficult for both of them. He would ordinarily have left for the day by this hour, giving her time for solitary reflection before her own departure. His querulous complaint broke her concentration.

"The plomeek is not fresh. When you go to the market today replenish our supply." He sat down heavily beside her with a mug of tea in hand, still dressed in his sleeping robes with grey stubble on his cheeks and his thinning white hair uncombed. He looked tired and drawn, older than his 150 years. She wondered why he persisted in arising so early now that he had nothing pressing to do and nowhere in particular to go.

"I have a department head meeting today over the noon hour and then a meeting after work to discuss a marriage candidate for T'Riss," replied T'Rel. "I will not have the time to go to the market, but the shopping list is on the kitchen counter. Why don't you go yourself? You might find a trip away from the house agreeable." Since his last day at work last month he'd rarely set foot off the household grounds. He was becoming a recluse, spending his days at the computer console rather than interacting with live beings. He'd always been introverted, but she was beginning to suspect that something was wrong.

"You found a candidate," commented Saran in an approving tone. "If he is less than 100 years old and in possession of all of his faculties we should make plans quickly before he changes his mind." The wry humor of his words gave her hope. The man she'd married wasn't entirely gone yet.

"I have not yet met him," replied TRel, "but since my appointment is with his mother I must assume that he is at least young enough to have one parent still living."

"I see." Saran sipped his tea again, waiting with an expectant expression. T'Rel let him wait, wondering whether she'd piqued his curiosity enough for him to pursue the issue. She took another swallow of tea. "So, what is wrong with him?" Saran prompted. T'Rel bit her lip, amused.

"Apparently he's a healer-in-training who has decided to enter specialty training as a healer-melder," she told him. "His prospective in-laws and his bride-to-be were very traditional. They demanded that he change his mind. He refused and so they ended the betrothal."

Saran blinked. "That seems an illogical attitude for them to take considering the official government position regarding the acceptability of melding."

"And I find it even more illogical to expect the complete reversal of a well-established societal attitude following a single government announcement," retorted T'Rel. It was an old argument. As an historian, T'Rel had taken issue with the current regime's attempts to rewrite decades of tradition with unilateral pronouncements based on a single ancient document. Saran held to the party line, as was fitting for a regional administrator—even a retired one. They usually managed to agree to disagree on the subject.

"If you agree with them, then why are you considering him?" inquired Saran.

T'Rel sighed. "I never said I agreed with them. In fact, considering what our daughter has suffered, a healer-melder might well be an excellent husband for her. At least he would be more likely to understand her difficulties. She has very few alternatives available to her."

"This is true," Saran admitted. T'Rel rose from the table and walked to the wash basin to place her mug in it.

"The boy's father is the director of the Shi'Kahr Port Authority. It's quite an advantageous match. It may be T'Riss's only opportunity to find a mate of her own social class." TRel added.

"Given this new development, do you not think it is finally time that we initiate contact with T'Riss?" Saran pressed his lips together. "Our only information about our daughter's condition has been filtered through Fleet channels. It strikes me that before a final determination concerning a new betrothal is made, it would be logical to assess her state of mind for ourselves."

"I concur," T'Rel agreed. "But I do not believe that an accurate assessment can be obtained over a subspace channel. The optimum course of action will be to notify her of our intention immediately prior to departure. This will provide T'Riss with ample time to meditate and prepare herself for the meeting. Once we arrive, all parties will be able to make an informed decision with minimal delay."

Saran looked doubtful. "Are you certain that we should delay informing her? The fleet reports were most unsatisfactory. All we really know is that the psychological profile which was done on T'Riss following her retrieval was profoundly atypical. Logic impels me to conclude that some aspects of the situation are not being fully reported to us."

She turned to confront him. "Are not violent assault and kidnapping sufficient cause for atypical responses?" Saran's expression remained skeptical. T'Rel took a firm grip on her control and exhaled heavily. "No doubt you are correct," she conceded. "It is obvious that we have not been fully informed. The fleet personnel aboard the rescue ships are occupied with urgent matters and must prioritize their time. This merely reinforces the value of having a healer-in-training in the family."

"What is the boy's name?" Saran asked. He sounded as if he was recovering from his post-retirement moodiness with his curiosity intact. T'Rel paused at the door, thinking. The mother's name was V'Lan. What was the boy's name? Stan? Spern?

"Stern," she tossed over her shoulder, grabbing her bag and her keys on her way out. "His name is Stern."

xxxx

Lieutenant Malcolm Reed was disappointed but not particularly surprised that physical deprivation was having no apparent effect on the prisoner. Thus far, despite sleep deprivation and nothing but survival rations and water for the past two days accompanied by Hoshi's best attempts at persuasion in Romulan, all they'd managed to get out of the prisoner were intermittent bouts of vicious-sounding invective. Hoshi had managed to translate about half of it so far. In the first moments of the interrogation the prisoner had begun by spouting an imaginatively descriptive series of speculations about the sexual habits of her captors. According to Hoshi she hadn't repeated herself yet, but they still had no useful information, not even her name.

Malcolm regretted allowing the Betazoid agent to leave on Lerteiran without questioning him more thoroughly. Damin's explanation for the Romulans' interest in him had been weak, but he'd been in the employ of Section 31 while aboard Enterprise, and an ally. The captain hadn't given an order to question him, but he should have been vigorously interrogated about his Romulan connections anyway. Letting him leave without interrogation had been a serious error, and Malcolm had to admit that he alone was responsible. He was chief of security. He didn't need a direct order to do his job. The captain's habit of having a finger in every pie had made him forget that fact—that and the fact that he'd been distracted by a few other things at the time.

"No excuses. Do what's expected of you and stop sniveling."

His father's familiar advice was a part of him. He didn't need Stuart Reed around to remind him of his incompetence. He was more than capable of reminding himself.

The security officer that the Sehlat had sent over was observing the entire proceedings without comment. He and his massive companion hadn't offered a suggestion or asked a question yet, contenting themselves with watching their Human counterparts fail spectacularly. Solis, the centurion, had a blandly supercilious expression on his face. The crewman Jowan had no expression at all. His jutting unibrow made him look like the Vulcan version of a Neanderthal.

Malcolm had seen muscle. He'd been muscle. Despite that, the bloke was bloody frightening just standing there doing nothing. Malcolm wondered what sorts of things Jowan would do to the prisoner if she didn't break. Ancient tales of thumbscrews and branding irons came to mind. Did ancient Vulcans even have such things? Did modern Vulcans? He had no idea.

The Romulan woman was out of her restraints now behind the sturdy reinforced grille of the holding cell, looking deceptively non-threatening dressed in the recyclable blue paper tunic and pants provided to sickbay patients. She was locked up safe and sound, but doing this the safe way wasn't working. A face-to-face confrontation was required. A glance at Hoshi's exhausted and distressed face told him that she would not be the one to do it. The communications officer was much too soft-hearted for the task at hand. Their treatment of the prisoner had thus far been well within the standard Starfleet guidelines for prisoners of war, yet she'd winced at each new deprivation as if she were the one suffering it. He felt shame over putting her through this, but she was the only Human aboard qualified to conduct an interrogation in the Romulan language. Malcolm approached her where she stood by the grille, padd in hand. Her eyes were shadowed with fatigue, but he couldn't help but notice yet again how lovely she was. He put the thought aside for later. She'd want some comfort when this was all over.

She was repeating the same incomprehensible phrase over and over again, as if repetition might irritate the prisoner enough to get a new response out of her. The prisoner certainly seemed irritated enough. Her screaming abruptly drowned out Hoshi's hoarse voice. Malcolm rested a steadying hand on Hoshi's shoulder. She smiled up at him gratefully before returning her attention to her translation program. He leaned down to speak directly in her ear.

"Any luck?" he murmured. Her lips twisted wryly. She showed him the screen of her padd. The translation was scatological.

"May I suggest a change of strategy?" Centurian Solis's prim question was a welcome distraction. Malcolm turned and faced him, standing erect, a proper security officer. He raised a brow.

"You may."

Solis raised a brow right back before responding in a dry tone. "Crewman Jowan may be able to make more progress with the prisoner." His implied accusation of failure galled, but Malcolm suspected that he was right. He glanced at Jowan. The man's thick-featured face was blank. At least he didn't look eager to do whatever he was planning to do next. Malcolm glanced at Hoshi. Her face was pale, her eyes wide.

"Take a break, Ensign. Go get something to eat," he told her. "I'll call you when we're done." She didn't ask any questions. She just swallowed heavily, handed him the padd, and left. Only then did Malcolm turn to the Vulcans.

"Turn and turn about, gentlemen," he offered, gesturing toward the cell. Solis's eyes narrowed at the expression, but Jowan stepped forward, comprehending Malcolm's words—or perhaps more eager to begin than Malcolm had initially realized. Malcolm stepped aside to the door control. As the door swished open he caught sight of the prisoner's face. For the first time he saw fear in her eyes. The door closed behind Jowan's broad back.

Curious despite himself, Malcolm stepped up to the grille. Centurion Solis joined him. Through the narrow aperture Malcolm could see the prisoner backing away cautiously from the Vulcan as he advanced on her. The backs of her lower legs met the bunk and she sat down abruptly. Jowan, towering over her, said something in a deep voice. The prisoner's eyes widened. Jowan reached out a ham-sized hand and placed his fingertips delicately over her bandaged temple. She closed her eyes, oddly submissive.

"A mind meld?" asked Malcolm in disbelief.

"Of course. Jowan is the Sehlat's most skilled interrogative melder," replied Solis. He gave Malcolm a strange look. "Did you expect something else, Lieutenant Reed?"

xxxx

Daniel woke up to a numb arm and a tickled nose. Then he realized how warm it was under the blanket – something he was quickly getting used to. He eased his nose forward into T'Riss' hair and took a deep breath of herbal shampoo and the coppery scent of warm Vulcan. It smelled good.

His free arm was draped casually across T'Riss's waist just above the hip, and at some point during the night he must have spooned his legs up behind her thighs. Daniel had never felt more disinclined to move in his life.

"You are awake," T'Riss said softly.

"Mm-hmn," he replied, content. "I didn't mean to disturb you."

"I was not asleep," she responded in a drowsy voice, then stretched before settling back against him, her writhing movement against his body doing all sorts of strange and wonderful things to him. "You seemed to be resting comfortably, and neither of us are due to report for duty immediately. I saw no reason to wake you."

Daniel pulled himself closer and hugged her from behind, nuzzling her hair again. T'Riss offered no objection to this, even tilting her head slightly to make it easier for him to reach her neck. Then he kissed her cheek and murmured in her ear. "Are you sure you don't mind sharing this cabin and this bunk with me? I know how important privacy is for meditation. Or sometimes just for thinking."

T'Riss rolled over nose to nose with him. Her gaze locked on his lips for just a second, and then she pulled back, looking a little flustered. He smiled at her reassuringly. Her expression became quizzical. "I intend to marry you, Daniel…if I succeed in persuading you to agree to the match. Isn't it customary for Human couples to share a bed?"

