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"The Early Hours"
By Zane Gray
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Star Trek owned by CBS/Paramount.
Description: In Part 1
Part Two
It was an overpowering sensation of arousal that first stirred Trip to
consciousness. He lay still as his senses came slowly back online after
slumbering. He heard the low, reassuring rumble of the warp reactor in the
distance, and the equally comforting sound of steady, even breathing
beside him. Something deliciously warm and soft was wedged against his
body, enveloped in his arms, and knew it was T'Pol. She was laying on her
side, as was he, and she had pressed back against him in sleep, their legs
entangled, with her head cradled into his shoulder. The smell of her
sex... their sex... permeated the cabin, and fueled his arousal.
She smelled of pennies - he knew it was the copper in her blood - but also
of something lightly sweet... and darkly exotic. He breathed deeply of the
mingling aromas, savoring them.
Trip felt incredibly peaceful, but not rested. Some part of his mind knew
that he hadn't been sleeping very long. Probably just a few hours. He idly
wondered what time it was, but he found that he wasn't curious enough to
actually open his eyes and look. Both he and T'Pol were off duty until
later that morning, when Enterprise was scheduled to arrive back at Earth,
so what did he care about time now? Besides, his knew with every fiber of
his being that his lover was ready again... ready to join with him... to
mate. For some reason, the words he'd once used to describe the act of
intercourse simply weren't sufficient for what they had together: fucking,
making love, having sex. This was incredibly more powerful that those
words could convey... more all encompassing. More spiritual and emotional.
So many Humans mistakenly thought that Vulcans had no emotions. If only
they knew the truth! Vulcans felt things with an intensity that was almost
beyond his description. That was why they worked so hard to suppress their
feelings or at least to mask them. But now that they were inseparably
connected, T'Pol shared everything with him. He was almost taken aback by
how talkative she was. She told him her thoughts on the ship's efficiency
and ways to improve it, her scientific research and theories, her concerns
about her interaction with other members of the crew, her analysis of the
flavor of various food items he encouraged her to sample. She shared it
all with him, either aloud or through their telepathic bond. It was
extraordinary the change in her. Every time he looked at T'Pol, it seemed,
Trip discovered something new. And yet, he'd always known that this side
existed within her. She was blossoming. Everything about his lover... my
wife, he reminded himself with a smile... was extraordinary to him.
He loved the way she would sit lightly on the edge of a chair, rather
than sinking into it the way he did. The way she would endlessly analyze a
problem until she solved it, or at least understood that she could not
solve it with the information at hand. The way she looked at him over
diner in the Captain's Mess, tilting her head just so, her dark eyes
glittering liquidly just for him. The attentiveness with which she
listened to what he had to say. The way she sometimes became shy when she
was experiencing the full force of her love for him. He delighted in all
of it. He delighted in her.
As he lay musing over these things, his lover suddenly sighed beside him.
T'Pol was still asleep, he knew, but already her need was flooding his
consciousness. It wouldn't be long before her body began responding to it.
So he began gently sliding his hands over her simmering skin, savoring the
softness... the feel of her breasts, her nipples stroking sweetly against
his palms. And he poured his love for her back into her mind. All at once,
he felt her come alive in his arms, just as he knew she would. It was
almost as if she were a child's toy and he'd just wound her up. She gasped
softly, still half-asleep, and her ass pushed back into his groin
instinctively. The full flavor of her soul exploded into his mind,
sufficing his thoughts with those of her feverish love and need. Her head
turned back toward him as their lips came together in the darkness. She
felt so tiny pressed against him like this - seemed so fragile. But he
knew very well that she was anything but fragile. She fit
perfectly against him... moved perfectly against him. And she moved
perfectly now. With a tiny arching of her back, T'Pol angled her backside
up against his now painful erection... and took him deeply inside of her.
