A Wayward Twilight Company

The massive Romulan armada was arrayed in battle formation on the far side of Earth's moon. At Earthset, the Lunar listening station began receiving sensor readings and sending frantic messages to Starfleet. Orders began flying out of Starfleet, arranging the few operational ships in Earth orbit in defensive positions above critical areas. They were well aware that this was a futile gesture because the scanners revealed  Earth defenses as woefully outnumbered and outgunned. Admiral Gardner immediately notified Enterprise and Columbia of the situation.( Read more... )

T'Pol was going over status reports on her PADD when she was suddenly rocked back in her chair from a blast of anger and feelings of betrayal through her bond with Trip. She immediately sent back a soothing surge of calm rationality so he wouldn't lose control and do something ill-advised while under the influence of such strong emotions. She quickly scanned the ship and found Trip's biosign in the engineering lab. The biosigns for Elizabeth and the Captain were also there. "What is that human expression? 'The cat's out of the bag'?" she thought as she headed for the lab.
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Jonathan Archer headed for the bridge struggling to cope with what T'Beth had just told him. Conflicting emotions fought for dominance - excitement that he had a romantic future with this woman who had haunted his dreams for the past three weeks, guilt and embarrassment that he was her commanding officer in addition to being much older, arousal from the taste of her still on his lips, and anger because once again time travel was changing all the rules. As the lift door opened and he stepped out, he pushed the turmoil to the back of his mind and moved toward the captain's chair. "Report," he barked at Hoshi.

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Thanks for the patience of all my remaining readers, if any of you are left after this extended leave of absence. The field has lain fallow long enough and I will sow often to hopefully gain a fruitful harvest. Enjoy.

The Enterprise

The passageways on Enterprise were eerily still as Malcolm jogged to the small gym following the tactical meeting with the captain and the first officer. Still filled with pre-battle jitters, he needed to work off some of the adrenaline coursing through his body. Four fleets were on a collision course in Klingon space while the Enterprise tore away from the staging area at Warp 6. Malcolm hated running away from a fight - flinging himself into the middle of the fray had always been more his style. He knew the Cabal and Klingon fleets would be quickly outpaced by the Romulan and Vulcan ships, and while he had no doubt the Klingons could handle the Cabal, the Vulcan ships would be outnumbered. "They are the latest model, though, and the Vulcans really know how to build starships," he mused to himself as he let himself into the small exercise room.
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Trip opened his eyes as the reveille signal came over the com, acutely aware of T’Pol’s gentle breath tickling the back of his neck and her arm wrapped around his chest, pulling him close to her. In the two weeks since he had endured the explosion that had taken his life over a year ago, Trip had experienced happiness he would not have believed possible. ( Read more... )

Hoshi Sato was pleased. The unexpected late-night visit from T’Pol had interrupted an absorbing article on irregular verb conjugations in High Vulcan that Hoshi had almost finished, but the opportunity to work on such an interesting project with the first officer left her with no regrets. The two had bent their heads over the task for over three hours, with Hoshi jumping up occasionally to check the most current Klingon encryption code data and T’Pol taking a short break to the mess hall to retrieve two cups of tea. She did not deem it necessary to inform the lieutenant that she also stopped by her quarters to bid her bondmate goodnight. Trip had been sound asleep so she contented herself with stroking his hair and pressing her lips to his brow, eliciting a brief mutter as he turned over. The taste of him still on her lips, T’Pol picked up the tray and returned to Lieutenant Sato’s quarters.

 

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Jon Archer needed a drink. He had been pouring over the latest intell from Star Fleet on the position and heading of the Romulan fleet and he was worried. He reached up and rubbed his head in frustration. At their current speed Enterprise would not reach the Plume before they were intercepted. They needed someone to watch their backs….someone willing to mix it up with the Romulans to give Enterprise time to reach their destination. Archer hated the way it seemed that Enterprise was always carrying a knife into a gunfight.

 

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This is a special chapter for all you romantics out there. Don't deny it! I know you all too well. Here is my TnT Valentine.

 

Trip was lingering in the fuzzy area between blissful relaxation and sleep. T’Pol’s cheek rested on his shoulder, her fingers slowly winding the hairs on his chest around the tips of her nails. She felt langorous, a deep contentment curled inside her that defied description. A mere two weeks ago she had tottered on the edge of depression and despair, her work the only thing that kept her from falling. Trip had been a bittersweet memory that brought sharp pain when allowed to surface. Now he was a living, breathing precious part of her and she would not have believed this kind of happiness possible. She sighed softly and reached out with her mind to touch his. T’hai’la.

 

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Jonathan Archer was in a black mood. Porthos whined, jumped up on the captain’s relatively roomy double bed, and placed a paw on his master’s leg. Archer lowered a hand to Porthos’ head and began absent-mindedly scratching his ears. The beagle gave a sigh of contentment and lowered his head to rest it on Archer’s lap. The status report PADD in Archer’s hand dropped forgotten to the bed and his unfocused eyes looked past the viewing porthole. He was thinking about his new Chief Engineer and his thoughts disturbed him in a way he could not understand. It’s almost like she’s an Orion female, he thought with exasperation. I can’t get her out of my head.

 

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Trip and T’Pol sat on floor pillows separated by a meditation candle. Their breathing was perfectly in sync, deep and regular. T’Pol’s special place, the white room, had been replaced for their tandem meditations by a pristine beach with waves whispering against the shore. They strolled along the edge of the water, hand in hand, words unnecessary. They were enveloped in a serenity that surpassed description.

 

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