"Not always," Daniel replied with a shrug. "Some do, some don't. And I know that a lot of Vulcan couples don't share a bed just to get some relief from telepathic contact. It has to be a strain for you, putting up with my thoughts and emotions all night." He searched her face for some sign of distress at his close proximity. She didn't seem quite as comfortable face to face with him as she had been when they were spooning, but it didn't seem to bother her too much. Of course, Daniel wasn't at all sure he'd be able to tell if something was bothering her unless she wanted him to know about it.

"If it ever becomes a problem," T'Riss told him quietly, "I can wear more extensive sleepwear or I can temporarily relocate to the floor. But for now our bond is too weak to allow much involuntary leakage." She reached over and traced his eyebrow. He closed his eyes and held his breath, afraid to spook her.

"Your natural telepathy is not very powerful, Daniel," whispered T'Riss. "Ordinarily you do not broadcast unless you are upset, not even during skin to skin contact. " He opened his eyes. Her pupils were huge, and he could feel her heart pounding against his upper abdomen, its position a subtle reminder of her alienness.

Daniel reached out carefully and took a lock of her hair between his fingers, twining the sweet-smelling, smooth, cool length of it around his forefinger. He looked at it rather than at her face while he searched for the right thing to say. Then he smiled and shrugged. . "I'm just... are you sure about all of this?"

She sat up and bent one knee so as to fit sideways on the bunk, facing him. Since T'Riss made a habit of sleeping in regulation Vulcan military undergarments, a bra and panties made of stretch grey fabric which might as well have been painted on, Daniel automatically fell into his newly cultivated habit of silently reciting the multiplication tables to himself while thinking about the last time he'd visited Andoria. It helped most of the time.

"It has been nine days since we began our trip to Risa," she told him in the forthright manner he'd come to expect from her. "Nine days since I informed you of our betrothal bond and my desire to develop our bond to its natural fulfillment. Since that time you have inquired as to the certainty of my decision a total of 38 times." She sighed, looking perturbed. "It is plain that I have been failing in my efforts to demonstrate my sincerity to you. Please tell me what I can do." When she looked at him with her dark eyes shining that way, he felt a shockwave smack him in the forehead and reverberate down his throat and into his gut.

"It's not that I doubt what you tell me," he began. "It's that... I mean it's...just...," he floundered.

T'Riss leaned forward, displaying all the cleavage a man could ever want just under his nose. Daniel's mouth suddenly went dry. "I told you this when Sehlra requested the return of her cabin, and I repeat the offer now. I am more than willing to seal our mating bond," she assured him. "There will be no repeat of my foolish lack of control during our last encounter." She stroked his face and ran her hand down his chest, letting her fingers trail across his stomach to the waistband of his undershorts. He firmly intercepted them and brought them back up for a kiss, his wanting abruptly tempered by caution.

"Um, about that…" Daniel started with a hesitant smile.

"I understand your hesitation," T'Riss went on, as if in a hurry to get it out before he could stop her. "I have come to terms with my fear, and cast it out. It may take some time before I am capable of providing you with maximum pleasure, but I am quite confident that I will be able to submit to copulation whenever you wish."

Daniel shook his head at that, frustrated. "That's the whole point, T'Riss. I don't want you to 'submit'. I want you to want it. If you don't want it, I don't want it either."

"But I do want it, Daniel," T'Riss insisted. She gripped his hand with both of hers, so tightly that it made him wince. At his pained expression she relaxed her grip and grimaced apologetically. "I just need time."

"Then let's give it time," he told her, mentally returning to "six times seven is forty-two". "I'm a big boy. I can wait."

xxxx

"Mother," Stern said in a resigned voice, "I am quite certain that there are Vulcan toiletries on Risa. We do, after all, maintain an embassy there. It is also a major trading port."

"It is illogical to base one's planning on the unknown," V'Lan retorted, bustling about the sleeping chamber as she gathered up his possessions for packing. Stern shook his head. He was a legal adult, he had completed the full regime of public schooling, he was very nearly finished with his basic healer training, and he was well begun on the path of his chosen specialty, but his mother remained firmly convinced of his incompetence.

V'Lan continued, "We must present an agreeable impression during our travels with your new betrothed's family. Failing to make reasonable preparations for all contingencies is not a logical option." She paused to survey his shirts, finally laying aside several and selecting some others, using criteria that Stern was unable to fathom.

"Do you also intend to pack for Jara?" Stern asked. His mother fastened the clasps of the case she'd just filled. He sighed, then moved forward obediently at her gesture and shifted the first of the filled travel trunks to the hallway.

"Your sister," V'Lan told him calmly, "is quite capable of packing for herself. Unlike the males in this family, she is pragmatic and logical." His mother sealed the clasps on the second piece of luggage and handed it to him. Stern took it without a word, watching glumly as she moved with undiminished enthusiasm toward the third case. "It is unfortunate that your father's duties prevent him from accompanying us, but it does at least simplify the logistics of the trip."

"Indeed," Stern said. "With only the three of us, we might be able to fit all of our luggage aboard a single ship." His voice must have betrayed his mood, for his mother paused in her activity to look at him.

"It is not your place to concern yourself with these matters," V'Lan chided him affectionately. "Do not trouble yourself, my son. Managing the affairs of family is the responsibility of the female members. You should emulate your father and concentrate your attention where it belongs, on your work. Your sister and I will complete the negotiations and arrangements. Your only responsibility will be to attend the meetings and present yourself in an appealing manner…and of course, to assess the girl and let us know if you detect some factor that renders her unsuitable."

"I have already presented my choice to you and father," Stern told her, stiff lipped.

V'Lan's face froze. "The girl is totally unsuitable. The daughter of a laborer? She has not even completed her secondary training yet, and you have indicated that she intends to specialize in stone carving. Hardly a suitable mate for the son of the head of the Shi'Kahr Port Authority."

Stern knew the fight was lost before he began, but stubbornness compelled him to continue. "She is intelligent, well read, extremely healthy, and quite willing to accept my choice of career as a healer-melder. Moreover, while her father may be a laborer, he is a skilled laborer in the construction trades, and her family is well established in the upper-mid economic range."

"We will not discuss this matter further," she told him abruptly. "The decision has been made. You will accept the judgment of the family." V'Lan turned her back and resumed packing, leaving Stern with clenched fists and a desperate need to meditate. He strode out of the room before he said something that would inflict permanent damage on his familial relationships.

xxxx

"How are things looking?" Sehlra breezed into the engineering room with a relaxed pace and a faint smile. Even her antennae were flexing loosely in random patterns. According to the Fleet training that T'Riss had received, this was a certain indicator that the Andorian was in a happy mood.

"The injectors have remained well within operational tolerances," T'Riss reported. "Plasma flow has fluctuated, as predicted, due to the improvised modifications to the crossover network, but the stabilizing effect of the secondary crystalline matrix has provided effective compensation, again, as predicted. The only potential difficulty has been the strain on the power conduits to the passenger quarters due to the extra heating requirements."

Sehlra grunted in mild annoyance, but did not even bother to curse. T'Riss fought not to raise an eyebrow. "We'll probably have to replace some relays before we get there. Still 16 days left in the trip. Might even need to run some new conduit. But for now it should be all right if it doesn't get any worse than this. Looks pretty good," she finished up cheerfully.

T'Riss straightened. "Do you have further duties for me to perform, ma'am?"

Sehlra looked at her thoughtfully. "Yes, come to think of it. It's about time for another follow-up on that little brat. I think I'll let you handle it this time. I'm getting tired of being kicked and bitten every time I get near the little bandit. You seem to be able to handle him fairly well."

T'Riss hesitated. "With respect, ma'am. If you were to allow Raijiin to…"

"Stop right there," Sehlra's good mood showed signs of evaporating. "Don't even go there." Sehlra had thus far been adamant about confining Raijiin to the cargo bay. Since Selim refused to go anywhere without the telepath, it followed that he was also confined to the cargo bay, an area entirely too small to contain the energies of a juvenile male of any species. T'Riss clamped down on a repeat of her suggestion that Raijiin be allowed to take the boy for periodic "walks" about the ship.

"Yes, ma'am," she said, and stood silently waiting.

After a few deep breaths, Sehlra continued, "Go to the medical bay and get the supplies. You remember what I used last time?" T'Riss nodded. "Take the standard readings. I'm sure that little... I'm sure the boy is fine now, but I won't have the Vulcans claiming that we neglected his health while he was on this ship."

"Understood," T'Riss said. Sehlra waved her away and turned to examine the reactor's main readout display. T'Riss hesitated, debating whether it was appropriate to ask a superior officer such a personal question, then forced out, "Sehlra? May I ask you something?" The old Andorian was in too good a mood for T'Riss to miss the opportunity for information gathering.

The older woman looked up in surprise and actually smiled before returning her attention to the reactor display. "You can ask anything. I might lie about it if it's too nosy, but go ahead."

T'Riss hesitated. "Has Daniel…," she paused, cleared her throat, and mentally reformulated the question. "Do you know if Daniel.,," She stopped herself again. Sehlra still had her eyes on the display. T'Riss wasn't certain she was listening, but she had to know. "I wish to know if Daniel has indicated to you his inclinations concerning my proposal," she finally managed to get out all in one breath.

Sehlra turned from the display console with a surprised expression. "Get back over here girl." She motioned toward a seat. "Plant yourself. Let's talk. What do you mean, his inclinations? I thought you had already agreed to hook up? I mean, you sleep together every night don't you? You have a betrothal bond, don't you?"

"Yes, we do," T'Riss confirmed. "Both are true. But…" She looked down and realized, to her dismay, that she was clenching her hands together. She made a conscious effort to draw them apart and steady her breathing, then she looked up and calmly told Sehlra, "We have not yet finalized our mating bond."

Sehlra blinked several times and slowly sank down onto the only other seat in the room. "What?"

"We have not yet mated."

"What?"

T'Riss asked in concern, "Are you unwell, ma'am? Is something interfering with your hearing?"

Sehlra stared at her. "Daniel told us that you hurt his back because he rolled over on top of you."

T'Riss nodded sharply. "That is correct. He attempted to initiate copulation and I panicked."

"You panicked? How did you panic?"

"I threw him across the room."

The Andorian engineer raised a hand to her chin and rubbed, looking very perplexed as she studied T'Riss. T'Riss felt her face grow warm under the old woman's gaze, and she looked down at her hands.

"All right." Sehlra obviously fought to understand. "You're sleeping together every night, but you aren't mating. What are you doing? Just sleeping?"

"Not entirely," T'Riss felt her face growing warmer. "Daniel has been introducing me to methods that Humans use to express affection."

"He has, huh?" Sehlra reached up and carefully scratched the base of one antenna. "I won't ask for details," she smirked. "So I take it that the Vulcan mating bond won't kick in until you finish the job?"