And then there was little room for conscious thought as physical and
emotional imperatives took over. Their minds became one, joining even more
profoundly than their bodies had. Their movements became synchronized and
subtle... grinding, driving... building perfectly into a cascading
symphony of mutual pleasure. She rolled slightly onto her belly and pushed
her hips up and back against him frantically, overcome by her need to take
him in as deeply as possible. To be filled with him. He responded in kind,
moving with her, over her... into her. With each slow stroke, the
tip of his cock was kissed lightly by the entrance to her womb and the
subtle pressure of it drove him insane - drove them both insane, for she
could feel it too, through their bond. And it was exactly that sensation -
that simultaneous awareness of what the other person was feeling at that
moment - that would ever be their undoing. He felt himself moving into
her, sliding through her clinging flesh... through her. She felt herself
quivering, her muscles clamping down on him hotly, slickly... through him.
And then, at exactly the same instant, their climaxes unraveled
powerfully, each multiplying the other's exponentially. The Universe fell
away from them, then, and they existed only for this timeless moment...
for this purpose... for this love.
...
As the doors to her destination slid open before her, the air was filled
with the sounds of exercise equipment in steady operation. It was only
05:00 hours, but the Enterprise's Gym was already bustling with activity,
as crewmen let off steam through their individual workouts. The chamber
wasn't yet packed, but it was likely to be soon enough. And so Hoshi
strode purposefully to the row of treadmills, found an unoccupied one, and
took her place on it. Laying her towel over the control pad, and setting
her water bottle in the cradle designed to accommodate it, the Com Officer
quickly selected a rigorous, hour-long program and set it in motion.
Had anyone taken the time to examine Ensign Sato's features, as her lithe
body began to run in place on the rolling track, they might have noticed a
particular look of satisfaction. Of amusement. But then, no one did take
the time. No one, that is, but a certain Helm Officer who entered the Gym
a few minutes after her.
Ensign Mayweather could barely keep the grin off his face as he calmly
selected the treadmill beside hers and started his own running program.
Soon, when he too was up to speed, their pace began to synchronize. It was
only then that Travis looked over at Hoshi with eyes that smiled
mirthfully.
"Morning, Ensign. Sleep well?"
Her eyes sparkled in return. "Never better. And you?"
"Terrible. My best friend kept hogging the bunk."
"Hey!"
Hoshi threw her towel at him then, and Travis laughed, not even bothering
to hide his growing feelings for her. Soon her laughter rang out lightly
in the air as well. But as the sound of their amusement blended with the
din of the equipment, no one around them was the wiser for it.
...
Trip worked his muscles strenuously as he stroked into the oncoming
torrent of water. The powerful jets of the hydromill washed over him, and
he had to struggle mightily to keep his place in the current as he
continued his forward crawl. This was his preferred form of
meditation, allowing his mind to let go of everything save for the
constant drum beat of the stroke.
One, two, three... breathe... one, two, three... breathe.
On and on it continued.
The pool was almost absurdly small - only about three meters wide and
about double that in length - but with the constantly recycling current,
it was more than sufficient for an Olympic-caliber workout. It was the
first such pool to be installed on an Earth ship. The chance of the
gravity plating failing had always prevented any kind of swimming facility
from being used in space by Starfleet before. But with their long mission
duration, it was decided to include one on the Enterprise, with adequate
precautions taken to ensure that no water escaped in an emergency. The
room was accordingly small, and could only be accessed by a water-tight
airlock. Oxygen masks were installed around the room in the event that
sudden zero-G filled the air with liquid, making it impossible to breathe.
Granted the pool wasn't the same as the ocean, but it would do in a
pinch. Trip certainly put it to good use, as did the Captain and several
other crewmen. He'd always loved swimming. He'd spent many lazy summers
down at his grandparents' house on the Florida Gulf Coast when he was
young. Trip had practically grown up in the water, having learned how to
scuba dive even before he learned how to drive a car. He put that
experience to good use during his college years, participating in a
project to reclaim the ocean floor in parts of the Atlantic, living in
underwater communities for months at a time. Because of all this, his
later recruitment by Starfleet, and his eventual transition to the
environment of space, had been a natural one for him. After all, a
pressure suit was a pressure suit. Deep ocean or vacuum, it was all the
same to him. And this way... he got to play with warp engines.
