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In the Line of Duty

 On board the Enterprise E,  Captain  Jean-Luc Picard sat behind his desk in his readyroom staring at the painting on the wall across  from him.   The  formal bridal portrait of Mrs. Vash Picard had been a wedding gift from Lieutenant Commander Data.   Data had  managed to capture how resplendent Vash had looked in her bridal gown of ivory satin overlaid with lace and completely covered with sequins and seed pearls.   Her veil had been held on by a tiara of pearls and Austrian crystals.  In the portrait she looked like a queen, each sequin and crystal making her shimmer from head to toe, as she sat so regally with the full ballgown skirt spilling over the sides of  the captain's chair on the bridge of the Enterprise E.  Picard dropped his gaze back down to where Vash was sitting on the couch right  below the painting.   She smiled at him with the same serene, self-satisfied smile she had in the portrait; that look was the reason Commander Riker had nicknamed her 'Queen Bee'.  He glanced quickly at his first officer who was leaning against the wall next to the couch and seemingly very amused by the whole thing.   He  turned his full attention back to his wife.

 "You  sold your security guard to Quark?" Picard asked incredulously.

 "It's not like Quark could have actually caught him," Vash defended herself.  "Besides, I wasn't selling him to Quark.  It was a couple of  the Dabo-girls and it was just for the night.  They found Lieutenant Massett entertaining and wanted to keep him as a pet.  And George didn't really seem to mind."

 "We have discussed your habit of ditching security guards before, on countless occasions.  I assign them to you for a reason," he stressed in an exasperated tone.  "Why do you insist on doing this to me?"

 Vash appeared to think that over.  "Maybe because you have buttons this big," as she held her hands about two feet apart, "that just say 'push me!'"

 "Even if you weren't the wife of the flagship captain," he continued as if he hadn't heard  her, "you are still one of the foremost experts on the Gamma quadrant.  Protecting you from the Romulans and the Cardassians was one of the reasons the Archaeology Council assigned you to the Enterprise in the first place."

 "I understand that, dear, and I never leave the sight of my security guards in situations  where I don't feel secure," Vash assured him as she stretched out on the couch.   She began to study the sparkle of the one carat diamond in her wedding ring.

 "When has Your Majesty ever felt insecure?"  Riker looked down at her and quipped in an amused and slightly sarcastic tone.

 Vash laid her head back and gazed up at Riker.  She cooed, "Oh, please don't hesitate to speak up, Will."  She looked back at her husband and rolled her eyes.  "I just think you're being a tad obsessive."

 "Indeed," Picard arched an eyebrow, "How so?"

 "Is it really necessary to send a security guard with me every time I leave the ship?" Vash badgered.

 "Yes," both men asserted.

 "On DS9, the two of you and Captain Sisko were all right there in the bar.   And why did I need one on Risa?  Were you afraid the cabana boy was going to massage me to death."

 Riker couldn't quite stifle a laugh.  Picard shot his first officer a look.   "Don't  encourage her, Number One."  Then looking back at Vash he continued, "If I were you, young lady, I wouldn't bring up our last visit to Risa."

 "Was it my fault  that you sent 'Lieutenant Adonis' with me on a girl's night out?  Besides, I wasn't the one who decided to make that particular stop.   Lwaxana  Troi wanted  to see Risa's famous all-male review, and apparently the women of Risa thought that the Greek god in a Starfleet uniform was just part of the show.  He seemed to enjoy it not to mention that he made some serious money," Vash explained, not the least bit ashamed.

 "Be that as it may, I've assigned a new security guard to you.  You are not to sell him, lose him in shopping bazaars, lock him in a holosuite, turn him into a male stripper, or auction him off to the highest bidder.  He does not need to be measured for a new uniform,  he does not want to marry an Orion princess, and he will not enjoy snipe hunting.   You will stay with him at all times when you are not on the ship.  Am I understood, young lady?"  Picard couldn't wait to see her try some of her usual tricks on this one.

 "Yes, dear."   He could be such a killjoy, she thought to herself.  She decided she would just have to be more creative with this one.

 "Number One, would you bring in Lieutenant Lar."  Picard sat back in his chair feeling quite pleased with himself.

 "With pleasure, sir."  Riker couldn't wait to see Vash's reaction to this.  Riker, along with most of the crew, had secretly reveled in Vash's antics.   But, as amusing as Vash's antics had been, he had to agree with the captain that enough was enough.

 The door opened and in walked a pleasant-looking young officer in a security uniform.  He wasn't too tall, Vash thought, about 5'1O, she estimated.  He had short, dark, wavy hair which accented his dark eyes.   He was built, but not too bulky.  Cute, she thought to herself, I'll lose him in five minutes, tops.

 "Easier thought  than done,  Mrs. Picard," the young officer smiled.  "But thank you for the compliment."

 "What?" Vash stood up and looked accusingly at her husband.

 "Oh, did I forget to mention that he's Betazoid?" Picard took great joy in the look that crossed his wife's face.

 "Geoff Lar, of the planet Betazed, at your service, ma' am."

 "Stop laughing,  Will."  Vash couldn't believe they would do this to her. "Jean-Luc, that's cheating."

 "Deal with it, chere," came Picard's succinct reply.

SIX MONTHS LATER

 "We will be proceeding straight to the Klingon Home World after picking up the Federation's envoy tomorrow at 0900 hours," Captain Jean-Luc Picard told his senior officers.  They were all seated around the large table in the conference room off the bridge of the Enterprise E.  They had just finished going over the weekly reports.  He looked across the conference table at his second officer.  "Data, do you have any background information on Ambassador Fontaine."

 "Yes, sir," Lieutenant Commander Data's face twisted slightly with concentration as he accessed the necessary file. "Ambassador Catherine Fontaine, thirty years old.  She is the youngest person to ever become a member of the Federation diplomatic corp.  She is one of the Federation's leading experts in Klingon politics.  She graduated from Oxford at the top of her class with a doctorate in political science; afterward, she spent six years living on the Klingon Home World, serving as a Federation advisor to the Klingon High Council.  She speaks one hundred languages including Klingonese, and Cardassian.  She is widely respected on the Klingon High Council and, like yourself, Captain, Gowron requested that she be present when the new treaty is signed.

 Commander William T. Riker whistled under his breath and looked at Picard.  "That's impressive; but just how interested is the High Council in a treaty with us versus the Romulans?"

 Picard folded his hands on the table and looked over at his first officer, "That's what I hope the Ambassador will be able to tell us, Number One.  Please see to our guest's accommodations."

 "Of course, sir," Riker responded.

 "Mr. Worf, have you had any luck contacting your brother?" Picard asked the security chief.  "Kurn might be able to tell us how much support the Romulan's really have in the High Council."

 "No, sir," Lieutenant Commander Worf replied.  "I have been unable to reach him.  However, at my wedding, he did mention that the faction supporting the Romulans was slowly gaining strength.  Considering our family history, he was concerned about it."

 "Lovely, just lovely.  If there is nothing else?"  Picard looked around to see all of his officers shaking their heads.  It had been a very long day.  "Dismissed."

 Picard looked down at the notes he had taken on his PADD. He could hear his officers stretching and getting up.  He heard the door to the conference room open.  Picard looked up and smiled, now this was a sight for sore eyes.  Standing in the doorway was his beautiful wife.   Discreetly, he let his eyes sweep over her.   His smile grew a little, as he recalled overhearing one young officer on DS7 refer to her as the 'little brunette number with the legs'.  She was casually dressed in a crisp white cotton shirt and tight dark blue denim Levi's, which only served to accent her feminine silhouette.
 
 "Am I interrupting anything?" Vash smiled as she noticed a certain look in her husband's grey eyes.

 "We just finished."  Picard stood and straightened his uniform top.  "Please, come in."

 "Actually, I needed to see Dee," Vash turned to face Deanna as the counselor walked toward her.  "Alexander left his water pistols in my office last week while he was visiting."  Vash held up the two water pistols in her hands, they were replicas of old Western six-shooters.  She began to hand the guns to Deanna.

 "Thank you," Deanna replied as she took one of the water pistols.   The two women exchanged a mischievous glance.   Deanna lowered her voice to a whisper, "We really shouldn't."

 "I know, but I have always had a serious impulse control deficit," with that, the two women pivoted to face their respective mates.  Vash gave the command, "Fire!"

 Taken totally by surprise, Picard and Worf suddenly found themselves drenched in a hail of watergun fire.  Both men wiped the water from their eyes, and began to advance on their attackers.

 Vash looked at Deanna and said.  "Time to get the hell out of Dodge."  Both women turned and bolted out of the conference room.

 Behind him Picard could hear the rest of his staff trying to suppress a few chuckles.  He shook his head and let out a soft chuckle of his own.  Picard turned to Worf.  He arched one eyebrow and in a good-natured tone remarked, "Mr. Worf, I think we should consider that an act of war, and as such it cannot go unanswered."

 "Agreed," was Worf's gruff, but also amused, reply.

 "If the rest of you will excuse us," Picard gestured for Worf to go ahead of him.  The two officers calmly left the conference room to go in search of their errant wives.

 The door slid shut behind them.  Grinning, Data looked over at Riker and Geordi, "Anyone care to wager on who the victors will be?"

 Geordi grinned back, "I'd lay my money on the two queen bees."

 There was a amused glint in Riker's blue eyes as he chimed in, "I think that would be a pretty safe bet."

 Picard stopped in front of the door to the quarters he shared with his wife.  He shook his head, smiling to himself.  He knew he was walking into an ambush.  He was used to that, life with Vash was one delightful little ambush after another.  He stepped into the quarters to find them completely dark, except for the starlight coming from the large windows that lined the outside wall.  Picard noticed that Charcoal, Vash's small black cat, was curled up asleep in one of the window ledges behind the dining table.

 Picard took a cautious step into the room, looking past his desk to the bedroom.  Not seeing any obvious traps, he called out cautiously,  "Lights."

 Just as the word left his lips, Vash popped up from behind the desk chair to soak him again with a second barrage from the water gun.  She had a very self-satisfied look on her face.

 Picard raised an eyebrow and regarded his wife with mock annoyance.  The amusement in his soft grey eyes gave away his true feelings.  The desk curved on one side to meet the wall, he had her trapped.  As he walked toward her, water still dripping off his nose, he said, "That was incredibly childish."

 "It was," Vash agreed as she sat on the desk, watching him advance on her.  She very quickly raised the water pistol and leveled it at his chest.

 Picard stopped.  Giving Vash a small nod of approval, he admitted, "That's quite an impressive quick draw."

 "Why, thank you, darling," Vash cooed and squirted again.

 Picard was ready this time, he dodged the water and lunged toward Vash.  Vash swung her legs up and over the desk, jumping off the other side.  She wasn't quite fast enough, Picard managed to grab one of the small belt loops at the waist of her jeans. She squealed as he pulled her back toward the desk and turned her to face him.  With one hand he held onto one of her belt loops, he held his other hand out, palm up.

 "Now, ma petite, let me have it."

 "Okay."  Vash looked down for a moment, for all intents and purposes beaten. Then she looked up into his handsome face and finished, "Remember, you asked for this," and let loose with yet another round of water.  She used the split second distraction to break free and run.

 Grinning, Picard, in one smooth move, leapt over the desk to pursue Vash.  He chased her around the living room until they were standing on opposite sides of a big easychair that they had just finished circling.  "Now, Madam Picard, you are really in trouble."

 "And just what will mon capitaine do with me?" Vash laughed as she teased him.  "Put me over his knee and spank me?"

 Picard regarded his very beautiful, but mischievous, wife.  Her blue eyes sparkled with her laughter.  During the chase a couple of buttons on her white blouse had come open to reveal a tantalizing view of the white lace trim of her brassiere.  The jeans appeared to be painted onto her shapely figure.  They emphasized her small waist, flat stomach, and every other curve in that general area.  He gave a small smile, "I just might."

 "Promises, promises," Vash retorted.  Then she leapt onto the chair, and jumped over the back of it.  Picard grabbed one of the sleeves of her blouse.  Vash managed to wiggle out of the shirt and still keep her grip on the squirt gun.  Leaving Picard holding an empty shirt, she ran into their bedroom.  Picard dropped the shirt and gave chase once more.

 Vash jumped onto their bed and tried to run across to the bathroom, but she got tripped up in the covers.  Just as she rolled over on her back, Picard threw himself onto the bed pinning her small body beneath his own muscular one.  Out of the corner of his eye he saw her hand with the squirt gun start to move.  He captured both of her small wrists and pinned them in one of his large hands above her head.  They were both breathing heavily from the chase.  With his other hand he held the squirt gun he had wrested from her grasp.  He looked down at her with a wicked grin.

 "You wouldn't dare," she panted.

 One eyebrow twitched and Picard promptly proceeded to squirt her neck and chest with the last little bit of water. Gasping as the cold water struck her heated skin, Vash wiggled and squirmed trying to escape.  The water gone, he tossed the toy aside.  He looked down at the lovely woman he had pinned to the bed.  Vash was still trying to catch her breath.  Her taut, rose-colored nipples strained against the thin, wet material of her brassiere, barely peeking out where the satin met the lace trim.  He let his eyes trail down her, struck by the contrast of the smooth ivory skin of her stomach disappearing into the dark denim of her jeans.  He brought his eyes back up to her face.  Slowly, the playfulness was giving way to something much more primitive and insistent.  He reached down with his free hand to unhook and remove his boots.  He no intention of letting a perfect opportunity like this slip by him.

 With each ragged breath Vash took, Jean-Luc's masculine scent teased and stirred her senses.  He still gently held both her wrists in one hand above her head.  She could feel the rough wool of his uniform against the bare skin of her upper torso and the weight of his long hard body pressing down on hers.  He had one of her legs trapped between his, even through her jeans and his uniform trousers she could feel his hard arousal pressing against her.  Her hips rocked against his in an inarticulate attempt to satisfy the ache inside her.  It was unbelievable to her that his mere proximity could excite her.  She looked up into the handsome chiseled features of his face.  As her eyes met his, she recognized the same desire in his steely grey eyes.  She tried to tease, but her voice was breathless with desire. "Jean-Luc, I'm wet."

 Picard knew she was referring to the water fight, but the passion in her voice plus his own gave rise to the more erotic connotation of that statement.  A soft groan escaped his lips as he lowered himself onto her, capturing her lips in a deep kiss.  He slipped his tongue past her parted lips to thoroughly explore the warm, moist cavern of her mouth.  His free hand slid up her flat stomach to unhook the brassiere clasp, conveniently located in the center of her enticing cleavage.  Vash's body arched toward him as his hand slid under the flimsy wet material.  He heard her breath catch in her throat as his hand brushed against the sensitive skin when he pushed the drenched satin aside.  As he deepened the kiss, he let his fingers tease first one straining nipple and then it's twin.  Picard felt her body twist beneath him as she desperately tried to free her hands.  Vash broke the kiss.

 "Jean-Luc, please . . ."  was all she could manage to gasp.  No sooner did he release her hands, than they were urgently pulling at the fasteners of his wet uniform tunic and pulling it off, dropping it to the floor.   She let her hands glide down the masculine slope of his shoulders to linger on the bulging biceps of his upper arms.  Her hands moved to curl themselves in the coarse, curly hair on his chest.  She could feel the muscles rippling beneath her palms.  She sought out the small sensitive nubs hidden among the sparse thatch of wiry hair.  She flicked them with a fingernail and then pulled and twisted on them.  He lowered his mouth to gently nibble at the sensitive spot where her neck met her shoulder sending shivers of desire down her spine.  Desperate to feel his skin on hers, Vash slid her small arms around him to pull him onto her.  When she moved beneath him, her nipples brushed through the coarse hair on his chest creating different and exquisite sensations throughout her body.  Jean-Luc slid his hands down between their bodies.  He gently began to massage both of her inner thighs through the denim of her jeans.  Then he slid one hand up to the front, massaging her erotically through the thick fabric as he began to tantalizingly undo each button.  He moved his mouth down, kissing the every inch of skin he revealed, making her entire body burn from intense sexual desire.  Vash whimpered mindlessly as she held his head in her hands and tried to pull him even closer.  He pulled himself off her slightly, so that he could pull her jeans off her hips and down her legs.  She reached down and quickly undid his uniform trousers, pushing them down his hips ultimately to join her jeans on the floor.

 Vash tried to pull him down onto her again, but Picard had other ideas.  He lowered his head and let his lips gently toy with the taut peak of one of her breasts.  Only after he felt her twist under the intense pleasure and her nails dig into his shoulders, did he move his mouth to the other breast.  He let his hands linger and caress as he removed the delicate white satin panties, the last barrier between them.  Then he moved between her trembling thighs.  He placed tender kisses from her tormented breasts up her sweat-moistened throat and onto her face.  His tongue traced her red, swollen lips and then slipped inside.  He deepened the kiss, his tongue dancing with hers.  Vash frantically tried to try to pull him down to her.  With one hand, he grabbed her wrists and drew her hands back above her head, out of his way.  He let his other hand move to very gently caress the center of her desire, inflaming the moist heat already aching for him.

 "Jean-Luc, I want you," Vash urged him breathlessly.  She closed her eyes as the intense sensations washed over her with every stroke of his knowing fingers.

 "What is it you want from me, ma chere?" he whispered huskily in her ear. Knowing her body's rhythm as if it was his own, he took her just to the edge and tethered her there.

 "Damn you, Jean-Luc, that's not fair," she whimpered as she arched into his teasing caress.  She was so very close.

 "All's fair in love and war.  This is both," he teased, as he continued to arouse her desire.  "You fired the first shot.  Of course, if you would care to surrender yourself to me?  My condition is that you ask for exactly what you want."

 "I want to feel your body inside mine . . . Ohhh please take me now!"  Vash pleaded impatiently.  She cried out in triumphant pleasure as he entered her with one powerful thrust filling her completely.  Continuing to hold her wrists above her head, he began moving in a steady, even pace.  He buried himself deep inside her before pulling himself almost out and then driving back into her with long, hard strokes.   Just as she began to draw near the edge, he stopped, holding them both perfectly still until her body had calmed just enough.  Then he resumed the teasing rhythm, stopping again as she neared her peak.  His even measured tempo was driving her mad.  Vash arched herself helplessly into his movements, trying futilely to quicken the pace.   She whimpered in frustration, "Please, Jean-Luc, don't . . . stop, . . . Oh God . . .please don't stop!"

 Despite his own need, Picard managed to hold himself in check.  He fought to keep his motions methodical, suppressing the urge to speed up, wanting to take Vash to the very edge of sexual insanity.  Her body began to tighten around his and her leg muscles began to quiver.  Finally feeling the response he had been waiting for, he maintained the strong, constant pace without stopping.

 "Oh God . . .Yes!" Vash gasped mindlessly tossing her head from side to side as the tension that he had been building in her was at last allowed to reach a crescendo.  Her overwhelming release came in wave after wave of pleasure crashing over her.  With a primal scream, Vash's entire body arched upward.

 "Oui!" Picard growled triumphantly, beginning to drive himself into her with an increased urgency.  With one final, hard thrust, he held himself deep inside her feeling his own draining response.  He collapsed on top of her, his breathing very labored.

 "You . . . are . . . sadistic," Vash panted into his ear between breaths.  "Talented, but sadistic."

 Picard raised up onto his forearms and found himself face-to-face with the cat, who was sitting on the headboard.  Charcoal yawned widely.

 "Everybody's a critic," Picard drolled.  He looked down at Vash.  "We are boring your cat,"  he remarked as he placed a kiss on her nose before rolling over to lay on his back next to her.

 "You seem to be fairly relaxed," Vash raised herself on one elbow and looked down at her husband.

 "Uh-huh," Picard muttered, too exhausted to respond.

 "Would this be a good time to tell you about the 500 credits I spent on a new evening gown last week?" Vash moved her hand up to idly run her fingers through the hair on his chest.  "I needed it to go with the shoes I bought the week before while I was shopping with Dee."

 Picard closed his eyes, the shoes had been close to a hundred credits.  He had been ambushed again, not that he really minded.  It had taken him a long time to find the woman he wanted to share his life with.  He enjoyed pampering her and he had the resources to do it.  Picard had every intention of seeing to it that she was completely spoiled rotten.

 "So, you don't mind that I bought the gown?" Vash asked in her best bedroom voice, still playing with the hair on his chest.

 "Of course not," Picard sighed. He opened his eyes and smiled at his wife, gently teasing.  "We can't have you running around in just those shoes."

 "Thank you," Vash smiled triumphantly back at her husband as she continued to trace designs on his chest.

 "You are so spoiled," Picard responded, laughing at her 'I win' smile.

 "I beg your pardon, Captain," Vash couldn't keep from giggling, as she teased back.  "I work very hard for the things I spend your money on."

 Her 'services rendered' joke gave Picard an idea.  He quickly rolled them over, once again pinning Vash's soft, supple curves between himself and the bed.  Her giggling subsided as his mouth claimed hers in passionate kiss.

...............................................

 Elsewhere on the Enterprise, another war was being waged.  Worf looked cautiously out of the turbolift before getting off.  As he walked down the corridor, he considered possible strategies.  He knew Deanna would be lying in wait for him somewhere, the only question was where.  Suddenly, he felt the impact as someone collided into him.  He'd been so lost in thought about Deanna's plans that he hadn't seen Lieutenant Barclay coming quickly around the corner.

 Reg Barclay jumped in response to the growl he heard from the Klingon.  As usual his was voice shakey, "I . . . I'm sorry, sir.  I . . . I didn't see you.  I'm supposed to meet Commander LaForge and I was kind of in a hurry and I guess I    . . well I guess I wasn't paying attention to where I was going.  He needed my help with-"

 "Enough," Worf snarled.  The panic on the man's face made Worf recall something Vash had said to the Captain about how intimidating Barclay was like frightening a small, scared puppy. He swallowed and calmed his voice.  "It's fine.  Just slow down."

 "Yes sir."  The lieutenant looked relieved as he hurried on.

 Worf quickly made his way to his quarters.  It was dark inside, except for the twinkling starlight from the large bay window looking out onto the vast space beyond.  He allowed his eyes to adjust to the darkness before entering the quarters. Once inside, he moved with his warrior's grace through the quarters looking in every conceivable hiding place for his luscious opponent.

 Finding nothing, he called  "Lights."  As the lights came up, he walked into the bedroom where he saw a piece of the pink stationery Deanna kept in her bedside table.  Picking it up, he read the cryptic message:  Catch me if you can.

 "Computer, locate Counselor Troi."  It was very difficult to hide on a starship.  She had nowhere to go.

 "Counselor Troi is currently in holodeck four."

 So, that was her plan.  In the interests of being prepared, Worf stopped long enough to grab two silk scarves from Deanna's dresser drawer to take with him.

 On his way to the holodeck, Worf had to grin.  Life with Deanna was never dull.   He relished having a wife who could, and would, meet him on every level.  Despite their size difference, she never hesitated to challenge him, in and out of the bedroom.

 Outside the entrance to holodeck four, Worf checked the program Deanna had running.  It was one of her nature programs.   He entered the holodeck and placed a security lock on the door.  For what he had in mind, he didn't need unexpected visitors.  Now to find his wayward wife.  Looking around, he saw, off in the distance, a splash of color against the trees.  Carefully making his way around in a flanking maneuver, he came up behind the tree where he had seen her and sprang out to grab the sleeve of her dress, only to have it fall to the ground.  She had apparently left the dress hanging from the tree branch to distract him.  He immediately dropped into a crouch and scanned the surrounding woods, expecting an ambush.  What he saw, off in the distance, appeared to be a bra hanging from another tree.  Still a bit uncertain about what Deanna was doing, he carefully made his way over to her next calling card.

 Several articles of clothing later, he came upon his wife swimming leisurely in a small, isolated mountain pool.  Growling in triumph, he waded into the water toward Deanna.

 "What took you so long, dear?"  Deanna stood in the water which came up to lap gently at her voluptuous breasts.

 "Submit to me now, or pay the consequences, woman."  Worf could see no avenue of escape for her, nor did she have much chance of subduing him in the water.

 Deanna smiled innocently up at her husband, "what makes you think this chase is over?"  With that she brought her hand up out of the water holding the newly recharged water pistol.  Letting forth a well-aimed shot, she sent a stream of water directly at the bridge of his nose.  While he was blinded by the water, Deanna dove down and swam between his legs, upending him.

 Worf got to his feet, spluttering.  When he got the water out of his eyes, he looked around.  Deanna was floating serenely on her back a few yards away.  Stealthily, he sank into the water and swam to where she was floating, surfacing next to her, he grabbed his playful wife and removed the water gun from her possession.

 Deanna gasped as she felt herself drawn upward, out of the water.  She tried to shoot Worf with another blast of water but lost her grip on the gun as he pulled it away from her and threw it to the shore.  Immediately, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself into his large, muscular body.  She had been anticipating this ever since the conference room where this had all started.

 "Are you ready to submit to me now?"  Worf looked down at the lovely nymph in his arms.  He looked up to see a waterfall at one edge of the pool.

 Deanna responded by jerking open the fastenings of his uniform top and pulling it off to float away in the water.

 "Then it's time to pay the consequences."  With that Worf carried Deanna over to the waterfall he had noticed.  When Deanna saw where he was headed, she immediately began to struggle.

 "Worf, don't you dare.  Worf.  WORF!"  Deanna squealed as Worf thrust her unceremoniously beneath the cold water.

 Worf watched as the water ran down Deanna's body.  The cold water had produced the expected effect on her nipples and he couldn't resist bending to lap at the water running down her breasts.  Deanna gasped and arched into his hot mouth.  Her hands captured his head and pulled his mouth up to her own.  She kissed him deeply as her hands moved down to unfasten his uniform pants. Before she could remove them, however, Worf captured her hands and used one of the silk scarves he had brought to tie them together.

 "Worf," Deanna breathed.  She was surprised but felt a strong surge of desire at the thought of being tied and completely helpless, at the mercy of her husband.

 Worf wound the remaining length of scarf around his hand and pulled Deanna into his arms.  He carried her up out of the pool onto the ledge under the waterfall.  Laying her gently on the stone, he lowered his body onto hers.  He pulled her bound wrists up over her head, giving him free access to her luscious curves.

 "Now I've got you," Worf growled triumphantly.  This time she was definitely at his mercy.  There was nowhere to go.  "Time to find out what happens when you taunt Klingon warriors, wife." He lowered his head to run his tongue lightly around the tip of one breast before taking it into his mouth.  He bit at the nipple, causing a shudder of need in Deanna.  After tormenting one breast, he moved his mouth to thoroughly torment it's mate.  With his free hand, he stroked the center of her heat, sending flashes of fire racing through her body.

 Deanna moaned and arched herself up into Worf's erotic ministrations.  She could feel the wet cloth of his uniform pants between them.  Desperate to remove the last barrier and put an end to this sensual torture, she raised her legs up to his waist.  Worf jerked with surprise and desire as he felt his uniform pants being slid from his hips.  He raised up onto one elbow and looked down to see Deanna pushing his pants off with her feet   Sensing that Deanna was in a hurry to finish this, he trapped her legs beneath one of his own.  He was in no hurry to finish anything, especially this.  Deanna had started this and he was determined to finish it, his way.

 Still holding the strap restraining her wrists, Worf moved down her body to kiss the sensitive skin around her navel.  Leaving a trail of hot, moist kisses, his searching mouth moved lower.    Deanna jumped slightly when she felt Worf's tongue flick against her.  As his tongue entered her and began stroking along her length, his mouth settled against her, claiming her most erotically.   Breathing heavily, she could do no more than moan wordlessly at the hot invasion of her body.  Twisting beneath Worf's grasp, she tried to free herself, but a Klingon warrior intent on holding his prize is a difficult obstacle to overcome.  Worf continued to torment her with his mouth as he held her helpless beneath him. Deanna screamed his name as waves of ecstasy gripped her body. Worf looked up at Deanna's face and saw the pleasure in her eyes.  He moved up to claim her lips in a deep, passionate kiss as he again covered her body with his own.  Breaking off the kiss, his mouth dropped to tease the spot just beneath her earlobe that always drove his wife to distraction.  With his free hand, he stroked and caressed her moistness to re-ignite the fires of passion.