"That is my understanding," T'Riss told her, wishing that she had never broached the subject.

Sehlra shook her head. "Now I'm confused," she said. "Daniel wanted to mate. You panicked and threw him off. But now you want to mate. And Daniel... doesn't? Is that right?"

"Daniel is evidently unwilling to accept my assurances that I am completely committed to our joining," T'Riss explained.

"What did you do to make him doubtful?" Sehlra asked bluntly, crossing her arms over her chest and inspecting T'Riss as if she were a raw recruit prone to grievous errors in judgment.

"I am not certain," T'Riss admitted. "Perhaps it was my previous reaction. Perhaps he is reconsidering spending his life with someone as damaged as I am. Perhaps he does not trust me because of the way I behaved when we first met. I do not know."

"Should he trust you?" Sehlra drilled her with a look.

T'Riss met the look with as much dignity as she could muster. "You are welcome to have Damin probe me. Let him report to you on my sincerity." The Andorian woman's features softened.

"I will talk to the boy," she said. "See if I can find out what's happening in his head."

"I will be grateful for any assistance," T'Riss told her. She stood up. "Is there anything else you wish me to do after examining Selim?"

"Go meditate," Sehlra told her, "you look like you could use it."

xxxx

Her clothing was elegant. So were the furnishings in her office. She moved with the studied grace of the professional ornament and placed herself in the chaise behind her desk—much too elegant to be called a simple chair—with the calculated precision of a striking panther.

A perfectly manicured finger pressed an unremarkable point on the exquisite inlay of her desk. "I am not to be disturbed for any reason whatsoever, under penalty of my extreme displeasure." A subdued murmur acknowledging the command emerged from the air above the desk. She leaned back for a moment and closed her eyes, considering. A tiny hiss escaped her lips.

She walked over and activated the lock on her door, then pressed a switch that energized a rather nasty forcefield over the opening. A brief circuit of the room confirmed that her anti-monitoring devices were operational. The concealed cover inside her drinks cabinet slid aside to reveal a switch. The switch activated a panel, which slid aside to reveal a tiny comm. The keypad beneath the comm was larger than the comm itself. A bewildering array of symbols covered the controls, including letters and numbers from more than sixteen different languages, living and dead. Very few of them were ever used by races native to the quadrant she currently inhabited.

Her fingers flew across the pad, inputting a 23 digit alpha-numeric code from memory. The code changed twice daily, but she was perfectly confident that she had entered it correctly. She waited patiently until a soft voice spoke in an obscure Klingon dialect.

"Our agent is aboard the Human ship. The primary target remains uncompromised for now, but the interrogation has been restrained."

"Understandable," she replied, using the same language. "They will take no risk of damaging this prize until she arrives at the Human homeworld, where their Master Interrogators can work on her."

"The agent will attempt to divert the ship to your location, but he is not sanguine about the possibility."

She smiled coldly, quite fearless since the speaker could not see her. "Would you divert to a pleasure planet for shore leave if you had an enemy captain in your brig?"

"Humans are unpredictable, and often irrational. It is not impossible. But I agree that even Humans are not likely to be so foolish. The agent will likely be forced to complete his mission alone. This is unfortunate in the extreme."

"Why?" She tensed. "Is he unreliable?"

"He is a hireling. A piece of debris left from the V'Las administration. He will place his own survival above completion of the mission. If captured, he will certainly bargain for his life. Unfortunately no other assassin was available and the need was imperative."

Her eyes were hooded. "I have found Humans to be not overly intelligent. If he is minimally competent, he should be able to accomplish the mission."

"Which leads inexorably to the next point. The secondary target is en route to Risa."

Both of her eyebrows climbed nearly to her hairline. "If it were within the realm of possibility, I would be tempted to suspect that you are joking."

"By the sheer laws of probability, it was inevitable that something would go right. We have confirmed that the secondary target is a passenger aboard the Andorian freighter Lerteiran. ETA is 16.3 days, local time. Are you prepared?"

"I will be," she assured him. "This requires careful planning. You are aware that in addition to being a powerful telepath, the target is also blood kin to the Darkblades? Most of the Betazoids are merely empathic, but there are a few purebloods who also possess full telepathic abilities. It will be necessary to lure him to a location well away from his kin and all witnesses."

"Do what is required. His knowledge must die. This is not optional."

"Understood."

A final click signaled the end of the conversation. She returned her office to its normal configuration with a thoughtful expression stamped on her face.

xxxx

Sehlra sat for a time after T'Riss left, shaking her head. "Not a bad idea, really," she finally muttered. She started to stand up, but paused. A strange feeling came over her, part mischievous naughtiness and part excitement. He did say that if she ever needed something…

No. She couldn't. She shouldn't. After all… besides, she wasn't…but he did say…

Sehlra felt a small shiver run over her. "Why not?" she whispered to herself. She looked around. The engine room was empty, just as it was supposed to be. No one would see her. And it probably wouldn't work anyway.

The Andorian woman touched her lips with her tongue and hesitantly leaned forward, propping her forehead on her palms. She closed her eyes and concentrated, trying to keep her breathing deep and even the way Damin had instructed. She made a picture in her mind of his face and tried to form a clear thought that she wanted him to come. Nothing seemed to be happening. Maybe she needed to do something else.

Sehlra took another deep breath and concentrated on remembering the sound of his voice, the way his face had looked the night before as they lay talking before sleep. She remembered the way his lips had… no. Better not go there. She firmly dragged her thoughts back to the business at hand. He said words didn't usually work for non-telepaths. It would be better if she just concentrated on emotional messages. She wanted him to come. She kept pushing that thought. She wanted him to come. She wanted him. She wanted him. She wanted him…

A hand touched her shoulder. "I'm here." Sehlra jumped halfway out of her chair and gasped in astonishment. Damin grinned. "You didn't think it would work? You underestimate yourself."

She swallowed her internal organs. "I didn't think you heard me. I didn't get anything." He nodded.

"I know. I tried to answer you, but you couldn't 'hear' me," he said with a tinge of disappointment. He brightened, "But I heard you loud and clear. And it wasn't just because I was listening. Although I was," he admitted.

Sehlra felt a blush creep up her face. "You were listening to my thoughts?"

"I wasn't really reading you," he looked down bashfully. "Just monitoring. I was hoping you would call for me." Warmth started spreading from her middle all over. Her face broke into a smile without being told to. His answering smile would have made a core breach endurable.

"Now that I'm here, how may I serve my lady?' Damin bowed with an impish glint in his eye. She snickered and reached up, to which he gladly responded. A tight embrace with foreheads pressed together brought back vivid memories of the night before. Sehlra shivered and pulled back.

"Better hold off for a bit, or I won't get any work done."

"Do you absolutely have to?" Damin asked slyly. "Everything looks pretty smooth down here to me."

"Yes, I have to," she told him firmly. "Don't tempt me."

"But tempting you is my job," he complained.

Her chuckle burst into a full throated laugh and she grabbed him for another embrace. This time he took the chance to run his hands over her back, and then let them wander a bit. "No," she finally said, pushing him away. "I mean it. No. I want you to do something for me." She tried to get her breath and straighten her clothing.

Damin sighed and pouted. "For you, anything. What is your desire? The heart of a neutron star perhaps? A bucket of dark matter? An ocean of chocolate? Name it my love, and it is yours."

She looked at him sideways. "Sometimes I can almost believe you mean that."

"And someday," he told her, with his face growing serious, "I will prove to you that I do mean it."

"Well, right now all I want is for you to check something, and then try to help me figure out something." She told him about her talk with T'Riss.

"Oh." Damin pondered. "She threw him into a wall and broke some bones?" He raised a brow at her, chuckling. "In all justice, Sehlra, you have to admit the boy has reason to be cautious."

"That may be all there is to it," she said. "But right now I want to make sure that she is serious. Once I'm sure of that, I can figure out what to do with Daniel."

His lips twitched. "Of course."

She hesitated. "I mean." Sehlra searched for the right words. "If it's not too much trouble. I don't really know how hard this is on you. If it hurts, or if it…"

Damin raised his hand. "No problem. This is what I do. Even if it did hurt I would do it for you, but it's no trouble. If I had a ship and it had engine problems would you think there was something wrong with me asking you for help?"

"No," she smiled. "All right. Go ahead. I mean, whenever you're ready."

"No time like the present," he told her. Damin sat down on the deck and leaned back against a bulkhead. She watched his eyes half close and start to look glassy for several minutes. A few faint whispers came from his lips, but nothing clear enough for her to detect. Finally he stirred and looked up.

"Fairly straightforward," he told her, blinking and shaking his head. "At least for T'Riss. She's serious. Her mind is made up."

"You're certain?" Sehlra asked, "I mean, you're certain that she's certain?"

Damin nodded emphatically. "You've got to remember something, Sehlra. Deep down inside, we all have to answer to our basic instincts. It doesn't matter what our training may tell us, sooner or later our bodies are going to demand that we respond to their needs."

She coughed. "I think I know that, young man." She gave him a look. "What does that have to do with T'Riss?"

"Vulcan instinct," he said. "It's pretty simple. Really. She is a Vulcan female. Daniel fought for her. He killed her previous mate. Now she belongs to him."

Sehlra blinked and stared. "Are you serious?"

"Mm-hm," he told her, standing up and stretching. "T'Riss is not even consciously aware of most of this. She tells herself that Daniel is a logical choice because he's intelligent, healthy, and has good economic prospects. Which are all true. She also tells herself that she's never going to find anyone else who would be willing to accept her, as damaged as she is, unless she agrees to having a big chunk of her mind and memory carved out as therapy. That may or may not be true. But none of that matters, because none of it is the real reason she wants him."

"But," Sehlra floundered. "Jenrali was right up there in the control room too. Why doesn't she go after him?"

Damin grinned. "Daniel saw her when she was still a slave," he explained, "and he tried to get her out. He asked Grigor-Tel to borrow her. Now this may sound strange, but to Vulcan instincts, that sounded pretty close to a challenge." At the expression on Sehlra's face he added, "Seriously. It was like Daniel told him, 'Hey. I want that one. Give her to me' or some such thing. At least, that was the way her instincts reacted. Then, when T'Riss hired Lerteiran to go after Grigor-Tel it was as if she was choosing Daniel to be her champion."

Sehlra shook her head. "And she's not interested in Jenrali because Daniel saw her first?"

"Well," Damin shrugged. "That, and Daniel's hand was on the weapon that actually killed Grigor-Tel. Plus she thinks he looks tasty." Sehlra snorted and they both grinned.

Sehlra sat down heavily. "And she doesn't really understand what she's doing? Can you tell her?"

"I could," Damin admitted. "but why? The reasons that she is telling herself are perfectly valid. Aren't they?"

"Oh, my." Sehlra sat in silence for a while. "I need to find out what is going through Daniel's head."

"Not a problem," Damin started to say. He paused at Sehlra's upthrust palm.