Over the years, Trip had found that he had a natural ability and
adaptability in life. And so he'd tried a little bit of everything, before
finally settling on Starship Engineering. He'd taken to it immediately...
and quickly discovered that he loved it. Before long, he excelled in the
discipline, quickly rising to the top of his class at the Academy. He'd
made such a splash, in fact, that he'd been asked by Captain Jefferies to
join his team working on the NX Test Program. And it was there that he'd
first met Jonathan Archer, then a Commander and test pilot for the
program.
As he was musing over the strange and interesting course of his life,
Trip heard the sound of the airlock cycling and paused, reaching over for
the pool controls to switch off the current momentarily. It was then that
the person who represented the latest twist his life had taken appeared.
T'Pol walked into the small room, clearly looking for him. She was wearing
a small white robe, which she quickly removed and hung next to his own.
Underneath, was something of a surprise... a simple one-piece bathing
suit. The sleek material wasn't particularly interesting in its style or
color, but it was exceptional in that she was wearing it. It
afforded Trip yet another new view of his mate. T'Pol, in swimwear, was
simply beautiful. And so he told her as much.
"T'Pol, you look... amazing."
The Vulcan's cheeks flushed. It was an emotional reaction for which she
chided herself, but she was pleased at his reaction nonetheless. "You
have been swimming for some time," she observed.
"I hope you don't mind... you were still asleep when I woke up, so I
figured I'd exercise my other muscles for a change." Trip
smiled, continuing. "I didn't know you used the hyrdomill."
"I have studied the relevant procedural texts, but I have never
actually attempted the activity."
"You mean you were stationed for three years on a planet that's
seventy percent water and you never learned how to swim?"
"Seventy-point-nine percent," she corrected. "Vulcan has
no oceans and only a few small seas. Learning to swim is not a high
priority among my people. In any case, swimming on Earth was considered
unsanitary."
"I don't understand. How can it be unsanitary?"
"To immerse oneself in the same fluid in which countless billions of
lifeforms are born, eat, excrete, die and decompose is far from hygienic."
He laughed easily. "I suppose you're right. But this water's nice
and clean. You want to try it?"
She clearly did. T'Pol was more adventurous that he ever expected. "It's
excellent aerobic exercise. And... I have always wanted to learn. Will you
teach me?"
"Sure," he replied warmly. "Come on in."
He held out his hand to help her into the pool. It was unnecessary, of
course, but she was appreciated the gesture. It was charming. And very
much a part of his personality. So T'Pol placed her hand in his and
allowed him to lower her gently into the water beside him. The hydromill
was deeper than she expected, nearly coming up to her chin when she stood
on the bottom. Her eyes widened for a moment in surprise and he moved
closer as a precaution.
"You all right?" She nodded shyly and he caressed her cheek. "Will
you be okay if I touch you? As much as I'd love to, it probably wouldn't
be good if we ended up... you know... and someone walked in."
She ran her fingers down his chest. "I will be fine. But... I wish
you to know that I... love you."
Trip took her in his arms and held her tightly, rendered speechless by
her declaration. He kissed the top of her head, and she gave a hint of a
smile.
"However, if you continue to hold me in this manner, I cannot be
responsible for my actions."
He released her, still smiling. "Sorry, darlin'. I love you too.
Very much." They exchanged a tender glance. "Okay... why don't
you show me what ya got."
He reached over and activated the jets, adjusting the current to allow
her to swim, but not be overwhelmed. A look of concentration crossed her
face and then she leaned forward into the rushing water, attempting the
forward crawl he had been doing so effortlessly when she entered. For a
few moments she seemed to find the correct rhythm...
... and then she sunk like a stone. Her rhythm was quickly lost as her
limbs flailed out reflexively.
"Whoa!" Trip reached down into the water and lifted her back to
the surface. She gasped for air. "Just hang on to me for a moment."
T'Pol clung to him as she caught her breath, and Trip chuckled in spite
of himself. "Guess I'll have to fix you up a pair of water wings."
She glanced at him puzzled and he quickly changed the subject, knowing
that he'd pay for the remark later when she looked up the reference. She
always looked up the reference.
"Never mind. You've gotta get your legs involved too, okay? Let's
start with a backstroke. Are you--?"
"I am familiar with it."
"Good. Lean back and I'll support your weight."
