Chapter 4

Episode 4: Reunited

Trip was lying on his back as Hoshi mounted him.

"It's probably a bit late to ask this," he said as his throbbing pole disappeared into the young woman's drenched opening. "Does Malcolm know about this?"

"Who do you think he said I should ask?" she sighed as her hips came to rest upon his. "They've been down there for three days looking for that woman. Malcolm and T'Pol take care of each other; wouldn't you say it's 'logical' we do the same? Especially since the group meeting had to be canceled?"

"I love logic," he said as Hoshi started to move up and down. She had her hands behind her head and by the look of it she had developed a fondness for blindfolded sex since the 'fun and games' on New Year's Eve five weeks ago.

"Trip ... may I ask you ... a favor?"

"In case you missed what we're just doing," he replied with a chuckle to her breathless question, gently kneading her breasts. "You can ask me anything, honey."

"I'll need ... a lift ... couple times ... to Lausanne."

He pinched her nipples gently as Hoshi rode him happily at a steady pace.

"Hon, why do you want to go to Switzerland? Only tax evaders and women in need of a boob job go there these days."

"I'm ... one of ... the women," she replied, out of breath. "I want a boob job."

He grabbed her hips and made her sit down – with himself still buried in her, but she sat still for a moment.

"Hoshi, there's nothing wrong with your boobs and I refuse to believe that Malcolm is that shallow."

"It's not Malcolm," she said, roaming his chest with her hands. "It's I who's not happy with them."

"Hoshi, fake tits look ridiculous, especially on someone as slender as you," he argued.

"That's why I'm getting natural implants," she answered starting to ride him again with a giggle. "They'll take some fatty tissue out of the pitiful mole hills I have and graft mountains from it."

"Well, I'm not an expert on that," he said, holding her hips as she worked his rod. "But doesn't that cost a fortune?"

"T'Pol ... pays ... half of it," she admitted.

That was just like his better half. T'Pol didn't really have a very pronounced bi-streak, but he knew that she fancied the odd tryst here and there with Hoshi and Anna. And as far as he could tell she really loved Hoshi in a very close friend kind of way, much as he did. It would only be logical for her that she'd cough up the dough if it made Hoshi feel better about herself.

"T'Pol only pays a third," he said. "I'm chippin' in too, honey."

He hugged her as Hoshi bent forward to kiss him eagerly.

T'Pol swung the Machete to hack off the branches that obstructed their way. Her mind was at rest following the night's intimacy with Lieutenant Reed. She would have preferred to be with her chosen, a sentiment most likely shared with the ship's tactical officer, but their mission was not yet done, even after three days of searching, so she had sated her overpowering desire with him, knowing that in absence of alternatives her mate would approve of her decision. No doubt Hoshi would do the same with Trip's help back on the ship.

Considering that they had located the life-sign of the Akaali female using the shuttle's sensors, failure to find her could only mean that the woman was constantly on the move. Most likely she didn't know what they knew. There were no predators large enough to attack a humanoid on this continent. Apparently the flawed logic of her fellow Vulcans had not extended to thinking about what would happen to the female if she was exiled to an unknown stretch of land.

They walked out of the undergrowth onto a clearing and charred remains of a camp fire could be seen. She picked up a piece of coal and sniffed it.

"There is residue of animal fat," she replied, twisting her face in distaste. "She must have been here within the last eight hours."

Her further explanation was cut short though when she saw the frozen figure of the captain. He didn't react to any attempt to address him, even when she used his first name Jonathan.

Following the glance of the captain she spotted the alien female among the trees on the other side of the clearing. She was dirty, disheveled and completely unclothed.

Before she could think of anything to say the captain broke into tears and ran towards the female and their so far elusive target did the same.

T'Pol exchanged a look with Lieutenant Reed and she saw a rare picture. The ship's tactical officer was smiling. She allowed the corners of her mouth to move up ever so slightly – their captain had found what he had been looking for all the time – peace and contentment.

"What are you doing out here in the woods all naked, love?" he heard the Brit say as he tried not to hover too much. Malcolm was putting a blanket around Rianne. Not that it was necessary in the scorching heat, but gentleman as he was the tactical officer thought it was his duty to defend the modesty of a female in need.

"Her people probably meant well," the alien said with a look at T'Pol. "But they literally took me out of my bed. I cannot describe it. It felt like I was dissolving and suddenly I was here with no clothes and all alone."

Jon's eyes went wide when T'Pol grabbed Malcolm's hand and walked away with him. " ... give them some privacy" was the only bit he could hear of their conversation.

"Well, we gathered as much," Trip answered to T'Pol's report from the surface. He sat in Jon's chair as the ranking officer.

"Do we need to prepare anything, decon?" he asked.

"Considering she has spent at least five weeks on this unknown continent, I would advise to conduct a full decontamination cycle. It would be prudent if the captain underwent the procedure as well."

He raised his hand to hide a smile. He doubted that the captain needed much decontamination, their scans would have shown something like that, but considering Hoshi's shit-eating grin he wasn't the only one who had noticed that the captain had hopelessly fallen in love with the alien woman during their first visit to the planet...

"Acknowledged Commander, we'll prepare everything for your arrival. Do you have an ETA for us?" he replied, carefully trying not to let too much emotion seep into his voice. As much as T'Pol was willing to humor his playfulness in private time, during duty hours she would not accept anything but entirely professional conduct.

"We will dock to airlock fifteen. Please have replacement clothing delivered to sickbay for all of us. Miss Rianne's body dimensions have been uploaded to the ship's computer."