"No. T'Riss gave permission to have you check her. Daniel didn't." She paused, grimacing. "I suppose I'll just have to talk to him."

Damin suggested, "Maybe I can talk to him. Sometimes men will say things to each other that we won't say to women."

"Good idea," She nodded, relieved. "If that doesn't work, I'll try it. We need to get this settled, one way or the other."

xxxx

"Selim," Raijiin told him firmly, "she is a member of this crew. She is here to carry out her duty. Furthermore, she is here to ensure your safety and health. I am disappointed in the illogic of your behavior."

The Vulcan boy stiffened and shot her a look of irritation, but he turned back to T'Riss and said, "I ask pardon for my earlier outburst, Crewman. I will comply with your wishes." He forced it out between clenched teeth, but he got the words out. Raijiin smiled brightly and rewarded him with a hug. Her eyes met T'Riss's gaze over the boy's shoulder as she held him motionless long enough for a proper scan, and she projected her desire for reconciliation to T'Riss as best as she was able without physical contact. They had been friends once, or at least allies.

T'Riss ignored her, obviously not yet prepared to consider reinstituting friendly relations, and scanned the boy with brisk efficiency. "You appear to be in optimum condition, Selim," she told him.

"As I have already informed you, Crewman T'Riss," he replied stiffly. The youngster pulled himself up straight and put on an aggrieved expression. "This incessant harassment is unwarranted."

T'Riss told him, "It is not harassment, it is a precaution. Given your established behavior patterns, I consider you fortunate not have been placed in restraints for the duration of this voyage." She snapped the med scanner closed. "If you continue to provoke hostile relations with the senior partners of this vessel you may yet achieve that state."

The boy flinched backward a trifle and Raijiin enfolded him protectively. "He's been a model of proper behavior," Raijiin protested. "It's just that Sehlra has no patience at all. It's obvious that she lacks experience with children."

T'Riss raised a brow. "Sehlra? She has..." She paused, evidently reconsidering whatever personal revelation she'd been on the verge of making about her superior officer. Raiijin wondered what it was, and wondered at the loyalty that prompted T'Riss not to reveal it. "No matter. The issue is moot. You are passengers. In effect, guests. It is the place of guests to adapt their behavior to the convenience of the host, not vice versa." She gave Selim a direct look. "Were you not taught this as part of your earliest indoctrination?"

Selim looked at the deckplates and shuffled his feet. Finally he muttered a nearly inaudible, "Yes."

Raijiin started to speak in the boy's defense but halted with her mouth half-open at the sight of Senek's raised hand. She subsided reluctantly and gritted her teeth. He was right, as usual. Selim was Vulcan. Despite his unusual empathic abilities and the trauma he'd suffered he would eventually have to learn proper cultural etiquette. T'Riss went on.

"Do you anticipate your sister's approval when she is informed of your ongoing pattern of insubordination toward the command crew of this ship?"

Selim winced. "No."

"I recommend," T'Riss finished up, "that you consider these matters during meditation. It is not logical to permit your emotional assumptions to interfere with your plain duty."

"Understood," Selim sighed. T'Riss nodded and headed for the exit hatch, to the visible relief of the other passengers. Raijiin found it highly amusing that the courtesans aboard regarded T'Riss as being only slightly more dangerous than the average Klingon merely because she had snatched their former Madam by the throat and held her in the air with one hand while snarling like a wild beast. Meanwhile they shared quarters with three seasoned operatives of the Vulcan Security Directorate without any trepidation whatsoever. Ironic indeed.

Selim turned to her with resignation in his voice and said, "I should meditate as instructed. May we schedule a game of Kal-Toh for this evening after I have finished?"

"Of course," she told him with a smile and a peck on the forehead. The boy managed to keep from smiling at her, but his joy at her open expression of affection fell over her like a warm blanket. Selim stepped briskly over to his assigned bunk and drew the privacy curtains, leaving Raijiin to sigh and grimace. He was such a sensitive little soul. She found it so tragic that he'd been born a Vulcan.

"T'Riss had no reason to lecture him so harshly," she complained to Senek, walking over to join him in what had come to be known as "the Vulcan's corner". Llahir glanced up from sharpening his belt knife and looked thoughtful.

"If I may," he tentatively offered. Raijiin sat down next to the battle scarred warrior and offered him a smile even warmer than the one she had given Selim.

"Of course you may," she told him. She wondered if he would catch the implied double meaning. Since the start of their voyage Llahir had slowly opened up, to Raijiin at least. His interest in her was obvious to both her and Senek. Not being one to let serendipity escape his grasp, Senek had advised her to encourage Llahir's interest as part of the Directorate's campaign to keep him. This was indeed convenient, since Raijiin had decided to do it anyway. She was starting to find the mysterious Vulcan who thought like a Romulan to be one of the most fascinating men she had ever met. The aura of tightly disciplined danger that he projected only added to the spice.

Llahir put his sharpening stone back into its case, placed a drop of oil from a small vial on to the blade of his knife and wiped with a cloth to spread it, buffing the metal to mirror brightness. The knife looked very old to Raijiin, very primitive. The runes etched on the bone handle were in a script that looked somewhat like ancient Vulcan, but subtle differences made it unreadable to her. Llahir held it up for her inspection when he noticed her interest in it.

"Is it Romulan or Vulcan?" she asked, taking the handle in her hands. She knew enough about ancient weaponry to know not to touch the blade.

"Neither…and both, I suppose," he told her. "It is a Pre-Sundering artifact I picked up on Romulus. It is said that at one time knives such as these were passed on from father to son as a mark of heirship among those who took shelter beneath the raptor's wings." He took the knife reverently from her. "That explains its excellent condition, no doubt, although I doubt that this blade bears the original haft it bore upon their departure from Vulcan."

"It's beautiful," replied Raijiin.

"And quite useful," agreed Llahir blandly as he slipped it back into the well-oiled leather scabbard on his belt. "I would be dead four times over were it not for this blade."

"Four times? That little thing?" said Raijiin, taken aback. She looked at the compact weapon, its blade barely the length of her hand, with new respect.

"Size is irrelevant if you know what to do with it," Llahir replied in all seriousness. It was all Raijiin could do not to smirk at the double entendre, and she expected at least an ironic eyebrow raise from Llahir. When none materialized she studied his face curiously. Was he serious?

"There are four immediate kill areas in Vulcanoids which are within reach of a blade this size…and several which will disable an attacker and result in death within hours without treatment," added Llahir. "Would you like me to teach you?" His tone was matter-of-fact and not the least bit flirtatious. Despite her experience with the use of small pointed objects in close quarters Raijjin had never been formally instructed in such matters. The opportunity was impossible to pass up. It was also a very convenient excuse to spend even more time in the company of this fascinating man. She smiled at him, a brief and restrained smile in deference to her new Vulcan identity, but one of genuine pleasure.

"I would absolutely love for you to teach me…everything," she purred. That got an eyebrow raise. At least the man wasn't totally oblivious.

"Perhaps I should point out, then," he said under his breath, "that based on my experience as a Security Directorate operative it is my belief that behaving the way you have been behaving with Selim is not only hampering the boy's reacclimation to Vulcan culture but also risking your cover. These women may 'only' be professional sex workers, but they are not blind, and they plan to seek employment on Risa, where you presumably will be establishing a cover identity as a Vulcan. I would strongly advise that you begin behaving accordingly." Raijiin's ire began to build, and she opened her mouth to argue with him, but an abrupt and authoritative motion of his hand silenced her by reflex. Old habits died hard. He continued calmly. "Although I plan to retire from the Security Directorate as soon as I am permitted to do so, and therefore have little interest in the plans of that organization, I would nevertheless prefer that your cover remains intact for personal reasons. Risking your cover identity risks your safety. In that, I am most certainly interested." His expression softened and his dark eyes met hers with a surprisingly smoldering look. She blinked at that, smiled just the tiniest bit, and suddenly she wasn't angry with him anymore.

xxxx

Hoshi Sato looked up from the padd in her hands to find the dining hall deserted. She glanced at the wall chronometer. It was easy for her to lose track of time while translating but she usually didn't phase out this long. Three hours had passed since Malcolm had sent her for food. It was odd that he hadn't yet called her to return.

I really should stop thinking of him by his given name. It might come out that way some time on duty, she thought. Despite his recent bending of the no-frat rules, Hoshi was pretty sure that the image-conscious Brit wouldn't like it if rumors of their almost-romance became common knowledge aboard ship. Of course, there would be nothing to the rumors. She'd tried everything to get him interested in her. He'd seemed to notice at last, they'd had one awkward movie night in each other's company, and then nothing. Admittedly, no one aboard ship had had much free time since then to pursue personal interests, but it was still disappointing.

Hoshi rose from the table and left the mess hall, wondering about the outcome of the prisoner's interrogation by the Vulcan security officer. She felt little sympathy for the foul-mouthed Romulan woman, but being at Crewman Jowan's mercy wasn't something she would have wished on anyone. The Vulcan was just plain scary looking. Morbidly curious, she took the turbolift to the brig, determined to investigate. She arrived to find the brig empty and deserted. With a queasy feeling of foreboding Hoshi activated the comm.

"Sickbay." Liz Cutler's cheerful voice made Hoshi feel a bit better.

"Ah…Crewman Cutler…Ensign Sato here. You wouldn't happen to know where the Romulan prisoner has been transferred would you?"

"Sure thing, ma'am. She's back up here in medical observation. Lieutenant Reed and the captain are in the captain's ready room in conference with Dr. Phlox and the Vulcan officers concerning her condition. Should I notify them that you're available now?

"Now?" echoed Hoshi, puzzled. "Who said I wasn't available before?"

"Lieutenant Reed told the doctor that you needed some time to recover following your recent interrogation duty. The captain agreed to allow you some time to rest." Hoshi bit back an irritated reply. It wasn't Cutler's fault that Malcolm was over-protective and seriously under-demonstrative.

"Yes. Thank you. Please tell them that I'm on my way."

xxxx

Damin climbed the ladder to the Lerteiran's bridge with care. In his left hand were two mugs of hot coffee balanced atop each other with a saucer in between. His right hand gripped the rungs to steady himself. As soon as his head passed the topmost rung Daniel was there to take the coffee from him.

"I could smell you coming," the Human said, grinning. "You didn't need to bring two cups, though. Jenrali's off duty."

"I know," said Damin with a diffident smile as he took a seat at the nav station and relieved Daniel of one cup. "The other cup's for me. It smells interesting. I decided to give it a try." He took a sip, then made a face.

"I suppose it is an acquired taste," Daniel acknowledged, and then promptly buried his face in his mug. A healthy sized gulp later he eased himself back into the chair at his station and sighed blissfully. "And I sure as hell have acquired it." Damin returned the smile briefly, and then his face sobered.

"We need to talk, Daniel. Sehlra's worried about you."

Daniel's eyes narrowed. "I see." He took another swig of coffee. "And that bothers you, I take it."