 Deanna squirmed and twisted mindlessly beneath Worf's evocative assault, trying desperately to put an end to this sensual test of wills.

 "Do you yield to me, woman?" Worf himself was breathing very heavily as he looked down into Deanna's passion-flushed face.  She had led him on a merry chase and he was not about to lose this battle.

 "Worf, please ...."  Deanna could no longer stand the sensations he was creating in her.

 "Do you?  If you want me to end this, you have to say it."  Worf was only hoping she would say it soon, he wasn't sure how much longer he could control his own desires.

 "I yield.  Please Worf, now!" Deanna almost sighed with relief as she felt the welcome weight of her husband's body as he entered her in one quick, powerful thrust.  She wrapped her legs around his waist to pull him even deeper into her.  Worf continued to move with strong thrusts, relentlessly driving her to the heights of ecstasy.  Deanna drove herself up to meet his thrusts, matching his every movement.  At some point, Worf had released the free end of the scarf restraining her wrists.  She brought her wrists down around his neck, capturing him to her.  She called out to him as her body was once again gripped with the tremors of release.  He continued to drive himself into her and she felt another, even stronger release take her almost immediately, before she had even regained her breath.  Just then she heard him roar his satisfaction as she felt one last, powerful thrust.  Worf immediately rolled to one side, taking her with him so he would not have to break the connection.

 "Well, that was fun."  Deanna settled her head contentedly against Worf's broad, damp shoulder.

 "Fun?  You were supposed to be learning a lesson about the respect due your husband."  Worf looked down at Deanna snuggled into the crook of his shoulder.  Somehow he didn't think that was a lesson she would ever learn.

 "I think I need another lesson."  Deanna smiled up at Worf and placed a gentle, but promising, kiss on his lips.  Her hands were still tied and around his neck.  She rolled on top of him and moved her bottom sinuously against his hips, feeling an answering surge of desire from Worf

 "I agree," was all Worf said for a very long time as he rolled his wife back underneath him.

......................................................

 Just before 0900 hours the next morning, Commander Riker made his way to transporter room 3, to greet Ambassador Fontaine and get her settled in her quarters. As he walked into the transporter room, he smiled to the transporter chief on duty.  He searched his memory for her name; she was single, midtwenties, and a very pretty little blue-eyed blonde.  He just couldn't remember her name.  'Oh William, my boy,' he thought to himself, 'you're getting old.  There used to be a time when you would know her name, her cabin assignment, her favorite perfume, and her measurements.'

 "Good morning, Chief," he greeted her, the name still forgotten.

 "Good morning, Commander," she smiled back.

 Riker turned to face the transporter pad and adjusted his uniform jacket.

 "Energize," Riker ordered, his eyes never leaving the transporter pad.

 "Energizing, sir," came her reply.

 The figure of a very attractive young woman materialized on the platform.  She stood about five foot ten.  Her green jumpsuit accented her svelte but very feminine silhouette.  Her silky, brunette hair was gently pulled up, framing the classic features of her face.  Riker couldn't believe it as he stared at her emerald green eyes and seductively pouty lips.  'MINUET!' his mind shouted.  'This is impossible!' he thought to himself.  But there she was -- a dead ringer for Minuet.  Minuet was a holodeck fantasy he had experienced once, created by a temporary computer enhancement.  The Minuet program had been designed by the Binars to be his ideal woman, to capture Riker's attention and distract him from their activities.  Here she stood, a fantasy come to life.

 "I'm Ambassador Catherine Fontaine," she introduced herself.  Sizing up the officer in front of her she thought, 'Hello there, Commander tall, dark, and handsome.  This assignment might be more interesting than I had anticipated.'  In her most pleasant, but detached, professional voice she asked, "Permission to come aboard?"

 "Permission granted, welcome aboard, Ambassador Fontaine," Riker heard himself saying, totally on autopilot.  He had been floored, even her voice was the same.  The only thing saving him was nearly twenty years of Starfleet training.  "I'm Commander William Riker, first officer of the Enterprise.  If you will please come with me, I will show you to your quarters so that you can settle in.  Captain Picard has asked if it is possible for you to meet with him in his readyroom in one hour."  Riker gestured to the door as she stepped off the platform.

 "Of course, we have a lot of important ground to cover," she responded, her mind back on track.  The movers and shakers in the Klingon High Council had been very busy lately, busy killing each other off, that is.  She knew Picard by reputation only and was looking forward to working with him.  If anyone in Starfleet could convince the High Council to keep its treaty with the Federation, it was Picard.  The Klingons considered him a great warrior.  The Federation regarded him as a brilliant military tactician and their best field commander.  Lately though, he had been gaining notice for his diplomatic endeavors.  Together, she and Riker walked out of the transporter room.

...............................................

 In his readyroom, Picard sat behind his desk going over progress reports from the civilian science labs.  His eyes went wide as he read the report for the archaeology lab filed by his wife.  Vash and her team had their latest paper accepted for publication by six of the top archaeology journals.  She hadn't said a word to him about it last night.  It was a ship's first, as far as he knew it was a Starfleet first.  He allowed himself a proud smile.  He would have to find some way to publicly recognize the archaeology lab for a job well done.  He already had a few ideas about how to privately congratulate the head archaeologist.  He looked up as he heard the door chime ring.

 "Come," Picard called as he set aside the reports he had been reading.  The door opened and Will Riker stepped in followed by Ambassador Fontaine.

 "Captain, this is Ambassador Catherine Fontaine," Riker smiled as he made the introductions.  "Ambassador, Captain Jean-Luc Picard."

 "Welcome aboard, Ambassador."  Standing to shake her hand, Picard greeted the ambassador.  He had instantly noticed her remarkable resemblance to the Minuet program.  He was the only other person, besides Riker, to see that program.

 "Thank you, Captain," Fontaine responded as she shook Picard's hand.  "I've been looking forward to working with you."

 "Please, sit down," Picard gestured to the two chairs in front of his desk.  As all three of them took their seats, Picard continued, "What do we know about the situation in the Klingon High Council?"

 "Officially, not much," Fontaine admitted.  Then she tilted her head slightly and her tone and expression turned slightly conspiratorial, "Unofficially, I've heard some very interesting things.  Out of the twenty-four ruling families on the council, eight support the Romulan treaty, ten support the Federation treaty and the last six are undecided.  Which means at least three of those are using the issue to gain more power for themselves.  I have prepared a detailed report for you on each family's history and position on this subject.  Of course, these positions change, but it is a starting point.  Basically, the members of the high council have been very busy forging alliances with each other and killing each other off."

 "Lovely," Picard sighed as he leaned back in his chair and interlaced his fingers.  "How many deaths are we talking about?"

 "Unknown, but three council members have died recently and there have been assassinations in at least nineteen of the houses, including two of the council members," the ambassador explained.

 "What about the other dead council member?" Riker asked.

 "It's being called an accident," Fontaine answered looking over at Riker.  Amused, she added basic math to pretty boy's qualifications.  "But I find it suspicious."

 "Why?" Picard asked.

 "It seems he fell on his own knife."  Fontaine looked back at Picard.

 "Suicide," Picard suggested.

 "It seems Councilmember H'mel fell on his own knife--" Fontaine raised an eyebrow as she noted, "forty-three times."

 "Tough day at the office," Riker quipped as he and Picard exchanged a glance.

 "Indeed," Picard agreed with his first officer.  Then looking back at the ambassador he inquired, "Is there anything else I should be aware of?"

 "Yes, you guys are going to love this, because here's the fun part,"  Fontaine replied in an overly perky tone, her dry humor getting the best of her.  "We have unconfirmed reports of several divisions of armed Romulan soldiers on the Klingon Home world.  Not to mention the possibility of a couple of cloaked Romulan Warbirds.  It seems the Romulans have decided to openly pursue this by sending their own ambassador to the Klingon Home World, Senator Pardek."

 With the usual good natured glint in his blue eyes, Riker softly chuckled at the ambassador's sense of humor.  He looked back at his captain, "I think the quote that best fits this is 'Oh yippy skippy'."

 "One of my wife's favorite sarcastic remarks," Picard explained to the Ambassador.  Then he gave in to his own curiosity, "Can you tell me how you managed to learn all this?  Especially since no information has been coming through normal channels."

 "It's really pretty simple.  I don't rely on normal channels, I tend to work in the background.  I have found that, in most cases, there is a great deal of information and influence behind the throne.  I happen to be close friends with several of the daughters of ruling houses.  Gowron's oldest daughter and I are very close."  Fontaine stood and walked over to look more closely at the formal bridal portrait of Vash on the wall.  She asked "Your wife, Captain?"

 "Yes," Picard smiled as he nodded then added seriously, "I have one final question, Ambassador.  How much of this information can we trust, would these women really have access to this type of high level information?"

 "Captain," Fontaine smiled and gestured to the portrait. "Are you going to tell me that your wife has no idea about the day to day operations of this ship?   You've never recorded a ship's log in her presence?"

 Riker looked over at his commanding officer, he knew Picard recorded the ship's log in his quarters nightly before Vash and he went to bed.  He admitted, "She does have a point, sir."

 The ambassador looked back at the portrait.  "I love the command chair idea.  It kind of makes my point for me, doesn't it?  I knew I was going to like Vash from the moment I met her."

 "You've met my wife?" Picard was totally taken off guard.

 "She stopped by my quarters to invite me on a tour of the ship and to lunch when we finished with the briefing."  Fontaine turned back to look at the captain.  "In fact she is meeting me here.  She said that since her department's latest paper has been accepted by six journals, she gave herself and her assistants the day off.  You must be quite proud, that's quite a coup.  I don't . . ."  The door chime rang cutting her off.

 "Come," Picard called.  He smiled as he watched his wife walk in.  She was wearing a hot pink suit jacket over a short black silk skirt and a tailored black silk blouse.  Her hair was pulled up in a hot pink hair clip, which meant she planned to spend the afternoon in the ship's salon.

 "Hello everyone," Vash said cheerfully as she walked over to give her husband a kiss on the cheek.

 "Hello dear, and congratulations on the journal article.  I was impressed," Picard greeted his wife.  Then gently batting at her ponytail, he teased  "I take it you're planning to spend the afternoon with Mr. Mot."

 "Yes, I intend to shoot the works.  I want a trim, a manicure, pedicure, and a facial," Vash retorted.  "I gave myself the whole day off.  So Catherine, are you ready for your tour of the ship?"

 "Whenever you are," Fontaine answered, then said to the two officers, "Gentlemen, if you will excuse us?"

 "Bye dear," Vash kissed Picard again on the cheek.

 "I really do love that portrait.  The command chair was a great idea," Fontaine said as she and Vash turned to leave.

 "It does tend to remind him just who outranks who," Vash quipped just before the door slid shut behind them.

 Picard decided to ignore that.  He got up and walked over to Riker.  He clapped his first officer on the shoulder and said gently, "You can take it easy now, Number one.  She's gone."

 "Did you see her?  She was Minuet, or maybe Minuet was her," Riker stammered.  "It wasn't just her appearance, the voice, the sense of humor, the overall presence.  It was . . ."

 "Breathe, Will."  Picard almost felt sorry for his second-in-command, almost. "And yes, I noticed the similarities.  It's been a long morning, why don't you take a break."

 "Thank you, sir,"  Riker said gratefully and turned to leave.

 "But Number One,"  Picard called to him.  Riker turned around and Picard finished, chuckling, "I'd stay out of the holodeck."

 Nodding Riker sighed defeatedly and asked, "You really are enjoying this aren't you, sir"

 "Uh-huh," Picard answered almost gleefully and Riker turned and left the room.

............................

 Later that afternoon, the senior command staff gathered in the observation lounge for a briefing from Ambassador Fontaine on the current situation on the Klingon homeworld.  Fontaine and Riker sat nearest to Picard on opposite sides of the table.  When she finished, the Captain opened the discussion to the officers. "Our orders are to go to the Klingon homeworld to give whatever diplomatic support to Gowron and the pro-Federation faction that they need as the treaty vote approaches," Picard said.

 "We should also provide military support," Worf stated.  "If the Romulans already have military forces within Klingon space, we would be entirely within our rights to engage them according to the Klingon-Federation mutual defense treaty

 "That would be highly inadvisable," Data replied before Picard could respond.  "Significant factions within the Empire believe that the Federation is already far too involved in internal Imperial affairs.  That is the underlying reason for civil unrest in the Empire.  If we were to engage a Romulan vessel allied with a strong Klingon faction while inside Klingon space, it would give the pro-Romulan faction all the proof that they need to assert that the Empire is merely a large Federation province."

 "Besides," Picard interjected, "We cannot invoke the mutual defense treaty unless we have been formally requested by the Imperial government."

 "That is not likely to happen given the current situation," Ambassador Fontaine added.

 "Gowron has the authority to invoke the treaty on his own, doesn't he?" Troi asked.

 "Yes," Fontaine answered, "but he doesn't have the support.  If he invoked the treaty on his own without an open attack on the Empire, the undecided families would side against him and he would be stripped of power."

 "And probably executed for treason," Geordi chimed in.

 "I'd say that's a safe bet," Fontaine replied.

 "All right," Picard summed up.  "We cannot overtly involve the Federation in the military aspect of the dispute.  What can we do?"

 "Just our presence at the Klingon homeworld will send a strong message to the Romulans and their supporters, as well as to the Federation supporters.  It shows that the Federation does not abandon their friends," Doctor Crusher pointed out.

 "It may further divide the factions," Troi said.

 "But we're not interested in converting the pro-Romulan factions to our side.  We need to show the undecideds that we keep our commitments," Fontaine answered.  "The undecideds should be our primary focus."

 "And the Romulans," Worf growled.  "We must at least watch them."

 "Worf is right, sir," Riker jumped in.  "I don't like the idea of the Romulans being that close to the Klingon homeworld unsupervised."

 Geordi responded, "The problem with watching the Romulans, sir . . ."

 "Yes, Mr. LaForge.  Romulan ships are not going to be that close to the homeworld uncloaked," Picard cut in.  He glanced around the room with a look approaching disgust.  "I cannot believe that even with this brand-new technological marvel, we are still unable to locate a cloaked ship until it appears sitting in our lap."

 "That is not necessarily the case any longer, sir," Data said.

 Picard immediately perked up, happy that something in this discussion was finally going his way.  "Please explain, Mr. Data."

 "Well, sir, this 'technological marvel,' as you put it, is equipped with a broad-band, multiphasic spectrometer for measuring the gaseous content of distant star systems."

 Picard looked at Data blankly.  "Yes, I am aware of that, Mr. Data.  How does that help?"

 Data was somewhat surprised that Picard did not immediately comprehend what he was saying.  He quickly recovered and broke his explanation down.  "The cloaking device was originally designed as an invisibility screen.  All upgrades since its development have been concerned with making ships invisible to sensors.  Its original premise - invisibility through the selective bending of light - has never been changed."

 "I'm still not sure where you're going with this," Picard admitted.

 Data took an unconscious breath that reminded Riker of a frustrated father explaining something simple to a small child. "By deploying a class 1 probe a certain distance from the Enterprise, we can take a spectrographic reading of a section of space.

 Geordi suddenly whistled in amazement.  "It's so simple!" he exclaimed.  "By using the spectrometer on the ship we can take a reading of the same section of space as the probe."

 "Exactly," Data said.  "The light being bent around a ship by a cloaking device will have a different wavelength than light traveling straight.  The probe will give a comparison sample."

 "When the results of the two readings are compared, the light distortions will be apparent," Picard completed the thought.

 "Not only that," Data said, "but it should provide an effective triangulation, enabling us to pinpoint the ship's exact position.  It also has the advantage over a tachyon detection grid of not requiring a fleet of ships to operate."

 "Only the Enterprise and one probe," Picard said thoughtfully.  "But, this will not work with ships traveling in warp.

 "No sir," Data said.  "Only ships moving or stationary in normal space.  However, it should be effective to at least one light year.

 "That's significantly farther than anything we have been able to do up to now," Picard said.  "How long will it take you to configure the probes and spectrometer to detect the light distortions?"

 "With Geordi's help, I can complete the preparations within 24 hours," Data calculated without pause.  "The spectrometer on the Enterprise will need no modifications at all.  The probe will require adjustment to expand its bandwidth and compatibility with the spectormeter for this type of operation."

 "Excellent," came Picard's satisfied response.  "If there is nothing else we will proceed to the Klingon homeworld and pay a visit to Gowron and the others."  With that, the officers stood up to leave.  "Don't forget poker tonight in my quarters," he added as they began to file out of the room.

 "Wouldn't miss it for the world," Riker said with a wide grin.  "You know how I like to spend your money."

 "Better you than Vash," Picard shot back.

 "You better watch that," Riker warned, "or she'll be collecting your death benefits rather than your pay."

 Picard chuckled as he walked out of the room.

.............................

 Early that evening, Vash walked into her quarters to find her husband already there.  "Hi," she greeted him, noticing that Jean-Luc was setting up the table for the senior officer's weekly poker game.  "Thank you, I was planning to do that as soon as I changed.

 "You're welcome."  Picard looked up at her and smiled, as usual she looked perfect.  Her hair was down and fell in gentle waves to her shoulders.  The tailored hot pink jacket over the black silk blouse and matching short pleated skirt gave her a very polished feminine appearance.  "You look great.  Why are you changing your clothes?"

 "Good answer, Captain, the boy can be taught," Vash teased, kissing him on the cheek as she walked past him toward their bedroom.  Taking off her jacket, she continued, "The skirt is fine.  The blouse and jacket are a bit formal for an evening poker game."

 "I see," he answered, he still thought she looked fine the way she was.  Although, he did wonder how she could walk so gracefully in those four inch heels.

 She stopped in front of the bedroom door and turned back toward him.  "I'm glad you're home early.  It gives me a chance to ask you something."

 "What?" Picard set out the cards and the poker chips.

 "What's going on between Will and the Ambassador?"  she asked.

 "Is there something going on between Will and Ambassador Fontaine?"  Picard continued to count out poker chips, not wanting to meet his wife's gaze.

 "Oh, I think you know full well what's going on."  Vash leaned against the doorway to the bedroom, "But, let me be specific.  Will came into Ten Forward while Catherine and I were having lunch.  We asked him to join us and he did.  It was the first time I have ever seen Will Riker act shy around a woman; in fact, he was downright bashful.  At one point she smiled at him and, I swear to God, he blushed.  Commander Eternity-never-looked-so-lovely actually blushed like a schoolboy.  So, what is going on?"

 "I really have no idea," Picard persisted.

 "In a pig's eye!" Vash declared as she caught the amused expression he was desperately trying to hide.  "Spill it!"

 "I'm not saying a thing," Picard chuckled and shook his head.

 "You'll talk," Vash assured him.

 "Oh, no," Picard said simply, shaking his head again.

 "Foolish, foolish boy,"  Vash playfully chastised him, as her eyes quickly gave her husband the once-over   "You have no concept of the scope of my powers."  She turned and walked into the bedroom.  Picard sighed as he lifted an eyebrow and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

 A minute later she reappeared in the bedroom doorway. Instead of the jacket, she was holding a black vest with a bright pink rose design embroidered on it and gold buttons down the front.  She walked into the living room and gently tossed the vest onto the couch.  She turned slightly to face Picard.

 "Last chance, Jean-Luc.  What is going on?" Vash asked softly.  Receiving no answer, she reached up and very leisurely began to undo each button on her blouse.  Picard's heart began beating faster and his eyes widened in alarm as he realized what his mischievous little wife was up to.  His gaze helplessly followed her hands as they made their way down the silk, opening it inch by tantalizing inch.  Gently easing the blouse off one shoulder then the other, Vash let the smooth material slip down her arms to drop softly to the floor.  He couldn't tear his eyes away from the black lace and satin push-up bra that held the supple curves of her breasts.  The sight sent his imagination racing at warp speed.  He knew his wife had a weakness for expensive lingerie.  She always bought and wore matching sets.  He knew exactly which pair of black satin and lace panties were under that skirt.

 "Are you ready to talk yet?"  Vash cooed seductively as she turned back toward the couch.  Jean-Luc's attention shifted to her long legs as she placed one foot on the seat of the couch, her high heel sinking slightly into the seat cushion.  She reached down with both hands and splayed her fingers around her ankle.  Very slowly she slid her hands all the way up the shapely length of leg, to smooth out her very sheer, black, silk stocking.  As she reached the top of her thigh, she glanced up to see Jean-Luc's eyes were now that telltale steel grey.  Vash smiled slightly, she was thoroughly enjoying her husband's attentions.  As she repeated the procedure with the other leg, she cooed at him again. "Or do I keep this up, pun intended, all night.  It would make sitting through a night of poker rather uncomfortable for you.

 Poker was the last thing on the captain's mind at the moment.  Picard looked up at his wife's face to see the small smile play at her lips.  No wonder he was so distracted, she had just done a striptease worthy of Gypsy Rose Lee right there in the living room.

 "I am not, as you put it, uncomfortable," he lied.  Vash had indeed roused his interest, but she didn't need to know that.

 "Liar," she purred triumphantly.  She reached down and picked up the vest.  She slipped it on but left it unbuttoned.  She stood up straight and turned to face him.  "Due to certain physiological reactions, I can tell just standing here that you are sexually aroused."

 "Don't be absurd," Picard scolded.  He still couldn't take his eyes off of the enticing cleavage displayed by the open vest. "There is no way you could tell that through my uniform."

 "My, aren't we the braggart," Vash baited him flirtatiously, as she sauntered up to stand right in front of him. "As impressive as it is, that wasn't what I was talking about.  I was talking about your eyes.  They change color."

 "What?" he muttered, totally confused.  Her nearness was playing havoc with his ability to concentrate on the conversation.

 Putting her index finger under his chin, Vash gently brought his gaze up to her face.  "Try looking up here," she softly chuckled. "Poor baby, you haven't got a clue.  Your eyes change color when you're aroused."

 Her face was only an inch from his.  Her eyes locked with his in the seductive battle of wills that had been going on since the day they met.  Trying to regain some control over the situation, Picard asserted, "They do not."

 "Oh yes, they do, Jean-Luc," Vash declared in a husky whisper.  Her eyes never left his  as she reached down and slowly buttoned up her vest.  "Right now they are a very steely grey.  Without fail, when you're all hot and bothered, the steel grey color of your eyes becomes dramatically more intense."

 "They might be steel grey," Picard whispered back looking down at his very sexy wife.  Merde, she had great legs and, even buttoned, that vest showed off an alluring amount of cleavage.  She had also made damn sure that he knew exactly what was underneath that outfit.  "But I assure you I'm not   .  "  He broke off with a gasp as he felt her small hands gently travel up his inner thighs, her one hand coming to rest on all the evidence she needed.  Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around her small waist pulling her closer to him.

 "Oh my, Captain, what do we have here?" Vash purred happily into his ear as she caressed the hard length through the fabric of his trousers.  After all, he was just way too sexy and she was having way too much fun.  "I don't think that's a phaser."

 "No, obviously not," he admitted breathlessly, his hard arousal throbbed under her expert ministrations.  Then he shut his eyes and took several deep breaths, trying to center himself.  Opening his eyes, he inquired, "About my eyes, just when did you discover that?"

 "Oh, I noticed it that first night we were together on Risa," Vash whispered in his ear, as she snuggled up to him. "When you made love to me in the cave."

 "You've known for that long?" Picard was slightly stunned.

 "Uh-huh," she murmured softly.  Then she smiled up at him and asked, "You honestly didn't know that your eyes did that?"

 "I really had no idea," he confessed.

 Vash gently brushed her lips against his.  Unable to resist temptation, Picard captured her lips in a deep, passionate kiss.

 "We really don't have time for this," Picard breathed as he forced himself to break the kiss.  She was still in his arms and her hands were still on his inner thighs.

 "Okay, are you ready to talk yet?  Or should I continue?" Vash whispered, still breathless from his kiss.  She hoped he caved soon.  She was feeling pretty hot and bothered herself at this point.  Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she pressed against him molding the soft curves of her body to his hard lean one.  She persisted in her exploration of his inner thigh.  Her fingers would stray slightly, only to hear him gasp as her hand returned to the hard length.  She continued in her best bedroom voice, "We could talk about the little trip we took to Jupiter Outpost 92.  It was just the two of us and we had only been married three weeks.  We took that little joyride so you could try out the new Captain's Yacht.  You found out how the yacht handled and I found out how the Captain handled.  It's probably a good thing that the Captain's Yacht has an autopilot."

 "Mon Dieu, Vash, S'il vous plait!" he rasped, trying desperately to not think about that particular escapade.

 "If memory serves me correctly, that's pretty close to what you said at the time," she noted playfully.  "Come to think of it, that very spacious command chair on the bridge would give us a lot more room to maneuver than that little pilot's chair did. If we programmed a holodeck to . . ."

 "Vash," his gasp cut her off.  He really didn't want his imagination to go there.  After all, he did have to work in that chair.  Shaking his head, he sighed, "You may be the death of me yet."

 Vash patted his cheek, "What a way to go."  Returning to the subject at hand, she raised an eyebrow and softly challenged, "So are you going to talk, or do we do . . ."

 "This the hard way," Picard recited with her, chuckling to himself.  Reluctantly, he gently pushed himself away from her. "Now, as entertaining as this has all been, we have guests coming soon.  You're dressed now and I'm going way over there."  He pointed to the far side of their quarters.

 "Suit yourself.  It won't do you any good," Vash explained as she stepped back.  She turned and walked over to pick up her blouse.  Turning back around to face him, she added, "That was a rather simplistic demonstration.  The real fun is doing this fully dressed and in a room full of people.  Getting your attention has become a game, one I thoroughly enjoy and have had several years to practice."

 Picard openly admired his wife's appearance and gave his most suave smile.   "Madam Picard," his voice was deep and seductive.  If she wanted to play, so be it. "You always get my full attention by merely walking into the room.  But you are aware, the sword cuts both ways."

 "Oh, impressive," she conceded with a small smile of her own, "And yes, the sword definitely cuts both ways.  However, I still have the advantage, my eyes don't change color.  You can't tell if you're getting me hot and bothered or not.  I can always tell when I'm getting to you."

 "I don't suppose you're inclined to level the playing field a bit?" he inquired hopefully.  He was very interested in what he could do to turn the tables on his mischievous wife.

 "No way.  And quite frankly, Mon Capitaine, in the area of seduction you're a tour de force,"  Vash confessed.  "Fifty percent of the time I'm merely responding in kind.  Something you've done, intentional or not, has piqued my interest."

 "And the other fifty percent?" Picard asked bemused.

 "I do it simply because I can."  She turned and walked into the bedroom to put away the blouse.

 "You seem very sure of yourself," he called out after her.

 Vash came to the doorway of the bedroom, leaning against the doorway she inquired, "Jean-Luc, do you remember what you said to me when we returned home the night of the annual Admiral's Dining In?"  She watched as an expression of understanding crossed his face.  "As you undid the clasps on the back of my gown, you said, and I quote. 'For some reason, I couldn't take my eyes off of you all evening.  I've been unable to think of anything but making love to you.'"  She walked over to the couch, sat down, crossing her legs, and leaned back smiling triumphantly at him.

 "I take it you are resting your case," he said as he walked over to stand in front of her.

 Vash looked up at her husband and purred, "Here is my closing statement.  I've spent the last few years amusing myself by finding out what makes those eyes change color.  You're definitely a leg man."  He watched transfixed, as she deliberately crossed her legs in the other direction proving her point.  "You prefer sheer, black silk stockings.  You're always commenting on the absurdity of high heels.  But you love the way I look in them, the higher the better.  You love a little mystery, you want to be teased.  Which is why an 'accidental' glimpse of leg or cleavage drives you to distraction.  A well timed glance, sigh, or double entendre is much more effective than an outright proposition."

 She dropped her gaze, then looked up at him through her lashes.  Giving him a coy smile she cooed, "We both know I can arouse your interest by simply playing with a wine goblet.  And let's not forget, you know exactly what I have on under this. That alone is more than enough to fuel your imagination."  She saw the look of desire come over her husband's handsome features. "So, do I see how many new ways I can come up with to torment you or are you going to talk?"

