If you are seeing this paragraph, the site is not displaying correctly. You can see the content, but your current browser does not support CSS which is necessary to view our site properly. For the best visual experience, you will need to upgrade your browser to Netscape 6.0 or higher, MSIE 5.5 or higher, or Opera 3.6 or higher. If, however, you don't wish to upgrade your browser, scroll down and read the content - everything is still visible, it just doesn't look as pretty.
Seek First...-Pt. 10
Seek First to Understand
I throw her a kiss, swiveling my chair toward the console, because I do not want to face anger or rejection. Not now, not yet.
“Commander, we have received an Alpha bulletin.”
I turn and am immediately afraid. Her EV helmet is fogged. “Jiminy T’Pol, is your EV suit malfunctioning’?”
I tap in the life support sequence, silently cursing because my gloved fingers are slow. She is reassuring me that she is in danger. Like hell she is.
“Play that message,” I yell unnecessarily, then lower my voice trying to reassure her, “While I get this helmet off ya. The air in here isn’t perfect, but it’ll meet the needs of a Vulcan respiratory system.”
As she pushes play she mouths “Thank you, Commander.” Relief rushes over me.
We hear Hoshi’s voice again, “Priority Alpha One Niner Niner. For your ears and eyes only. Do not reply. Maintain communication silence.”
I take a look at the life support read out. The levels are safe. I unlatch my helmet and remove it.
Captain Archer’s face appears on the screen, “Message received. Repairs have been successfully concluded. We are reviewing your plan. Do not implement until you receive the order to engage from me. I repeat do not implement. Mission is delayed. Archer out.”
We look at each other. I do not bother to hide my satisfaction. The odds are in our favour. Surviving is a distinct possibility. I feel cocky. The Captain’s careful wording was clear. He has adopted my plan. I feel so good I hug T’Pol. Oops...feels real good, but she could think I’m takin’ liberties.
I let her go, coverin’ my embarrassment by saying, “That delay gives me time to take a look at the suit.”
Wearing an EV suit distances the wearer from the world. It is an odd reaction, but one that is shared by many. I know because I’ve heard the comment over many a beer. Touching T’Pol through the layers made by my gloves and her suit skin is kind of clinical. I push the suit from her shoulders. She is within the arc of my arms. Our eyes lock and the clinical gets personal real quick.
“Don’t stop there, Charles.” She whispers, tempting me as I reach to peal away the EV skin.
I try looking like I don’t understand, but she claws at my suit, clarifying the situation for me. A man has to be dead not to interpret her meaning properly. I grasp her cheeks, pulling her in, never breaking eye contact. I think I have stopped breathing.
“Are you hungry, T’Pol?” Cause I sure am and there’s only one thing that is going to satisfy this appetite.
He answer is physical. She is a hell cat on a Thanksgiving turkey. Her tongue invades my mouth. Her hands slide inside my suit. One caresses my manhood, which immediately stands at attention the other explores my pecs.
I’m fallin’ like Alice down the rabbit hole. This is better than my fantasy. I kiss her back, grabbing’ her ass so that her pelvis is pressed hard against mine.
I hear myself protesting’, “Not this way. Not like this. T’Pol, slow down.” I try to break her hold on me. “I’m trying to do the honourable thing here, T’Pol, help me out, please.”
Inside my head I’m yelling, you damn idiot, what the hell do ya think you’re doing? The sexiest woman in the Delphic Expanse is eatin’ you alive and your trying’ to stop her. Stupid, romantic fool. This is a bad idea, Tucker. She’s going to hate you for rejecting her.
She releases me.
“Don’t look at me like that.” I kiss her forehead with regret and relief that’s when I notice that she is burning up.
I scan her. “T’Pol, your hormone levels are over the top.” She doesn’t want me. She just needs to get laid. I am deflated. “I haven’t changed my mind. I won’t to be a solution to an Expanse induced hormone imbalance. When I know you want me, because ya can’t imagine your life without me, then I’ll satisfy any appetite you have.”
“Archer to T’Pol.” The captain’s hail saves me from total annihilation. She regards me with loathing.
“T’Pol here, Captain.”
“We’ll be forward of the target in six minutes from my mark…MARK. Make your approach at the seven minute mark. Run silent. God speed. Archer out.”
We begin to dress, because the plan calls for suits, which are easier to put on with a buddy. The logic of the situation calms her. We take turns fastening and securing each other’s hardware and connections. The silence is uncomfortable. It’s like we’ve only just met and are being forced into an intimate situation way too early.
To hell with it, I say to myself. I got to clear the air. We’re going into battle. We need to focus. So I take hold of her shoulders and pull her toward me. Our helmets touch. I insist on eye contact.
“T’Pol if we survive this, I can’t promise you happily ever after. I can promise a genuine desire to explore the possibilities between us. If you want that too, you will have to communicate that to me. No metaphors. No subtleties, no inscrutable feminine hints. Straight up. Directly, in the Vulcan manner.”
I squeeze her shoulders and bid her, “Safe home, T’Pol.”
At the seven minute mark
“There’s a breach amidships and aft.” I bet T’Pol’s already seen them on her screen.
“Both breaches have been depressurized and the bulkheads sealed.” She jumps to the significant details.
“Is there anyway to tell which one is closest to the armory? And which one has the fewer number of guards?”
She doesn’t take my questions as insults. That is good news. Redundancy saves lives. And I want to live, maybe for the first time since Lizzie died I feel like living.
“The amidships breach is closest to the armory,” she tells me.
“Which means that aft breach has fewer guards.” It only made sense. Protect your assets at all costs.
“Both breaches are large enough for the shuttle.”
“What do you think about taking the scenic route?” I monitor the flight panel, while waiting for her response to my request. She is the senior officer. I can only suggest, not command.
“The scenic route, without the commentary, please.”
She does have a sense of humour. Malcolm would never believe it. “Aye, aye, Sub-commander. Aft it is.”
End of Part Ten.
Have a comment to make about this story? Do so in the Trip Fan Fiction forum at the HoTBBS!
Four of you have made comments
Oh! OH! don't leave me hanging!! More please!! PLEASE!! I beg you more! This story is the best!
Dang! Talk about a cliffhanger! *waves a box of chocolates in front of the monitor* More chapters soon? Pleeeeze?
I know you spit out the chapters far faster than most, but I think everyone would agree that we want more! :)
In my craving for more, I'm reminded of an old Kibbles and Bits commercial, the one where the dogs are searching in a big pack and chanting.
Wonderful! Oh ho ho, things are steaming up(literally)! Just can't wait for more! Keep it coming!