"It does," Damin replied in a matter-of-fact voice. Daniel's expression was skeptical.

"So what's she worried about this time?" he asked.

"Apparently her pet Vulcan has decided that you're the ideal mate, but just told Sehlra that the two of you are just sharing a bed platonically, and have been for over a week now," Damin told him. "Sehlra's convinced that there must be something wrong with you, but she's so embarrassed about discussing this situation with you that I volunteered to have the 'sex talk' with you."

Daniel smirked and shook his head. For some reason the statement seemed to amuse him. "She's really got you whipped, you know that?" he said. Damin just smiled in response. The mental picture of Sehlra dressed in black satin with a soft leather whip in hand was certainly arousing, but Damin doubted that Daniel meant his statement to be taken literally. Daniel gave him a strange look before continuing. He cleared his throat.

"Well, you can tell her that there's nothing wrong with me," he said. "I'm just being cautious, that's all."

"I understand that the last time you tried to be intimate she threw you across your quarters and broke your back," Damin offered over the rim of his cup. "It would make anyone cautious."

"That's only part of it," Daniel admitted. "It's a fair sized part, I admit."

"Really?" Damin looked surprised. "What's the rest? Is there some hidden disadvantage to marrying a Vulcan that I'm not aware of?"

Daniel sighed and leaned back, looking at his control console for a minute. "Yeah. For a Human there is."

Damin set his cup down quietly, folded his hands together and leaned forward. "Daniel," he spoke in a calm, friendly tone. "I'm not trying to intrude. Honestly. But Sehlra is really concerned. You don't owe me anything, naturally. But I really do care about her. And she really cares about you. So if I can help in any way, don't even think about hesitating to ask."

Daniel coughed nervously and shook his head. "You can't. This is biological." He fingered his cup indecisively. "I don't... I haven't even had time to talk to T'Riss about this yet." Damin just looked at him. "All right, I'm lying. I've had time, but I've been chicken."

Damin looked even more interested. "This must be something serious. Maybe it would help to have someone to talk about it with. I swear I won't tell anyone except Sehlra."

"That's the thing," Daniel drained his cup. "I don't even want Sehlra to know about this yet."

Damin ran a hand through his hair, grimacing. Keeping something from Sehlra was a tricky proposition now. He'd have to guard his thoughts even more stringently while they tlasped to avoid inadvertently revealing something which concerned her so closely. His distant past was easy to conceal when he focused on the goal of protecting her from those that would seek to do him harm by harming her. Now he'd have to worry about not revealing current concerns as well, at least until she found out on her own, which hopefully wouldn't be long. Damin sighed. "All right," he conceded. "I won't tell Sehlra anything except that it was personal and private man talk. Good enough? "

Daniel looked torn, then let his shoulders slump. "Once a Human bonds with a Vulcan it's permanent. Breaking the bond will kill us."

"Ow." Damin sat back and shook his head ruefully. "No wonder you're proceeding with caution. And T'Riss is not aware of this?"

"Not that I know of," Daniel told him.

"How did you find this out?" Damin asked him.

"I... know someone who is bonded to a Vulcan," Daniel replied evasively. "It's not supposed to be repeated. If it gets out they'll both get into trouble."

"Tucker and T'Pol," Damin nodded. Daniel straightened and stared.

"They told you?" he asked incredulously.

"No." Damin shrugged. "I'm a telepath, remember? I can sense when two minds are welded together as tightly as that pair. Honestly, sometimes it's hard to tell where one stops and the other one starts."

Daniel nodded agreement. "That's the thing. Phlox told me that Trip's body depends on T'Pol's brain to function now. If she dies, his body will shut down." He drew a hand across his throat and made a scritch sound.

Damin rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I suppose I might as well tell you something. T'Riss wanted Sehlra to be certain of her sincerity, so she asked Sehlra to have me probe her to confirm it." Daniel's brow darkened. Damin held up a hand. "I didn't go very deep. I didn't need to. You are the single most important subject on her mind right now. And the answer is yes. She is most definitely sincere about wanting to marry you and spend her life with you. You are the one she wants. No question."

Daniel blinked. "No question?" Damin nodded. "She's not concerned about me being Human? What about her family?"

Damin winced. "T'Riss has decided that her family will disown her anyway…partly because she surrendered and let herself become a slave, but mainly because of what happened when she kidnapped you, disobeyed orders, sabotaged a Fleet vessel, and hired a ship full of aliens to murder her bonded mate. Their opinion is not weighing on her mind. She has already given up on them."

"But..." Daniel stopped, rubbing his hands over his thighs. "This..." He shook his head. "I really need to talk to her."

"That's always an option," Damin said lightly. "You could actually discuss what's bothering you. But now that you know she's serious, how do you feel about marrying her?"

"I just..." Daniel struggled. "I don't know if I can be the husband she needs." It all came out in a hurried rush. He looked down at the deck. "I'm not sure I can give her what she needs. I'm Human. How can I even be sure what she'll need from me, much less give it to her?"

"Well, there's that talking option again," Damin suggested. "But I can tell you something else. You may not believe it, and I'll bet my favorite pair of fur lined handcuffs that no Vulcan would accept it, but your two species are more alike than different. Very much alike. If it weren't for the fact that you have different colored blood, I would be sorely tempted to suspect a common origin."

Daniel snorted and laughed. "Don't say that in the cargo hold. Not if you value your hide."

"I'm not suicidal," Damin grinned. "Tucker and T'Pol seem to be making it work."

"Yeah." Daniel looked thoughtful. "They do. Trip is about as Human as it gets. And T'Pol doesn't look to me like she's had to compromise her Vulcan nature. They make it work somehow."

"What happens to the Vulcan partner if the Human dies?" Damin wanted to know.

"I... don't know." Daniel admitted. "Phlox didn't mention that part. Neither did Trip. Maybe it wouldn't have any physical effect."

"Maybe not physical," Damin told him, "but I guarantee there'd be a mental effect."

Daniel's expression turned to one of dismay. Damin could sense the Human's unease. "When Grigor-Tel died T'Riss went into some kind of fit. Screaming and thrashing... she was really hurting."

"She wasn't really attached to him, was she?" Damin asked. "I mean, they weren't bondmates in the true sense of the word. She didn't really have an emotional investment in him, right?"

"Um," Daniel pointed out, "since she hired us to kill him, I'd say not."

"So picture what she went through then," Damin told him, "then extrapolate what she would go through if a mate died that she really cared about."

An expression of sympathetic pain came over Daniel's face. After a moment he said, "There's still the whole issue of her panic attacks. T'Riss has been through a lot. She thinks she's ready to move on, but I don't agree. The last time we tried to have sex all it took was a second for her to panic and throw me across the room. To be honest, I think the fact that she hurt me damaged her more than it damaged me. And she can't afford more damage. You understand?" The young Human's distress was palpable from across the room and through the shields Damin kept solid in deference to Sehlra's wish that he not attempt a reading without the boy's permission. He obviously had genuine affection and concern for the Vulcan girl, and she for him.

Damin clarified. "You don't wish to cause her more damage, and in your opinion if she accidentally injures you during the act it will damage her."

Daniel grimaced self-consciously. "I guess when you put it that way it does sound pretty arrogant… but it seems to me that it really did pile a lot of guilt on her."

"You say she panicked," said Damin. "Precisely what behavior triggered the panic? Was it the act of penetration?"

Daniel shook his head. "No! We never even got close to that," he replied in a frustrated tone. "All I did was roll on top of her, and suddenly I was hitting the bulkhead at high velocity." The problem and its solution suddenly became clear to Damin.

"She's afraid of sexual aggressiveness," he said. "So don't be the aggressor." Daniel gave him a puzzled look. Damin sighed. The boy truly was an innocent.

"She's fearful of what might happen if you take the lead," Damin explained. "It's not that uncommon in victims of violent sexual assault. I've seen it in some of my clients. Many of them prefer to be the dominant partner because they've been forced in the past to be unwillingly submissive. Once they are allowed to be dominant they can lose their fear of the submissive role, but it takes time and patience."

Daniel chuckled. "You sound more like a sex therapist than a… a…"

"Prostitute?" finished Damin. He smiled a wry smile. "I have never been 'just' a sex worker, Daniel."

"So, it's that simple? Just let her take the lead?" asked Daniel in a skeptical tone.

"It might be a bit more complicated than that, depending on her sensitivity," acknowledged Damin. "You may need to remain completely passive…entirely motionless…until she gains confidence."

"Entirely motionless? I'm not sure I can do that," protested Daniel. "I mean, I get to a point where I just operate on instinct, you know?" Damin shrugged.

"So use restraints," he replied. He grinned at Daniel's disbelieving expression. "You never know. You might actually enjoy the experience. I can lend you some. Would you prefer braided silk ropes or fur-lined leather cuffs?"

xxxx

"A Vulcan healing trance? I thought this woman was Romulan," said Captain Archer, sounding even more confused than Malcolm felt, and that was saying a lot.

"Not precisely," explained Dr. Phlox. "I was just trying to explain it in understandable terms. Her higher cortical functions are suppressed now in a fashion that looks precisely like a healing trance to my instruments." He nodded at the impassive pair of Vulcans sitting across the table from him. "Thanks to Centurian Solis and Crewman Jowan, though, we have a more accurate explanation for her condition."

"Right. A telepathically implanted defense against mind probes. How bloody convenient," growled Malcolm. The captain's look was reproving. Malcolm couldn't help it. He didn't trust the Vulcans. The Romulan had been verbal enough, even though not cooperative, until Jowan had attempted a mind meld with her. Now she was useless as an information source to anyone without telepathy. It was convenient - convenient for the Vulcans. He exchanged a look with Hoshi. She smiled briefly in sympathy.

"I would like to propose a solution to this difficulty, if I may, gentlemen," rumbled Jowan with surprising politeness. The captain gave him a tolerant nod. Malcolm crossed his arms over his chest, leaned back in his chair, and waited. The Vulcan centurion said nothing, yielding the floor to his subordinate.

"An implanted mental defense of this sort can be reversed, but only by a telepath who knows precisely what changes were made in the subject's thought patterns when the shield was initially placed," said Jowan.

"Can you reverse it?" asked the captain point-blank.

"No," admitted Jowan. "It would require considerably more familiarity with the subject than I currently possess. Our best option would be to locate the telepath who made the changes to begin with. Fortunately, I was able to extract that information from the subject before the defensive shield blocked my access to her memories. Her shield was implanted by a telepath who was at the time employed by the Tal Shiar."

"A telepathic Romulan?" asked Hoshi, sounding intrigued.

"Not entirely. He was a Romulan/Betazoid crossbreed specifically bred for service to the Tal Shiar," said Jowan.

"Bred by whom?" asked Phlox.

"By the subject herself. He was her son," was Jowan's surprising answer.