 "You have me helpless," he sighed in defeat. "I'll talk."

 "Smart move," Vash smiled   Then she stood to face him, putting her arms around his neck.  "Are you aware that I'm helplessly in love with you?"

 "Je t' amie," Picard whispered, again taking her in his arms.

 Vash let her lips capture his in a slow, deep kiss. Breaking the kiss, she watched as her husband took several deep, calming breaths.  She could always turn him back on after the poker game   She asked one last time, "Now, what is going on between Riker and Catherine?"

..................................................

  "That explains it," Vash chuckled from where she sat on the couch in their living room.  Picard was seated in the easychair and had just finished telling her about the Minuet holodeck program. "We really shouldn't take such enjoyment in this.  And I guess we should try to be more understanding of Will's feelings."

 They looked at each other and both shook their heads saying in unison, "No."

 "I never did ask you how your lunch with the Ambassador went?"  Picard leaned back in his chair.

 "Oh, we had a wonderful time," she exclaimed.  "I like Catherine.  She has a fantastic sense of humor.  In fact, I invited her to join us tonight.  I thought it might give her and Will a chance to get to know each other in a relaxed setting."

 This piqued Picard's interest, "Is she interested in Will?"

 "I think so, but she'll probably play hard to get.  I get the impression that she's the kind of woman who enjoys a good game of chase.  And we both know Riker excels in the woman-chasing department   The real question is whether or not she'll let him catch her.  Your second-in-command may be in for more than he's bargaining on," Vash smiled at her husband, her blue eyes sparkling, "Watching this unfold is bound to be entertaining, to say the least."

 "And knowing you as I do, you are planning to have ringside seats for the entire show," Picard winked at his wife.

 "Damn straight.  Besides, it'll do him good."  Vash was sounding more amused by the minute.  "A little bit of begging and pleading is good for a man."

 "I don't recall you playing hard to get.  And I certainly don't recall myself begging or pleading," Picard replied in an amused, but slightly indignant tone.

 "No," she confessed, "I was never good at playing hard to get.  I've never had the patience for it.  I do, on occasion, like to be chased and I think you storming a castle definitely constitutes being chased.  But your memory is a little selective on the begging and pleading part."

 "I freely admit to chasing after you," Picard informed her. He paused, tilting his head and giving her a small meaningful smile. "on numerous occasions.  However, I do not beg or plead."

 "Sure you do," she assured him good-naturedly.  "You do it very sweetly too, in French no less.  Does the phrase 'S'il vous plait' ring any bells?"

 He nodded, reluctantly conceding the point.  That phrase was used in their bedroom quite frequently, and more often than not, by him.  He chuckled, "You are one cold-blooded woman, Mrs. Picard."

 "And you love me for it," Vash smiled.  Then she added, "I just have one last question."

 "What's that?" Picard asked.

 "Just how did you see a holodeck character that was designed to be a sex fantasy for Will Riker?"  Vash asked as she raised an eyebrow and regarded her husband with mock annoyance.

 "Uh, well, I . . ." Picard started, wondering how to explain this.  The way she said it made it sound pretty kinky.  There was a perfectly good explanation, but Vash would never believe something so simple.  As he frantically searched for this wonderful explanation, the door chime sounded.  He'd never been so grateful to hear that sound.  He reached over, took her hand and gently kissed the back of it.

 "Saved by the bell," Vash teased.

 "Come," Picard called as he stood up to greet their guests.

 Beverly walked in followed by Geordi and Data.  After greetings were exchanged, Beverly walked over to sit next to Vash while they waited for the rest of the players to arrive.

 "So?"  Beverly asked Vash in an amused conspiratorial whisper.

 "Your diagnosis has been confirmed, Doctor," Vash leaned toward her slightly and replied in the same amused tone. "Although, I doubt that you will believe certain details."

 "You knew all along," Picard accused his wife, incredulous. He had heard the last part of their whispered conversation as he came over to where they sat.

 "Not until you confirmed the good Doctor's suspicions," Vash smiled sweetly at her husband.

 "I'm lost," Geordi said, confused.

 "That's quite all right, Geordi.  It would be best if you stayed that way," Picard answered him. Turning back toward his wife and chief medical officer he said, "You two should not be allowed to play together.  Is there any ship's gossip you ladies don't eventually hear about."

 "Jean-Luc," Beverly leaned back in the couch and said sweetly, "You should know by now, that the Romulan Tal Shiar, the Cardassian Obsidian Order and Starfleet Intelligence could learn a thing or two from the ladies on this ship about intelligence gathering.  We're just that good."

 "I see," he sighed, giving his wife a 'this isn't over look.'

 "Well, I should probably get everyone something to drink," Vash said as she stood up, deciding this was a good time to make an escape.  While Vash was finding out what everyone wanted, Deanna and Worf arrived.

 "Here, let me help you," Picard offered as Vash walked over to the replicator to get the drinks.  He got up and followed her. As she handed him several of the drinks, he leaned in close to her and whispered. "After the stunt you pulled earlier, I should . . ."

 "You can take a pound of my flesh later, dear," she whispered in his ear so no one else could hear.  "Anyway you'd like."  Then she kissed him on the cheek.

 As Vash passed out the drinks, the door chime rang again. Picard answered the summons, greeting Ambassador Fontaine.  As he made the introductions with the rest of the group, Riker arrived. As they all took their seats, Vash got Catherine and Riker their drinks.  Picard picked up the cards and began to shuffle them.

 "Everybody ante.  Vash, your own pile, if you please," Picard called as he dealt the cards.  Vash smiled innocently, shrugged, and tossed her own chips into the center of the table.

 "So, are you finding everything here to your liking, Ambassador?"  Data inquired pleasantly.

 "Oh, yes.  This is a beautiful ship, and the people here are very nice," Catherine responded, casting a glance across the table at William Riker.

 "Data, what do you do?" Geordi asked.

 "I believe I am in," Data answered, tossing the requisite amount of chips into the center of the table.

 "I'm in as well," added Catherine, doing the same.

 The evening went on, with Catherine showing a surprising ability in poker-playing.  Several times, she called some of Riker's legendary bluffs.  Somehow she always knew when he was bluffing and when he wasn't.

 At one point in the evening, Deanna decided to find out why Will was so agitated.  'What's going on with Will?'  Deanna thought at Worf.

 'I don't know,' Worf thought back.

 'Why don't you ask him during our next break,' Deanna suggested.

 'I will not intrude on his private life,' Worf responded.

 'Yes, you will,' Deanna thought back.

 'No, I won't,' Worf thought, somewhat more forcefully.

 'Yes!'

 "No."  Forgetting himself, Worf growled aloud this time. Everyone stopped and looked over at Worf and Deanna.  Mentally he growled at her for embarrassing him this way.

 "Losing another argument, Worf?"  Riker looked over and grinned at the Klingon.  He knew from personal experience how taxing those mental arguments with Deanna could be.

 "Whatever it is, she's right, Worf," Vash admonished as she reached over to take a drink from Picard's glass.

 "Would you like something to drink, dear?' Picard asked, arching an eyebrow.

 "No, thanks.  I'll just drink yours."

 Some time later, Vash reached for Jean-Luc's glass only to find it empty.  "Would you like another drink, dear?" she asked pleasantly.

 "Would I?" Picard looked back at her.

 "Yes, you would and I'll even get it for you.  Deal me out of this hand, Geordi.  Can I get anything for anyone else?"  Vash got up and walked over to the replicator.

 As Picard was viewing his cards, Charcoal jumped onto his lap to contemplate his hand along with him.  Picard laid his cards, face-down, and set the cat on the floor briefly patting it's head.  "Thank you, Charcoal.  I believe I can handle this myself."

 As Picard picked his cards back up, Vash returned with his drink and settled herself onto his lap.  Taking a long drink, she looked down at his cards, thoughtfully.  Setting her on her own chair, he patted her head and said "Thank you, dear.  I believe I can handle this myself."

 "Does anyone else notice a peculiar deja' vu feeling here?" Riker couldn't help but point out.

 "Heard any good music lately, Will," Picard tossed a not-so-subtle barb at Riker.  "I was listening to this wonderful minuet earlier.  I'm sure you would have enjoyed it."

 Vash, who had just taken a long drink, began choking uncontrollably.  Riker suddenly found his cards to be downright fascinating.  Oh God, he thought, how many people on board knew about this?

 "Oh really, Captain.  Which one was it?  Perhaps we could turn it on and enjoy it here and now," Data chimed in helpfully.

 Vash made a sudden dash toward the bathroom.  Deanna knew that both Vash and Picard were exceedingly amused by something.  She also knew that Riker was about to die of embarrassment.  The next chocolatefest was sure to be juicy.

 "Perhaps later, Data," Picard tactfully rescued a somewhat-ungrateful Riker.

 Data shrugged and began shuffling the cards.

 "Deal me out of this hand, if you please, Commander Data," Catherine requested, getting up from the table to stretch her legs.

 "Of course, Ambassador," Data replied.  "Are you in this hand, Vash?"

 A much more subdued Vash nodded wordlessly at Data as she took her place at the table.  She noticed Riker's hungry gaze follow Catherine around the room.

 "Could you want her more?" Vash leaned over to whisper in his ear.

 Riker started and tore his gaze away from the ambassador to study his cards.

 "Are you in or out, Will?" Beverly asked Riker.

 Riker flushed, feeling somewhat guilty at the course his thoughts had taken, and opted out of this hand.

 Eventually the hand came down to Picard and Vash.  Vash lost the hand to Picard almost gleefully.

 "Why are you so pleased to have lost, Vash?" Data was a bit curious.

 "When he wins, he buys me something nice.  When I win, I have to go and buy myself something nice."

 "But, either way, you win," Data summarized, still somewhat bewildered.

 "That's the whole point of marriage, Data," Deanna pointed out.

 "Welcome to love and marriage, Starfleet-style," Geordi laughed.

 Catherine laughed as she gathered up the cards to shuffle.

 An hour or so later, Catherine stretched, checked the time, and said "I think I'll call it a night, everyone."

 "I think I'll join you," Beverly remarked, getting up out of her chair.

 One by one, the game began breaking up.  When only Riker, Vash, and Picard were left, Riker slumped into his chair, "she won't go out with me," he whined dejectedly.  He let his head fall forward to land in the center of his chips.

 Vash reached over and stroked the back of his head, "oh, you poor baby," she sympathized.

 Not exactly hearing sympathy from her voice, Riker looked up at Picard.  "You told her?" was all he said.

 "She can be quite persuasive at times, Number One.  I was left with little alternative," came Picard's hedged reply.

 Riker let out a huge sigh.

 "Maybe you should try serenading her with music, Will." At that innocent suggestion, both men turned to send exasperated glances at her.  "Nobody appreciates me, Charcoal," Vash huffed in mock indignation, picking up the cat.

 Riker grinned at the sight of Vash commiserating with the cat.  His eyes took on an impish glint as he thought about Vash raking the captain over the proverbial coals to extract the information.  "You know something, Mrs. Picard," he declared playfully. "You are one cold-blooded woman."

 "So I've been told, Commander," she replied rather pleased with herself.  She exchanged a quick amused glance with her husband, then turned back to Riker, "Goodnight, Will."

 "Goodnight, Vash," he called after her as she walked into the bedroom, then he looked back at the captain.  "Goodnight, sir." He rose and made his way out.

 "You are sick and sadistic, my dear," Picard remarked, entering the bedroom.  "I love you."

.........................................

 Vash stirred awake, she laid there for a moment listening to Jean Luc's slow steady breathing.  Lifting her head slightly from his shoulder, she looked over at the nightstand to check the time, 0500 hours, they still had a few hours left to sleep.  She was about to settle herself back down into her husband's arms, when she noticed the ship had dropped out of warp.  Vash knew they should be approaching the Klingon border, but that wouldn't necessitate dropping out of warp.  Her eyes went wide with shock at the sight taking form outside the window.  Five Romulan Warbirds were decloaking right in front of the Enterprise.

 "Jean-Luc," she whispered, as she gently patted his chest with her hand.  "Wake up, we're about to go to red alert."

 "Is there a problem?" Picard came instantly awake when he heard the shock in her voice.  He rolled onto his side to face her, then raised himself up slightly to follow her gaze out the window.

 "I count about five," she answered.  Then she gasped, quickly recovering as she continued, "make that ten."  Five Klingon Battle Cruisers had just decloaked along side the Warbirds.

 Before Picard could respond, the red alert klaxon sounded. "Red alert!" Came Riker's voice over the ship's comm.  "Bridge to Captain Picard."

 "Picard here," Picard instantly answered Riker's page, as he sat up and activated the bedroom lights.  "I see them, Commander. I'm on my way, Picard out."  As he started to put his uniform on, he noticed Vash staring, transfixed, out the window.

 "I've never seen a Warbird before," she breathed, then turned to look at him.  "Are those the D'deridex class?"  Vash asked referring to the class of Romulan Warbird.

 "They are.  I'm impressed.  I don't suppose you'd like to switch places today," Picard allowed himself a brief moment of humor.  The last he would probably get for the rest of the day.

 "You pick up a few things being married to the captain of the flagship.  But I think I'll decline your job offer, nonetheless," Vash smiled gently at him.  He sat down on the edge of the bed to put on his boots.  Vash kneeled on the bed and slipped her arms around his waist, hugging him from behind. Laying her cheek against the back of his shoulder, she said, "I guess it would be kind of pointless to tell you to have a good day."  He nodded wordlessly.  She hugged him a little tighter, feeling his strength through the uniform, "How about telling you I love you."

 "That works," Picard replied as he turned around to face her.  "I love you." He gave her a quick kiss and then left for the bridge.

 Vash watched him leave and then looked down at the cat. "Come on up, Charcoal.  I suspect your Daddy has bigger fish to fry than whether or not you're sleeping on his pillow."  She turned the lights back off and snuggled up with the cat, trying to ignore the view outside the window.

.......................................

 Minutes later Picard quickly walked off of the turbolift and to the center seat.  The red alert light continued to flash, but the klaxon had been silenced.  "Status report, Number One," he said as Riker rose from the center seat.

 "Five Romulan warbirds have just decloaked directly ahead of us.  Five Klingon birds of prey have also decloaked off our port and starboard bow."

 "Weapons status?" he asked as he sat down.

 Worf answered from the tactical station.  "All ships have their shields up.  Their weapons systems are charged but not locked onto us.  Our shields are up.  Phasers are on standby, photon torpedoes loaded."

 "What's our current position, Mr. Data?"

 "Directly on the Federation-Klingon border, sir.  We are on the Federation side.  All ten vessels are on the Klingon side."

 "Sounds like a classic western standoff on the border," Riker commented to Picard.

 "Hopefully it won't end the same way," Picard answered. "Mr. Worf, open hailing frequencies.  I want to speak to the Klingon commander."

 "Yes, sir," Worf answered.  He began working the controls at the tactical station.  "Hailing frequencies open, sir," he said after a moment.  "However, the Romulan commander is answering the hail."

 "The Romulan commander?" Picard questioned, standing up and turning toward Worf.

 "Yes, sir," Worf responded.  "The Klingon commander will not respond."

 "Very well.  I'll talk to the Romulan commander.  On screen."

 "Aye, sir," Worf answered.

 After a moment the ships on the viewscreen were replaced by the lean, angular features of a Romulan officer.  "I am Commander Taibak," the Romulan said.  "Is there something I can assist you with?" he asked in an even tone.

 "I am Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Federation Starship Enterprise.  In fact, you can be of assistance," Picard answered just as evenly.  "You can begin by putting me in contact with the Klingon commander."

 "I am very sorry, Captain, but I'm afraid that will not be possible.  The Klingons seem to be having trouble with their transmitters.  They have given me the authority to speak for them until their equipment is repaired," Taibak said with extreme civility.

 A raised eyebrow was the only betrayal of Picard's shock at such a transparent lie.  "Am I to believe that none of the Klingon vessels have communications?" he asked incredulously.

 "It would seem that the quality of Klingon military vessels has deteriorated in recent years,"  Taibak smoothly explained with a slight razor edge to his voice.

 "Yes," Picard answered, "so it would seem."

 "Possibly due to lack of use?" Taibak ventured.

 "I wouldn't know,"  Picard responded.

 At that moment LaForge walked out of the turbolift with Ambassador Fontaine.  As he moved to take his bridge station he glanced at the viewscreen and saw the aquiline features of Taibak looking at him.  "Oh my God!" he gasped.

 "Good morning, Commander LaForge," Taibak said pleasantly. "It's good to see you again.  I trust you are feeling well.  No nightmares?"

 LaForge stood frozen at the turbolift door, unable to respond.  Picard responded for him.  "You will address any questions to ME!"  The dangerously quiet warning was delivered in a voice of iced steel.

 "Of course, Captain," Taibak replied in an even tone, with a flicker of a smile.  "I sincerely apologize for any discomfort I may have caused Commander LaForge."

 Picard made a slashing gesture across his throat.

 "Communications closed," Worf stated.

 "Mr. LaForge?" Picard asked.

 LaForge answered quietly.  "That's the Romulan who kidnapped me on my way to Risa and programmed me to kill the Klingon governor.  The things he did to me..."  LaForge shuddered.

 "If you wish, you can work from engineering," Picard offered.

 "No, sir," LaForge said.  "I don't want him to think that he won."

 "I completely understand," Picard said, remembering a similar vacation spent with a very attentive Cardassian.  "Man your station."

 "Yes, sir," LaForge said.  "Sir," he added, "this Romulan is cruel, almost vicious.  He'll do things just to see what happens.  Everything with him is a test."

 "Understood, Mr. LaForge.  Open channel, Mr. Worf."

 "Channel open," Worf replied.

 "Commander Taibak," Picard began formally.  "As soon as the Klingons have repaired their communications, please inform them that we are on a diplomatic mission to the Klingon homeworld at the invitation of Chancellor Gowron."

 "Most certainly, Captain Picard," Taibak said pleasantly.

 "If there is nothing else," Picard stated,  "we will be on our way.  Good day, Commander."  He began to turn from the screen.

 "Captain Picard," Taibak said with a well-practiced, embarrassed-sounding laugh, "I'm afraid that will not be possible."

 "Why not?" Picard asked, turning back to the viewscreen.  He knew it would not be as easy as that, but for a moment he had hoped

 "As you are no doubt aware," Taibak calmly elaborated, "the Klingon Empire is experiencing a degree of internal turmoil.  As a service to our Klingon friends, the Romulan Empire has several diplomatic advisors on the homeworld to assist them through these difficult times.  They would, no doubt, feel," Taibak made a show of looking for the right word, "-uncomfortable - by the presence of a Federation starship in orbit around them," Taibak smiled pleasantly, "As you can see, we are only serving the interests of our countrymen."

 Worf began to growl under his breath behind his tactical station

 "Commander," came Riker's quiet, but forceful voice.  Worf was silent.

 "I can assure you that we are no threat to any of your representatives on the Klingon homeworld,"  Picard continued with a slight edge to his voice.  "We are going there at the personal request of Chancellor Gowron.  We will complete our assignment."

 Taibak's reserve became even colder.  "The Klingons here have no knowledge of a request from the Chancellor for you to be in Klingon space.  An attempt by you to enter may be regarded as a border incursion and result in a very ugly incident."  He paused for a moment, then added, "I would be very distressed to see anything unfortunate happen to your new ship."

 "I am touched by your concern for my ship," though Picard knew that Taibak would love nothing better than to see it blown to bits, "but you need not worry about it.  It is more than capable of handling any 'unfortunate' occurrences." He paused briefly.  "We will remain here until we have contacted Starfleet regarding the current misunderstanding."

 "That would be fine, Captain," Taibak responded.  "You have nothing to fear from us -- as long as you remain on the Federation side of the border.  Good day, Captain Picard. Pleasant dreams, Commander LaForge."  The viewscreen switched again to the Romulan task force in front of them.

 "He doesn't really expect us to buy that nonsense about the Klingon communications being out, does he?" Riker said with disdain.

 "No,"  Picard said.  "It's just a delaying tactic."  He looked up at the tactical station.  "Mr.  Worf, send an immediate message to Starfleet Command.  Advise them of our situation and ask them to dispatch other starships to our location."  He looked at Riker, "I doubt that even this ship could successfully engage ten battle cruisers."

 "Agreed," Riker answered.

 "As soon as you've sent the message to Starfleet, send one to Gowron informing him of our situation.  He may be able to help."

 "Yes, sir," Worf said as he began working the command console.

 "Ambassador?" Picard asked.  "Any thoughts on our Situation?"

 "This is not unexpected," Fontaine supplied.  "The only surprise is that they met us right on the border.  We were expecting a Romulan response on the homeworld, but not here."

 "How would you suggest we handle them?" Riker asked.

 "I'm not sure yet," Fontaine admitted.  "I would NOT suggest trying to run their blockade alone, however."

 "Where's your sense of adventure?" Riker joked.

 "Captain," Worf called from his station.

 "Yes, Commander."

 "Your message has been transmitted to Starfleet, however, all transmissions directed toward the Klingon homeworld are being jammed.  I am unable to penetrate the interference."

 "There's a surprise," Riker said sarcastically.

 "Well," Ambassador Fontaine sighed, "I'm only in the way here.  I'll check back later."  She walked toward the turbolift, "Anywhere someone can get some good coffee around here?" she asked no one in particular as she left.

 Picard took a deep breath.  "Continue attempts to penetrate the jamming, Commander.  Number One, maintain red alert.  You have the bridge.  I'll be in my quarters."

 "Acknowledged," Riker answered.

 Picard took one last look at the Warbirds on the viewscreen and then left the bridge.

...............................................

 Picard shook his head as he made his way back to his quarters, it looked as if it was going to be a very long day.  Inside his quarters, the lights were still off.  Obviously Vash hadn't gotten up yet.  Quietly, he walked over to stand in the doorway of his bedroom.  Picard's features softened as he saw that Vash and Charcoal were snuggled up together on his side of the bed, sharing his pillow.  Vash's eyes fluttered open and she gave him a small smile.

 "Hi," Vash whispered to him, then closed her eyes and snuggled into his pillow.

 "I'm just here to shower and shave and then I'll be heading back to the bridge," he whispered back as he walked over and sat on the edge of the bed.  Gently, he patted a lump under the blanket that he assumed was his wife's hip.  "I take it you ladies are finding my pillow comfortable."

 "Of course," Vash replied opening her eyes to look up at him.  "And I take it, since you're here, that you and whoever is running the show out there," she gestured out the window, "are finished rattling your sabers at each other."

 "For the moment anyway," Picard sighed.  It was an accurate description of his discussion with the Romulan commander.  "The Klingon's won't answer our hail and the Romulan commander has Tal Shiar written all over him.  What's your day look like?"

 Calling for the lights, Vash sat up and ran her hand through her hair.  "This is the week that I give an archaeology refresher course in my lab to the newest ensigns just out of the Academy."

 "Most of the science department heads have their assistants do that,"  he noted.

 "Yes, well, I'm also the Captain's wife, the gentle, friendly, approachable face of command in social situations," Vash teased.  She was glad to see him actually smile at that. "Besides, I enjoy it."

 "If you say so."  He leaned over to kiss her cheek, then stood up and walked over to the bathroom.

 "You still want to trade jobs today?" she asked just as he reached the bathroom door.

 "Around a dozen fresh-faced ensigns running rampant in your lab?" He turned to look at her and leaned against the bathroom doorway.

 "Uh-huh," she nodded, smiling.

 "I think I'll stick with the Romulans," he chuckled as he went into the bathroom.

 "Coward," she called after him.

..............................................

 Eight hours later, Picard sat on the bridge still dejectedly viewing the noses of ten hostile warships.  His day had not improved much from this morning.  "Status report, Mr. Worf?" he asked, idly drumming his fingers on the armrest of the command chair.

 "Situation is unchanged, sir," Worf replied for the tenth time in the last two hours.

 "Any reply from Starfleet?"

 "No sir," Worf grated impatiently.  "Nothing yet."

 "Have you been able to penetrate the jamming from the Romulan vessels?"

 "No sir," Worf growled as patiently as a bored Klingon could.
 
 "Very well," Picard sighed.  "Please continue your attempts."

 "Fontaine to Captain Picard," came a voice over the intercom.

 "Picard here."

 "If you are not too busy, I'd like to see you privately for a moment"

 Picard shared a brief smile with his chief of security.  "I believe I can spare a moment or two, Ambassador.  I'll meet you in my ready room."

 "Thank you, Captain.  I'll be there in five minutes."

...........................................

 Five minutes later, Ambassador Fontaine sat across Picard's desk from the Captain.  "I've been in contact with Gowron," she said, getting right to the point.

 Picard stared at her in shock for a moment, then quickly recovered.  "When?"

 "I just finished talking to him ten minutes ago."

 "How did you manage to accomplish this?" he asked, taken aback that someone was able to do from his ship what he could not do himself.

 "Let's just say that being an ambassador has its advantages,"  she said vaguely.  "Sometimes official channels are not always the most efficient."

 "I see," Picard left it at that, not wanting to pry any farther into the ambassador's sources.  "What did Gowron have to say?"

 "I advised him of our situation.  He suggested a plan; however, I think Commander Riker should be here while I brief you."

 "Picard to Riker," he said into the intercom.

 "Riker here."

 "Please join me in my ready room."

 "On my way," Riker acknowledged.  The intercom chirped off.

 Several minutes later, Riker was sitting next to Fontaine in Picard's ready room.  She quickly caught him up to where Picard was in their conversation.  "As I said, Gowron has suggested a way to get around the Romulans."

 "At this point, I'm open to suggestions," Picard said.

 Fontaine addressed both Picard and Riker with the practiced manner of a diplomat.  "Gowron will send a cloaked ship here to rendezvous with the Enterprise.  The ship will take Captain Picard and me to Qo'nos.  There we can attempt to convince some of the undecided families to support the Federation.  We will be safely on Qo'nos while the Romulans still think that we are here waiting for a response from Starfleet."

 "What she's suggesting is an extremely dangerous mission for you, sir."  Riker said, "She's talking about taking the captain of the ship light years away from the protection of the Enterprise into the center of potentially hostile territory.  I can't allow that."

 "We don't have a choice, Commander," Fontaine protested, her diplomatic demeanor disappearing.  "Gowron is depending on our arrival.  Captain Picard is the Arbiter of Succession.  His presence will have a powerful impact on the council families."

 "His presence will also have a powerful impact on the pro-Romulan factions in the Empire."  He turned toward Picard. "Powerful enough to try get you out of the way before you can influence any undecided factions," Riker's voice was going up as his temper got shorter.  "The risk is too great.  You cannot go to Qo'nos alone, sir."

 Fontaine shot back before Picard could answer, all pretense of objectivity gone now.  "You would put the safety of one man above the balance of power for the entire quadrant?  How selfish can you be?"

 "When it comes to the safety of my captain, you haven't seen selfish yet!  Nothing comes before the safety of the ship's commanding officer.  That is a policy I've practiced even before I became a member of this crew."

 "Maybe it's time you updated your policy," Fontaine shot back acidly.  "Perhaps your new policy should take the safety of the Federation into account."

 "Ambassador," Riker replied, after a pause to compose himself, "my loyalty to the Federation is without question.  But this is a suicide mission.  You would be wasting the best starship captain in Starfleet, as well as yourself, on a mission that is risky at best.  I am not above taking risks when necessary, but only when there is a reasonable chance of success. I don't believe this mission has one."

 "You don't," she said.  It was a statement, not a question. "What makes you more of an expert than Gowron himself?  He's guaranteed our safety."

 "Ambassador," Riker pointed out, "If Gowron really has the power to guarantee your safety, why do you have to sneak into the Empire in a cloaked ship in the first place?"

 Fontaine was caught without an answer.

 "I think you'd be lucky to even make it to Qo'nos.  Even if you got there, you both would be in constant danger.  If the vote goes against Gowron while you're still on Qo'nos, you are as good as dead."

