Alpha Waves - Pt 4

Alpha Waves

By Aquila

Rating: R
Category: Angst, Romance
Summary: Sequel to Beta Waves – T’Pol meets her Father and trips.

==

Part 4

Hoshi Sato enjoyed the attention, which led to an accessibility that made her a media darling. The packaging was perfect and when it was unwrapped a shining intellect was exposed. Her wry humour was appreciated by late night talk show hosts and the self-actualization gurus wanted her stories of transformation from timid traveller to intrepid explorer. She had been offered a lucrative contract to write a book about her experiences, which she would personally translate into a yet undecided number of languages. To capitalize on the opportunities offered, she resigned her commission. Her last day as a Starfleet officer was the day of Trip and T’Pol’s sudden desertion.

“Languages are my area of expertise, gentlemen. I chose desertion deliberately.” She sat at a table in a San Francisco café with Mayweather, Reed and Hayes. “I mean it in a metaphorical sense,” she clarified.

“You think the Captain feels deserted?” Hayes turned his gaze toward Archer who was at a table across the room in the company of an obviously enamoured female. “The absence of T’Pol has broadened his social horizons.”

“Just as Trip’s absence has ours,” chimed in Reed, who transferred the personal data device he carried to the outstretched palm of the MACO leader.

Hayes grinned when he read the evening’s agenda. “We owe the man a debt of gratitude for his ground-breaking work in male/female relations.”

Hoshi swatted Mayweather’s bicep, “Why hit me?”

“You’re a man,” said Hoshi, “That’s reason enough.”

Travis began to protest when his jaw dropped open. Hoshi turned in the direction of his stare. A statuesque blonde, with a short pixie cut that emphasised huge blue eyes, had entered the room. She was dressed in linen trousers that clung to all the right curves. Her tailored silk blouse was modest, until the light shone in just the right direction, confirming that curves below were an indication of the curves above. Over her shoulder she had slung an Italian leather bag. Hoshi recognized the type: a predatory journalist. She headed their way.

==

A million stars sparkled in the clear night sky. The full moon hung low over the bay, casting a trail of diamonds on the water and illuminating the face of her companion.

“The reason for my trip is private.” T’Pol released his hand so that she could roll up his shirtsleeve to expose his arm from the hand to the bicep.

“That was obvious from the way you sneaked away and fled the scene of the travel crime when you were recognized.” He moved his arm to allow her greater access. “How can I help you if you don’t tell me why you want to go to the moon?”

“I do not need your assistance.” She began applying light pressure in the direction of his blood flow.

“That’s a beginning,” his breath caught in his throat as she drew closer to the sensitive skin of his inner elbow. “You could have said you don’t want help, instead you said you don’t want MY help.”

“Breathe.”

Only when she gave the command did he realize that he had stopped. “Whose help will you accept? Hayes’s? Reed? Soval’s?”

At the mention of Soval T’Pol involuntarily exerted more pressure than was appropriate for the posture.

“Ouch.” Trip rolled away from his torturer. “Whatever you are up to won’t involve the Vulcans. Interesting?”

T’Pol had drawn her knees to her chest. She wrapped her arms about her shins and rested her chin on her knees. Her body language screamed tension and trepidation.

“Hey, baby,” Trip said tugging on her left arm, “I won’t tell on you. You are safe here.” She let him hold her arm. “You’ve forgotten everything you’ve taught me. Here let me refresh your memory.”

==

The men rose in unison when she said, “Hello, I’m Sheila Farnsworth, a freelance journalist. May I intrude?”

Hoshi, who had remained seated, experienced an unwelcome Epiphany, when Travis trained the gleam in his eye on the intruder. She seethed as he pulled out a chair and with a sweeping gesture invited her to join them.

Reed and Hayes remained standing, Hayes speaking for both of them, “Lt. Reed and I have previous appointments, which regretfully, we cannot postpone. Perhaps another time?”

“I would like that,” Farnsworth replied, with a wide smile that included both men and sent a burst of competitive testosterone into Mayweather’s blood stream.

“Hoshi and I have no pressing appointments.” His comment served its purpose. Farnsworth retrained her attention on the helmsman, with a smile that was meant just for him.

==

Trip turned the hand she gave him palm down. He supported her hand with his fingertips. Her body temperature was naturally warmer than his, so for a brief moment his fingertips felt cool against the palm of her hand. He placed his thumbs on the neural nodes located on the top of her hand and pressed lightly. The resulting shift in the angle of her arm confirmed the success of his first manoeuvre. He increased the pressure. She closed her eyes and released her legs. She leaned on her free arm and stretched her legs out. To Trip it was if he were watching a flower unfold at the first light of dawn.

Eventually she began to breathe rhythmically, which was his cue to turn her hand over to expose the tender skin of her inner arm. His fingertips continued to support her arm as he worked his thumbs along the arm to the inner elbow. No longer able to hold herself up, she lowered herself to the floor, as Trip blew warm, moist air on the arm he held. Her brain registered the fact that he had added a twist of his own to the posture, then let the thought go.

The change in her position required a shift in his. He took advantage of the moment, pulling the control box close to his side. After a swift combination of punches, music emerged from invisible speakers. T’Pol was unfamiliar with his choice, but welcomed it.

“Let your thoughts go where the music takes them,” he suggested reclaiming her arm. “Follow the music and breathe.”

==

“Actually, we do,” asserted the linguist.

Mayweather’s puzzled expression inspired her next lie, “It’s a surprise, that’s why you don’t know about it, Travis. Your invitation to Ms. Farnsworth made me reveal it sooner than I had planned.” Hoshi placed a possessive hand on the young man’s forearm. “You understand, don’t you, Ms. Farnsworth?”