"That's certainly interesting," commented Malcolm, "but I don't see how it helps us, since we've got no chance of enlisting the help of a Tal Shiar operative, not to mention the impossibility of finding the man."

"It is not as challenging a prospect as you might think, Lieutenant," claimed Jowan. "The telepath in question has been aboard Enterprise within the past two weeks and is currently en route to Risa aboard an Andorian freighter, a freighter which is under transport contract to the Vulcan Security Directorate."

"Damin?" said Hoshi in a shocked voice. Malcolm shook his head ruefully, angry with himself. The frilly little bugger was the key to the whole thing, and he'd let him get away without interrogation. The captain exhaled, his jaw set.

"All right, then. It looks like we're going to Risa," he said.

xxxx

Stern left the Healer's Hall with padd in hand and strode down the wide pedestrian thoroughfare of the Shi'Kahr university district. Fountains, positioned at regular intervals, cooled the ambient temperature by several degrees and provided a welcome hint of moisture in the air. Eating establishments lined the terraced rocky pathway, and students of all persuasions sat at tables outdoors, the murmur of their conversations competing with the muted splash of the fountains. It would have been a pleasant stroll had he not had such an unpleasant task waiting for him at the end of it. As he approached the Engineering Hall he noted a change in the manner of dress of the students around him as builder's brown became predominant over healer's green. His robes called attention to him, their vivid green color drawing stares from those around him. Healers and builders had little in common during their courses of training and so rarely mingled.

In the courtyard in front of the hall a group of students dressed in brown were in the process of constructing a huge stone arch. Its purpose was not immediately apparent, but it was graceful despite its size and aesthetically appealing. It had the mark of T'Kara about it. As he noted this, he saw her in the center of activity, her sturdy legs braced as she steadied a massive stone block above her head, all the while instructing the men manning the ropes which held the block suspended above her. It settled into place with a ground-vibrating thud and a puff of dust, the centerpiece of a Pre-Surak looking stone arch, elaborately engraved, no doubt by T'Kara herself. The result was primitive, impressive, and barbarically beautiful. Stern paused to admire it. T'Kara caught sight of him and began walking toward him with the air of someone eager to share good news. She slowed when she got close enough to see the expression on his face. He walked to meet her, resigned to the prospect of disappointing her. They met in the center of the walkway, on public display, and then turned toward the nearest eating establishment and their usual private table without touching each other. Side by side they walked, her brown-haired head barely reaching his green-clad shoulder, her brown robes hiding the stone dust which always seemed to follow her in a cloud wherever she went. He'd stopped minding it long ago, just as she'd stopped remarking on the faint odor of the dissecting room that clung to his clothing.

"An impressive structure…and beautiful," he offered.

"I am gratified that you think so," she returned. They walked in silence for several seconds.

"I was unsuccessful in influencing my parents' decision," he admitted without looking at her. "We depart for Risa following my end-of-term examinations tomorrow."

"I see," said T'Kara. She took a deep breath, never pausing in her stride. "That is regrettable. I would have preferred another outcome."

"As would I," replied Stern. He turned his head to look at her finally. She looked grim, but accepting. They reached an alcove in relative privacy, and he turned to her, offered the ozh'esta. Her eyes met his, distress apparent in them, and she completed the gesture, touching her fingers to his. Pain, longing, grief assailed him. He closed his eyes.

"I am honor-bound to meet this girl and to assess her as a potential mate," he told her. He opened his eyes again. "But I am not honor-bound to find her acceptable." His voice was gentle. Instead of accepting his reassurance T'Kara pulled her fingers from his and gave him a reproving look.

"You would defy your parents in this and pre-judge the girl even before meeting her? How is that conducive to family harmony?" T'Kara was a traditionalist. Her chosen profession attracted them. It was the primary reason why they were not yet bonded. T'Kara's parents had no objection to her union with a healer/melder. They were simple people without university educations, but more welcoming and tolerant than any other individuals of their generation that Stern had ever met. T'Kara had not been betrothed as a child, as her parents had decided to leave the choice to her. Where she'd acquired her traditional beliefs with such unorthodox and non-traditional parents Stern had no idea. She and Stern had discussed the issue of parental approval for months now. He had nearly convinced her to defy his parents' objections, and then his mother had found an "ideal" betrothal candidate for him. Stern's father was generally easy to convince provided his wife was in agreement. Stern's mother was the impediment.

"My mother's opinion of you is not logical. I will convince her of this eventually, but it may take time." He quietly repeated a plea that he'd made many times before. "You know that there is an alternative. Come away with me. We will leave Shi'Kahr and make our own family, just the two of us."

"I will not bond with you without your mother's consent, Stern," T'Kara said softly. "My children will know and be accepted by their grandparents. My parents' unorthodox choices have separated them from their families and inflicted great pain on everyone involved. I will not inflict such pain on my own children." She lifted her chin. "You will go to Risa and assess the mate that your parents have found for you. If she is an appropriate choice, you will marry her. It is the most logical course."

"And if my preference is not to follow the most logical course in this instance?" he challenged. It was a daring game they played, the pretense that logic was not always the best guide for behavior. T'Kara's fascination for Pre-Surak culture created a paradox for Stern, a woman not always ruled by logic. He'd learned to stretch his tolerance for illogic and to enjoy the experience. T'Kara's lips twitched slightly.

"Then you will return home to me, having convinced your mother to approve of our union," she replied. "And I will be here waiting for you, unless it becomes necessary for me to do otherwise."

xxxx

T'Riss returned to the cabin she shared with Daniel and began the process of cleaning it to Vulcan Space Fleet specifications. Daniel was tidy and surprisingly well-organized for a Human, but she considered it her responsibility to sanitize surfaces within the cabin at intervals to limit the risk of offensive odors and transmissible bacteria.

She pulled the bedclothes from the bunk and changed them. The slight musky odor they emanated reminded her of the "lessons" Daniel had been offering during their past several rest periods. Her training with Mistress Natolya had not prepared her for the myriad ways that two consenting adults might contrive to pleasure each other without actually engaging in intercourse. She gathered the sheets together in a bundle and pressed them to her face, inhaling deeply. They smelled of Daniel and perspiration, both Human and Vulcan. A most arousing combination.

T'Riss gathered the shreds of her control and threw the sheets in the center of the floor. Then she proceeded to the small head adjoining the cabin and began a general scrub of all surfaces.

"Honey! I'm home!" came Daniel's cheerful voice from the cabin. For some reason the announcement seemed to amuse him. "I'll take the sheets to wash. Be right back."

Once finished in the bathroom, T'Riss re-entered the cabin to find it empty save for something coiled on the bunk. After a moment of inspection, she recognized it with a sudden pang of dismay. A length of rope. She reached out hesitantly to pick it up. It was made of silky material, smooth to the skin and thick around as a finger. She could think of only one reason why Daniel might have such a thing. She swallowed and closed her eyes, trying to fight the memory of being tied naked face-down with just such a rope, pillows elevating her hips, the ponfarr microbe burning in her brain forcing her to crave violation over and over again…

"TRiss? You okay?" Daniel's concerned voice broke her concentration. Grateful for the interruption, she opened her eyes. Words wouldn't come, so she held the rope out to him in a silent question. He turned a peculiar shade of red. "I…um…borrowed it from Damin," he said with a sheepish grin. "He suggested that it might help…um…things."

"You discussed our relationship with Damin?" T'Riss's initial reaction was one of affront. Their private sexual issues were not the telepath's concern. At Daniel's wince and rueful nod she reconsidered. It wasn't as if there were any other males aboard with more experience in sexual matters, and she found herself much opposed to the idea of her prospective mate seeking the advice of a female in this instance.

"He said this might decrease the chance of anybody getting hurt," said Daniel with a diffident shrug. "If the idea really bothers you then we don't have to use it…" His voice trailed off. T'Riss took a deep breath. Surprisingly, now that the surprise of finding the rope on their bed was over she discovered that she was in agreement with Damin. Submitting to restraints would be tremendously difficult, but with her extremities tied down she would be incapable of injuring Daniel. It was an outcome greatly preferable to the alternative. She tilted her head in acquiescence.

"He is correct. It is a safer alternative," she agreed.

Daniel smiled. "Okay, I'll go shower, then." He turned toward the head and disappeared through the door, calling over his shoulder. "We can eat in the cabin. I've got dinner heating." The sound of the shower followed. T'Riss took a deep calming breath, laid the coil of rope on the bed and left to retrieve their meals from the warmer in the galley. They had developed a custom of spreading towels on the deck in lieu of a table and sharing their evening meal while facing each other on cushions. Enacting such a daily ritual had begun to help T'Riss stabilize her uncertainties. It helped her start to think of Daniel's cabin as home.

But not tonight. The memory of the rope cut off all other thoughts just as surely as the bondage she'd endured on the station had cut off circulation to her extremities. She kept her eyes downcast through the beginning of the meal, only rarely stealing glances at Daniel while she ate the pasta primavera dish he'd chosen for her from the supplies they'd purchased from Enterprise. The odor of the meat and gravy entrée that he preferred became more tolerable as she became accustomed to it. She noted that he seemed pensive, preoccupied by thoughts of their upcoming activities, no doubt.

"T'Riss." Daniel's voice captured her attention. She found him looking at her with unusual intensity.

"Yes, Daniel," she replied steadily. "How may I serve?"

"What?" He looked puzzled, and she suddenly realized that she had responded in the manner that Natolya had beaten into her, as a slave.

"I mean," she hurried to correct herself, "Yes, Daniel?"

He continued to look strangely at her for a time. "I need to talk to you about something important. I really should have brought this up before now. I know that. But I…" He stopped and looked away. "I've been scared to bring it up."

T'Riss felt her eyebrows elevate. "Why would you fear discussing something with me? Have I offended again in some way?"

"No! No, it's nothing you did." Daniel started to perspire, although their quarters remained at the same temperature as always. "It's just something I need to tell you. I mean, something about me. Or, I mean, it's something that I should have told you about me. I mean about us. I mean..." He stopped and looked lost.

"Whatever you may have done, Daniel," T'Riss assured him firmly, "I am willing to accept and overlook it. It could not have been anything too terrible. You are an honorable man."

"Not... um." He drew a deep breath. "I didn't actually do anything. It's about what I am. I mean," He closed his eyes. "It's about the two of us, and what happens when we bond."

T'Riss tilted her head curiously "You have additional information regarding the bond? Specific to a bonding between a Vulcan and a Human?"

"Yeah." He swallowed hard and blurted out, "Phlox and Trip told me some things when I was in sickbay on Enterprise."

"Indeed?" She placed her fingertips together and leaned forward with interest. "Please tell me."

Daniel simply sat for a while, exhibiting evidence of accelerated respiration. Finally, "If we bond, it can't ever be broken. If it is, I die. Simple as that."

T'Riss felt cold. "Are you certain of this?" she whispered.