 "Thank you, Number One," Picard finally entered the debate. He addressed both of them.  "I agree with Commander Riker that this mission is very dangerous and highly inadvisable."  Riker looked at Fontaine with triumph in his eyes. "Ambassador, advise Gowron that I will be traveling to Qo'nos as soon as he can send a ship."

 "Sir?!" Riker half shouted in shock.

 "Number One," Picard said quietly, "everything you said is absolutely correct.  And, as you pointed out, my presence on Qo'nos will not ensure Gowron's success; however, my absence will guarantee his failure.  If there is any chance at all of influencing the Council vote, I must do everything in my power do that."

 "Sir, I must protest this mission in the strongest possible terms.  Your place is on the bridge of your ship, not on the Klingon homeworld debating Klingon politics."  Riker knew he was coming dangerously close to insubordination.

 "Your protest is noted, Commander," Picard said frostily. "My mind is unchanged.  Your job after I leave is to keep the Romulans busy while I am enroute to Qo'nos."

 "Yes, sir," Riker acknowledged, his anger reigned tightly. Fontaine stayed carefully neutral in what had suddenly become a power struggle between captain and first officer.  "Is there anything else, sir?" Riker asked formally.

 "Nothing more, Commander," Picard answered.  "Dismissed."

Riker stood up and turned to the door, throwing a dagger glance at Fontaine in the process.  Picard and Fontaine were silent until Riker was out of the room.

 "When will you contact Gowron again?" Picard asked

 "I don't need to," Fontaine answered.  "His ship will be here in eighteen hours."

 "You already accepted the mission?" Picard asked incredulously.

 "I knew you would accept."

 "In the future, Ambassador, I would like to speak for myself," Picard said coldly.

 "Of course," she answered, somewhat surprised at his reaction.

 "If there is nothing else, I must prepare to leave."

 "Nothing else, Captain."  Fontaine stood and left Picard alone with his thoughts.

.......................................

 As Picard entered his quarters that evening he noticed . . . perfection.  The table was set for dinner.  The rest of the room was immaculate, every single one of the many archaeological artifacts had been dusted and polished.  Looking closer, he realized Vash had alphabetized their entire book collection.  A very unhappy, but immaculately groomed cat dashed out of the bedroom and under the couch.  Picard silently wished he could join the cat.  Vash knew.  He didn't know how, but she knew.  Swallowing hard, he straightened his uniform and hesitantly called out, "Vash?"

 "Oh, you're home," Vash responded, in an overly perky tone, as she appeared in the doorway of their bedroom.  She looked as immaculate as the rest of the room.  She was dressed in a tailored, black crepe jumpsuit with long, sheer sleeves that ended in delicate ruffles at her wrists.  As she walked into the room, he noticed she was holding the cat's grooming brush.  She looked around and, gesturing with the brush, she asked, "Did you happen to see where Charcoal went?"

 "She ran under the couch.  I think that is her way of telling you the styling session is over," he replied, as he gently removed the brush from her hand and laid it down on a nearby table.  If he played this right, he might be able to diffuse her.  Then later they could discuss the situation, calmly.

 "Ma chere," he whispered, as he pulled her into his arms so his lips could capture hers in a tender kiss.

 As she felt Jean-Luc's arms around her and his lips on hers, Vash knew she was right.  Her premonition about the source of Riker's mood after her encounter with him this afternoon had been right on target.  Jean-Luc was somehow going to try to evade the Romulans and go to Qo'nos without the Enterprise.  The damn fool was probably going to get himself killed in the process.  She knew he had to go and that he really had no choice.  That didn't change the anxiety and fear that were threatening to overwhelm her.  She didn't want him to go.  She slid her arms over his shoulders and around his neck, pressing herself tightly against him.  She not only returned his kiss, but deepened it fervently.  Finally, Jean-Luc broke the kiss, leaving them both slightly breathless.  It was only then that Vash realized how tightly she was clutching him.

 "I guess we should think about having dinner." Vash tried to smile as she forced herself to loosen her hold on him.  She wondered when he was planning to tell her that he was leaving. That was assuming, of course, he was going to tell her.

 "Now that you mention it, I am kind of hungry," Picard admitted.  Letting go of her, he stepped back and rubbed his neck.  "It was a long day and I didn't have much of a lunch."

 "Just give me five minutes to wash up and get dinner on the table."  Vash reached up with one hand and ran her fingers through the grey hair at his temple, then turned to walk back into the bedroom.  She called back to him, "I hope you're hungry for chicken cordon bleu, because that's what we're having."

 "That sounds fine," he remarked.  With what he had to tell her, she could have said they were having cat food and he wouldn't have said a word.

 They sat through most of dinner talking about absolutely nothing of importance.  Vash finished her last bite of chicken. She leaned back in her chair, crossed her arms and stared at her husband.  He'd been home for over an hour now and he hadn't said a word about his leaving.  She was tired of waiting for the proverbial other shoe to drop.  "So, when are you leaving?"

 "I, uh," Picard fidgeted in his chair and adjusted his uniform jacket.  Her clipped tone and the way her eyes seemed to bore through him was disconcerting, to say the least.  His mother was the only other woman that had ever been able to unnerve him that way.  He took a deep breath and said simply, "Tomorrow morning."

 "I see."  Vash stood and paced over to the nearest window and stared out at the stars.  "And just when were you going to tell me, Jean-Luc?  Tonight?  Tomorrow just before you left?  Or were you going to have poor Will do it?"

 "Of course I intended to tell you.  I just didn't know how," he replied gently   "Are you all right?"

 "Peachy damn keen," she huffed, sarcastically.  She let her head fall forward to press against the window. "Oh, Jean-Luc, what do you want me to say?  That I don't want you to go?  I accept the fact that certain risks are a part of your chosen career and life aboard a starship.  For God's sake, at the moment we're surrounded by ten enemy warships, which is not exactly a secure position.  But this mission is suicide."

 "We're not surrounded by enemy ships, they're all in front of us," Picard corrected her. "And there have been other dangerous missions since we've been married.  In fact there have been a number of them,"  he asserted as he stood up from the table.  "But, you're not alone.  Will was also strongly opposed to this mission."

 Vash ignored his comment about the relative position of the other ships.  "In those other missions, you had a seasoned crew and the Federation flagship at your disposal."  Vash turned to face him.  Her voice louder and her tone firm,  "This is different.  If something goes wrong, if the vote goes the wrong way, Gowron could lose power and you would be trapped behind enemy lines with no reinforcements and no ship.  I know enough about your past exploits to know that if that happens, and the Klingons don't kill you, the Romulans certainly will."

 "I have to go."  He kept his tone gentle.  She was upset, and she had every right to be.  "This is the difficult part of being married to a Starfleet officer.  I know you're strong enough to handle it.  You've handled it on many occasions in the past."

 "Being married to a Starfleet officer is one thing,"  Vash retorted.  "But how does one handle being married to a Starfleet legend?  That is what we're really talking about here, isn't it?  Once again the Federation faces the danger of intergalactic war and only the legendary Captain Jean-Luc Picard can stop it."

 "That's only because the legendary Captain James T. Kirk isn't available."  He reached up and rubbed his chin.  "I think the term legend sounds somewhat pretentious."

 "Damn it, Jean-Luc, you're not listening to me," Vash swore, exasperated.  She took a deep breath and continued melodramatically, "my darling Jean-Luc, you are a living legend. This ship is a legend and our whole lives are pretentious: the military maneuver named after you, the archaeology wing at the Daystrom Institute named after me, our marriage."

 "Your point?" he asked as he walked over to her.

 "Maybe, just maybe, I don't want share you with the galaxy this time," Vash shouted, as tears welled up in her eyes.  She couldn't hold it in anymore.  "Maybe I just want to be a selfish bitch, keeping you safe and all to myself.  Just tell the whole galaxy to go to hell."

 Picard took her gently in his arms and held her as she started to cry.  After a few minutes, she started to calm down, her tears subsiding.  He kissed the top of her head and quietly asked, "All better?"

 Vash gave him a tremulous smile, her tone taking on its usual impish character. "Yeah, I'm good now."

 Picard wiped the tears from her cheek, "why don't you go change into something more comfortable while I clear the table.  Then I'll come in and do something legendary that will keep you warm until I come back from Qo'nos."

 "Well, at least you don't need your ship for this Picard Maneuver," Vash taunted seductively as she headed for the bedroom.

 Smiling, Picard started to clear the dinner table.  Halfway through, he looked up to see a Romulan warbird outside the window.  His smile slowly faded.  His thoughts darkened, 'Vash and Will are both right.  I'll be lucky to even make it to Qo'nos.  Even assuming I make it to Qo'nos, if the vote goes the wrong way the Romulans will kill me.  In fact, they'll probably make it a public execution.'

 He shook off those depressing thoughts and finished clearing the last of the dinner dishes.  He thought of Vash and how she continually amazed him.  He knew it took a certain kind of inner strength to watch and wait as a loved one faced danger   A strength that he, her so-called legend, didn't have.  If somehow their roles were reversed, he'd never be able to stand by and let her undertake this type of perilous mission.  He couldn't even bring himself to let her leave the ship without half a dozen security precautions, including an armed guard.  He felt fortunate that, as a ship's captain, not to mention a husband, it was his prerogative to insist on such measures.  The table now cleared, he turned and made his way into their bedroom.

 As Picard stepped into the bedroom, it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the low lighting.  He saw Vash standing on the far side of the room, looking out a window.  She turned to face him and he stood there, mesmerized by the sight of her.  The combination of the soft lighting and the floor length white peignoir she was wearing made her look like a seraphim.  Tiny pearl buttons ran the front of the gown from the scooped neckline to the hem.  The satin skimmed her feminine silhouette to fall into generous folds around her legs.  The gossamer-like robe had long bishop sleeves and was trimmed with lace and sequins.  He was flooded with memories of the last time she had worn this peignoir, their wedding night.  He hadn't seen it since and had assumed it was in storage with her wedding gown and the rest of her trousseau at the family estate on Earth.  His eyes locked with hers as he slowly crossed the room to stand in front of her.  He reached out and gently stroked the smooth skin of Vash's cheek with the back of his fingers.  She tilted her head slightly, leaning into his caress.  The only words he could think of were the same ones he had spoken on their wedding night.

 "My beautiful bride," he said in a deep resonating whisper. Looking directly into her vivid blue eyes, he continued to stroke her cheek.

 The intensity in his voice, in his eyes, and in his actions caused Vash to become suddenly and uncharacteristically shy.  His sleek, muscular build, steel grey eyes, and chiseled features made him quite dashing.  Add the uniform and the effect was devastating.  Her body trembled from the rush of desire that spread through her.  She blushed and her breathing quickened.  Looking down, she demurely averted her eyes.

 Tenderly, he cupped her chin and drew her gaze back up to his.  He lowered his face and let his lips claim hers in a slow, promising kiss.  As his lips moved over hers, he could smell the delicate scent of her favorite perfume.  Reluctantly, he broke the kiss, still holding her chin cupped gently in his hand.  He was enraptured by the alluring way the satin moved over the soft curves of her breasts as she struggled to catch her breath.  The sight made his pulse race and his throat ache with longing.  He brought his gaze back up to her lovely face.  Her eyes fluttered open to again lock with his.  There were no words that could express the depths of his need for her.  His eyes spoke his desperate need as they searched hers.

 "Please Jean-Luc, make love to me," Vash's voice quavered slightly as she reached up with one finger to trace the outline of his lips.  She didn't need to hear the words.  She could see the silent plea in his face.  Wordlessly, he swept her up and carried her to the bed, the delicate material of her peignoir spilling over his arms.  A small sigh escaped Vash's lips as she felt his powerful arms lifting her effortlessly.  She slid her arms around his neck and let her head fall to rest on his shoulder, welcoming the reassurance she found in the strength of his arms.  Tenderly laying her on the bed, Jean-Luc covered her body with his own as he captured her lips in a gentle yet passionate kiss.  His tongue slipped past her parted lips to stroke and caress the warm, moist cavern of her mouth.  She arched toward him as the feel of his hard muscular form crushed against her inflamed her increasing desires.

 Picard felt her move sinuously beneath him as the weight of his body pressed hers into the bed.  Her arms slipped from his neck.  Her small hands traveled over his shoulders and down the front of his uniform jacket.  Her trembling fingers fumbled with the fastenings.  Picard raised himself to kneel above her.  Her trembling hands were still holding onto the fastenings of his jacket. Taking both of her hands in his, he brought them up to tenderly kiss each fingertip.  His eyes never left hers as he quickly unfastened and removed the jacket and tunic himself, dropping them to the floor.  He reached down to reverently touch the robe's pearl clasp that lay at the hollow  of her throat.  Undoing the clasp, he lowered his face to brush a kiss on the sensitive spot.  Vash's head fell back, baring the graceful curve of her neck to the trail of feather-light kisses he laid from the base of her throat to her lips.  He teased her, brushing her lips ever-so-softly as he removed the robe.

 Vash closed her eyes, savoring the the warmth from his hands gently gliding over her as he slipped the diaphanous material from her shoulders, down her arms and out from underneath her.  He continued to nibble at her lips with brief, tentative kisses making her yearn for more.

 Dropping one last kiss on her full lips, Picard pulled his face from hers.  As he kneeled next to her, his gaze slowly pored over the full length of her body to memorize every detail.  He studied the way her hair, strewn over the pillow, framed the delicate features of her face.  His eyes traced the satin as it followed the curves of her body to drape across the bed in a shimmery fan. His attention was again drawn to the very first pearl button that lay at the top of the cleft between her breasts.  The irresistible lure tantalized him, inviting him to explore the familiar sweetness hidden beneath.  As he undid each pearl button, it received his intimate attention.  He let his fingers trail lingeringly down the gown to open each button in it's turn.  As he drew the satin from her body, Picard caught his breath at the sight of Vash's nipples hardening as the smooth fabric slid from the full curves of her breasts.  The lush roundness and ivory skin tipped with deep rosy peaks proved to be an overwhelming temptation.

 Vash arched toward Jean-Luc as she felt his lips gently brush one rosy tip.  Streaks of fire raced through her body as he leisurely swirled his tongue over taut peak.  She cupped his head in her hands and drew him as close as she could, feeling the sharp ache grow as he suckled first one breast, then the other.  The heat from his tongue along with the sharp pull of his mouth and the occasional scrape of his teeth soon had her writhing with raw need.  Just when she thought she could stand no more, his mouth left her breasts.  Breathing hard, she looked up to see Jean-Luc studying her face.  Her arms dropped heavily to her sides as she lost herself in his desire-darkened gaze.  She couldn't tear her eyes away from his, even when he cupped her breast in his hand and began massaging the tip with his thumb.  The passion-swollen bud was already hardened and sensitive.  She bit her lip to keep from crying out when his right hand came up to close around her other breast.  Losing control, she grasped Jean-Luc's slender hips to anchor herself.  Needing to feel his skin, she moved her hands up past the uniform pants to caress the taut muscles of his stomach. Working her way up his hard, lean torso, she tangled her fingers in the hair on his chest.  Beneath her sensitive fingertips, she could feel the hardened nubs of Jean-Luc's nipples.   She flicked one nipple with her thumbnail.

 Picard's broad shoulders jerked as he quickly controlled the shudder of need that ripped through his body at her touch.  Pulling her hands away from his chest, he placed a tender kiss on each palm.  He moved down the bed, out of her reach, and knelt to kiss the inside of one delicate ankle.  He worked his way up her leg at a slow, deliberate pace, kissing every inch of her long, shapely leg.  Holding her hips firmly, he lingered on the soft skin of her inner thigh. Repeating his actions with her other leg, he studiously avoided the temptation at the juncture of her hips.  Moving higher, he placed small kisses around her belly button before erotically exploring it with his tongue.  Feeling her writhe helplessly under his moist assault, he moved his mouth to press nibbling kisses in the sweet hollow of each hip.  Continuing on, he pressed kisses up her flat stomach and around each breast. Feeling drawn by the invitation of the hardened peaks, he contented himself with dropping one quick kiss on each nipple.

 Vash looked up with a passion-drugged gaze at her adoring husband.  Needing more, needing to feel him, she sat up slightly and caressed the corded muscles of his strong thigh.  She placed a feather-light kiss on the straining fabric of his uniform pants. Hearing Jean-Luc's quick gasp, she replaced her mouth with her hand, cupping the taut cloth.  The hard length strained against his trousers, throbbing against her hand as she caressed him.  She sat up a little further to nuzzle the sweat-dampened skin above his pants.  When she heard his groan, she smiled into his glistening stomach.

 Picard dropped a kiss to the top of Vash's head before pulling himself off the bed to quickly dispose of his pants.   Joining her on the bed once more, he settled himself between her thighs.  Prolonging this beautiful night just a little longer, he traced down each arm with his fingertips.  Clasping her hands in his, he spread their arms out to either side of their bodies, pushing her down into the bed with the weight of his body.  He very slightly nudged himself into her softness, memorizing the feel of her body, warm and satiny beneath him.   He wanted this moment to last forever, but he would at least remember it forever.

 Vash felt Jean-Luc ease himself just barely inside her, his body gently rocking back and forth.  Every fiber of her being seared with her desire for him.  She wanted to feel him deep inside her, filling her completely.  Urgently, she moved her heels up to push against his hips in a silent plea for what she wanted so badly.  As she nuzzled the curve of his neck, she moaned softly at the erotic pressure of him pushing against her.

 Vash's urgings and her sweet sounds of passion sent an intense surge of arousal through Picard.  With a long, slow stroke, he buried his hard length into her heated depths.   He moved slowly, with a gentle, deliberate pace, wanting to make this last an eternity.  As her movements fell into step with his, he reveled in the waves of pleasure that washed over him.  He felt Vash tightening against him, drawing him in deeper and deeper.  The soft supple curves of her body instinctively molded to the hard length of his.  She intermittently dug her nails into the back of his hands as her hands clutched at his.  He increased the rhythm, feeling his needs increase as she matched him stroke for stroke.  As he drove his body into hers, she ground her hips up into his, desperately trying to keep him inside her.  With their hands still clasped, Picard pulled his head up to look down at Vash.  She opened her eyes to the captivating gaze of her lover.  Not breaking stride, he watched her eyes with wonder as she drew closer and closer to the peak of ecstasy.

 Vash abandoned herself to the haven she found in the strength of Jean-Luc's masculine presence.  With every long stroke, she could feel his body bury itself deep inside hers.  The heat and fullness of each thrust sent torrents of intense sensations flooding over her.  Her nipples grazed his chest, sending streaks of fire shooting through her as her body milked him with each thrust.  Her hands clenched his tightly as she arched toward him, her entire body quaking with fulfillment.  Still lost in Jean-Luc's ardent gaze, Vash watched, breathlessly, as her final spasms of release gave Jean-Luc his.

 The profoundly erotic combination of the flame in Vash's eyes and overwhelming pleasure of her body shuddering around his was Picard's undoing, sending him over the edge.  He made one final thrust, holding himself deep inside her, as his own release consumed him.  Still holding hands, he gathered their arms closer to their bodies.  He lowered his head and kissed her lingeringly.

 "Legendary,"  Vash finally gasped.  "I'll give you this, Mon capitaine, you don't disappoint."

 Picard smiled and rolled onto his side, taking her with him and settling her against his sweat-dampened chest.  He gently cradled her in his arms and kissed the top of her head.

 With her cheek resting on his chest, Vash tightly squeezed her eyes shut to fight the tears starting to sting them.  She lightly trailed her fingers over the sculpted muscles of his upper arm.  She had become accustomed to his ever-present love and protection.  She never wanted to lose the security those strong arms offered her.  She watched as he let his arm drop off the edge of the bed and wiggled his fingers to get the cat's attention.

 "Here kitten, Come here, kitten," Picard called quietly as the cat entered the room.

 It was just the opening Vash needed to break her melancholy mood.  She snuggled closer and looked up at him.  "Which one?" she teased impishly

 Raising one eyebrow, Picard looked down at her with a small smile.  He should have seen that one coming.  Reaching down with the arm that still held her, he gave her a playful swat on her bare behind.  "Since you're already here, I was obviously talking to Charcoal."  He wrapped his arm back around her and his voice became tender, "You really should get some sleep."

 Vash watched as the cat jumped to the foot of the bed and curled up to go to sleep.  Her pensive mood returned.  "You once told me I could have anything that was within your power to give me."

 "I remember, and I meant it."  He drew a finger along her jaw.  "When this is over, you want me to retire from Starfleet."

 "You'd be bored within forty-eight hours," she gently shook her head no.  "And it wouldn't even take that long before Starfleet Command would be requesting your help on some mission."

 "What then?"

 "Come home," she pleaded, looking up into his eyes. "Please, come home."

 He nodded and tenderly kissed her forehead.  "Go to sleep, ma chere."

 "I can't,"  she whispered, fighting back the tears once again.

 "Roll over, darling.  Just close your eyes, and relax."  His voice was low.

 She rolled over on her stomach, nestled her cheek into the pillow, and closed her eyes.   She sighed quietly as she felt him gently begin to rub her back.  His hands softly massaged her, starting at her neck, moving down to lightly knead her shoulders.  The last thing Vash was aware of as she drifted off to sleep was her husband's strong hands caressing her up and down from the shoulders to the small of her back.

 Once Picard was sure Vash was asleep, he pulled the covers over them and laid down on his side next to her.  Draping his arm across her and resting a hand on the small of her back, he went to sleep.

...............................................

 "Jean-Luc, do you have everything you need?"  Vash called back to Picard in the bedroom as she finished clearing the last of the breakfast dishes from the table. "Will should be here soon."

 "Yes, dear," Picard answered as he walked out of the bedroom and into the living room.  He laid his small overnight bag on the couch.  He looked at her and smiled.  Even dressed in a khaki work shirt and pants, she managed to look feminine.  Last night, over dinner, she told him she was taking a group of ensigns on a tour of a holodeck simulation of King Tutankhamen's tomb in the Valley of the Kings to teach basic excavation techniques.  "My, don't you look archaeological."

 "Well," Vash explained as she turned and walked to him. "I like to look the part.  It's not as attractive as a skirt and pumps, but it's much easier to crawl around in a cave when you're not dressed like a girl."

 "Mrs. Picard, with a figure like this,"  Picard chuckled, using his hands to span the graceful sloping line from her small waist to her hips.  "You always look like a girl.  A very pretty one at that."

 "Flatterer," Vash cooed as she let her hands rest on the masculine slope of his shoulders.  Raising her eyes to meet his, her voice turned tender.  "I guess we should say our good-byes now, before Will gets here."

 "Going to the transporter room is completely your decision," Picard told her softly.  "You don't have to go."

 "Yes, I do and I want to go," she said, her voice quiet, but adamant.

 "All right," he nodded.  His hands tightened around her waist, he lowered his face to hers and whispered, "Always remember, I love you."

 "I love you," she whispered back just before his lips captured hers in a lingering kiss of passion.  She slipped her arms around his neck pulling him as close as she could.  While returning his ardent kiss, she held onto him as if she would never let go.  When the kiss ended, Vash laid her head against his chest.   Picard wrapped his arms around her tightly.  She sighed into his chest, "I'm going to miss you.

 "I'm going to miss you too," he said softly into her hair. The door chime sounded.  He let go of her and stepped back. "I'll be back before you know it," he promised, then leaning down he gave her a quick kiss on the tip of her nose. Straightening up he called, "Come."

 Will Riker walked in.  "Good morning, Vash, good morning sir, sir."

 "Hi, Will," Vash smiled.  Charcoal came padding out of the bedroom.  The cat pointedly walked past the Enterprise's captain to rub up against the first officer's boot.

 "Sir?"  Reaching down to scratch the cat's head, Riker asked, amused.

 "Ever since she saw me packing, she hasn't been speaking to me.  She's been in a snit all morning," Picard explained, looking down at the small cat with mock insult.  He looked at Riker and gave a small smile, "It seems the two of you have something in common, Number One."

 "Me?" Riker gasped, it was now his turn to feign injury. "A snit, never."  He strongly disagreed with Picard going and had told him so.  However, the captain's mind was made up and his decision was final.  Riker was not one to hold a grudge.  He returned the captain's smile, "In your own words, everything is ship shape and Bristol fashion."

 "Understood, Number One," Picard replied.  Then getting down to business he asked, "Has the Klingon ship arrived?"

 "Yes, sir," the first officer reported.  "Commander Bak'Rul of the Ikarsha sends his regards to the Arbiter of Succession. They have transmitted transporter coordinates and are ready to receive you at your convenience.  Counselor Troi and Ambassador Fontaine will meet us in transporter room two."

 "Very good."  Picard picked up his overnight bag, put it over his shoulder and then offered Vash his arm. "Let's not keep everybody waiting."

..............................................

 In transporter room two, Worf glared at his wife and growled low in his throat.  He hated the idea of the captain going on this mission and he liked the idea of Deanna going even less.

 "Worf, stop that," Deanna hissed.  Damn, she really didn't want to argue about this, again.  She took a deep breath and continued in a calmer voice, "Please, we discussed all this last night.  As a Starfleet officer and ship's counselor it is my duty to help the Captain with diplomatic functions.  I'm quite capable of taking care of myself while performing my duties.  Would you deny your mate the honor of carrying out her duty?"

 "That's not fair.  You know Klingon tradition wouldn't allow . . ." Worf started.

 "Good,"  Deanna cut him off.  Laying her hands on his broad chest, she gazed up at him invitingly and cooed, "So how about a good-bye kiss while we're still alone."

 "Deanna, please be careful," he said simply.  Then Worf's large muscular arms crushed Deanna to him and his mouth devoured hers in a fiercely possessive kiss.

 "I promise," Deanna managed to gasp as she finally pulled away from her husband and smoothed out her uniform.  They heard the door open and turned to see the Ambassador enter, followed by Picard, Vash, and Riker.  Picard walked over to them.

 "Counselor, I would like to remind you again that due to the possible danger involved, this mission is strictly on a volunteer basis," Picard stressed to her.  Then gently he asked, "Deanna, are you sure about this?"

 "Yes, sir."  Deanna squared her shoulders and looked pointedly from her husband to her commanding officer.  "And frankly, sir, you need me.  Considering the volatile atmosphere on Qo'nos, my empathic abilities could prove to be crucial to the success of the mission."

 "I'm forced to agree with you," Picard told her.  He glanced up at his security officer apologetically.  "I'll take care of her, Mr. Worf."

 While Picard was talking to Troi, Fontaine made her way over to Riker.  The simple, black jumpsuit she wore served to accent her green eyes and her feminine curves.  She gave the handsome first officer her most devastating smile.  "No hard feelings, Commander?"

 "No hard feelings, Ambassador."  With a familiar glint in his blue eyes, Riker returned her smile.  He just couldn't seem to stay angry with her.  He felt like a Ping-Pong ball.  One minute he wanted to shake her until she realized the foolish risk she was taking, then the next minute he wanted to . .  , well this wasn't the time.  Amused he thought, 'this must be what Vash does to the captain.'

 "I'm glad.  Will, about yesterday, I can be somewhat obstinate.  All right, downright pigheaded.  I do understand your concerns about your captain's safety on this mission," she admitted, pushing a stray lock of her brunette hair behind one ear.

 "It's not just the captain's safety, Catherine."  Riker's voice and eyes showed his concern.  Back over the net, he thought as he felt his anger growing over her obliviousness to her own peril.  "You yourself could be considered a very tempting target."

 "I'm always careful on Qo'nos," she said seriously.  Then the smile returned to her face and her tone became much lighter. "A very tempting target.  I'll remember you said that, Commander."

 As Riker watched her walk up to join Deanna on the transporter pad, he shook his head.  He felt his anger giving way to amusement.  How had she managed to give his very serious warning such a naughty connotation?  Turning his attention to Picard and Vash, he strode over to where Vash was standing with the captain.

 "Well, sir .   ."  Riker began.

 "The ship is yours, Number One."  Picard looked at his first officer and then smiled down at his wife.  "Please don't let my wife redecorate anything.  My command chair does not need a eyelet lace dust ruffle."

