Chapter 5: The Last Mission

Malcolm checked his disguise carefully. Two days ago the the fake beard had come off and his skin had its original tone back. He was now sporting a bushy mustache and a blue overall, the latest fad among the many latinos in the city.

Yesterday he had finally confessed to Trip that T'Pol would have to undergo a fairly radical change of hairdo, but to his surprise he wasn't angry about it. In fact he had declared it a chance to convince T'Pol to part with the Vulcan mop and go for a different look.

Well if Hoshi is somewhat punctual for a change, she will be looking mucho different in an hour, Señor, he thought to himself, practicing his Spanish accent in his mind. It surely helped being married to Starfleet's brightest linguist. In a show of solidarity he had shaved his head as well, or more precisely, Hoshi did. With the cap drawn deep into his face, he peered into the engine bay of an old hover car and worked away aimlessly at the obsolete fusion engine.

"Excuse me, Sir," a male voice asked from behind. "I was wondering if you could help me."

"What can I do for you, Señor?" Malcolm asked back without taking his head out of the engine bay.

"An old friend of mine used to take care of my old hover car, but he has quit his job and I need a new mechanic, now."

Slowly Malcolm crawled out of the engine bay and flashed his visitor a big smile.

"Great to see you again, Falks," he said had grabbed the offered hand.

"You don't look too shabby either, Limey," Falkner said. "I've heard Hoshi made an honest man of you. You're one lucky bastard."

"You know her?" Malcolm asked.

"Of course. I made more money in her gambling Empire at the Academy than I ever got from the section. I can't believe that you of all people ended up marrying the most sought after catch of the whole academy. Nobody had a chance. Kept telling everybody, she's waiting for the 'right one'. Of course she was way too young for me anyway."

"Well, it's certainly not my social skills I have to thank for that. You'll probably think I'm crazy, but we were set up by Vulcan."

"The Hero of the Orpheus raid – Captain T'Pol of Vulcan, first Vulcan in history to marry a human and first Vulcan to officiate at a human wedding," Falkner rattled off the facts as he followed Malcolm into a small dwelling.

"You're still bloody good at your job, Falks," Malcolm said.

"Former job," he emphasized. "Harris cashed in on his favor and that's it for me. I'm trying to find a job in the security business. I've heard you're retiring, too."

"Definitely," Malcolm said and offered Falkner a cold beer from the fridge. "I'll do one last job and bring the section back to its feet, then I'm out for good as well."

"Well, I may have something to help you with that. I bet my bottom credit you're planning a nice little accident for the venerable Admiral Black."

"How do you know?" Malcolm asked.

"I can add one and one and get something other than eleven. It was I who found out about his involvement with Terra Prime and Humanity First, remember."

"As I said, still bloody good at it," Malcolm appreciated. "So what do you have?"

"I've been keeping tabs on Black. I wanted to sell the scoop to Starfleet for nice lump of currency, when the timing's right, but since it's you who's going after him, consider it a belated wedding gift."

Malcolm chuckled and they clinked bottles.

"I suppose you know where he is?" Malcolm speculated.

"He's trying to lie low," Falkner explained and handed him a data patch. "He has a forest cabin near Logan, West Virginia. Left three days ago in what looked like quite a hurry. Its' all on this one. Usual crypto."

"Bloody brilliant," Malcolm enthused.

"By the way," Falkner added. "Knowing you, you probably can't resist a computer terminal that hasn't been broken into yet. Those blockheads think they're so superior, but they're still using the old Navajo codes. Should be easy stuff for that brilliant wife of yours."

"Can't tell you how much that helps us. Maybe you want to give us a call on Jupiter station when this is over, we could really use a man with your experience."

"I told you, I'm out of this," Falkner insisted.

"I'm not talking about the section, man. I'm talking about working for the official side. Black has all but wrecked Starfleet Security. We could use a man, who we can trust. You made it to Captain before you walked out, didn't you?"

"Yup, second in seniority behind Harris," he acknowledged.

"I bet Gardner would make you Commodore and Head of Security on the spot."

"And you make that offer on what authority?" Falkner asked.

"Gardner's," Malcolm replied dryly. "He gave me carte blanche. Full authority, including finding a suitable candidate to rebuild Starfleet Security. You could also keep Harris's arse in line."

"It's a tempting offer, I'll let you know," Falkner said. "That was the real reason you arranged this meeting, wasn't it?"