She complied and moments later, her arms were stroking efficiently into
the current, her feet flutter-kicking behind her. When Trip was satisfied
that she was comfortable, he spoke.
"Can I ask what brought all this on? The swimming thing, I mean?"
"Your mother said that you planned to go scuba diving during your
visit home. I was... hoping I might be proficient enough by that time to
join you."
He became exited. "Are you kidding? I'd love to take you
diving, T'Pol! There's this place down in the Caymans where the water's so
clear that--" Suddenly, his expression changed. "Wait a
minute... you contacted my mother?"
She became concerned. "Of course. After bonding, it's customary for
the female to acquaint herself with her mate's mother." She stopped
swimming and sat up in the water, clinging to him tentatively. "Have
I made a mistake?"
"No, it's okay. I just wasn't expecting it." He laughed
nervously. "I'll bet Mom flipped out when she got your letter."
"Is that... an acceptable response?"
"That all depends. How did she react to you?"
"She seemed surprised at first, but we have exchanged several
productive messages. Your mother seems quite familiar with me."
"Well... I don't think I've sent home a single letter since we first
left Earth that didn't mention you in some way or other. I think she's
suspected that we were growing closer for a while now." He hesitated.
"I assume you told her that we were..."
"Bonded? Yes."
"And?"
"She had many questions. I forwarded her the definitive reference
text on the subject of Vulcan mating."
For a moment, Trip's face went blank in shock as he digested this news.
T'Pol sensed his panic under the surface. "I'm sorry. I should have
let you tell your parents about our relationship."
"No... look, I'm the one who should be sorry. I should have told my
family about us weeks ago. I just... didn't know how to tell her about
you." Before she could respond, he continued. "It's not that
you're Vulcan. What I mean is... marriage is the sort of thing that
mothers back home like to be a part of, you know? I guess I was afraid
she'd be disappointed if she found out she'd missed it."
T'Pol frowned in confusion. "You wish your mother had been present
at our first mating?"
Trip's face blanched. "NO!! Hell, no! I was talking about
the ceremony."
"We have not held a ceremony. It is considered a technicality in
Vulcan society. The bond itself is the important thing."
"Well... on Earth, the ceremony is kind of a big deal."
T'Pol considered this. "Then perhaps we should hold one."
Trip reacted in surprise for a moment, then looked at her with a bemused
smile. "Maybe we will. You're amazing, T'Pol. You know that?"
Now it was T'Pol's turn to smile... at least with her eyes. "So you
have said." She glanced down at the water briefly, and he could sense
her apprehension. "Your mother has invited me to join your family's
celebration of your return."
"Of course she did. You're a part of that family now." He
smiled at her amused, when she looked up. "I have to warn you,
though, the Tuckers can be a little overwhelming for the uninitiated. Especially
my mother. I'd hate to bring you home for the first time only to scare you
away for good."
T'Pol understood his concern, reaching up to touch his cheek softly. "I
would never choose to leave you. You are my husband. You are my life."
Trip felt her love for him flood his consciousness once more, and he sent
his own to her in return. Soon they were kissing, lightly at first, but it
was not long before things became more passionate. Then a chime sounded
from the controls. Trip glanced over at it. He'd set the timer to alert
him at 07:00.
"We've got breakfast with the Captain in an hour." He glanced
back at T'Pol. "If we're gonna get you in scuba shape, we'd better
get back to those swimming lessons."
Her eyes were growing feverish again. She ran her fingers inside the
waistband of his swimming trunks. "Perhaps you can teach me when we
reach Earth instead?"
Trip grinned, even as he began to succumb to the inevitable. He reached
over to turn off the timer... and lock the door.
"Darlin', you're killing me here..."
...
"Captain, I thought you should know, we've crossed the Oort boundary.
We're just passing Pluto now. ETA to Earth orbit is thirty-seven minutes."
"Right on schedule. I'll be up there in a little while, Malcolm."
"Aye, sir."
Archer flipped off the com and resumed his place at the breakfast table.
Across from him, T'Pol was picking through a fruit salad, the very picture
of composure. On his right, his Chief Engineer was plowing through a plate
of French toast like there was no tomorrow. Every now and then, the Vulcan
would glance over at Trip as he ate, and Archer was sure he could see a
hint of amusement in her expression. The Captain shook his head in wonder
and smiled.