 "Understood, sir.  No dust ruffles."

 "Jean-Luc, don't be absurd," Vash said with mock indignation.  "A dust ruffle would look all wrong, a few throw pillows; however."

 "Just try to stay out of trouble,"  Picard teased her tenderly as he took both her hands in his.

 "I always try."  She looked up at him coyly.

 He leaned in closer and whispered, "Always remember."

 "Always," she whispered back.

 He gently squeezed her hands as his lips brushed hers in a quick, romantic kiss.  He stepped back, straightened his uniform and nodded to Riker.  Then he took his place on the transporter pad.

 Riker looked at Worf standing behind the control console. "Energize."

 "Energizing, sir," Worf answered.  All three of them watched as the away team dematerialized.  Looking down at the console, Worf reported, "The Ikarsha reports the arrival of our away team, sir."

 "Thank you, Mr. Worf," Riker replied.  He turned to Vash, "I don't know about you, but I could use a drink.  Join me?"

 "Please," Vash answered gratefully.

 Vash and Riker stepped into the turbolift and the doors closed behind them.  Once in the privacy of the turbolift, Riker let out a sigh and leaned casually against the wall.  Vash looked up to see the concern that was now plainly visible on the first officer's face.  She knew Will had the same reservations about this that she did.  With a small smile, she said, "We have to believe Jean-Luc knows what he's doing and that they'll be fine, Will"

 "Correct me if I'm wrong,"  Riker chuckled, looking down at her.  He should have known she would instantly pick up on his anxiety.  "But isn't that supposed to be my line?"

 "So sue me," Vash retorted good naturedly.  Her tone turned serious and her eyes mirrored his own concern.  "I know you're about as happy as I am with this suicide mission."

 "I wouldn't call it a suicide mission, Vash," Riker said, trying to reassure her.

 "Sure you would," she countered gently.  There was no way Will could shield her from the knowledge that her husband was facing grave danger behind enemy lines, but he was giving it the old college try.  "And unless I miss my guess, you probably did."

 "Do you have the ready room bugged?"  Riker asked with mild amusement.

 "No, not at all," she smiled again.  "It's just that your arguments with Jean-Luc are almost as predictable as my own."

 "I'm really trying to play the confident, reassuring executive officer," Riker teased her with mock exasperation. "Could the Queen Bee at least work with me on this?"

 "Shame on me," Vash teased back.  She glanced down at the floor and then looked back up at the handsome first officer through her lashes, laying a hand on his arm.  "Actually, there was a favor I wanted to ask you, but I wanted to wait until after Jean-Luc left, because I didn't want to put you on the spot."

 Riker instantly recognized Vash's 'I really want something look'.  The Captain could, on rare occasions, ignore that look.  Riker never bothered to even try and tended to indulge Vash.  After all, he didn't have to live with her   There was a glint to Riker's blue eyes as he gave Vash his most chivalrous look. "What does Her Majesty want?"

 "Well, I know we're still at red alert and technically that means no bridge clearance for civilians," she paused briefly and Riker nodded.  She continued, "If I promise to behave myself, may I be present in the ready room when Jean-Luc contacts you from Qo'nos."

 "Under the circumstances, I see no reason why you shouldn't have your normal access to the bridge and the ready room."  Was that all she wanted?  Riker was very pleased that not only could he grant her request but that he could go one step further. "In fact, if you promise to be a really good girl, once I have ascertained from the Captain that everything is all right, I'll even let you talk to him."

 "Oh, Will, thank you!" Vash squealed, totally surprised. Standing on tiptoe to reach, she leaned closer and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

 "You're welcome," Riker replied as he smiled down at her.

........................................

 Picard, Troi, and Fontaine materialized onto the transporter pad aboard the Klingon ship.  The stale stench of the air assaulted their noses with the first breath.  It took a conscious effort not recoil at the foul air.  A large, dark Klingon approached the transporter pad.  His long hair and beard hung freely.  "Captain," he said with a gravel voice, "I am to take the three of you to the bridge."

 "You are not the captain?" Picard asked.

 "No," came the curt reply.  The Klingon turned and walked out.  The trio exchanged glances and cautiously followed.  Their footsteps echoed through the close corridors as they walked on the steel floors.  The entire ship seemed an endless maze of muddy browns and dull grays.  Loud, aggressive voices, punctuated by the occasional clang, carried from corridors and rooms they passed on the way to the bridge.  Picard was convinced he could not work well on a Klingon ship for an extended period.

 Troi pulled Picard back several steps from their Klingon escort.  "The tension on this ship is extremely high, Captain," she said quietly as they walked.

 "What can you sense?" Picard looked around as if to see the tension for himself

 "Nothing specific," Trio replied.  "I am feeling great tension throughout the ship; however, I am also getting strong undertones of pride."

 "That's not surprising considering what we are attempting," Picard evaluated.  "However, keep me advised of anything at all out of the ordinary."

 "Yes, sir. Sir," Trio asked after a moment, "what IS ordinary here?"

 "I don't know yet, Counselor," Picard admitted.

 Several minutes later, the Klingon escorting them was summoned on the ship's intercom.  Picard strained to hear the conversation, but the quiet, muffled Klingon was too garbled for him to discern.  The Klingon clicked off the intercom and activated the door next to it.  He motioned the trio into the small room.  "Commander Bak'Rul wishes you to remain here for a short time."

 "This is highly irregular," Picard objected.  "I must insist on seeing your captain at once."

 "These are Commander Bak'Rul's orders.  He expects compliance."

 "I see," Picard said.  "I must tell you that this will be reported to Gowron upon our arrival on Qo'nos."

 The Klingon made no reply.  After several tense seconds, Picard entered the room followed by Fontaine and Troi.  The door closed immediately.

 "I don't like this at all, Counselor," Picard said.  "Is there anything else you can sense."

 Troi was silent for a moment as she appeared to be looking through Picard.  Finally her gaze focused.  "No, sir.  There are far too many strong emotions onboard.  It is impossible to separate them out."

 "Very well.  What do you think, Ambassador?" he asked.

 "I don't know.  I've seen Klingons act pretty strange before.  This may just be wariness on their part."

 "Well," Picard sat down on a nearby bench, "I guess we will find out in due course."

 Within a half hour, the Klingon returned.  "You are to go to the bridge now," came the terse command.   There was no attempt at explaining the delay.

 As they approached the bridge, Troi whispered to Picard. "The emotions I'm sensing are becoming a little more clear."

 "Go on," he muttered back.

 "I'm sensing continuous combinations of fear, exhilaration, and for the first time, deception."

 "Can you be more specific?' Picard asked.

 "No," she answered helplessly.  "They are getting stronger though."

 The Klingon gestured to the end of the corridor.  "The bridge is through that door."

 As they approached the door, Troi became more agitated. ''Something's wrong,"  she warned.  ''Something familiar."

 "What?" Picard asked.

 "I don't know, but I've felt this before.  I think it's a person, but it's being screened by the other strong emotions on the ship."

 When they reached the end of the corridor, the door opened. At that instant Troi identified the sensation.  "Captain!" she yelled.  "It's-"

 "TOMALAK!" Picard's deep voice resonated across the bridge as he saw the arrogant Romulan waiting for him.

 "Ah, Captain Picard," Tomalak greeted him with a smile.  "I am flattered that you remembered me so quickly.  It has been a long time.  Please come in."  Tomalak motioned them onto the bridge.

 Picard warily entered the bridge with Troi and Fontaine close behind.  "What is the meaning of this, Tomalak?  Why are you on a Klingon ship taking us to Qo'nos?" he demanded, tugging at his uniform jacket.

 "I'm afraid you are somewhat mistaken, Captain," Tomalak once again gave the trio a Cheshire cat grin.  "You are correct that this is a Klingon ship, but I'm afraid your destination has changed slightly."

 "Has it," Picard stated.

 "Yes," Tomalak replied.  "You see, I cannot allow you to complete your trip to Qo'nos.  The Romulan government has too many people who could be endangered by your presence."

 "Tomalak," Picard interrupted, "you know that I pose no danger to anyone.  Especially alone."

 "I must admit, I was surprised when you decided to leave your ship -- but you are full of surprises, aren't you?  This time the tables are turned.  It is I who surprised you with Klingons."

 "Tomalak . . ."

 "Enough of this for now," Tomalak said with a raised hand, cutting Picard off.  "We will have plenty of time for small talk after you arrive at your new quarters."

 "What 'new quarters'?" Picard asked.

 Tomalak looked around the bridge of the Klingon ship with disdain.  "I have far too much respect and admiration for you to leave you languishing in surroundings like these.  We will soon rendezvous with a Romulan ship.  You will be transferred there." He turned his attention to the Klingon captain standing slightly behind him to his right.  "You may return our guests to their quarters until I send for them."

 Picard's felt his blood chill at the thought of being imprisoned on a Romulan ship.  He felt Troi and Fontaine stiffen in response as well.

 Commander Bak'Rul barked an order in Klingon.  Commander Bak'Rul was short and very solid looking.  His deeply lined face spoke of many battles he had seen.  Two, large, Klingon warriors instantly appeared behind the three Federation envoys.

 "You are kidnapping a Federation ambassador and two Starfleet officers, Tomalak.  At best, this is an act of piracy.   At worst, it's an act of war."

 "On the contrary, Captain.  I have not kidnapped anyone.  As far as everyone outside this room knows, you are on your way to Qo'nos.  After this little misunderstanding with the Klingons is taken care of, then maybe we can talk about in what condition you will be returned to the Federation.  Until then, you and I will have plenty of time to talk -- and we have much to discuss." Tomalak gestured to the Klingon warriors.  They pushed the trio through the door and off the bridge.

 "How much time before we rendezvous with Commander Taibak's ship?" Tomalak asked the Klingon captain after the door closed behind Picard.

 "Approximately one half hour   I wanted to get far enough away that it appeared we were really enroute to Qo'nos.   Immediately after we deliver you and your prisoners, we will be leaving to join other forces of my house."

 "Very well, Commander.  Advise me when we arrive."

 "As you wish," Bak'Rul said with a slight edge of malice.

 "I get the distinct impression that you do not like me very much, Bak'Rul," Tomalak noted.

 "What I think is not important in this operation, Romulan!" the Klingon captain spat, defiantly looking up at Tomalak.

 "Good," Tomalak replied contemptuously.  "You know your place."

 A low grow erupted from the Klingon's throat.  "I do what I do because of loyalty to my house and to the dream of restoring the Empire, not out of any love for you or your kind.   One day our two empires will do battle.  When that day comes I want to be the captain of the ship that blows you from the stars."

 "I hope you get you chance," Tomalak sneered.  "But until then, you are still taking orders from me.  One other thing, Commander," Tomalak added.  "Do not take your eyes off of Picard. He is the best they have.  If something happens to him, the Tal Shiar will slit my throat . . .but not before I slit yours.  Good day, Commander."  With that Tomalak turned and walked off the bridge.

...........................................

 As soon as the guards left the room and secured the door, Picard turned to the others.   "Opinions?" he asked.

 "We're screwed," Fontaine offered.

 "Something more helpful would be appreciated, Ambassador," Picard noted dryly.

 "The captain of this ship does not like Tomalak," Troi announced

 "That might be helpful," Picard said thoughtfully   "What else do we know?"

 "Tomalak is involved," Troi pointed out the obvious.

 "Other Romulans are also directly involved," Fontaine surmised.  "They are taking us to a Romulan ship, so it is not just this Tomalak."  She paused for a moment.  "Who is this Romulan, anyway?"

 "Someone we have had dealings with in the past.  He feels he has a personal score to settle with me for some reason,"  Picard explained.  "They are transferring us to a Romulan ship," he added, almost to himself.

 "That's what Tomalak said," Troi stated.

 "Not a Romulan base," Picard pointed out curiously. "They're taking us back to the Romulan fleet facing the Enterprise on the border," Fontaine said in realization.

 "That would be my guess,  Picard confirmed.  "Counselor, you have been on a Romulan ship for an extended period.  Is there anything you can tell us?"

 "Well, we will probably be separated.  They will be merciless, unless they need us alive for some reason.  They are more efficient than the Klingons at guarding their prisoners. I doubt we'll be able to escape."

 "How would we escape," Fontaine asked.

 "I haven't quite worked that out yet," Picard answered.

 "Even if we do escape," Fontaine pressed, "where would we go?"

 "Communications transmitter," Picard began working out a strategy.  "We must make our plans now.  Once we are on the Romulan ship, we will most likely not be able to talk to each other."  He turned to Troi.  "If you found a transmitter, do you think you could operate it?"

 "I believe so, sir."

 "Good," he nodded approvingly.  "Now, both Counselor Troi and I will attempt to escape and locate a transmitter.  If either one of us find one, we will contact the Enterprise and advise them of the situation."

 "Excuse me," Fontaine asked.  "If we try something like that, don't you think they might, oh -- kill us!?"

 "Now you know why only the Counselor and I are going to try this,"  Picard pointed out with a rueful smile.

 "Then what am I supposed to do while you and Troi are out gallivanting around the ship?" Fontaine asked.

 "Stay alive," Picard commanded.  "You don't have any experience with Romulans, do you?"

 Fontaine shook her head negatively.  "I'm afraid that they are one race I have not dealt with."

 "Well, you should be relatively well treated unless they want information from you that you refuse to provide," Picard commented.  "Try to stall as long as possible if they try to interrogate you.  Keep the conversation on your terms, but above all, remember that these are not Klingons.  You cannot act the same way with them as you would with Klingons.  They have a different way of doing things."

 "What do you mean 'you cannot act the same way with them?'" Fontaine asked apprehensively.

 Troi answered.  "Klingons expect and respect honorable resistance.  It is part of their warrior culture.  Anyone who talks too soon would be considered a traitor, not deserving of honor."

 "I know," Fontaine nodded.  "I dealt with that on a daily basis on Qo'nos."

 "The Romulans are different," Troi explained.  "They have a very strong sense of honor, but it is very different than the Klingons.  They will not assign their values of honor to other races.  As far as they are concerned, you are simply a source of information to be exploited and discarded.  Where the Klingons might eventually give up an interrogation if they have not gained what they wanted and proclaim your honor in keeping your secrets, the Romulans will simply continue the interrogation until you break or die."

 "And knowing the Romulans," Picard cut in, "you would break first."

 "Romulan codes of honor," Troi added, "are reserved for other Romulans, provided it does not interfere with the mission."

 "Socially, they are more complex than the Klingons," Picard continued.  "They are not evil, they just have their own interests that almost always conflict with ours.  Machiavelli would have made a good Romulan."

 A short time later the door of the room opened.  Several large Klingon warriors entered followed by the stout figure of Commander Bak'Rul.  "It is time for you to go to the Romulan ship," Bak'Rul growled.

 The three prisoners looked at each other and stood up. Picard unconsciously straightened his uniform top as he rose.

 Bak'Rul turned to the other Klingons.  "Leave us!" he commanded.  The warriors turned and left the room without protest.  Bak'Rul did not speak until the door was closed.  "As a Klingon warrior, I must apologize for what has happened to you. It is a dishonorable, but necessary thing."

 "Captain," Picard questioned, "if you do not agree with it, why are you participating?"

 "Out of loyalty to my house, and to the Empire -- the real Klingon Empire.  Before the Federation.  Before the peace.  The Empire is a weak shadow of its former glory, and I blame the Federation."

 "Then why are you here now?" Picard sounded justifiably suspicious.

 "Because I despise Romulans.  All they know are lies and deceit.  They do nothing straightforward.  I've learned that all too well in dealing with Tomalak.  I would like nothing better than to tie him to a pole and use him for bat'telh practice."

 "Are you releasing us then?" Picard asked warily.

 "I'm sorry, Captain, but that is not possible.  I may not like the Romulans, but I do not want to be killed by them right now."

 "Then why are you here?  Surely not just to open your soul to us," Picard assumed.

 "You are correct, Captain.  I cannot let you go, but I can offer some information you may find useful after you arrive on the Romulan ship."

 "What sort of information?"

 "The ship you are going to is the lead Romulan ship in the group facing the Enterprise," Bak' Rul offered.

 "I thought we would be going back to that group," Picard nodded thoughtfully.

 "The ship is under the command of a Romulan named Taibak."

 Picard nodded again.  "I've spoken to him recently.  He's not a very pleasant fellow, although he tries to sound like he is."

 Bak'Rul smiled.  "That's probably because he's Tal Shiar," he snorted, amused.  "I would not want to be in your position."

 "Tal Shiar," Picard repeated, letting the comment from Bak'Rul pass.  "Is there anything else you can tell me?  Is Taibak in charge of the entire operation out here?"

 "I believe so," Bak'Rul guessed.  "It seems Tomalak is afraid of him."

 "Did Tomalak say what they intended to do with us?" Picard asked

 "No, not directly.  You seem to be valuable as hostages, especially the ambassador," Bak'Rul pointed at Fontaine.  "And of course, you are the Arbiter of Succession.  It would be wise to keep you out of the treaty debate.  The Romulans cannot risk your influence.  You are also a good information source as a Starfleet captain.  The Romulans don't get their hands on one every day."

 "When do we go?"

 "In just a minute.  Tomalak does not know I'm talking to you.  One other thing."  Bak'Rul handed Picard a small cubical device with a black button on one side.  "This was developed by some of our scientists.  It will disable Romulan force fields. You may be able to use it to escape from your cell.  After that I can be of no help to you."

 "Thank you," Picard accepted the unexpected gift in near disbelief.

 "One thing you should know," Bak'Rul cautioned.  "You may only use this once.  After its first use it will automatically self destruct, so make it count."

 "Why are you doing this?" Picard asked in amazement as he hid the device in his uniform.

 "Dispel your illusions, Captain," Bak'Rul growled.  "I'm not on your side.  I am simply using you to make life difficult for the Romulans.  I blame the Federation in general and you in particular for what has happened to the Empire, but I dislike the Romulans even more.  With you running around their ship, they might be too preoccupied to bother us.  I really hope you die in the attempt."

 "Thank you," Picard said sarcastically.

 Fontaine spoke for the first time.  "Machiavelli would have made a good Klingon too."

 "Agreed," Picard shook his head at this turn of events.

 "Guards!" Bak'Rul called.  The door opened and the Klingon warriors standing outside entered.  "Take them to the transporter."  The warriors escorted the prisoners out of the room and down the corridor to the transporter.

.............................................

 Picard, Troi and Fontaine materialized onto the transporter pad aboard the Romulan ship.  They immediately noticed the stark, antiseptic atmosphere of their surroundings in contrast to the foul, dankness of the Klingon vessel.  Two stone-faced Romulan soldiers approached the pad with disruptors ready.  The three slowly raised their hands.

 "Welcome to my humble ship," Tomalak greeted them from behind the control console where he stood next to the operator. "I hope you find the accommodations here to your liking.  I'm sure they will be better than where you just came from."

 "Get on with this, Tomalak," Picard spat angrily.  "What do you want with us?"

 "Only to be your host for a time," Tomalak replied, sounding like the owner of a resort.  "My ship is your ship.  I want you to be comfortable and enjoy your stay."

 "It's hard to be comfortable with disruptors pointed in my face."

 "Crude, but necessary, Captain.  I wouldn't want you to leave before you've seen all the sights."  Tomalak turned to the soldiers and nodded.  They approached the three and placed hoods over their heads.

 "Blindfolds?" Picard asked.  "I thought we were 'guests'."

 "I'm sorry, Captain, this is also necessary.  There are certain sights I do not want you to see.   He spoke to the soldiers.  "Take them to their quarters.  See that they get whatever they need to make their stay with us more pleasant.  And be sure they do not talk to each other."

 The soldiers nodded and lightly pushed them out of the room. "We'll talk soon, Captain," Tomalak called as Picard carefully walked out of the room.

 Picard was the last of the prisoners to be placed in a cell. All the cells were out of sight and sound of each other.  A soldier standing next to the door deactivated a force field for Picard.  He hesitated a moment as a soldier removed the hood. He looked from one soldier to the other, then walked inside.  The air took on a slight green shimmer for several seconds, then stabilized as the force field was reactivated.

 Picard surveyed his surroundings, squinting his eyes in the temporary brightness.  There was a narrow bed with a plastic covering against a wall on one side of the cell.  A large bird-of-prey Romulan symbol decorated the wall above the bed.  No area of the cell was hidden from the door.  The glowing panels around the door were the only indication that the force field was operating.  Picard tentatively ventured a hand toward the door. A moderate shock accompanied by a low hum greeted him when he reached the force field.  The air shimmered for several seconds afterward.  "All right," Picard muttered to himself as he rubbed his hand.  He paced the cell for several minutes looking for weaknesses he might exploit later.  He was able to see one soldier standing guard approximately twenty feet from his cell. He eventually gave up after having found nothing more, and sat on the bed   He thought about the force field deactivator Commander Bak'Rul had given him, but decided it was not yet the time to use it.  "I'll be here for a while,"  he said to himself.  "No point getting impatient."  He laid back on the bed and put his arm over his eyes, letting out a long breath.  So far, this day had not gone quite as planned.

 Several hours later Picard heard the hum of the force field. Although he was instantly alert, he did not move.  He saw Tomalak and two other Romulans enter the cell.  The force field hummed again.  They were all in the cell together.

 "Wake him," Tomalak ordered.  A soldier pushed Picard's shoulder with his boot.

 Picard appeared to awake with a start.  "What do you want, Tomalak?" he demanded as he sat up on the bed.

 "Relax, Captain," Tomalak motioned him to stay on the cot. "I want a great deal.  But for now, I just want to talk.  That's all.  Just talk."

 "Do you think I'm going to sit here and 'just talk' to the enemy?" Picard snorted incredulously.

 "Oh, I think you'll talk.  You have nothing else to do." Tomalak pointed a finger around the room.  "This is all you have now.  I'm the only person you have to talk to."

 "I'm not afraid of solitude," Picard challenged.  "And I'm certainly not afraid of you."

 "I hope not," Tomalak pressed a hand to his chest as though insulted.  "I've come to respect you so much as an opponent.  I thought we could talk about old times. And maybe some current ones."

 "You're wasting your time, Tomalak," Picard said.  "I have nothing to say.  I demand to be returned to my ship along with the two others in my party."

 "And who might those people be, Captain?" Tomalak asked.

 "You know very well who they are," Picard said with contempt.

 "Yes," Tomalak acknowledged, "but I so much want to hear you tell me who they are."

 "Forget it, Tomalak.  I'm not playing today."

 Tomalak stood up.  "Well, maybe you'll feel like playing tomorrow.  Until then, perhaps I'll pay your friends a visit." He turned to the door.

 Picard shot to his feet.  "Where are they?" he demanded. The Romulan soldiers pointed their disruptors at him.  Picard froze.

 "Don't worry yourself over them, Captain," Tomalak soothed. "They are quite safe for now.  If that changes, I'll be sure to let you know.  I'll see you soon."

 Picard's voice lowered into a near whisper.  "If anything happens to either of those people, I will find you.  You can count on it."

 "Captain Picard," Tomalak shot back, just before leaving, "it is not wise to make threats against a Romulan commander while a prisoner on a Romulan warbird.  It is not healthy.  Besides, threats do not become you."  With that, the force field hummed off and on.  Picard was alone with his thoughts again.

 Picard was drifting to sleep.  He had been staring at the ceiling for hours.  The light in the cell seemed more dim than it had been.  A disjointed parade of images flowed through his mind. Gul Madred again asked him how many lights there were.  There are no lights, he thought.  His eyes half closed, he could see no visible light source in the cell.  'What are the Federation defense strategies for Minos Korva?' Gul Madred's voice floated at him from above his bed.  I don't know.  Why are you on a Romulan ship?  'I will be with you all your life, human.'  'So will I, Jean-Luc.' Q's sarcastic badgering rang at him.  'Don't you wish I was part of your crew now?  I could get you home with a snap of my fingers!'  No.  Your price was too high.  We have to do it ourselves.  'All you'll succeed in doing yourself is dying, Jean-Luc.  Is that what you want?' Q chided.  'Death is irrelevant' came the disembodied mechanical voice of the Borg collective, sending a chill through him.  No  it's not!  A death can have meaning   If it's for a good cause it can be very relevant.  'There you go again,' Robert said as he tasted a ripe grape.  'If you had stayed on the farm, none of this would have happened to you.'  It was a dead life for me. Robert   It would have been a sentence   I could no more have stayed on the farm than you could have flown a starship.   'That is a logical argument used to defend an emotional position,' Sarek pointed out.  'I sense an inner conflict.  You must be one with yourself.'  It is difficult  Sarek   There is a great deal happening right now.   'But that's how you want it,' Vash remarked with an impish glint in her eye.  'You need excitement.  Without adventure you would die.'  Vash   What are you doing here?  'I'll always be with you too.  I told you we would make a wonderful team.  I wouldn't abandon my partner now.'  It's too dangerous for you to be here.  'I'm a part of you Jean-Luc.  I can never leave.   What do I do now?  "I take it the odds are against us and the outlook is grim,' Captain Kirk said, summing up the situation.  You could say that.  I'm locked up on a Romulan ship. 'Sounds like fun.' Kirk grinned.  'You have to try to make a difference, Captain.'  Millions of people could be effected by what I do or don't do   'The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few,' Spock intoned in perfect logic.  Or the one.  'You must follow your path,' Spock lectured. 'As we all must.  When the time comes, you will know what to do.'  No more people followed as Picard sank into the blackness of sleep.

 Picard slowly floated back to the surface.  His eyes opened to the Romulan cell, dimmer but unchanged.  Picard had lost track of time.  By rough estimate he thought he had been on the Romulan ship for a day, but he could not be sure.  He looked around, but he was alone.  The procession of people in his mind was already fading.  He blinked several times to clear his head.  It was absolutely silent outside his cell.  Very slowly and quietly he rose from the bed and crept toward the cell door.  He knew what to do.

 Picard retrieved the device given to him by Commander Bak'Rul.  'How does it work?" he whispered to himself.  He turned it over several times in his hand.  It was small and cubical, not much larger than his communicator pin.  It was completely chrome-colored except for the black button on one side.  There was no emitter visible.  He did not press the button for fear of activating the device before he was ready.

 He scanned the wall around the door for signs of a panel or systems relay.  Giving up he simply placed the device against the wall with the button facing him.  The device attached itself to the wall with an audible click.  'Well,' he thought.  'Now we're getting somewhere.   He removed the device from the wall and moved it to where he thought the power relays might be located. Again, he attached it to the wall.  "Let 's see what happens." Picard pressed the button.  A sparking sound followed by a quick hum came from the emitters as the force field shimmered off.

 Picard quickly backed into the cell against the wall, close to the side of the door nearest the guard.  Several seconds later, the Romulan soldier poked his head into the cell, investigating the sound of the force field being deactivated. The Romulan turned to see Picard against the wall just as Picard's lightning fast backhand caught him square in the face. As the Romulan staggered backward, Picard was on top of him like a jaguar.  The Romulan fell backward to the floor with Picard on top of him applying a chokehold.  Within seconds, the Romulan was unconscious.  Picard quickly dragged him into an empty cell and took his disruptor.  After several minutes of interpreting the controls, he was able to activate the forcefield to the cell the Romulan was in.

 He slowly crept out of the holding area into the corridor outside.  The corridor was large and empty, stretching nearly fifty feet to another door at the end.  Along each side there were closed doors.  He thought of attempting to find Troi and Fontaine, but decided against it.  They were all blindfolded when they were brought to the cells.  There was no way to know where the others were without opening every door in the corridor.  If they were in the corridor.  There was a greater chance that there would be Romulans behind the other doors.

 He walked along the corridor toward the door at the end hugging the wall.  Part of him thought this was a useless tactic since there was almost no cover at all along the nearly smooth wall, but he continued anyway.  Within a minute he reached the closed door.  If he opened it and walked into a main corridor full of Romulans, he would be recaptured in seconds . . . if he was lucky.