"Partly," Malcolm admitted and held up the data patch. "Major reason was to pick your brain about Black and I'd say that was quite successful. But I also hope that I can convince you to come back. We've got a bloody war on our hands and the last thing we need is wonky security. You'd be the perfect man for the job."

"I've left my private com code on the patch," Falkner said and stood up. "Give me a call when you're done with the job, Limey. I must think this over. Good hunt, man."

"Thanks," Malcolm answered and watched Falkner leave.

"Well, if linguistics don't pay off anymore, I can always become a barber," Hoshi snorted as she started shaving off T'Pol's hair. "You will look ridiculous. It looks quite good on Malcolm, but you... ?"

"Thankfully it is a temporary measure and it provides a good reason to change my hair. Trip has long been dissatisfied with the traditional Vulcan style."

"I don't think he's that shallow," Hoshi protested lightly.

"I didn't mean to say that my appearance is overly important to him. But the more content he is with my appearance, the easier it is to balance our bond. It is a daily challenge to balance it as humans do not have the luxury of eradicating outside influences by mental techniques."

"Is that why you came up with the tan line idea?" Hoshi giggled.

"To a degree," T'Pol admitted. "The main reason was to make him happy. His pleasure feeds back into the bond and we both profit from it. I also wish learn more about human sexual practices and customs. After all, I cannot expect him to be content with what Vulcan considers sufficiently effective reproductive activities."

"Are they that bland?" Hoshi asked.

"Hoshi, we are people, who need a recurring mental affliction like the pon-farr to fornicate properly."

Hoshi stopped shaving, lest she cut her friend as she doubled over in laughter.

"There are of course 'more adventurous' Vulcan couples, especially those who have dealings with other races," T'Pol explained further. "But for the majority, sexual relations are entirely restricted to the time of the pon-farr and there is nothing romantic to that particular time."

"Isn't it sort of pleasuring for Vulcans, too?" Hoshi asked, while recommencing the cleanup of T'Pol's head.

"To fully experience the pleasurable effects of mating, one has to reduce the control of emotions. If I don't allow myself to express the pleasure I experience, I would harm myself. Most Vulcans are too afraid of doing that and therefore experience fear rather than a desire to mate."

"Hence the pon-farr to force them to do it," Hoshi concluded. "I didn't realize it was that dangerous for you. I would think Trip isn't exactly the celibate type."

"You would be surprised," T'Pol said with an elevated 'giggle-brow'. "More often than not the impetus is given by me. I too thought once that he would be solely driven by carnal desires, but Trip is much more complex than that. He has quite a talent for ... foreplay."

"Oooh," Hoshi whistled. "You think he could give lessons to Malcolm?"

"How do I remove that particular mental image?" T'Pol asked dead-pan.

"Ready," Hoshi proclaimed under giggles.

"Thank you," T'Pol said and felt her bald head with one hand.

Hoshi looked back as Malcolm walked into their quarters.

"Hey, didn't I tell you guys to play elsewhere, when we have our neuropressure session?" Hoshi asked in mock-protest.

"Keep your shirt ... oh I forgot you aren't wearing any," Malcolm quipped. "Trust me love, the fact that you both look gorgeous is a bit secondary at the moment."

"Why thank you, kind Sir," Hoshi crooned.

"T'Pol, we're going ahead with the mission tonight. When you're ready, call me and we'll meet with Feezal to fit the wig."

"I will come with you now," T'Pol said, grabbing the cap she had brought. She donned the upper half of her underwear and her uniform and followed Malcolm out of the cabin.

"Wouldn't it be time to tell me your plans?" T'Pol whispered as they crawled through the undergrowth towards the small cabin.

"Not much to tell about it," Malcolm whispered back and continued crawling. "You'll see when it happens."

The old log cabin was dimly lit, but no sounds could be heard.

"You watch my back," Malcolm instructed. "If someone or something interrupts, shoot. But set it to stun."

T'Pol nodded as Malcolm continued crawling towards the cabin and raised a small mirror on a stick into the air to peer into the small window.

Slowly he stood up and confirmed his findings with his own eyeballs. All was like he had expected it. Black, not averse to stiff drink at any time had peered much too deep into the bottle. The pressure sure got to him and if the number of bottles scattered around were any indication, he had been plastered since he got here. The Admiral had passed out, his head resting on the table.