"Phlox is," Daniel told her. "He said that Trip is a lot healthier because of the bond, but it all depends on T'Pol's brain helping to monitor Trip's systems. If she dies or the bond breaks his own brain won't know how to handle things and he'll just..." Daniel flipped a hand. "Drop dead."

T'Riss sat back, dismayed. "Now I understand why you have been hesitant about joining with me. It is entirely understandable, Daniel. Fortunately, I have been assured that the dissolution of our betrothal bond will cause no damage. For the remainder of the voyage I will relocate to the cargo hold. Once we reach Risa I…"

Daniel leaned across their plates and interrupted her with a kiss. Startled by his abruptness, T'Riss pulled back, only to find his hand at the back of her head. For a second she felt trapped; panic filled her, but she refused to let it control her actions. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply through her nose as Daniel's lips caressed hers with infinite gentleness. She forced herself to remain calm, forced herself to allow the kiss. Daniel's weight carried them down together atop the remnants of their dinner, and after a few rapid heartbeats his kiss had its usual effect. She found herself responding. A warmth filled her which had nothing to do with the meal she'd just eaten.

They finished the kiss lying side by side on the deck atop their towels, surrounded by an uncomfortable assortment of dishes and covered in a sticky smear of pasta and gravy. Daniel withdrew his lips and looked down at the mess between them, chuckling. Then he told her softly, "What gave you the foolish idea that I wanted you to move out? I've known about this since Phlox fixed my back."

T'Riss started shivering, only partly due to the temperature of the deck. Daniel's ability to find the humor in their current situation was quite beyond her capacity to comprehend. "Why did you not warn me of this? How could you hide this from me?"

"I was afraid," he admitted. "I was afraid I would lose you."

T'Riss blinked at him in shock. "You..." Her mouth worked without sound. "You cannot seriously intend to marry me now."

"Don't you want me anymore?" he asked her, sounding upset.

"Of course I want you," she told him indignantly. "Why do you think I…?" Abruptly she decided not to mention the rope. There was no logic in complicating an already tangled conversation. "My wishes are irrelevant. The danger to you is too great to risk."

"So you were planning to divorce me," Daniel said, with an expressionless face.

"No!" T'Riss protested.

"That's what it sounds like to me," he told her without evident emotion. "You were planning to break the bond. There is no risk to me unless you die before I do or unless you try to break our bond. You will outlive me by several years. You must, therefore, have intended to end our relationship, and now your plans have been thwarted by this news. There's no other logical conclusion."

She sat up, overcome with irritation. "That is an appalling example of illogic, Daniel."

"So you maintain that you intended to stay married to me once we bonded?"

"Yes!"

"And you had no intention of committing suicide?"

"No. Why would I commit suicide?"

"So if you aren't going to break the bond and your natural lifespan is a lot longer than mine, what difference does it make that breaking the bond means the end of my life? Logically." He waited with one brow raised and a disturbingly Vulcan expression on his face.

"Because..." She struggled. "Because I might be killed. Or I might contract a fatal disease."

"The same thing could happen to me," Daniel pointed out. "But neither of those things have happened, and there is no evidence to indicate that they're going to happen. Your objection is based entirely on fear."

She stopped with her mouth open. He was correct. Fear. She was afraid that he might suffer because of her—despite the fact that there was no evidence to support her fear.

"Cast out fear. There is no room for anything else until you cast out fear," she quoted pensively.

"Good advice," Daniel told her. Suddenly he grinned and reached out. "I could really use another kiss right about now. Would you mind?"

Since he was still her betrothed, at least for now, she decided it would be appropriate to accede to his request.

xxxx

Jenrali sat on the bridge at the beginning of his shift, sipping coffee and nibbling on a leftover muffin. Daniel had passed him in the corridor on his way to his cabin carrying a coil of rope, of all things, and seemed unusually cheerful now that he was sharing a cabin with T'Riss. Sehlra had been walking around for the past week with a silly grin on her face thanks to her new boy toy. Jenrali was now the only member of Lerteiran's original crew who was sleeping alone.

Jenrali's single status rarely bothered him anymore. It had been decades since he'd shared a bed on a regular basis with anyone, and he certainly wished the lovers well. All of them. It was just that the situation drove home his solitary existence in a way that he'd not had to face in years. It wasn't putting him in a very good mood.

He checked the systems' status boards one after another, discovering nothing amiss, and then settled in with a padd in hand. The long hauls between systems were perfect for reading. He'd read all the Andorian offerings in the ship's library over the years and was now working on an Andorian translation of a Human novella called "The Old Man and the Sea". Minutes later he was pulled out of the old man's fight with the marlin by the sound of an incoming subspace message. The source was the Vulcan ship Sehlat; the intended recipient was T'Riss, and it was encoded. Jenrali studied the screen, conflicted and annoyed. The girl had given him no cause to mistrust her since she'd been assigned as crew, but the same could not be said for the captain and crew of the Sehlat. The greenbloods should know better than to send an encoded message to his ship. It was a violation of every security protocol he'd ever learned in his career to receive such a transmission without at least attempting to discover its contents, and a violation of T'Riss's trust to make the attempt. He got on the comm to the engine room.

"Sehlra, come up here. I need to talk to you about something."

xxxx

"Are you certain of this, Daniel?" she looked worried.

He ran his hands over her back. "I've never been more certain of anything in my life. Are you still sure about this?"

T'Riss gave him a look that was only a hair short of a glare. "My decision was made long ago, Daniel. Yes, I am still certain that I wish to become your bonded mate."

He kissed her again. "All right, then. Let me dump the dishes and take another shower. This stuff is soaking through my underwear."

"Agreed," she told him. "While you are gone I will clean the debris from the deck."

"Okay," he told her. "Then I guess you can get the rope ready." He smiled. T'Riss firmed her chin grimly and nodded.

Daniel wasn't sure what he'd expected after their mutual decision to try the silken rope. Eager anticipation was perhaps too much to hope for, but the look she shot him as he left was not what he would call romantic.

When he returned to the cabin after collecting their dishes and washing them in the galley he found T'Riss seated on the floor in the center of the room meditating, her smooth black cap of hair still damp from the shower.

He stood regarding her for a moment, puzzled, and then ducked into the head to scrub off the gravy and brush his teeth. A few minutes later he re-entered the room dressed for bed in grey sweatpants and a t-shirt. It was then that he discovered the reason for her strange behavior.

T'Riss sat on her heels, nude in the center of the bed. She'd managed to double-knot one end of the silken rope around her left wrist. The main length of the rope passed beneath the bedframe and to the other side, between the far side of the mattress and the bulkhead. She held the other end in her right hand. With downcast eyes, a heaving chest, and a faint tremor in her fingers she held it out to him.

It was an exquisitely erotic picture, in other circumstances a sight which would have made any man's top ten list of sexual fantasies. Had Daniel not known otherwise, he might have mistaken the olive flush of T'Riss's skin, the sheen of perspiration on her brow, and her rapid respirations for signs of sexual arousal, but he did know otherwise, and he knew terror when he saw it.

"No…oh, no…" he said emphatically. "This is not for you." He knelt before her on the bed, grasped her wrist, and roughly untied the knot. He released her wrist and grasped her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. Her pupils were dilated and unfocused, her nostrils flared. Her lips moved silently, forming Vulcan words he recognized. She was reciting Surak's litany against fear.

"T'Riss?" he whispered, horrified by the state she'd managed to get herself into, hating himself for not making his wishes more clear. "Look at me, honey." His choice of words must have caught her attention, for she stopped her silent recitation and focused on his face. He cupped her cheeks in both hands and gave her his full attention.

"I never wanted this. Do you understand?" he said. She blinked, her eyes filling with moisture. "The rope was for me, so I wouldn't roll on top of you and scare you…not for you. Never for you." T'Riss took a shaky breath and closed her eyes. A single tear rolled down each of her cheeks and she began to shiver convulsively.

Daniel wrapped her in his arms, lifted her from the bed, hoisted her over one shoulder so he'd have a hand free to pull the bedclothes down, and then laid her gently down again, still curled in a fetal ball. He got in beside her and covered them both with the blankets, feeling sick to his stomach over the whole misunderstanding. He held her as she shivered in shock, smoothing her hair and murmuring comforting inanities.

"Hush, hon. It's all right. Shhh…"

The shivering gradually stopped, her breathing slowed, and eventually she fell asleep. Daniel, on the other hand, was wide awake. If he'd previously had any doubts about T'Riss's feelings for him they'd just been set to rest. T'Riss's terror of being restrained was what had gotten them into this situation to begin with, and yet once she'd convinced herself that restraints were the safest option she'd been ready to face her worst fears without argument.

He felt guilty. Guilty for not explaining himself. Guilty for not anticipating that she would assume the rope was intended for her. Guilty for not loving her enough. Would he have been able to face his worst fear just to save her pain? He wasn't sure. But he was sure that he'd never find another woman willing to do for him what T'Riss had just offered to do. And that made his decision a whole lot easier to make.

xxxx

V'Lan entered the passenger lounge with the dignity that befit a woman of her station. Her daughter, Jara, was already engaged in conversation with T'Rel. T'Rel's husband, Saran, was standing at the main viewport examining the upcoming star cluster with every appearance of deep interest.

The lounge was crowded, as usual. Aside from the Vulcans, the other passengers aboard the Tellarite liner included a group of four Denobulans, seven extremely talkative Tellarites, a Betazoid, and a Human. Again as usual, a nearly constant stream of beings came and went at random intervals, maintaining a barrage of noise.

V'Lan found it somewhat curious that the Human seemed to be the most retiring of their fellow passengers, seldom emerging from his stateroom. She briefly spared a thought for Daniel, wondering if he was safe and well.

The two Vulcan women stood to acknowledge her entrance. She accepted T'Rel's invitation to have some tea and everyone resumed their seats.

"I have not encountered Stern recently," T'Rel observed as she poured. V'Lan tensed slightly. "Have we offended?"

"By no means," V'Lan hastened to assure her. "Stern is currently in sickbay consulting with the ship's healers. He informed me that the opportunity to obtain direct experience with alien species, rather than merely classroom instruction, was irresistibly appealing."

T'Rel seemed amused. "I am reminded of my husband. Of course, your son's attitude is entirely logical. Such an opportunity is seldom available to one at his level of training."

"My brother is dedicated to his field of study," Jara put in.

"Properly so," T'Rel approved.

"In a related matter," V'Lan asked delicately, "has a reply been forthcoming from your daughter?"

Now it was T'Rel's turn to look discomfited. "Not yet. We have been informed that for some reason T'Riss was assigned to detached duty aboard a civilian ship. It is probable that we will not receive a reply to our message until we reach Risa."

"Understood," V'Lan inclined her head. "It would be illogical in the extreme to expect her to return to active Fleet duty at once. A period of convalescence is anticipated for every survivor of the attack."

"Yes," T'Rel said, looking relieved.