"So... Admiral Forrest tells me there's going to be a lot of media
waiting for us at Spacedock. It seems our homecoming is the top story on
all the newscasts."
Trip grinned. "Imagine that. Seems kinda strange, goin' home after
all this time. What have you got planned, Captain? After all the hoopla, I
mean."
"Porthos and I are going on a nice, quiet retreat. We're staying at
the cabin up in Banif."
"The one in the mountains? By the lake? I always loved that place."
"Me too. When my father died, I couldn't bring myself to sell it.
What about you T'Pol?"
"Commander Tucker is presenting me to his family."
Archer laughed at her turn of phrase. "That should be...
fascinating. The Tucker clan is quite the bunch. They're very..."
The Vulcan raised an eyebrow. "Touchy-feely?"
The Captain laughed again, nodding at Trip. "I see he's been
coaching you. I was going to say 'hands-on', but 'touchy-feely' works too.
Are you ready for that?"
T'Pol considered the question. "They are now my family as
well. It is my obligation to acquaint myself with them. I am looking
forward to the opportunity." She was about to eat a bite of
cantaloupe when she paused. "I have decided to bring extra nasal
inhibitor as an added precautionary measure."
Both Trip and Archer were laughing now. Archer shook his head. "Very
prudent, Sub-Commander."
Just then Trip seemed to remember something, and he turned to his friend.
"Hey Captain... when you're finished retreatin' and all, you should
come down and join us. Dad's gonna take us all out on the boat out next
week. Everyone's invited - the whole command crew. My family would love to
have you there."
Archer considered the offer. "Is your mom cooking her pasta
jambalaya?"
"Absolutely."
"Then I wouldn't miss it."
Suddenly, T'Pol chimed in. "Captain... if I may make a
recommendation for your retreat?"
Archer looked up in surprise, glancing quickly at Trip. "Certainly.
What did you have in mind?"
"Perhaps you should consider taking the opportunity to have your
tension relieved. It has worked remarkably well for Commander Tucker. I
have noted that his efficiency has gone up by a factor of two since--"
Trip nearly choked on his breakfast. Archer shifted uneasily in his
chair.
"Uh, I'll... I'll take that under advisement, T'Pol..."
...
At that very moment, up on the Bridge, Malcolm was also shifting in his
chair. To be fair, it was really the Captain's chair, but it was his for
the time being at least. Though the Enterprise was headed home, the
Tactical Officer was feeling... well, depressed was too strong a word for
it. Melancholy? Maybe. It was rare that Malcolm mourned the lack of
intimate relationships that his duty made necessary. The Lieutenant loved
his job with a passion and, most of the time, that was enough. But every
now and then, the lack of companionship with a woman... well, in those
rare moments he sometimes missed it.
It wasn't like there weren't women in his life. In fact, he'd
struck up friendships with several of the female members of the ship's
company. Ensign Sato, for example. Malcolm even considered their Vulcan
First Officer a friend of sorts, at least professionally. There was a
mutual respect between them, he knew. But he was now almost certain that
T'Pol was, in fact, getting on with Commander Tucker, and had been for
some weeks... shocking and unlikely though the idea might be. Lucky
bastard, Malcolm thought disgustedly. Told me he hadn't even
noticed her bum. And, as if that wasn't bad enough, Malcolm had been
forced to sit watch on the Bridge for the last half-hour with Hoshi and
Travis making eyes at one another. Hell, it almost seemed as if everyone
on the ship was shagging but him!
Just then, Malcolm felt the hair stand up on the back of his neck. His
misery quickly forgotten, the Lieutenant glanced around the Bridge
cautiously. Nothing seemed amiss. On the main viewscreen, the giant,
swirling bulk of Jupiter was swiftly growing in size as they approached.
Hoshi and Travis were at their stations, as were other crewmen, and no one
seemed concerned about anything. But for some reason he couldn't put his
finger on, the Tactical Officer's nerves were on edge. Something just
wasn't right. He couldn't shake the sudden sense of edginess he felt...
and he'd learned to trust such things over the years.