That's easier than I thought it would be, Malcolm thought and put the miniature tranquilizer gun back in his leg pocket. He opened the door slowly and carefully. Obviously the target had no sense for his own security as it was unlocked. Carefully looking around, Malcolm donned his gloves to prevent any finger prints. When he searched Black's not yet unpacked duffel bag, he found several PADDS and took them with him. He inched closer to the sleeping Admiral and carefully removed the phase pistol from Black's holster and pocketed it.

"I don't think you'll be needing that, Sir" Malcolm whispered to an unresponsive Admiral.

He left the door open.

"Give me the flask from the backpack," Malcolm whispered as he returned to be hiding spot of T'Pol.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Synthetic pheromones to attract some wildlife," Malcolm said and skulked back to the open door. Carefully he started to pour a trail of the clear liquid to the ground ending it on the opposite side of the clearing.

"What now?" T'Pol whispered when he came back and stored away the flask.

"Now we wait for wild life."

They had waited about 3 hours, when T'Pol's keen ear noticed cracking noises coming from the direction of Malcolm's pheromone trail and 5.31 minutes later a large bear appeared on the clearing. She stopped breathing lest she alert the beast. It didn't have the fangs of a sehlat, but it certainly had the size and strength.

Grunting and sniffing the animal inched closer to the cabin and walked inside.

A short while later the toppling of a chair could be heard and surprised yells from a disorientated human.

"What the ... get off me ... Aaaaaah..."

The acoustic spectacle continued for at least 12.7 minutes as a mixture of screams, cries and growls from an aggressive beast could be heard. Finally the ruckus died down.

They had to wait another 30.4 minutes until the beast had plundered all deposits of food in the dwelling. Covered in blood, but with a full stomach the beast came back out, sniffed the air one last time and toddled off to where it had come from.

"I'll go in and make it look convincing."

She acknowledged his whisper and trained her night vision googles on the surroundings for the case that the beast would come back.

Several phaser blasts could be heard from inside and finally Malcolm came back after he had opened the the window and closed the door.

"Is he... ?" T'Pol asked.

"Let's just say it'll take a while until they've cleaned up that mess. Let's go," Malcolm instructed and they crawled back to the camouflaged shuttle pod.

"Nice work, Limey, nice work," Falkner whistled in appreciation and put the PADD with the morning issue of the San Francisco Chronicle aside. Obviously the man, whom he had once introduced to the basics of being an agent for the section had lost nothing of the ingenuity and determination, which had once made him the best in his class.

"Found anything?" Malcolm asked as he walked into the office the next day. Hoshi and Trip were working on the PADDs he and T'Pol had brought back from Black's cabin.

"We have the camp," Trip said and plugged the connector into the PADD. A satellite photo appeared on the view screen.

"Have that sent to Cole, tell her I want an attack plan by tomorrow evening," Malcolm ordered. "Has Gardner acknowledged the appointment with Strongfellow?"

"Came in an hour ago," Hoshi answered and handed him a PADD. "Jeffries and his aide meet with him in the factory tonight."

"Trip I need your help on that," Malcolm said and handed Trip a PADD after a short glance at the one he had just gotten from Hoshi. "I need you to read these specs. While Jeffries and I are in the factory with the bastard, I need you to do a number on his car. Preferably in a way that cannot be traced easily."

"He's driving a Stenson 2000HV? Hell, we just have to wait until that thing does the job on its own," Trip said shaking his head."

"I would prefer to speed up the process. Preferably about 2 minutes after the start-up."

"You got it, Malcolm," Trip said and walked out of the office.

"I'll transform myself into Commander Ordonez then," Malcolm said with a fake Spanish accent and walked out, too.

"You can tell me what you want, Mr. Strongfellow," Jeffries insisted. "You have a contract with Starfleet and several milestones have been missed by now. Your explanations are lame excuses at best."

"I told you we are working on it, Admiral," Strongfellow pleaded. "Now if you could give me someone like Tucker. Maybe we can get back on schedule."

"Tucker is busy building the ship that should have taken your engine. Now we are forced to buy from the Vulcans. And you will pay for that. I will inform Starfleet about the breach of contract first thing in the morning. You better look for something else to build in that plant of yours."

"Suit yourself," Strongfellow huffed and stormed off to his car.

He drove off angrily. About 90 seconds later a dull thud sounded from a distance.

"Wasn't that a Stenson he drove off in?" Jeffries asked.

"Indeed it was, Sir," Malcolm/Commander Ordonez said as the plant's fire brigade headed out. "Tragic, this."