"Anna, you've got the bridge," he said, walking towards the turbo lift.

Airlock fifteen opened directly into the decon chamber, which was why he was waiting in front of it. A large privacy curtain had been installed to separate the decon chamber from the rest of sickbay and for good reason as well.

The away teams usually consisted of the captain and other officers and more than half of those were part of their group, so with no inhibitions to pay attention to, the practice of sitting in decon in underwear had been abolished. There was something patently illogical about going through decontamination and then bring whatever they had imported from the planet to the ship anyway on their underwear.

Granted, back on earth, where space wasn't a premium commodity, there were separate decon chambers for men and women, but on the ship there was only one. Obviously T'Pol would not have been this relaxed about sitting naked in a sealed room with a bunch of humans just a few months ago, but since the away teams rarely featured someone who wasn't a regular visitor to C47 this problem had resolved quite nicely.

In fact the captain was the only non-group member most of the time, but he was immune to temptation and the reason for that immunity was currently sitting in decon with him.

The door opened. T'Pol and Malcolm stepped out and he handed them fresh underwear.

"Were we right?" he asked in reference to the suspicion they all had that the captain was hopelessly in love with the alien they had rescued from a life as a hermit.

"I don't think I've ever seen him cry before," Malcolm replied, unfolding the fresh uniform Trip had brought. "We were right on the money."

"I'm sorry," Jon said honestly, dabbing one of the many wounds on her body with a disinfectant-doused swab. "Had I know what would happen to you, we would have taken you with us immediately."

Now that she had taken a shower at least the grime was gone, but it also exposed the many injuries she had taken. Not knowing of the lack of predators Rianne had spent the nights high up in trees and climbing those completely naked had left many scratches and bruises. He would definitely need to have a word with the Vulcans about their idea of 'logic'.

"You were no more knowledgeable about traveling to the stars than I am knowledgeable about your ship," she said amid pained hisses when the sting of the disinfectant touched another wound. "You finally came to get me; that's all that matters."

His eyes filled with tears and he looked away while giving her a short respite from the painful procedure.

"Did you and Hoshi?" Malcolm asked as the turbo-lift carried them towards the bridge. Trip silenced him with a wave of his hand.

"Duty time, Malcolm," he reminded the Brit, tapping his wrist watch. "Let's discuss that over dinner."

He saw the slightly embarrassed look on his friends face. It wasn't often that Malcolm forgot their rule that everything pertaining group activities was strictly taboo during duty hours. Even T'Pol couldn't help it and displayed an eyebrow, raised in amusement about the squirming tactical officer.

Malcolm was sipping his beer, looking at the stars streaking by outside the mess hall windows. With all sorts of not-really-legal beverages being the only thing that wasn't running short on this ship, the captain, defying Starfleet yet again, had lifted the ban on alcohol. Granted, it didn't make his work any easier as his security teams had had to collect hopelessly drunk crew members more than once. But since the bigwigs in San Francisco had seemingly never spent more than five minutes on thinking how to keep up crew morale on such a long journey, everything that kept the knackered crowd from rioting was fair game.

"Hi Malcolm."

The arrival of the ship's chief engineer was quite unnecessarily noisy, but two years out here had taught him that some things would probably never change.

"You're quite late," he said, a slight accusation on his voice about the perceived tardiness of his American friend.

"Had a mattress from the group room delivered to decon," the engineer explained. "Looks like Jon and Rianne have to stay in there for the night. Phlox says she's contracted some sort of virus. Still dormant, but he doesn't want to run any risk."

Malcolm was about to return a sarcastic remark about it hopefully not being a mattress they had actually used, but he knew that T'Pol in particular was fairly obsessed with hygiene, so any mattress would have undergone rigorous cleaning and disinfection by now, especially considering that this week's meeting had been canceled.

"What was it you were about to ask about Hoshi?" the engineer asked. "It's not like you to forget that we never talk about private stuff on duty hours, so I guess it is sort of important."

Malcolm started drawing imaginary circles on the table with his finger as he found it hard to talk about. But then, he would never think about asking anyone but Trip.

"Hoshi came up the other day with that weird fantasy of hers..." he started evasively.

"She wants it rough," Trip filled in and Malcolm gasped at the blunt reply. He just nodded.

"I can't do that, Trip. I can shoot a guy right between the eyes, but inflicting pain on Hoshi, no way, no matter that she actually wants me to."

"Two hours from now she'll get her wish," the chief engineer continued dryly, keeping his voice down. "But before you worry, I'll cheat. There's no way I'm going in dry. If she wants it to hurt a bit that's one thing, but doing damage is out of the question."

Malcolm sent him a grateful glance. "Anything I can do to help?"

"Dunno how much influence you have on her clothing selection, but anything I can rip off with one hand? The other one will be full of Vaseline."

It wasn't a frequent occurrence, but Malcolm couldn't help it – he laughed out loud.

"So she doesn't know," he half-asked, half-stated once he had composed himself again.

"'Course not," Trip said. "That's part of the fantasy isn't it? I have the override code so your better half is in for one helluva surprise."

"I'll make sure she doesn't wear anything precious," Malcolm said with a grin. "She doesn't wear much of it most of the time, but Hoshi can be a bit strange when it comes to her wardrobe. In fact I have a perfect idea."

Trip laughed once Malcolm had told him of his ruse. Hoshi wearing nothing but a suspender belt and long, thigh-high stockings would be a sight to behold. He wondered if Malcolm could really pull that stunt off. Granted, his telling her he wanted to see her in that getup would go a long way.