 Holding his disruptor ready, he opened the door and ducked back.  After several seconds he quickly peeked out in both directions.  No one was in the corridor.  He silently stepped out, keeping to the near wall.  This corridor had large struts and small alcoves to hide in.  He began walking toward the left for no specific reason.  He had absolutely no idea where he was or where anything was located on the warbird.  He knew that what he needed to find was a computer interface.  Possibly he could then send a message to the Enterprise letting them know he had been captured.

 After several minutes walking through the large corridor, a lone Romulan soldier turned into it from the end where he was headed.  Picard quickly ducked into an alcove and waited.  As the soldier walked by, Picard jumped him from behind.  Holding the disruptor to the Romulan's head, Picard pulled him into the alcove.   "Stay quiet and you won't get hurt," he ordered.  The Romulan nodded.  "Is there a computer terminal near here that can be used for communications?"  When the Romulan hesitated, Picard drove the emitter of the disruptor into his temple.  "Answer me," he demanded.  "I don't know what a disruptor will do to a person after a contact firing.  Do you?"

 "There is a terminal near here that can be used for communications," the Romulan whispered in a labored voice.

 "Thank you," Picard loosened his grip slightly.  "Take me there."

 "You will die before you will ever be able to send a message, human," the Romulan warned.

 "I'll take my chances,  Picard said.  "Now, we are going to walk down that corridor like I'm your prisoner.  If you make any move to escape or warn anyone, I'll be sure you get the first shot.  Do you understand?"

 "Yes," the Romulan replied.  "The computer terminal is down the corridor this way," he pointed back the way Picard had come.

 "Let's go,"  Picard ordered.  They began walking down the corridor side by side with Picard concealing the disruptor as much as possible.  Another Romulan walked toward them from the other end.  Picard held his breath as the Romulan walked by without even a glance at them.  Picard's prisoner continued walking.  "Very good," Picard congratulated. "Continue that and you will be just fine."

 "It's in this room, human," the soldier growled in a controlled rage, pointing to a door on the left.

 "Open it."

 The Romulan pressed the control pad beside the door.  It silently slid open.  When they were inside, the Romulan closed the door.

 "How does it work?" Picard asked, looking at both the Romulan and the computer console.  "Will a message from here reach the Federation ship outside?"

 "Yes," the Romulan hissed.  "Step aside."

 Picard stepped back, keeping the Romulan covered by the disruptor.  The Romulan began working at the controls.  After several minutes he straightened up and moved away.  "It is ready," he said.  "Press that button to transmit," pointing at a blue button on the upper right corner.

 "Good," Picard waved the disruptor.  "Back away."

 The Romulan backed up as Picard moved to the console.  As he reached for the button, the door of the room opened and a dozen Romulan soldiers rushed in with Tomalak right behind.

 "Stop where you are, Picard!" Tomalak shouted.  Picard froze with his hand three inches above the button. "If you move so much as an eyelid you will die instantly,"  Tomalak threatened with a venomous voice.

 Picard looked at the button and his finger hovering above it.  The temptation to press the button and yell something to the Enterprise was almost overwhelming, but he finally moved his hand away from it.  He let the disruptor slip from his fingers and fall to the floor before raising his hands.

 "That was a wise tactical move, Captain,  Tomalak commented approvingly.  "You would have been dead before you could get two syllables out."  Tomalak turned to the Romulan soldier that Picard had taken prisoner.  "You are a traitor," he said as he raised his disruptor to the soldier's chest and fired.  The Romulan disappeared in a blazing green aura, his agonized scream echoing through the room.

 "Tomalak!" Picard shouted in shock and horror at what had just happened.  "You murderer, that man was only doing what I made him do.  If you wanted to kill someone that badly, you should have killed me."

 "You may yet get your wish, Picard," Tomalak replied.  "You would have killed him yourself if he did not do what you wanted."

 "You're wrong, Tomalak.  I don't kill if there is any way to avoid it."

 "Enough of this, Picard.  What's done is done.  You have just caused me a great deal of trouble.  I cannot let that go unpunished.  Guards."  Two soldiers grabbed Picard's arms, one on each side, holding him still  "I have wanted to do this for a long time."  Tomalak smashed Picard on the left side of his face with a powerful backhand.  Picard's head snapped back from the force.  "Hold him still!"  Tomalak snapped at the guards.  "I do not want him to forget this."  He readied for another strike.

 "Tomalak!!" a voice boomed from the doorway.  "If you touch him again I will have you vaporized on the spot."

 "Stay out of this, Taibak," Tomalak shot back.  "This has nothing to do with you.

 Even through his rapidly swelling eye, Picard saw the lean Romulan with angular features approaching from the door. "Everything concerning this operation has to do with me.  You will not do anything to him.  I will hold you personally responsible for anything that happens to ANY of the prisoners."

 "This is my ship, Taibak."

 "You are misinformed," Taibak's tone was coldly poisonous. "This was your ship.  This ship now belongs to the Tal Shiar, and hence, to me.  Any deviation from that whatsoever will result in your immediate death.  And I guarantee you that your death will not be so quick and pleasant as what you just did to that soldier."

 "Taibak," Tomalak challenged, almost pleading, "Picard escaped and tried to contact his ship.  If he had succeeded, the plan would have been destroyed. He had to be punished."

 "SILENCE!" Taibak ordered.  "I had all communications consoles in this sector disabled just in case something like this occurred.  You have an unhealthy obsession concerning Captain Picard and his ship.  Personally, I couldn't care less what you do about it," Taibak's voice lowered another level, "but Captain Picard is my prisoner, and he will not be harmed without my direct order.  Your life depends on that.  If anything happens to him at all, I will hold you responsible.  And I will kill you."

 "Taibak--," Tomalak began

 "This conversation is over."

 Tomalak looked around.  His soldiers were studiously avoiding his gaze.  Tal Shiar soldiers surrounded them. Realizing he had lost, he stormed out of the room.

 Taibak turned to Picard.  "You were very nearly killed, Captain.  I apologize for this incident.  It is not what I wanted to happen to you."

 "And what might that be?" Picard could hardly wait to find out.

 "Right now, I just want you to be comfortable.  Later --well, we'll have to see about later.  I'm afraid I must return you to your cell now.  I will send someone to attend your injury."

 "What about the soldier Tomalak murdered?" Picard asked.

 "He was fortunate," Taibak's voice spoke of death.  "If I had caught him, he would be begging to die right now."

 Picard shivered at the thought.  Taibak was the soul of civility, but appeared to be more of a monster than Tomalak.

 The Tal Shiar soldiers gently took Picard by the arms and led him back to his cell.

...............................

 The Romulan physician snapped his medical tricorder shut. "I can give you something for the headache if you would like, Captain Picard."

 Picard wearily shook his head,  "No, thank you.  You have been more than helpful.  I would just like to rest now."

 "Very well, if you change your mind, alert the guard and he will contact the medical bay for you."

 With that, he strode to the door where the guard deactivated the force field to let him out.  He nodded once more to Picard and then to the guard before exiting the corridor.

 Alone finally, Picard massaged the back of his neck and laid back on the bed to find a comfortable position for a brief catnap.  'To sleep, perchance to dream,' was his last thought.

 Picard slowly looked around the reception hall.  He could hear someone talking, that idle conversation that characteristically bored him during these receptions.  Everything seemed very surreal.  In slow-motion, he scanned the crowd seeing faces and hearing muted voices, but not really focusing on anyone.  Suddenly, across the room he saw her.  She was standing with some Starfleet officers, but he didn't see them.  He didn't see anyone but her in that moment.

 She took his breath away.  She was always the most beautiful woman in the room, but today Picard knew that she would always be, unquestionably, the most beautiful, desirable woman he would ever know.  She was a vision, in a wedding gown of ivory satin with lace overlay and glittering from head to toe from the inlaid sequins and seed pearls.  She looked quite regal with a tiara of pearls and Austrian crystals holding a shimmering veil which settled like a soft mist over her dark hair

 Someone nudged him, and he realized that the orchestra had begun the opening strains of  *Some Enchanted Evening*.  Entranced, Picard made his way across the reception hall to his breathtaking wife.  Reaching her side, he held out a hand to her. Vash smiled up into his face and laid her delicate hand in his. He courtly led her into the center of the room and, as everyone parted to surround them, took her in his arms for their first dance as man and wife.

 She took her place in his arms naturally, one hand in his, one toying with the gold piping on the collar of his dress uniform.  He held her gently, as if she were a dream that might disappear.  They moved together like liquid silk, waltzing across the floor, unaware that anyone else even existed.

 He cherished the feel of her against him.  His hand spanned her tiny waist, pulling her even closer.  Her enormous blue eyes gazed lovingly up at him in rapture.  Never would he forget her eyes, those mischievous, laughing, wonderful doorways to the most special part of her.  She lowered her eyes and he gently touched his lips to each eyelid.  His own grey eyes caressed her face, his lips following as he tenderly kissed her delicate cheekbones, her full rose petal lips.

 Vash leaned back slightly, allowing his gaze to linger on her soft, feminine curves in her exquisite bridal satin.  The full skirt swished seductively around his legs as they waltzed. The pearls and sequins that covered her resplendent gown glimmered like freshly fallen snow with every graceful move she made.  As she looked up at him through her thick lashes, her tiara sparkling as it crowned her dark hair, he knew she was more beautiful than any princess, real or imagined.

 He felt a gentle squeeze around his fingers and he loosened his hold on the hand he held.  Tenderly, he ran his thumb over the brilliant diamond ring he had placed on her finger just a few short hours ago as they exchanged their wedding vows.

 Slowly he drew her closer to him.  She lifted her face to his and her eyes drifted shut.  He kissed her, just barely brushing her lips with his.  He touched her lips ever-so-gently once again before slowly deepening their kiss, gradually allowing their passion to build.  As the concluding strains of *Some Enchanted Evening* swirled around them, Vash leaned forward to press a tender kiss on his cheek.  She whispered softly in his ear, "Come home."

 She leaned back to look into his eyes and, with tears glistening in her own, added, "Please come home."

 Picard startled awake to find himself reaching out for someone who was suddenly not there.  As his breathing calmed, he remembered the dream.  It had seemed so real, as if he were back on Earth on their wedding day.  Sitting up, he rubbed one hand across the top of his head.  He felt a knot form in his throat at the memory of their bridal dance.  The knot tightened as he remembered how she looked when she really made that last plea, the night before this mission.  He ran his hand over his face and felt the wetness staining his cheeks.  He looked at his wedding ring.  Closing his eyes, he held the image of their bridal dance in his mind for one brief second more before squaring his shoulders resolutely.  He would hold on to that memory of their first dance as man and wife, but he was determined that they had not danced their last dance as man and wife.

.........................................

 In Picard's readyroom, Vash looked over at Riker, behind the Captain's desk, poring over reports.  She couldn't help thinking to herself, at least he has something to do.  She smoothed out the skirt of her sapphire-blue, linen suit as she sat on the couch waiting for Picard to contact them.  The outfit was a little formal for waiting around in her husband's office; but she wanted to look nice and it was one of his favorites.  The suit was a gift from Jean-Luc shortly before they were married, he said it brought out the color of her eyes.  She glanced at the chronometer for the twentieth time in ten minutes.  They still had an hour or more before he was expected to contact them.

 She stood up and walked around the room.  She picked up Jean-Luc's model of the Stargazer and toyed with it   She knew how dangerous this mission was and part of her was scared to death.  She had to believe he could pull it off, she thought as she traced the bridge area of a model of the Enterprise D.  She couldn't imagine otherwise.  She twisted an antique brass sextant anxiously.  It was silly, but she felt like a school girl waiting for a suitor to call.  Lost in thought, she idly ran her fingers over the hilt of Picard's fencing foil.

 Unnoticed by Vash, Riker looked up from what he was working on.  His expression softened with concern as he noted how she nervously paced the room fidgeting with some of the captain's possessions.  She walked past him to the fish tank behind the desk.  He watched as she repeatedly tapped on the glass with one delicate pink fingernail.  He carefully studied her features. Although she hid it well, he could tell she was very apprehensive.  He wondered how long it had been since she had a good night's sleep.  The plink, plink, plink of Vash's nail against the fish tank continued.  He turned the chair toward her. Gently he laid his hand on hers, pressing it against the tank to stop the tapping.

 "Vash, please," Riker requested simply.

 "Sorry, Will," Vash sighed and looked over at him.  "I'm sure I'm starting to get on your nerves."

 "No, not at all."  He squeezed her hand affectionately before letting go and leaning back in the chair.  "But that fish probably feels differently."

 "Livingston?" Vash gestured to the Australian lionfish in the aquarium.  "He knows better than to mess with me, not unless the domesticated fish wants to meet the domesticated cat."

 Vash's sudden flash of humor was a nice surprise.  Wanting to encourage it, Riker baited her, "I always found it very telling that the captain has a pet fish and you have a pet cat."

 She gave him a conspiratorial wink before wandering across the room to the shelf that held an antique rifle on it.  She smiled, "I just realized something."

 "What's that?"  Riker was happy to see a real smile on her face.  It was different from the one that was part of the brave front she had been putting on for the past few days.

 "My husband is proof of the old saying that the only difference between men and boys is the cost of their toys," Vash rolled her eyes dramatically and put her hands on her hips as she surveyed the room.  "This is where he keeps all of his favorite toys.  Office my foot, this is a toy room."

 "I don't think anything in here can be described as a toy," he bantered playfully, hoping to keep her distracted.

 "William, dear, do you know what this is?"  She laid her hand on the butt of the rifle.

 "According to the Captain, it's an 1861 Springfield muzzle loader with percussion cap.  They were standard issue in the U.S. Army during the American Civil War," he answered.

 "Do you know why this one is now on a Starship?"  Before he could answer, she continued good naturedly.  "Because the captain of said starship, your commanding officer, my loving husband thought it was, and I quote, 'really neat.'"

 "I'm sure there's more to it."  Riker had no clue as to what else there could be.  But the rifle was really neat.

 "An American Civil War rifle on a starship?  Loyal to the end, huh, Commander?" Vash chuckled.  "Well, if Robert E. Lee and his troops come riding onto the bridge, Jean-Luc will be ready."

 "You have some pretty expensive toys yourself," he teased.  He knew the captain had bought Vash some rather nice jewelry.

 "Granted," she brought her hand up to study the diamond in her wedding ring.   "The difference is I will admit they're toys."

 "Oh, is that the difference?"  Riker replied, pleased that their joking had lifted her spirits.  With any luck, the Captain would contact them soon and everything would be fine.

 "Commander," Worf said over the intercom from the tactical station.  "I am intercepting a message from a Klingon bird of prey on the extreme starboard flank of the formation."

 Riker looked at Vash with a hint of a smile.  "Excellent, Mr. Worf.  I'm on my way.   He paused as he stood to leave, "Maybe three days of waiting will turn something up after all." He walked toward the door.  "You are welcome to stay here until we hear from the Captain."

 "Thank you, Will," Vash said gratefully.  After Riker left the room, she walked over to sit in the large, comfortable chair behind her husband's desk.  She noticed the switch for the bridge monitor.  She had seen Jean-Luc use it countless times to keep track of activity on the bridge while he was working at his desk. She flipped on the switch and sat back in the chair.  She might not be able to be on the bridge itself, but at least she could hear what was going on.

....................................

 Riker stepped on to the bridge.  His demeanor changed instantly as he walked through the door.  "Report."

 Worf looked up from his station.  "The message was less than five seconds in duration.  It was encrypted with-"  Worf cut himself short.  "Three Klingon K't'inga class battle cruisers decloaking in sector three, directly behind the formation.  They are locking weapons!"

 "Battle stations!" cried Riker, "Evasive maneuver omega one. Give us some vertical distance, Mr. Data."  The commander looked at Worf   "Secure channels to the Bradbury and the Eddings, defensive positions, ten thousand kilometers distance.  Remind them not to cross the border."

 "I have detected three photon torpedoes -- correction, six photon torpedoes directed at..."  the Klingon's voice hesitated, "At the starboard and port vessels of the formation.  I am switching to visual."

 The screen had barely focused when the photon torpedoes ripped through the shields of two rebel birds of prey.  As Riker watched the conflagrations on the screen, he looked at Data. "Keep us at a safe distance until we know what's going on."  He turned to Worf.  "Exactly what in the hell is going on?"

 "Unknown," the Klingon growled, "All Romulan ships are powering forward disruptors.  They are turning to face the K't'inga cruisers.  Their aft shields are at maximum."

 "So much for the standoff," Riker muttered under his breath

 "Sir," Worf said, "Incoming message from the lead K't'inga cruiser."

 "On screen."  Riker put on his best poker face.

 The rough, lean features of a Klingon commander appeared on the screen.  Riker's poker face dissolved into shock   "Kurn!"

 "Greetings from Gowron on this glorious day," Kurn nearly shouted above the noise of the Klingon bridge.

 "Kurn," Riker shouted back.  "What is going on?"

 "Your captain is not on Qo'nos," Kurn answered.  "He is on the Romulan warbird directly in front of you.  We scanned the task force before we attacked and discovered his location.  On behalf of the Chancellor of the Klingon Empire I request your assistance in the battle."

 As Kurn's message sank in, Riker glanced up at the door to the Captain's readyroom just in time to see Vash step onto the bridge.  Vash's expression, a mask of stoic determination that reminded Riker of the captain, left little doubt that she had been listening in.  Quickly, she seated herself at an unmanned science station right next to the door of the readyroom.  Riker decided to let her stay put.  He knew where she was and she was safely out of the way.

 "Incoming disruptor fire from one of the Romulan warbirds!" Worf reported.

 Before Riker could respond, the ship was rocked from the impact of the disruptor.  "Damage report!" Riker demanded.

 "Foreward shields down 10% and holding," Worf informed him, tapping the console in front of him.

 "Load forward torpedo bays, maximum yield.  Target their engines," Riker nodded.  "Tell Kurn that his request has been considered at length and is granted," he paused.  "Fire."

 A stream of twenty glowing torpedoes raced from the Enterprise toward the Romulan ship.  The shields were decimated by the first twelve energy blasts, each weakening the shields further.  The remaining eight torpedoes ripped apart the hull. The Romulan ship blossomed into a red and orange fireball so intense that Riker squinted briefly.

 "Data," Riker stood over the android's shoulder, looking at the tactical situation.  "Bring us about starboard to bearing 243 mark 74.  One-third impulse."

 "Sir," Data protested, "That course will put us in the direct line of fire of three-"

 "Trust me," Riker's eyes gleamed.  "Z-minus 10,000 meters on my mark."

 The Enterprise turned to face a Klingon bird of prey.  A warbird pivoted to bring its weapons to bear on the flagship.

 "Romulan photon torpedoes released at aft.  Distance 25,000 kilometers.  Impact in seven seconds."

 "Now, Mr. Data.  Full impulse," Riker ordered.

 "Four seconds.. impact averted," the Klingon nodded.

 The Enterprise descended 10,000 meters, barely beneath the torpedoes.  The Romulan torpedoes pummeled the bird of prey's forward shields.

 "Bird of prey's shields weakened by 19%.  Their weapons systems are off line."

 "Mr. Data, aft viewer, I want to see what's happening."  The Romulan warbird was descending for another attack.

 "They are powering up their disruptors," Worf informed Riker.

 "Lock phasers on their primary power source," Riker said. "Increase power to the aft shields."

 "They are locking disruptors," Worf reported.  "Distance decreasing."

 "Fire," Riker ordered.  Ribbons of glowing energy shot from the drive section of the Enterprise, cutting into the shields of the warbird.  At the same time, two other ribbons of energy from the USS Eddings sliced into the warbird from above.  After several seconds, the phaser fire penetrated the shields and nearly cut the body of the warbird in half.  The dying ship sparked for several moments before exploding with the brightness of a small star.

 "I hope you did not mind the intrusion into your affair, Commander," Captain Ch'kul of the USS Eddings said over the intercom.

 "Not at all, Captain," Riker replied, wondering if Vulcans could be sarcastic.  "Thank you."  He turned to Worf during the lull while they searched for another target.  "Status report."

 Worf surveyed his station.  "Kurn's ships have destroyed three more ships.  The Bradbury disabled the lead Romulan ship's warp drive; however, it has fled the area on impulse power and cloaked.

 Riker nodded.  "And the remaining ship?"

 "Scanning."  the security officer searched his screen. "Klingon bird of prey in sector 3 bearing 17 mark 4."

 "That's on a collision course with-," Riker motioned to Worf to activate communications, "Captain Yannis, we are tracking a bird of prey on a collision course with your ship, bearing 17 mark 4."

 The message was met with silence.  "Worf?"

 "The Bradbury has received damage to its primary sensor array and to communications.  They are probably not aware of the danger.  Twenty seconds to impact."

 "Captain Ch'kul, concentrate fire on the bird of prey," Commander Riker took a quick breath and continued, "Commander LaForge.  I need all the power you can muster to the forward tractor beams."  He looked at Mr. Data, "I want two tractor beams on the Bradbury as we pass by, NOW!"

 "Twelve seconds to impact," Mr. Worf reported.

 "Tractor beams in place.  Bradbury's movement at ten thousand meters. . . fifteen thousand meters."  Data looked at the screen.

 "Come on, Yannis, get the hint."  Riker hoped that Yannis would realize his ship was in danger and fire up his engines.

 "Seven seconds."

 "Sir," Data voice sounded almost excited, "The Bradbury has powered up warp engines.  Bearing 222 mark 19."

 Riker shook his head.  "Cutting a little close, aren't we?"

 The Bradbury shot into warp moments before the Eddings released two streams of photon torpedoes into the side of the bird of prey.  The Klingon ship spun out of control.  Another salvo from the Eddings destroyed the ship.

 "Is there anything left?" Riker asked Data.

 "Scanning.  No sir.  All enemy ships except one Romulan warbird are either destroyed or captured."

 Worf called from the tactical station.  "Kurn is hailing."

 "On screen," Riker answered.

 Kurn appeared on the main viewer, flushed with pride at the victory.  "Glorious!" he shouted.  "You fought well, Enterprise. "Placing yourself between two enemy ships and letting them fire on each other was worthy of a Klingon."

 "Thank you, Kurn," Riker said, wanting to get the self-congratulations over with.  "You too fought bravely.  Would you mind filling us in on the situation?"

 "Gowron sent us.  He discovered that the ship he sent to bring Captain Picard to Qo'nos was commanded by a traitor.  As soon as he learned of the traitor he sent me with some ships to meet you here and find Captain Picard.  When we arrived and saw the traitor ships at the border we scanned them.  They had concentrated their energy on their forward shields believing the threat was from you.  We scanned three human readings on the Romulan ship that escaped."

 "Deanna," came Worf's concerned growl from tactical.

 "That ship won't get far," Riker said, ignoring Worf's distress for the moment.  "Its main engine is out.  It escaped on impulse power   We'll commence a search for the ship immediately."

 "The ship is cloaked, Commander," Kurn said.  "It will be almost impossible to find it unless it is leaking something traceable.  However, as Gowron considers Captain Picard's safe arrival on Qo'nos to be a top priority, we will remain to assist in the search and then to escort you to Qo'nos."

 "Thank you, Kurn   Commander Worf will coordinate with your tactical to establish search areas."

 "Very well, Commander.  Kurn out"  Kurn's face was replaced on the viewscreen with the red and black of the Klingon symbol

 "Data, we have to find that Romulan ship before it makes repairs and takes the captain to who-knows-where," Riker said.  He noticed Data's very concerned expression   He followed Data's gaze over to where Vash was still sitting at the science station. Silently, he cursed himself.  She had been so quiet that he had forgotten she was there.  Riker took a deep breath and started again, "Data, how long will it take to get your spectrometer in operation?"

 Data looked back at the first officer and thought for a millisecond.  "With Commander LaForge's assistance, it should take approximately 47 minutes."

 "Get on it," Riker ordered.  Data left his station and was immediately replaced by another officer.  Riker walked up the ramp to join Worf at tactical.  "Worf, I know you're worried, but Deanna needs you to concentrate here.  Once we find the Romulan ship, we have to figure out a way to get the captain and the others off."

 "I know, Commander, she'll be all right.  If they harm one hair on her head, their children will be screaming in agony for generations to come.  As to the ship, their condition is unknown. We do know their warp power was off-line when they fled."

 "No way to know if their shields and weapons are still operational," Riker said, half to himself.

 "Yes, sir," Worf answered automatically.

 "Plot your best guess as to where the Romulan ship may have gone   We may have the ability to see it while it's cloaked, but only if we're looking in the right place.  I want to be ready when that spectrometer is."

 "Aye, sir."  Worf pushed his thoughts of Deanna away and began working the instruments on the control panel.  He was determined to plot the Romulans ship's last known heading from the sensor logs of the battle.

 Forty-five minutes later Data and LaForge walked onto the bridge.  "We're ready," LaForge said.

 "We have four class one probes configured for lightwave comparison with the spectrometer   We should deploy them simultaneously at equal distances from the Enterprise -- directly above and below as well as port and starboard.  We can then use the ship to search different areas of space."

 Worf spoke from the tactical station.  "I have a possible heading for the Romulan ship at 332 mark 14.  I suggest beginning the search in that area."

 "I agree," Data said.  "Without evidence to search elsewhere, that would be the most logical place to begin."

 "Very well,"  Riker said.  "Deploy the probes, Mr. Data."

 Data moved to the science station and began working the controls.  Outside the Enterprise, four glowing orange specks discharged from above the main sensor array.  They moved a short distance in front of the ship and fired their onboard engines, racing through space in opposite directions.  In a few minutes the Enterprise was at the center of a large cross formed by the probes.  "Probes are in position one-half light year from the Enterprise,"  Data reported.  He paused to check readings. "Receiving telemetry from all probes.  We may begin the search."

 "Proceed," Riker said.

 Data began working controls and monitoring readings on the panel of the science station.  Geordi was continually fine-tuning the positioning of the probes.  They worked silently for ten minutes before reporting.  "We have checked everything along Mr. Worf's course heading for a distance of one light year with no indication of a cloaked vessel."

 Riker looked disappointed.  "Very well, Commander.  Please continue the search.  Advise me the second you have anything at all."

 "Yes, sir," Data answered.  He and Geordi began working the controls on the panel again.

 After what seemed to Riker to be an eternity -- but was only thirty minutes -Data spoke up from the science station. "Commander, I believe we have found the Romulan ship."

 "Where?" Riker almost jumped from the center seat.

 "Bearing 142 mark 8.  At a distance of point seven light years.  It is in Federation space.  It appears to be stationary."

 "Well," Riker said.  "They'd rather deal with us than with the Klingons, even better."  He turned to Worf.  "Contact the Eddings.  Advise them of the Romulan ship's position and to meet us there at battle stations."

 "Message acknowledged by the Eddings, sir.  They are waiting for our lead," Worf said.

 "Set course for the Romulan ship, warp two," Riker ordered the helm.

 "Course laid in, sir," the helmsman responded.

 "Engage."

 The Enterprise, followed by the Eddings, jumped into the rainbow of warp speed, but stayed there for only a few seconds. They dropped out of warp with weapons at the ready and pointed at what appeared to be empty space.

 "Sensor readings of this area are consistent with a cloaked vessel in the area," Data advised from navigation.  "I believe the Romulan vessel is directly in front of us."

 "Open hailing frequencies, Mr. Worf," Riker ordered.

 "Hailing frequencies open, sir."

 Riker spoke loudly toward the viewscreen.  "This is Commander William T. Riker of the Federation Starship Enterprise to the cloaked Romulan vessel.  You are holding Captain Jean-Luc Picard, Federation Ambassador Fontaine, and a member of the Enterprise crew.  I demand that you turn them over immediately."

 Riker looked around the bridge waiting for an answer.

 After several moments Worf spoke.  "There is no reply.  I will repeat the hail."

 "Data?" Riker asked

 "The Romulan ship is here," Data responded.  "I cannot give you a weapons lock nor an exact position, but the ship is relatively close and generally in front of us."  Data paused briefly   "You are aware, sir, that as long as the Romulan ship is cloaked, it has no shields."

 "That's just what I was thinking," Riker said

 "No response to the hail," Worf said from the tactical station.