It was then that the signal came in. Hoshi glanced up at him from
Communications when her station chirped insistently.
"Sir... there's a coded message coming in from Starfleet. Top
priority." She suddenly looked puzzled. "It's for you,
Lieutenant."
Malcolm smiled wryly. "For me? You must be joking."
"No sir. It's definitely for you. Text only."
He frowned in surprise. He'd always hated surprises. "Send it to my
station."
As Hoshi complied, he walked around to Tactical and activated a monitor.
The incoming message appeared instantly:
SEC-31 00909887851
RT: Lt. M. Reed, TAC, NX-01
August 6, 1588. What would have happened if King Philip II had sent word
to the Duke of Parma to meet the Spanish Armada at Calais a day early?
Something important is about to happen, Malcolm. Something terrible. Do
not alert Captain Archer or anyone else - this is absolutely critical. It
all depends on you now. You will be contacted again soon.
Be watchful. Be on your guard.
Malcolm blanched. He re-read the message. Then he re-read it again.
Finally, he glanced up alarmed. "Hoshi, can you tell me who sent this
message? The header's unusual. The point of origin signature is missing."
The Ensign checked her system and frowned. "That's strange. It was
transmitted to us through the Ganymede com relay, but I'm not showing any
record of where it came from, other than that it was included in the
latest packet of communiqués from Starfleet. It could be an
incomplete message. Shall I request a re-transmission from the relay?"
Malcolm shook his head absently, his mind whirling. "No. That's
fine."
Hoshi noted his unusual expression and became concerned. "Are you
sure?"
He erased the message and switched off the display. "Yes. Just
forget about it." After a moment, he resumed his place in the
Captain's chair and the Bridge returned to normal.
But if Malcolm had been edgy before, he was positively crawling out of
his skin now. Why would anyone send such a message to him? Top priority
transmissions were usually directed to the Captain. But this one was
clearly meant for him.
What would have happened if King Philip II had sent word to the Duke
of Parma to meet the Spanish Armada at Calais a day early?
That was easy. The combined forces of Philip and Parma would have easily
deflected the attacking English fleet. Parma's army would have landed
successfully at Kent and marched, almost unopposed, all the way to London.
Queen Elizabeth Tudor would have been deposed. The course of British
history would have changed. Malcolm had written a thesis on this very
subject at Starfleet's Tactical College. Clearly, whoever had sent the
message was aware of his historical expertise.
But who had sent it? And why? What did it mean? Why couldn't he
tell the Captain? That bothered him as much, if not more, than anything
else in the mysterious message. Could there be a security problem on board
the Enterprise? Something wrong at their destination? Perhaps a threat
directed against the ship after it arrived at Spacedock? A conspiracy in
Starfleet? The possibilities multiplied quickly in Malcolm's mind... and
none of them were reassuring.
Well... there was nothing he could do at the moment that wouldn't raise
concern. Be watchful, the message had said. Be on your guard.
Malcolm smiled grimly.
Too bloody right...
...
As the Enterprise dived across the ecliptic, racing toward the inner
solar system, the angry colossus of Jupiter, with its glaring red eye, was
left far behind. But though Jupiter's eye was ever-watchful, it was also
unseeing. And even had it not been blind, no eye could have
detected the ghostly disturbance that followed the first Human starship
back to Earth.
That the disturbance was a cloaked warship would certainly have
interested the Enterprise's Tactical Officer, had he been aware of it.
That this particular class of warship had not yet been designed, built or
put into operation by its masters - and would not be for more than a
century - might have interested him even more.
But watchful and on his guard though Malcolm Reed now was, these facts
were beyond his grasp. So the Enterprise continued on unaware. And, with
just the slightest shimmer as its cloaking field was adjusted to
compensate for the ever increasing solar winds, the warship followed it
home.
--- FIN ---
If you liked what you just read, be sure to check out my other stories,
One Step Back, Two Steps Forward, Sympathies and Symmetries,
Time Enough and Differential, in that order, which are all
part of a continuing series. And watch for the next installment, Objects
in Motion, coming later in 2003.
Best wishes as always!
Zane Gray
4/12/03
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