Sheila assessed the situation. The influential female had effectively established her claim on an unsuspecting male. To make an enemy of the woman now would adversely affect her future as a journalist. She raised a flag of truce.

“Of course.” This time her smile excluded Travis. “Here is my card. Will you call me when you do have some time?”

A bewildered Travis heard Hoshi agree. “Come Mr. Mayweather, we must go where we have never gone before.”

“Sure.”

Hoshi slipped her arm through Travis’, who looked at her with speculation and interest. Sheila turned her attention away from the nascent couple toward the biggest fish in the room, Captain Archer.

==

His inner man had awakened, “That’s what ya get for playin’ with fire, Tucker.” Trip burned. What had begun as an innocent exchange of neuro-pressure techniques had become an inferno of lust.

“Why did you follow her?” The voice would not let him be. “She rejected you. There are a thousand females of any number of species willing to play the game any way you want to. Why torture yourself like this?””

==

The Alpha state that Tucker’s touch induced made T’Pol unaware of his inner conflict, and her own growing lust. She drifted above the complications and conundrums of her life. Gone were her worries that the Vulcan authorities would discover her plan before she could execute it. In his company in this safe place she found respite from the weight of the past and the uncertain future.

==

“Hoshi.” Travis invoked her name like a prayer for peace. Louder, he called out, “Hoshi.” She distracted him momentarily with a soulful kiss, which she broke at the same time as she released a powerful thrust of her pelvis, which was his undoing. “Oh sweet saints and sinners,” he ended his prayer with her name and a shudder.

Hoshi rested her ear on his heaving chest. She flexed her internal muscles in time to the thundering rhythm of his heart. He moaned as she held him captive within her.

“No more, please,” he begged the tiny tigress who lay purring on his chest.

“Rest, Travis,” she commanded, “We have only just begun.”

He drifted into a dreamless slumber. Half an hour later she awakened him with her teeth, tongue and hands. One thought slipped past the defences of his passion fogged brain, it was time to demonstrate that he too could be the aggressor.

==

Lush was the word that best described her, he thought. Pouting sensuous lips – his eyes travelled downward – long neck leading to full breasts modestly covered by a shot silk sheath in an iridescent mix of tropical sea colours. The curve of her ribs became a narrow waist – his eyes followed the bias of the silk across a taut abdomen – the hips flared. He imagined her belly extended with his child. The thought was like a thousand needle pricks.

When he chose the exploration career path he had set aside thoughts of family. The example set for him was that of a partnership, where the partners shared all the responsibilities of parenthood. Deployments of five or more years far from domestic communication range placed the burden of parenthood on the shoulders of the partner left behind. He would not ask that of any one.

His eyes travelled downward to the skirt of the dress that was bunched in cascading folds across her upper thighs. No imagination was needed as he need only recall their one and only bout of love making to imagine the hidden treasure lying there.

His eyes swept down her long lean legs, exposed for public view. When they had made love previously he had taken inordinate satisfaction in seeing her legs, thinking that few had had the privilege before him. Jealousy squeezed his vitals. Their encounter had not been her first. She had lived much longer than he and had every expectation of out living him. The thought of another touching her was too much.

“Mr. Tucker,” she hissed, opening her eyes, “You have lost your concentration.”

Trip looked down. His grip on her arm had tightened to such an extent that her skin was white under each of his fingertips.

“Jeez, T’Pol,” he blushed, “I’m so sorry.”

==

She stretched like a cat in the sun. She was sore, but sated, fully sated. Travis watched with fascination as her muscles lengthened, her belly hollowed and her arms reached for the headboard. He trailed a finger down the midline of her body, between breasts, across her navel to the dark thatch. She shivered while her breasts and skin puckered.

Travis felt powerful, protective and bemused. During the three years they had been crewmates she had never hinted at the possibility of a physical relationship. He grinned. Admittedly the thought had crossed his mind, but he had quickly dismissed it. He was unwilling to risk his career for a few minutes of satisfaction. Few minutes, he chuckled silently? We’ve been at this for hours. For a short time he had feared that she was insatiable and that he had failed to please her. He only had to look at her now for his confidence to return and his manhood to convulse with pride.

“I have an offer for you.” Her words dripped with innuendo and a suspicion of seriousness that he found intriguing.

“I’m listening.”

==

Sheila watched the interplay between the Captain and the lady at his side. The lady was willing, but the Captain reluctant. The lady appeared, however, to be oblivious to the reality. When Archer’s companion excused herself Farnsworth moved in.

“Good evening, Captain.”

A distracted Archer focussed his attention on the owner of the warm honey voice that had spoken. The body matched the voice.

“Good evening, ma’am?” asking for an introduction inoffensively.

“I’m so sorry; of course you don’t know me,” she presented her hand, “Your face is on the cover of every newspaper and magazine. And you are in our living rooms on all the new broadcasts; it is as if we are friends of long standing. Forgive me, please, I’m Sheila Farnsworth.”

Archer smiled and shook her hand, holding it a little longer than necessary to her distinct pleasure.

The Captain’s companion returned at that moment. She recognized another predatory female immediately. Sheila caught the anger that infused her face momentarily, confirming her assessment of the situation.

“Captain, I’m so sorry I’m late. My editor required a rewrite for this evening’s edition,” announced Farnsworth.

Archer sensing an opportunity for escape, played along. “Your delay allowed me to become acquainted with Ms.?” Damn, I can’t remember her name, admitted Archer to himself.

“Susan, Susan Wakefield,” the woman reminded Archer listlessly, recognizing that she had lost the battle and had no hope of winning the war.

“Shall we go, Captain?” Sheila stepped back to allow Archer to rise, “It was a pleasure meeting you Ms. Wakefield,” said Sheila rubbing salt into the other woman’s wounded pride.

End of Part 4

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