 "All right, Worf.  Send this," Riker spoke a little louder. "This is Commander William T. Riker of the USS Enterprise.  We know you are in this area and are holding Captain Picard and his party.  If you do not reply to our hail within thirty seconds, both the Enterprise and the other Federation starship will begin laying down blanket phaser fire until we strike your ship.  After we have captured you, I'm sure the Klingons would like to have a word with you."

 After several seconds Worf spoke.  "Still nothing, sir."

 "Very well." Riker said.  "Ready phasers.  Advise the Eddings to ready their phasers and prepare to fire a pattern grid."

 "Aye, sir," Worf said.  "Phases ready," he added.

 "Firing coordinates laid in," Data reported from navigation.

 "The Eddings reports they are ready," Worf said.

 "Prepare to fire on my command," Riker ordered.  "Open hailing frequencies."

 "Hailing frequencies open, sir," Worf responded.

 "This is Commander Riker of the USS Enterprise.  This is your last chance to decloak and turn our personnel over to us. If you do not respond immediately we will commence fire."  Riker waited in silence.

 "No response," Worf said after several seconds.

 Riker took a deep breath.  "Fire," he commanded.

 Red and orange ribbons of pulsating energy lanced out from the Enterprise and the Eddings in a crossing pattern covering a large section of space to the front   The phaser beams swept back and forth forming a grid in which nothing could hide.  After thirty seconds, a phaser beam from the Eddings struck a ship cloaked in the darkness of space.

 "We have it!" Worf half shouted.

 "The Eddings struck the warbird on the upper starboard wing," Data said from navigation.  "Unknown damage, sir.

 "Lock all weapons on the coordinates of the warbird,  Riker ordered.  "Open hailing frequencies."  Riker spoke louder.  "This is the Enterprise.  We have your exact coordinates.  Every weapon on two starships is locked onto your ship.  Would you be interested in some conversation at this point?"

 Data called from his station.  "Romulan ship decloaking directly off our port bow."

 "Scan that ship, Worf," Riker said.

 "Scanning," he paused for a moment.  "Shields are raised, but weak.  It still does not appear to have warp power.  Its weapons systems are charged, but not locked."  He checked the control panel.  "Incoming message from the warbird."

 "On screen," Riker hissed.  The viewscreen fluctuated for a moment, then was filled with the image of Taibak's face.  It did not look quite as calm as the last time he spoke to the Enterprise.  "It's over, Taibak.  You have Captain Picard.  I want him back now!"

 "Commander Riker," Taibok said, almost smiling.  "This has all been a terrible misunderstanding.  I really do wish I could help you in finding your captain, but I have no idea where he could be."

 "You lying son of a Targ!" Worf shouted in anger at this transparent lie.

 "Mr. Worf," Riker glared back at Worf, silently warning him to maintain silence.

 "Don't patronize me, Taibak," Riker said, his voice lowering with anger.   'Those Klingon battle cruisers scanned your ship before they attacked you.  They found three human life signs on your ship.  If you doubt it, I can ask the Klingons to join us here so they can search your ship - personally."

 For just a split second Taibak's face betrayed a look of stark terror before instantly regaining a look of practiced composure.  "Commander," Taibak began again, "I think this misunderstanding can be --"  Taibak was interrupted by a Roomulan crewman.  After talking to the crewman for several seconds, Taibak resumed his conversation with Riker.  "Commander, I have just been informed that your captain may indeed be on this ship after all," he said feigning total surprise.

 "Is that so," Riker said sarcastically.

 "Yes," Taibak answered.  "This is such a large ship.  I cannot know everything that goes on.  As a command officer on a large ship, you surely understand."

 "Surely," Riker responded.  "Now that you've found him, turn him and his party over.

 "I would like nothing better than to give Captain Picard and his party back to you   However, there is a small problem of our security after he has returned to you.  Surely, you understand."

 Riker grinned menacingly.  "Personally, I would like nothing better than to give you to the Klingons, but I need my captain back.  So here's the deal.  I will confirm with Captain Picard that he and his party are all right.  After, and only after, they have been safely returned, you will have safe passage to friendly space.  I give you my word as a Starfleet officer"

 "I want to believe you, Commander," Taibak said, "but what assurance will we have that we will be free to go once you have Captain Picard back."

 "I guess you'll just have to trust me, won't you?  You don't have a vote in this, Taibak,"  Riker shot back.  "You give Picard and the others back now and go, or we render you defenseless and give you to the Klingons.  That's it.  Take it or leave it.  You have one minute to decide or I'll make the choice for you."

 "You leave me no choice, Commander.  I graciously accept your terms and trust you will abide by them - on your honor," Taibak took a deep breath in resignation.  "Very well, I will have Captain Picard brought to the bridge.  It will take a few moments."

 "That will be fine," Riker answered.  The view switched to the warbird.

 The tension on the Enterprise bridge rose rapidly as they waited to see the captain.  Worf was gripping the edge of his tactical station with one hand and pounding the control panel with his other hand, running constant scans of the Romulan ship. Riker looked up and saw a very angry Klingon about to destroy Starfleet property.  He shook his head and made his way up to stand beside Worf.

 "You know, the captain would be very upset if you hurt his ship while he's gone."  Riker was playing with fire, but if someone didn't do something, there was going to be a problem.

 Worf's only response to Riker's attempt at humor was a menacing growl.

 "Okay, Deanna would be very upset if you were in the brig for destroying the captain's ship her first night back.  Better tactic?"

 "Understood, Commander." Worf's movements on the control panel softened considerably.

 With that situation handled, Riker looked down at Vash.  She was still sitting at the unused science station boring a hole through the viewscreen with her eyes.  Riker walked over her. "You don't have to be here for this," he said softly to Vash.

 "I'd like to stay," she said without taking her eyes off of the screen.

 "He's been held by the Romulans for three days," he whispered, "you may not like what you see."

 "I know, Will,"  she said, looking at him for the first time. "I just want to see him.  I know he won't see me.  But still, I need to see him."  She gave Riker a brave half-smile and saluted with two fingers.  "I promise to be a good girl."

 "Promises, promises.  All right," he answered.  "But remember, I warned you."  She nodded.  Riker walked back to navigation and continued pacing.

 "Incoming message from the warbird," Worf announced.

 "On screen."  Riker turned toward the front of the bridge.

 Taibak again filled the Enterprise viewscreen.  "Commander Riker, Captain Picard is here with me."

 "Good," Riker said.  "I would like to speak to him."

 "Very well," Taibak said.

 Taibak stepped aside.  Picard immediately replaced him in the viewscreen.  He was pale and looked as if he had not slept in days.  Underneath several days growth of beard, a large bruise was darkening on the left side of his face near his eye.  A cut had scabbed above his left eye.  Vash's eyes widened and the blood drained from her face as she took in the sight of her husband.

 Riker's jaw set in anger at what had happened to the captain while in Romulan custody.  "Are you all right, Captain?" he asked.

 "Yes, Number One," Picard answered slowly.  The fatigue in his voice was apparent.

 "What happened?" Riker asked, somewhat impatiently

 Picard looked off-screen for a moment, then back toward Riker.  "It's nothing, Number One," he said slowly.  "It was just an accident.  Nothing for you or anyone else to worry about."

 "Understood, sir," Riker replied, looking over to Vash. Then, turning back to the screen he continued, "Do you know the status of Ambassador Fontaine and Counselor Troi?"

 "I didn't until just a few moments ago.  We were held separately.  They appear to be fine, although we will all be glad to get back to the Enterprise."  Picard had seen the look Riker had directed off-screen and understood.  Vash was on the bridge. "It seems this mission should have been left to the legendary James T. Kirk after all."

 "Yes, sir." Riker had no idea what Picard was talking about. At the science station, Vash knew exactly what her husband meant and a small tremulous smile played at her lips.

 "We will transport you off the Romulan ship as soon as we receive coordinates."  This couldn't be over too soon to suit Riker.

 Taibak suddenly reappeared in the viewscreen.  "Commander, for security reasons, we cannot allow you to use your transporters on our ship.  We will send your captain and his party to you by shuttle."

 "We will send a shuttle to your ship," Riker countered.

 "Out of the question," Taibak replied.  "We will transport them to your ship on our shuttle."

 "Don't push your luck, Taibak.  I have one nerve left and you're starting to get on it!"

 Captain Picard interrupted the debate.  "That will be fine, Number One.  We will return to the Enterprise on the Romulan shuttle.  If they were going to do anything to us, they would have already done it."

 "As you wish, sir," Riker replied.  "We will meet you in shuttle bay one.  Taibak, prepare to receive flight clearance into our shuttlebay."

 "Acknowledged, Commander.  Hopefully this misunderstanding will not be repeated in the future."

 Riker did not respond to the comment.

 "Communications closed,"  Worf said.

 "Data," Riker called, "prepare a tractor beam.  Have it ready to lock onto the Romulan shuttle, just in case."

 "Yes, sir," Data replied.

 "Permission to secure shuttle bay one, Commander."  Worf was already motioning for a replacement at tactical.

 Riker turned to Worf.  "Permission granted.  Take a full security team.  I want to be ready in case this is a trick."

 "Aye, sir, security team to Shuttle Bay One," Worf growled, already at the doors to the turbolift.

 Five minutes later a small craft left the immense body of the warbird and headed for the Enterprise.  "Shuttle is enroute," Data announced.

 "Keep tracking it, Data," Riker said.  "Open communications to the shuttle."

 "Communications open," Data said.

 "Captain Picard?" Riker called.

 "Yes, Number One," Picard answered as he appeared on the viewscreen.   "All present and accounted for.  How much damage has Mr. Worf done to my ship?"

 "Not much, sir," Riker said, almost allowing himself a sigh of relief.  "Vash has behaved herself as well."

 "Indeed.  Will wonders never cease?"  Picard gave a small smile.  He was definitely going to have to find out how Vash found her way onto the bridge during a battle.  "How long till docking?"

 "We estimate shuttle landing in eight minutes."

 "Acknowledged, Number One.  We look forward to seeing you. Picard out."

 "Communications closed," Data said.  He looked at his panel for a second.  'Sir?' he called.  "I am reading large energy fluctuations in the Romulan warbird."

 "Ready weapons," Riker ordered the officer at tactical. "What kind of fluctuations, Data?"

 "I believe they are powering their main engines."  Data checked his panel.  "And also their forward disruptors."

 "Extend the shields around the shuttle!" Riker yelled. "Contact the Eddings, have them do the same."

 "Extending shields," Data said.  "The shuttle is at the extreme edge of our shield range.  Our shields will not protect it at this range."  He check his panel.  "The Eddings has also extended its -- Warbird firing on the shuttle."

 Standing up and gripping the panel of the science station for support, Vash gasped in horror.  'No!' her mind screamed as she watched the warbird's disrupter bolts head for the shuttle.

 "The warbird is now cloaking, sir," Data advised.  "The shuttle is undamaged.  The Eddings extended its shields in time."

 "Lock your tractor beam on the shuttle, Data!" Riker ordered.  "Pull them in as fast as you can."

 "Locking tractor beam.  Romulan warbird has cloaked. Readings indicate they are going to warp," Data reported.

 Vash's heart was pounding and she felt as if her whole body was shaking.  Afraid her knees would buckle under her, she slowly sat back down in her seat and took a deep breath to calm herself.

 "Get that shuttle on board," Riker said.

 "Yes sir.  However, it will take three minutes.  We will not be able to pursue the warbird."

 The officer at tactical called to Riker.  "Sir, the Eddings is hailing.  It wants to know if it should pursue the warbird."

 "Negative,"  Riker said.  "We better keep our firepower together.  Advise them to remain here."

 "Aye, sir," the tactical officer replied.

 "The warbird is out of the area," Data advised.

 "Very well.  You have the conn, Mr. Data," Riker said.  He walked over to where Vash was sitting and briefly shared a look of mutual relief with her.  Wordlessly, he extended his arm.

 She took Riker's arm, gratefully, and let him lead her to the turbolift.

...............................................

 "Shuttle bay one"  Riker directed the computer as the doors to the turbolift shut.  He looked down at Vash.  He could see that she was struggling to maintain the carefully composed mask she had been wearing for several days.  He wondered how much longer she could keep her emotions bottled up.  His communicator chirped.

 "Bridge to Riker," Data's voice came over the communicator.

 Vash let go of Riker's arm so he could respond to the hail.

 Riker tapped his communicator, "Riker here, Go ahead, Data."

 "The shuttle is safely aboard, sir," Data informed him. "Commander Worf estimates the level one security sweep will be completed in five minutes."

 "Acknowledged, Riker out."  He looked over to see Vash leaning against the wall.  She had her arms wrapped around herself and her entire body was shivering.  He could see that she was fighting to keep her composure.  This time she wouldn't be able to stop it.  "Halt."  The turbolift came to an abrupt stop between decks.

 "Why are we stopping, Will?"  Vash tried to keep her voice steady, but she wasn't entirely successful.

 "I just thought you might need a few minutes to let it all out," Riker said softly, knowing Vash hated for anyone to see her cry.

 "I don't need to let anything out.  I just want to see my husband.  I want him to be okay and I want him back here with me. It was bad enough just knowing he was taking that kind of a foolish risk, but to see him like that . . . . in the hands of those Romulans.  And then they fired on the shuttle and tried to kill him, oh Will, . . ."  With that Vash burst into tears.

 Riker took Vash into his arms to comfort her and whispered softly in her hair, "you have five minutes to not let any of this out before the captain will be expecting to see you."

 After several minutes sobbing, Riker's words registered and she pulled back to gently hit him squarely in the chest.  Wiping smudged mascara from her face she retorted, "All right, Commander Smartass, get this thing in gear."

............................................

 As Beverly arrived with her medical team, Vash and Riker joined her outside shuttle bay one.  The doors to the shuttle bay opened and they saw Ambassador Fontaine leaning against the hull of the shuttle.  Over to one side, Deanna was being enveloped in a huge bear hug by a much-relieved Worf

 Picard was wearily leaning in the doorway of the shuttle craft, looking expectantly at the door to the shuttle bay.  He saw Vash standing between Riker and Beverly, calm and composed. He stepped down onto the deck just as Vash spotted him from the door.  Seconds later, he was struggling to maintain his balance after his beautiful, composed wife ran across the shuttle bay and into his arms.

 "It's all right, It's all over, I'm home now," he murmured into her hair as he felt her clutch him to her.  He just held her tightly for several long moments.  Then he pulled back slightly, searching for and finding those beautiful lips for a deep, passionate, homecoming kiss.

 Finally, Vash pulled back to search his face.   "Je t' amie," she said simply.  Then tracing the cut over his left eye, she cried softly, "You' re hurt."

 "It's nothing," he whispered reassuringly.  Before she could protest further, he bent his head and kissed her once again.

 "Would you like a second opinion, Dr. Picard?" came Dr. Crusher's gently reprimanding voice from over his shoulder.

 Vash reluctantly stepped away, maintaining her grip on his upper arm.  She laid her head on Jean-Luc's shoulder as Beverly scanned him with her medical tricorder.

 Picard really hated medical examinations.  Trying to distract himself, he glanced around the shuttle bay.  Several security guards had surrounded the Romulan pilot.  Riker was talking to Ambassador Fontaine, while a medic was running a medical scan of her.  He was amused to note the medic trying to scan Deanna wasn't getting very far.  The counselor's large Klingon husband refused to put her down.  He looked back at his ship's chief medical officer, who was still busy scanning him. Wasn't she through yet?  "Well, Doctor?" he asked a little more impatiently than he intended.

 "There are no internal injuries.  However, you are slightly anemic and suffering from exhaustion," Crusher answered running an autosuture over the cut above his eye.  Then she pressed a hypospray into his shoulder. "This will take care of the anemia.  I'm relieving you from duty for the next twenty-four hours.  I want you to rest.  No strenuous activity."

 "I wasn't planning to run any marathons, Beverly," Picard huffed

 "I'm serious, Jean-Luc."  Beverly arched an eyebrow and looked at him meaningfully.  After all, he couldn't be that dense.  "Absolutely no strenuous activity."

 He glanced over at Vash, who looked amused but slightly flushed.  Instantly, he realized Crusher was ordering him to not make love to his wife.  He felt that it really wasn't any of the good doctor's damn business.  The tone of his voice turned firm, "Doctor," he stopped as a young medic approached.

 "Doctor," the young medic sounded nervous.  "I haven't been able to start my scan of Counselor Troi.  Commander Worf won't put her down."

 "It's okay, Tom," Crusher smiled at him.  "I'll handle it. Why don't you check out the Romulan pilot."

 "Thank you, Doctor."  Tom sounded eternally grateful as he headed over to the pilot.

 "Captain," Crusher started after the medic was out of earshot.  "The only reason you're not spending the night in sickbay is that I trust your wife will make sure you follow my orders.  Now, I have a Klingon to deal with."  After patting Vash on the shoulder, she left Vash and Picard alone and made her way over to Troi and Worf.

 "Aren't single people fun to watch," Vash whispered nodding toward where Riker stood, obviously flirting with Ambassador Fontaine.

 "Uh-huh, I see him," Picard smiled and stepped back to admire his wife.  That color of blue was always very flattering on her.  "You look lovely.  Any particular reason you're dressed up in one of your best suits?"

 "For you, of course," she smiled and gazed up at him adoringly.  "Will had promised me that I could talk to you when you contacted us from Qo'nos.  We were waiting in your ready room for your message when everything broke loose."

 "Well, that explains the suit and it explains why you were in the ready room."   His look and tone was one of gentle exasperation.  "However, young lady, would you care to explain how you managed to maneuver your way onto the actual bridge during a battle?"

 Vash gave him her most innocent look.  "Well, mon Capitaine, it's like this . . ."

 Across the shuttle bay, Beverly Crusher gave Worf her best glare and used her sternest voice.  "Put her down now, Commander!"

 Worf reluctantly put Deanna down, growling at the interruption.

 "Don't try that with me, Mr. Worf.  You may be able to scare my tecs, but I'm not that easily intimidated.  Growl all you want but put her down and let me run the scans.  Then take her back to your quarters and let her rest for the next twenty-four hours." Beverly drew herself up to full height and flashed a defiant glare up at the scowling Klingon.

 Elsewhere in the shuttle bay, Riker was supporting a weary Ambassador Fontaine while the medical technician ran the tricorder over her.

 "You're all clear, Ambassador.  Just get some rest and a good hot meal."  The med tech snapped the tricorder shut, nodded to Riker and the Ambassador, and left the shuttle bay.

 "Why don't you allow me to escort you back to your quarters? I can fix that hot meal for you while you take a shower and slip into something more comfortable."  The "rescue-the-damsel-in-distress" routine came naturally to Riker.

 Catherine thought briefly about all the things she'd like to do with Riker in her quarters and just didn't have the energy to make those fantasies a reality tonight.  Reluctantly, she smiled up at the sexy first officer and replied, "no thanks, Commander. I think I can manage."

 "I should at least escort you to your quarters," Riker insisted.

 If he did that, she'd just want to drag him inside.  No, better to just avoid temptation for the time being. "No really, Commander.  I'm sure I will be fine on my own.  Thank you for your concern."

 Riker heaved a heavy sigh as he watched her walk out the door.  Turning his attention back to his duties, he walked over to where Picard and Vash were continuing their reunion.

 "Captain, good to have you back," Riker welcomed his commanding officer back with a brief handshake.

 "Thank you, Number One."  Picard's pride in his first officer was evident in his expression as well as his voice. "And, nicely done."

 "Thank you, sir," Riker smiled.  "Any orders?"

 "Get someone from engineering up here to give this shuttle a thorough going-over.  Confine that Romulan pilot to some quarters and post a security guard, and I'd like a full status report on the ship's activities while I was gone."  Picard casually reached down and laced his fingers with Vash's.

 "Yes, sir," Riker answered.  "Mr. Barclay to shuttle bay one."  Then he looked toward the group of security officers surrounding the Romulan.  "Mr. Lar, will you join us for a moment?"

 Lar made his way over to them.  "You wanted to see me, Commander?"  Lar asked Riker.

 "Please confine the Romulan pilot to quarters," Riker ordered.

 "Yes, sir," Lar answered, before heading back toward the Romulan.

 Riker turned back to Picard.  "Ship's logs have been completed and are ready for you.  Will you be entering a log concerning your time aboard the Romulan ship, sir?"  Riker was aware that Picard wouldn't want to discuss the details in front of Vash, but a full report on Picard's end of the incident would be needed soon for the report to Starfleet.

 "Certainly, Number One.  I have been ordered by the good doctor to rest for the next twenty-four hours; however I will attend to that first thing tomorrow.  Inform Starfleet that the full report will be sent within forty-eight hours."

..........................................

 Vash walked contentedly next to her husband as they made their way to their quarters.  Picard was discussing ship's business with Riker, who was walking along with them.  Vash wasn't listening to what was being said, she simply relished the comforting sound of her husband's calm, deep, resonating voice. The total lack of his voice had been one of the strongest reminders of his absence.  She was used to hearing it throughout the day; as he gave orders over the ship's comm, as they talked over meals, and as he recorded the ship's log each night before they went to bed.  Before she realized it, they reached the door to their quarters.  Riker smiled as he said goodnight and left for the bridge.

 Vash preceded Picard as they entered their quarters.  As Picard took a step in, he heard a meow and felt something tangle itself around his feet.  He looked down to see Charcoal doing figure-eights around his ankles.  He gently picked up the small black cat, scratched its head and looked over at his wife.

 "She missed her Daddy," Vash gently teased him.  Then sighing she added, "She drove me nuts, Jean-Luc.  She prowled our quarters all night, every night looking for you."

 "Indeed."  Picard set the cat down.  Charcoal made one more pass at both their ankles, then walked into the bedroom to curl up in her bed.  Picard turned to Vash and took her in his arms his voice was tender.  "I was more concerned about you."

 "She paced in here, driving me nuts," Vash confessed, "And I, in turn, paced in your ready room driving Will nuts."

 "From what I have heard, you handled the situation with great courage and grace."  Seeing the self-doubt in her eyes, his tone was gentle but firm as he continued.  "Of course, the very fact that Will Riker allowed you to stay on the bridge was enough to tell me that.  If you had acted with anything less, Will would never have allowed you to stay."

 Vash's blue eyes sparkled at her husband's praise and she slipped her arms around his neck giving him a slow, deep, passionate kiss.  The coarse stubble of his three day old beard scratched against her soft, sensitive skin.  Breaking the kiss she whispered, "Welcome home, Captain."  She could feel the tension in the muscles of his neck and shoulders.  She looked up into his bruised and battered face.  Concern flooded her eyes as she suddenly realized that he must be exhausted.  She stepped back and delicately traced the bruise on his cheek.  Softly she asked, "Are you sure you're all right?"

 "Really, I'm fine.  It looks worse than it is.  I just had a minor disagreement with one of my captors."  Picard saw the concern in his wife's eyes.  Trying to reassure her, he dropped a quick kiss on the tip of her nose as he joked, "I've been involved in barroom brawls where I was far more seriously injured.  And those were the ones I won."

 Vash sighed and shook her head with exasperation, men.  At least he was home, safe and sound.  She relaxed a little, "Still, you really should follow Bev's orders and rest.  Why don't you take a shower and change out of your uniform?  I'll have a cup of Earl Grey ready for you."

 "That sounds perfect."  Picard reached up to rub her hand against the stubble on his cheek, gently scratching the sensitive skin of her palm.  He took her hand in his and kissed the back of it, before heading off towards the bathroom.

 Within ten minutes Picard stepped out of the bathroom, showered and shaved.  He changed into a burgundy velvet smoking jacket with grey silk trim and matching grey silk pajama trousers.  Vash had purchased the outfit for him.  At the time she told him he needed to learn to relax and that he needed something to relax in.  He had gotten out of the shower to find the outfit laid out neatly on the bed.  This was his wife's way of telling him he was going to rest.  He walked into the living room and over to the couch to sit down.  Picking up his PADD from the coffee table, he leaned back into the couch and started to work on his report of the last couple of days.  They may have won round one, but the trouble with the Romulans was far from over.

 Vash turned from the replicator holding a cup of Earl Grey. She watched her husband silently for a moment.  The smoking jacket's grey silk belt was tied tightly at the waist showing off Picard's perfect masculine shape.  The dark, burgundy velvet accented the broad expanse of his shoulders and chest.  The grey trim brought out the color of his eyes and the closely trimmed hair at his temples.  The open V of the grey silk collar allowed for a tempting view of his chest.  His muscles were still taut with tension, the result of his being a 'guest' of the Romulans.  She walked over and set his tea down on the coffee table in front of him.

 "Thank you, ma petite," Picard said without looking up. Vash thought his voice sounded strained.

 "Would you like something to eat?" Vash asked.  Still working on the PADD, Picard shook his head no in response.  Vash gently laid her hand on one of his, the one which held the PADD. "Dr. Crusher relieved you for the next twenty-four hours.  I think she meant for you to rest."

 "I will," he finally looked up as he explained, "I just want to get a start on this report."

 Vash knew she needed to limit this or he would work all night.  The rest of the ship may have stood down from red alert status, but he certainly hadn't.  They would arrive at the Klingon Home World soon and Klingon politics tended to get rough. He needed to rest.  Doing her best imitation of his command voice, she said,  "I'm going to change for bed.  You have one half hour, Mr. Picard, then you are relieved of duty.  Understood?"

 "Yes, ma'am," Picard chuckled at his wife's imitation of him.  She had mimicked his tone perfectly.  He watched as she walked into their bedroom and then he looked down at his PADD and started to write.

 Thirty minutes or so later, Vash walked back into the living room to see her husband just as she had left him.  She sighed and shook her head, this was going to take strong action. "Jean-Luc, are you coming to bed?"  Picard muttered in response and continued working.  "Jean-Luc, it's time to put it away. Your half hour is up."

 "Yes dear.  I'll be right there," Picard didn't even look up as he answered her.  Vash knew that meant he hadn't even heard her.

 Vash walked over to stand in front of her distracted husband.  She reached out and gently cupped his chin in her hand and drew his gaze up from the PADD he was working on.  "Jean-Luc, you need to get some sleep.  It's time to go to bed now."

 For the first time since Vash had entered the room, Picard noticed what she was wearing.  She was wearing a black satin, floor-length peignoir set.  The robe hung open, revealing the nightgown underneath.   As she bent down to pick up the empty tea cup from the table, the thin straps and low neckline of the gown treated him to a breathtaking glimpse of the luscious cleavage underneath.   Picard's eyes followed her as Vash walked across the room to put the cup into the replicator.  He thought about how much he had missed her the last few days.   He had slept very little while the Romulans held him captive.   The rare times he had slept, he had dreamed about her.  Whenever he closed his eyes he saw her, her delicate face, her silky brunette hair, her vivid blue eyes, not to mention every inch of her curvaceous silhouette.  Most definitely bedtime.  He put the PADD down that he was working on and got up to follow her.

 "Are you hungry?" Vash inquired, as she heard Jean-Luc walk up behind her.

 "Uh-huh," he uttered quietly from right behind her.

 "What would you like?" Vash asked.  Then her breath caught in her throat as she felt his hand pushing her hair to one side exposing the delicate skin of her neck.  He stood behind her and firmly grasped her hips, pulling them back against his own.  She could feel his warm breath on her skin and the strong hardness of his hips and thighs pressed against the back of hers.

 "You," Picard breathed huskily in her ear and he lowered his mouth to her neck.

 Jean-Luc's deep resonating whisper never failed to make Vash's insides turn upside down.  Her eyes fluttered shut as she felt his warm lips nibble up and down her neck.  A shiver of desire raced along her spine.  She mindlessly arched back into the masculine strength of the arms that held her.  Another shiver swept through her as Jean-Luc's hands slowly massaged her upper thighs through the flimsy material of her nightgown.  All the while, his mouth continued to devour her neck.  Vash wanted nothing more than to surrender to her husband's advances; but, he was supposed to be resting.  She knew that even a quick lovemaking session was definitely against the doctor's orders.  Damn.  Well, someone had to be the responsible adult.  Talk about your role reversals.  She took a deep breath.