V'Lan reflected that the girl must have suffered severe damage indeed if her mother was this concerned. Of course, her clan was noted for being strict traditionalists. Perhaps just the appearance of mental illness, even following a significant emotionally traumatizing event, was regarded by this family as distasteful. It was a matter for later meditation.

xxxx

"So what's the trouble?" Daniel asked. He finished climbing the access ladder into the control room and wondered at the dark look on Jenrali's face. "Why the sudden summons if we're not under attack?"

"Here," Jenrali snapped. "Look at this." Daniel obediently stepped over to the console and read the incoming message log. The color gradually drained from his face.

"Oh, shit."

"Now you see," the Andorian said in a satisfied tone. "What kind of trickery are these Vulcans trying to pull?"

"No, that's not it," Daniel told him, an ominous feeling beginning in the pit of his stomach. "It's not trickery."

"What do you mean?" the older man growled.

"If it was intended to be secret they wouldn't have sent it openly like this," Daniel explained as he sat at his station and tried to prepare himself for the worst. "This kind of message, sent this way but encrypted, means that it involves critical family business."

"Oh." Jenrali sat back. "Oh," he repeated. "We didn't know."

"We?" Daniel asked.

"Me and Sehlra," Jenrali explained. "I was going to crack it, but she thought maybe we better let you do it instead."

Daniel nodded. "It has to be from T'Riss' family. Vulcans are paranoid about some things. They always encrypt messages that deal with family secrets."

"Ah," Jenrali looked embarrassed and his antennae drew back tightly against his head. "Maybe you better get her up here, then."

T'Riss answered the summons promptly, naturally. She took the message in stride, explaining, "I have been expecting some type of communication from my clan. I did not anticipate receiving it this quickly, but it is just as well."

Daniel offered her his console to decrypt and read the message, which she accepted politely. When he stepped away and started to descend the ladder she stopped him. "You are my betrothed, Daniel. I have no secrets from you. I would prefer that you remain." He shrugged and took a seat at the co-pilot's station while she ran the message through her family's standard decryption matrix.

The two men started chatting quietly about nothing in particular when a small noise drew their attention. T'Riss was staring at the screen with a mixed look of disbelief, anger, and fear. She had the sides of the console in a white-knuckle grip so tight that the cover was starting to crack.

Daniel was across the control room in two steps. "What is it?" His touch on her arm snapped her out of the fixation on the screen, but she just looked up at him in distress and pointed at the message. Daniel bent to read it. "It's in High Vulcan. I don't read that very well. Is it all right if I translate it?"

T'Riss nodded and stood up, looking stunned. She gave Daniel the seat. Jenrali watched from the pilot's position looking concerned. "Are you all right, youngster?" She didn't answer him, but leaned against the bulkhead with a hopeless look on her face.

Daniel quickly ran the message through the universal translator, feeling more concerned by the minute. When it came back on-screen he started skimming it as fast as possible. His jaw dropped. Then he re-read it thoroughly.

"I see." Daniel straightened up, hanging onto his self-control with all ten fingernails, and addressed T'Riss. "We need to talk."

"Yes. Immediately," she agreed. T'Riss braced her hands against the bulkhead. She seemed to be having difficulty standing for some reason.

"What's wrong?" Jenrali demanded.

Daniel turned his head to look at him for a moment, debating with himself about how much to tell the old Andorian. Jenrali was almost as protective as Sehlra. "I may need some heat in the secondary cargo storage area," he said finally.

"You may, huh?" Jenrali said. "Sehlra won't like that. Why can't you do whatever it is in the gym?"

Daniel looked back at T'Riss. "No room for weapon practice in the gym." Her eyes widened. He met them squarely, in silent reassurance.

Jenrali tensed. T'Riss looked back at Daniel with something indecipherable in her eyes.

"There will be no cause, Daniel," she told him. "We have already settled this matter. By the time we arrive at Risa my family will be powerless to affect the situation."

"What. Was. In. That. Message?" Jenrali spit the words like torpedoes. "No dodging. Now."

T'Riss looked unhappy. "My family..."

Daniel decided to just say it. "Her family has found her another husband. They're bringing him to Risa to meet her. So I might have to kill the sonuvabitch. Depends on how things go. I need the cargo hold to practice." He faced Jenrali, determined.

"You'll have it." Jenrali nodded decisively, in full agreement. "What kind of weapons? Do you need Sehlra to craft something special?"

"No," Daniel said. "I'll fight with Human weapons. Risa isn't Vulcan. If he expects to take a Human's woman, then he'll have to fight by Human rules." T'Riss stared, first at one of the men and then the other, while an olive flush came over her face.

"What kind of rules do your people have for this situation, lad?" asked Jenrali.

"Only one," Daniel said between his teeth. "All is fair in love and war. If that fool wants my woman, I'll show him what Human war is all about."

T'Riss' knees almost buckled. "Daniel." She actually squeaked. "Please. Come back to our quarters. We must... talk." She swallowed, licked her lips. "Yes…we need to talk about this."

"Yeah," he brooded. "We really do need to settle some things."

"Yes," she whispered. "We must settle this matter. Come. Please. Now." She was trembling. She headed down the ladder ahead of Daniel and waited eagerly for him at the bottom. When he reached the deck she led the way at a brisk pace and entered the access code to their quarters at light speed. As soon as Daniel got through the doorway T'Riss launched herself at him.

"Whoa," Daniel caught her. "Wait. We need to settle something."

"We have already settled it," T'Riss kissed his mouth, then his jawline, then started running a trail of kisses down the side of his neck while she unfastened his shirt.

"Stop, T'Riss. Please." He grabbed her hands, his tone urgent. She paused, looking indignant.

"Daniel." T'Riss protested. "I do not want to stop. You do not truly want me to stop. I could smell your arousal even if it were not physically obvious. If the issue of restraints bothers you I will agree to any arrangement you prefer."

"I don't want you to stop," he admitted, "…but I need you to stop…until we get to Risa."

"No. Unacceptable." She twisted her hands free and pressed both palms against his chest. He could feel their warmth through his shirt. Her face was pleading. "I cannot fathom your logic in suggesting such a thing. We have chosen each other. There is no logical reason to wait. Once we have sealed the mating bond it would be a violation of Surak's teachings for anyone to interfere between us. The law may not as yet forbid it, but I am certain that a defense based directly on the Kirshara itself would be unassailable."

"But your family will never accept me," he pointed out.

"I do not care," T'Riss insisted, showing signs of increasing frustration. She kicked off her shoes and peeled off her coverall. Then she swiftly got out of her underwear and stood before him clad only in her own beauty. His blood pressure went ballistic.

"Oh... my..." Daniel felt her finish the job of unfastening his shirt. He dampened his lips and reached for her arms just as T'Riss pressed herself skin to skin against his chest. "Oh my god," he whimpered as her mouth found the base of his throat. Daniel pulled up everything he had and stepped back.

"Please. Just listen for a minute. Please?" She paused like a hunting cat frustrated in mid-pounce. Her eyes were glittering and her bosom was heaving. For an instant Daniel was torn between abject surrender and running for his life.

"I. Will listen," she panted. "Speak quickly."

"If we do this now, it's going to look to your family like I snuck in behind their backs and took advantage of you. Isn't it?" He waited while this concept percolated through the layers of hormone saturated heat in her brain.

"I have told you, Daniel. I will tell you again." Her voice rose. "I do not care what my family thinks." She moved forward and put her arms around his neck. Daniel's arms went around her automatically. He closed his eyes and prayed for strength. He had never held a woman who felt so good to him. Her breath tickled his ear as she continued her efforts at persuasion. "I am already dishonored," she murmured. "Once my family learns of my crimes, they will surely cast me out. Their opinion is meaningless."

"Then think about my opinion," he told her softly. "Is my opinion important?"

She suddenly stiffened in his arms. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Daniel said carefully, "that it's important to me to know, to really know for positive certain, that you are willing to choose me even when you have a Vulcan alternative available."

T'Riss stood straight and stepped back. He could sense her hurt feelings somehow. Presumably it was their newborn bond in action. Despite her lack of clothing, she wore a cloak of dignity. "You still doubt me, even now," she said, her voice sounding as wounded as he'd ever heard a Vulcan sound. "You told me that you believed me, but you lied."

"I believe you now. Right now, here, aboard the ship. But what about when we get there?" T'Riss's expression was closed. Daniel closed his eyes. He could still feel her injured pride. He'd really hurt her feelings this time. He opened his eyes again, and there she was, looking coldly angry and completely delectable. "Can't you understand?" he pleaded.

"What I understand is that you refuse to accept my word even though you told me that you believe me." She turned away, and he was treated to delicious view number two.

Daniel gritted his teeth. "Right here and now, I believe that you're certain. What I need to know is whether that certainty will still hold once we get to Risa. Once you face the reality of having another option. Once you actually have a real Vulcan man looking you in the eye and offering himself to you. Once you have your own family pushing you into taking him instead of me. Remember how long I lived on Vulcan. I know how much family influence means to a Vulcan."

"You think I am weak." T'Riss didn't turn around. "You think that my family will break my determination. You think that because I permitted myself to be captured and enslaved that I am incapable of honoring my commitment to you."

"That's not it," he started to say. T'Riss spun around.

"Yes, it is," she insisted, her shoulders squared in military posture. Her rigidity contrasted oddly with her state of undress. "But I understand. I have behaved dishonorably before. You have every reason to doubt me now. You are demanding this of me as a test. If I am not strong enough to defy my family openly for your sake, then I am not worthy to be your wife."

"I..." Daniel stopped. "I..." He grimaced uncomfortably. "That wasn't the way I was thinking of it."

She put her hand on his arm gently. "Now I understand. It is all my own doing." Her expression softened. "Does this mean that you will accept me if I am willing to undergo this final test?"

Daniel told her bluntly. "If you still want me once you talk to your family, yes. I'll kill the basklaar with a lirpa if I have to." He saw her belly muscles tighten. "But that's all I want: to know that you will pick me even when you have the option of a Vulcan husband, not just because you can't do any better."

"I cannot do any better, Daniel," she told him softly. "If I had my choice of every unattached male in the quadrant, I still could not do any better. But I will endure this final test to prove myself to you."

"T'Riss," Daniel hesitated. "If he really is a better choice for you... I mean, if he can make you happier..."

She whipped out a hand without a second of hesitation and slapped him across the face. Daniel froze in shock, lifting one hand to his stinging cheek. "Do not say it. Do not dare to imply it, Daniel Johansen. Do you understand?" Her tone reminded him entirely too much of Sehlra—and maybe a little bit of Stern's mother, V'Lan, the only real maternal figure that Daniel could clearly remember from his childhood. Fortunately, T'Riss didn't look one bit like anyone's mother.

"Yes, ma'am," he said in a daze.

"Now," T'Riss told him. "We are going back to bed. If we are not going to complete the bonding tonight then I am in need of some relaxation exercises. The events of this day have been rather stressful." She grabbed his open shirt by one lapel and tugged him toward the bunk. He followed obediently with a befuddled smile on his face.