 Pulling away slightly, she turned around to face him.  His hands were again at her hips, she fought to keep the rising passion out of her voice.  "Jean-Luc, We shouldn't.  Bev said you . . ."

 "I heard the good doctor," Picard whispered into her mouth, cutting her off as his lips covered hers in a deep, searching kiss.  Her warm lips trembled slightly as his mouth settled over hers.  Savoring the sweet taste of her kiss, he brought his hands up to her shoulders to slip the satin robe from her.

 Vash's entire body flushed with excitement as she felt the robe glide from her shoulders.  It slid down her arms to drop on the floor.  Her heart skipped a beat as his hands slowly traced their way down from her shoulders to caress the swell of her breasts through the thin satin.  The peaks hardened as she felt his thumbs draw slow, deliberate circles around them.  Arching into the exquisite sensations his touch caused, she pressed her mouth harder against his, deepening the kiss.  She felt all her suppressed emotions from the strenuous last few days converge into a tight knot of desire in her stomach.

 Picard moved his hands over her arms, shoulders, and neck, delighting in the feel of her softer-than-satin skin.  Finally breaking the kiss, he lightly ran a thumb over the lush fullness of her lower lip.  His voice was a low, bedroom baritone as he confessed, "While I was gone, I dreamed about you, about this."

 "I missed you," Vash whispered, staring up into his desire hardened, grey eyes.  His hands journeyed back down to once again cup her hips.  She brought her hands up, splaying them across his chest.  She could feel the unyielding muscular expanse of his chest through the velvet.  Before she could say anything else, Jean-Luc's hands tightened on her hips and his lips captured hers in another passionately heated kiss.  As he deepened the kiss, his tongue probed the depths of her mouth.  Responding with her own increasing needs, she nudged her tongue past his in her own erotic search of his mouth.

 As her lips and tongue answered the demands of his, Picard felt the muscles of his body tighten and his hardness grow with each passing moment.   He found just holding her in his arms again exhilarating.  When Vash finally broke the kiss, her breathing was rapid and uneven.  Her hands on his chest, she gently pushed herself back from him. Picard's eyes hungrily raked over her, his gaze feasting on every lush curve of her delicate frame.  He could easily detect the outline of her nipples, the crests hardened with anticipation strained against the thin fabric.  Vash's desire for him emanated provocatively from the very depths of her lovely blue eyes.  Her passionate responses and obvious sexual arousal were threatening to plunge him over the edge.  He could feel his emotional control slipping.  He had to have her.

 Vash's eyes swept over Jean-Luc.  Every muscle of his sleek powerful frame was tautly coiled.  He reminded her of a jungle cat waiting to pounce.  She realized that the hypervigilance he had  maintained for so long was now fueling his sexual passion for her.  There was no doubt in her mind, he meant to have her.  He could be a very determined man.  His masterfully executed seduction had driven her to total distraction, making her entire body burn for him.  Her voice was husky, as she tried one last attempt at being the adult and murmured, "You need to rest."

 "I need my wife." Picard whispered fervently.  His powerful arms encircled her waist, his hands finding the roundness of her derriere.  Cupping the supple flesh in his hands, he yanked her roughly against him, his mouth descending on hers in a savage kiss.  His tongue plunged past her parted lips, decisively staking claim to everything in its path.  As his mouth took command of hers, he forced her supple curves even tighter against him in a futile attempt to ease his desperate need for her.  He deepened the kiss as her soft moan of surrender drove his urgency up another notch.  His tongue plundered the depths of her mouth searching for her tongue to coax it out of hiding.

 Vash's head swam from the sensations caused by his passionate onslaught, the heat of his strong  hands through the thin material of her nightgown, the play of his chest muscles beneath her hands and her entire body crushed against the hard length of his.  Timidly at first, but then steadily getting bolder, her tongue began to challenge and stroke his within the moist warmth of her mouth.  So much for being the responsible adult.  She hated being responsible anyway.  She moaned her own passion into his mouth.  Quickly, she dropped her hands down and untied the belt to his smoking jacket.  She slipped her hands beneath the jacket.  Vash heard a low guttural growl deep in Jean-Luc's throat as her small hands traversed slowly up his torso between the velvet and the corded muscles of his chest.  Opening the jacket as she went, her hands traveled up to push it off the masculine slope of his shoulders.  He let go of her only long enough to let the jacket drop to the floor with her robe.  She ran her hands over his chest tangling her fingers in the coarse hair.

 Vash drew in a deep, shuddering breath when he finally broke the kiss.  Her eyes drifted over his broad shoulders, past the well-defined muscles of his chest, the bulging biceps of his upper arms and down along the tapering lines of his torso to the taut strength of his stomach.  Every movement he made revealed the tightly leashed strength contained in his sculpted muscles.  Looking up into his face, she saw an expression of fierce, carnal heat that set her heart pounding in her chest.  She had never been able to fight the physical needs this man could ignite in her.  Breathless, she suggested in a seductive whisper, "Come to bed with me."

 "To hell with the bed!" Picard swore impatiently, as he felt his blood pounding in his ears.  He wanted her, now.  He had no intention of waiting any longer, not even long enough to make it to their bedroom.  He swept her up in his arms and fell to his knees on the floor.  He laid her down on the deeply piled carpet, covering her body with his own.  His mouth attacked hers in yet another deep, demanding kiss.

 Vash moaned as her body moved restlessly underneath his long hard form.  As his lips continued to grind into hers, his hands moved greedily over her soft supple curves still contained in the thin material of her nightgown.  She let her hands run through the hair on his chest.  Vash knew her husband was a very passionate man, but he had always kept a tight leash on his emotions.  This unbridled desperation was a thrilling surprise.  It was so unlike him.  He wasn't interested in tender lovemaking, he wanted sex.  His all-consuming lust was only matched by her own.  This new and exciting side of Jean-Luc was fueling her own spiraling desires.  Vash had never felt anything as exciting as being ravished so passionately and so possessively by such a powerful man.  She didn't care if it was sexist and old-fashioned.  She had never felt more sexually desirable or more of a woman.  He finally broke the kiss, his steel grey eyes locked with hers.

 "Jean-Luc,"  his name came out as a sensuous purr.  She arched into his caress as his hands impatiently slid up her satin-covered silhouette.  Her hands gripped his shoulders as he moved to kneel above her.

 "Now, Vash," Picard commanded in quiet growl.  His body demanded satisfaction, urging him to claim and possess her for himself.

 Vash gasped in astonishment as he used both hands to rip the satin of her nightgown from the neckline to the hemline like it was paper. Vash's entire body caught fire as his smoldering stare traveled the length of her now-naked body.

 "Mon Dieu, tu es parfait," Picard breathed.  He quickly reacquainted himself with every inch of her, her blue eyes, her full lips, the graceful arch of her neck, the gentle swell of her breasts, her slim waist, the feminine curve of her hips, and those long legs.  As he studied her, he moved slightly so that he was now kneeling between her supple thighs, letting his hands slowly skim up the smooth length of her legs.  He felt her thighs quiver as his hands moved over them. He leaned down to let his mouth capture hers in a scorching kiss.  Picard deepened the kiss, his hands continuing their demanding trek up her body.  His hands found her breasts, caressing them possessively.  Vash's breathing became increasingly uneven and her fingernails dug into the tense muscles of his shoulders as he let his fingers gently tease the hardened peaks of her breasts.  His mouth blazed a heated trail of searing kisses from her lips down her neck.  Sucking strongly at the sensitive skin along the side of her throat, he left lovebites at the tender junction between Vash's neck and shoulders.  His mouth made its way down the silken expanse of her skin to the full curves still cupped in his hands.

 "Oh Jean- . .  " she gasped as she felt his mouth capture one of her breasts.  As he pulled and teased at the taut nipple with his lips, streaks of fire raced through her body from the rosy tip.  His mouth devoured and tormented first one breast and then the other.  His hands slid past her flat stomach, moving lower.  Finally reaching his destination, his fingers inflamed the moist heat already aching for him.  As his fingers continued to caress and fill her erotically, his mouth left tender lovebites around the full curves of her breasts.  Jean-Luc's fingers stroked her with the skill of a maestro, taking her to near insanity.  The knot of desire in Vash's stomach was so tight that her whole body quivered.

 "You're so wet," Picard breathed, nipping gently at the sensitive rosy peak of one of her breasts as he continued to arouse her, searching for her body's rhythm until her hips started to move against his hand.  His desire to take her now was almost overwhelming, but he was desperate to continue his exploration of this lovely vision.  He had spent the last several days not knowing if he would ever see her again.

 "Oh please," Vash whimpered, her hands traveling across his scalp until her fingers tangled themselves in the fringe of grey hair at the nape of his neck.   Her entire body felt as if it was made of liquid flames.

 "Just want to devour you," Picard mutter incoherently, as he felt Vash quivering beneath him.  His mouth journeyed down, letting his lips and tongue caress every dip and curve of his lovely wife.  His hands moved to grasp the gentle flare of her hips to hold her still as his lips finally moved on to their final destination.  She whimpered, pleading for him not to stop, as he licked and kissed the very center of her desire.   His tongue probed and stroked her, the scent and taste intoxicating him.  His mouth was relentless, taking her to the peak of ecstasy.

 Vash's mind reeled from the sensations of his mouth and tongue possessing her.  His tongue, Dear God, the things his tongue was doing to her!  She writhed helplessly as she felt him lick and suckle her very core.  With the skill of a virtuoso, he used his lips and tongue until her body was rocked with overwhelming ecstasy.  As the waves of pleasure overtook her, Vash held his head with both hands and screamed, "My God!"

 As the tremors subsided, Picard kissed his way back up to her face.  His hands again moved up her body to caress her breasts.   He could feel the pounding of his heart along with hers.  She ran her fingers through the hair at his temples.  He reached down to unfasten his silk pants, then his hands gripped her hips.  Just before capturing hers lips with his in a fiercely demanding kiss, he rasped hoarsely, "I need you."

 Vash felt the smooth silk slide down between her legs and his.  Instead of sating her, her release had only added to her desperate hunger for him.  The knot of desire was still tight in her stomach.  His passionate kiss, plus the feel of his rough hard thighs pressed against the smooth delicate skin of her inner thighs was more than enough to set her entire body on fire yet again.

 "I need this!"  Picard growled into her mouth, as he joined them with a quick, deep thrust.  The cadence he set was a rhythm of furious intensity.  All of his control was lost to the burning pleasure he felt as her body moved in perfect synchronization with his own.

 "Oh yes . . . Jean-Luc . . . yes," Vash's heated moans merged into a feral duet with his growl of conquest.  She matched him motion for motion as he drove into her hard and fast.  She could feel him bury himself deep inside of her, filling her completely with each thrust.  Her hands stroked the tightly sculpted muscles of his arms, feeling the strong muscles ripple and bunch with every forceful movement of his body.  She cried out his name as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her and his body violently plummeted into her own.

 Picard continued to take her with abandon.  His mouth claimed hers in a searing kiss just as ferocious as the way his body was possessing hers.  He slammed himself forcefully into her, his hands pulling her hips into his to drive himself even deeper within her.  Her hips arched to accept every powerful thrust.  Fiercely, he drove deep into her over and over.  Like a mirror image of his own need, she twisted her hips up to challenge every thrust.

 "Please . . . now . . . please,"  Vash whimpered into his demanding kiss. Her hands moved to grip his muscular hips and pull him deeper, as his passionate assault continued.  The overwhelming pressure mounting inside her finally detonated in an explosive release of wave after wave of ecstasy.  With a primal scream, Vash's head fell back against the floor and her entire body arched upward.

 "Vash," Picard moaned.  He felt her entire body shudder repeatedly with pleasure and deep inside him a deluge broke loose. As he thrust himself into her with an ever increasing urgency, the tension that had been building in him finally reached a crescendo.  With one last forceful thrust, he held himself deep inside her as his own powerful release ripped through him.

 "Damn,"  Picard swore softly as he collapsed onto Vash. His body was damp and his breathing was labored from the physical exertion.

 As Vash slowly became aware of her surroundings, spasms still coursed through her trembling body.  She let her hands run tenderly over the strong muscles of her husband's back while they both rested for a few minutes to catch their breath.  Through the thin film of perspiration she could feel each of his muscles ripple and relax in turn.  Raising an eyebrow, she softly quipped, "Missed me?"

 As he felt his body relax, Picard was surprised to realize just how tightly coiled with tension he had been.  He raised himself up on his forearms to look down at Vash.  He noticed how delicate and petite Vash looked with her expensive, now-torn, nightgown still under her.  'Merde,' he swore to himself as he saw the several lovebites that already marked the damp skin of her throat and chest.  He shouldn't have been so rough with her.  He should have made love to her, not used her as a sexual conquest.  He closed his eyes, he had never intended to take her so violently.  He should never have let himself lose control like that.  He opened his eyes to look at her.  His face was flooded with tender concern.

 "Vash, I . .  " Picard's voice faltered.

 "Shhh," Vash whispered as she put her finger to his lips. She saw the concern in his face.  She took away her finger and gently kissed him.

 "That was wrong.  I never should have used you that way," Picard said softly after he broke the kiss.  He started to move himself off of her.

 "Don't go, not yet," she whispered.  She wrapped her arms around him as she tightened her legs so his body couldn't leave hers.  "That was a lightning strike.  That was the result of the extreme emotional stress we've both been under, mixed with the intense chemistry we've always had with each other."

 "I should have made love to you.  Instead, I . . ." he trailed off, not sure how to voice his thoughts.

 "Instead, you screwed my brains out," she finished for him, trying desperately to hide her amusement.  How could such an experienced, well traveled man have so much trouble uttering a rather simple vulgarity?   After all, she was his wife and they were in their own bed.  Well, actually, they were on their own living room floor.

 "That's not exactly how I would have worded it.  But, yes, tonight was entirely about sex," he admitted.  Looking  into her blue eyes,  he was confused because they were sparkling with delight.

 "No kidding, Dixon Hill," Vash smiled up at her husband.  She slowly ran her leg up and down the back of his, enjoying the feel of his coarse legs against the soft skin of her own. "Here's a news flash for you, Captain.  I want you to lust after me that way.  It's a tremendous turn on to know that your desire for me was so strong that you ravished me right here on the floor.  You're right, it was sex.  As a matter of fact, it was really great sex."

 "Yes, it was," Picard smiled back, relieved he hadn't hurt her.  He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, just enjoying the feel of her body beneath him.

 "I have never been more turned on in my life," Vash purred. She reached up to give him a deep kiss.  She could feel him stirring within her, his desire returning.  She arched her hips against him sinuously.  He answered her silent invitation by moving deeply inside her   They never broke their kiss as he moved with a slow, steady pace.  He reveled in the waves of pleasure as they crashed over him, one after another.  He resisted the urge to speed up as he continued his slow, deliberate movements.  He held Vash's hips tightly to control her movements as his mouth continued to mimic his body's deep caress of the beautiful woman beneath him.  His soft moan of release followed hers closely.  They finally broke the kiss.  Smiling Vash whispered, "We really should try to make it to the bedroom."

 "Uh-huh," he muttered, smiling back.  He rolled himself onto his side, settling Vash against his chest.  They both fell asleep.

...................................

 "Worf, carrying me here from the shuttle bay was really not necessary.  You can put me down now."  Deanna knew her husband was feeling very protective of her at this moment, but he was carrying things just a bit too far, literally.

 Worf gently set Deanna down and cupped her head in his hands.  He searched her face, noting the marks of stress and fatigue with concern.  "You look tired.  Go in and take a bath.  I'll fix something to eat."

 Deanna covered his hands with hers and kissed his palms.  "A nice, long, hot bubble bath sounds heavenly right now."

 "You go on in and I'll bring you some hot chocolate in a minute."  Worf forced himself to let go of her.

 "You're going to spoil me tonight, aren't you?"  Deanna arched an eyebrow and smiled at Worf.  Lieutenant Commander Klingon Warrior was melting into Mr. Soft, Mushy, Teddy Bear right before her eyes.  She massaged the back of her neck with one hand and stretched, "please don't let me stop you."  She turned and headed for her bubble bath.

 Worf put some soft music on and took her in her hot chocolate.  Leaving his very relaxed wife in the tub, he went back out and pulled up the replicator menu to decide on dinner.

 Clean and content, Deanna came out of the bedroom in a big, soft robe tied off at the waist.  Her hair was down and she was carrying a brush.  "Something smells good out here."

 Walking over to Deanna, Worf took the brush out of her hand.   Drawn by those full, luscious lips he had dreamed of so often in the past few nights, he closed his eyes and leaned down to brush a quick, soft kiss across them.  Afraid this was only a vision to taunt him, he gave a huge sigh of relief when he opened his eyes and she was still there, smiling up at him.  Worf led her over to the couch and carefully arranged the pillows around her before he placed a dinner tray on her lap.  "Eat.  I'll brush your hair." He filled his hands with her long, dark hair and buried his face in it for one brief second.  Picking up the brush from where he had laid it, he began brushing out Deanna's hair

 Deanna loved shrimp, but she was having trouble concentrating on them.  Worf's nearness and the feel of his hands working their special magic in her hair were very distracting.   Deanna smiled as she bit into a tender shrimp.

 Worf drew the brush through Deanna's hair, following its trail with his hand.  He closed his eyes and nuzzled the nape of her neck.  He was trying not to think about how close he had come to losing her.

 Deanna finished off the shrimp and set the plate on the coffee table.  She leaned back into the muscular expanse of Worf's massive chest and sighed contentedly.  "That felt so good. I missed you, I missed all of this."  As she nestled cozily against his chest, her body instinctively became aware of Worf's overpowering masculinity.  Deanna felt a familiar rush of desire course through her.  She wiggled back a little further into the pair of strong arms that surrounded her, "I definitely missed something else."

 "What's that?" Worf asked, holding her close.

 "This."  With that, Deanna turned around to sit on Worf's lap and pulled his head down to hers.  She covered his lips with her own in a deep, passionate kiss that told him exactly what she had missed.

 Worf responded briefly to her kiss before pulling away. "No.  The doctor said you must rest tonight."

 "The doctor isn't here," Deanna purred seductively, as she climbed up higher on Worf's chest to nuzzle the sensitive spot beneath his ear.  Deliberately taunting him, she crushed the swell of her breasts against the solid wall of his chest.

 Worf's eyes closed and he could feel temptation weakening him.  His body ached to accept her sultry invitation.  She wanted him ... he could ... if he was very gentle  ..  "NO!"  Worf shouted, more at himself than Deanna.  He resolutely pushed Deanna off of his lap to sit on the couch.  "You've been through a lot in the last few days.  You don't know what you're doing.  You need to relax.  Lay down and I'll give you a backrub."

 "I have been through a lot, and a backrub is not what I need to relax.  You're what I need and I know full well what I'm doing," she taunted, her voice low and husky.  Dreams of this night had kept her going over the last few days, she wasn't about to give up so easily.  She needed this so much.  Determined to overcome his good-intentioned objections, she moved one hand to caress the already taut muscles of his inner thigh.  She bit her bottom lip to keep herself from moaning as she moved closer and closer ....

 Worf's body jerked involuntarily.  Grabbing her hand, he gently but firmly led her into the bedroom and laid her on the bed.  "I said no.  I'm going to give you a massage, you're going to relax and go to sleep, and then I'm going to be doing Mok'bara for the rest of the night to undo what you've done to me."

 "I can think of a much better way to undo it that would relax both of us at the same time," Deanna coyly suggested, trying to turn over.

 Worf closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and firmly held his wife in place.   'No, for the last time,"  his deep voice rumbled.

 Damn, thought Deanna, silently whimpering in need.  When she realized he was going to take her robe off, her hopes rose.  All may not yet be lost.

 Worf tenderly pulled her robe from her shoulders and groaned in frustration.  Deanna had not put anything on underneath the robe.  Against his better judgment, he let his eyes drift over her enticing form.  With long dark hair that flowed to her small waist, and softly rounded hips that led to shapely legs, she was going to be the death of him yet.  Deciding that, in his present condition, straddling her would not be a good idea, he knelt on the bed beside her.  Pushing the heavy silk of her hair to one side, he began massaging the tension out of her shoulders.

 Deanna almost purred at the sweet sensations he was creating.  He was nursemaiding her out of concern, the same concern that would not allow him to .. .she could almost hear his voice in her head 'mate with her.'  She closed her eyes and began planning how best to get Worf in a position where he couldn't say no.

 Hearing her breathing slow, Worf placed a tender kiss on her shoulder and covered her with the comforter.  He quickly changed into his workout clothes and went into the living room to do some serious Mok'bara.  Now he really needed a tension-reliever.  He would like to use one of his workout programs on the holodeck, but he couldn't bring himself to leave Deanna alone tonight.

 After a hard workout, Worf showered and changed into his pajama bottoms.  He stood beside the bed and looked down at Deanna, laying there so peacefully.  Very carefully, he lifted the comforter and eased into the bed pulling Deanna into his arms.  He knew he was only torturing himself, but after the last few days, he just needed to hold her.  With his wife home and everything all right, he closed his eyes and, for the first time in almost a week, slept.

 Worf jerked awake suddenly, unsure of what woke him.  Then he realized that Deanna was gone.  When he tried to sit up to see where she had gone, he discovered that he couldn't.

 "Lights, low level," came a soft, seductive whisper from the foot of the bed.

 Worf looked down and what he saw brought frustration and tension flooding back into his body.  Deanna was standing at the foot of the bed in a very sheer, black lace bodystocking.  The ruffled, off-the-shoulder neckline provocatively skimmed the tops of her full breasts.  Her hair was tied back in a pink satin bow that matched the small bows on each shoulder of her outfit.  The black lace made the seductive curves of her trim waist, full hips and shapely legs even more tantalizing.

 "I believe we were discussing tension-relievers," came Deanna's pointed opening.

 Worf tried to sit up once again and when he couldn't, he looked up to see pink manacles chaining his wrists to the bed.  He looked down at his wife in confusion.  "What are these things?"

 "A bargaining tool.  You keep interrupting the discussion just when things begin to get interesting.  Now things can get as interesting as we can make them without interruption."  She moved to kneel beside Worf on the bed.

 "Deanna . ." Worf began, his voice filled with frustration.

 "Hush," she laid her fingers across his mouth.  "I know you're concerned about me.  This way you don't have to feel guilty.  Just lay there and let me do everything."  Deanna replaced her fingers with her mouth and moved to straddle Worf's massive body.

 He watched as this delicate, tiny beauty perched herself on top of him.  Her dark eyes, sparkling with delight, seemed almost luminescent against her perfect olive skin.  How, in the name of Kahless, had she managed to do this?  Worf struggled against the restraints.  Sometimes he dearly wanted to spank his lovely wife.  Then the image of that sunk in and he groaned at the response that thought provoked in him.  When he opened his mouth to protest her intentions, she plopped a whipped cream-covered strawberry into his mouth.

 Deanna sat back with another strawberry in her hand.  She wiggled her hips seductively, just to torture him a little. Unable to resist the temptation of his massive, bronzed, heavily muscled chest, she slowly drew the strawberry down that hard wall, leaving a trail of whipped cream behind.  She breathed deeply as she admired the bulging muscles of his arms pulling at the manacles.  Then, very deliberately, she leaned forward and sensuously licked the whipped cream from his smooth, bronzed skin. Drawing the strawberry through the whipped cream again, she drew circles around Worf's nipples.  She put the strawberry in her teeth and leaned forward to feed it to him.  Then she licked and sucked the whipped cream from his straining nipples.

 Worf was breathing hard at the sight of her breasts straining upward from the bodice so enticingly.  He was trying desperately to remember why this wasn't a good idea.  It had something to do with his wife not being up to anything strenuous. At least that's what Dr. Crusher had said.  Of course Dr. Crusher hadn't seen her in an outfit that was pulling very interestingly at certain parts of her body.  Honor demanded he give it one more try.  His baritone voice trembled with anticipation, "Deanna, Dr. Crusher . . ."

 She plopped another strawberry in his mouth.  "Beverly isn't here."  She leaned forward to brush the tips of her breasts against his chest.  "You don't really want me to stop, do you?  You want this just as much as I do.  And before I'm finished, you're going to admit it."  With those ominous words, Deanna moved to one side, ripped his pants off and threw them to the floor.  She reached over to the nightstand to retrieve the large pink feather she had laid there earlier.  Kneeling on the bed beside him, she lightly brushed the feather across his forehead ridges.  Moving down his face, she tickled his nose before gliding it across his strong cheekbones and along his jawline.  A jawline that was clenched very tightly at the moment. "Worf, loosen up a little.  I promise I can make it good for you. Trust me."

 Seeing the muscles ripple a little tighter, she realized he wasn't quite ready to give in.  She almost whimpered in frustration.  The lace of the bodystocking was very sexy but pulled and rubbed at her body in ways that were driving her crazy with wanting.  Her nipples were so hard they ached.  She bent forward and rubbed them across his chest to ease the sensation. He thought he was doing this for her own good, so honor demanded she torture him mercilessly before he surrendered.

 She sat back up and stroked his strong, hard chest softly with the feather, tickling first one nipple and then the other.

 "I do trust you," Worf rasped.  His eyes were drawn to her breasts, the full curves and coral peaks pushed boldly against the black lace.  He was furiously struggling to restrain himself in the face of Deanna's obvious arousal.  "But this is not a good idea for someone in your condition."

 Deanna slid the feather lower, following it with her passion-flecked brown eyes, and felt his hips jerk.  "On the contrary, this is the perfect idea for someone in my condition, not to mention yours."  Throwing the feather aside, she straddled Worf again, moving restlessly against him.  She delighted in the feel of his hard, masculine body beneath her.

 With a start, Worf realized that there was a strategically placed opening in that bodystocking Deanna was wearing.  Groaning as his body responded to hers, he surrendered.  The deep timber of his voice was breathless with hunger, "I want you, now."

 "See, how hard was that?"  she smiled in relief and kissed him deeply to reward him.  "But not just yet, you gave in a little too soon.  This is fun."

 Deanna moved down his body to sit on his muscular thighs. Leaning down, she kissed his hardened, flat planes of his stomach.  Kissing her way lower, she looked up only once with an expression of love, lust, and mischief.

 Worf saw her expression and closed his eyes, not knowing what to expect and not sure he wanted to find out.  He jerked helplessly in his chains and growled when he felt the moist warmth of her mouth envelop him.  His thighs quivered with tension as he felt her soft, wet tongue slide up one side and back down the other as if he were an ice cream cone.  He squirmed under her as she gently nibbled along the path her tongue had just followed.  When she started suckling strongly on him, his hips lifted several feet off the bed.

 When Deanna decided she had driven them both sufficiently crazy with passion, she moved to straddle him.  Linking her hands in his, she kissed him passionately.   She leaned forward to caress his face with the lacy ruffle at the neckline of the bodystocking.  She moaned and moved closer when she felt his mouth on her cleavage, pushing the bodystocking down.   She arched into his mouth, feeling him suck strongly at her skin and knowing that she would have a very impressive bruise there for at least a week.  Deanna's body jerked in surprise when she felt Worf raise his head and bite into the lace covering her breasts. He shook his head trying to rip the material to free her straining breasts to his gaze   Sitting up, Deanna balanced with her hands on his chest and brushed herself very lightly against him over and over.  Feeling Worf's hips strain to put an end to this sweet pleasure-pain, she kissed his chest and sat up to lower herself slowly onto him.

 Worf felt his body join Deanna's and he struggled to hold her closer against him.  "The chains," he panted.

 Deanna settled herself more comfortably against him.  "I kind of like you like this," she cooed breathlessly.  "All helpless and completely in my control.  No, the manacles stay."

 Then she began to move against him.  Slowly at first and then building the pace.  Her knees pushed into his sides as she came down on him over and over, faster and faster.  Her fingernails dug into his chest leaving long red welts the length of his massive torso.  Worf was pushing up to meet her, twisting his hips beneath her in erotic, sensual motions that drove Deanna to increase her own tempo.  She locked her gaze on Worf's face, watching him as she pushed them both harder, needing more.
Worf pulled futilely at the manacles holding his wrists.  Idly wondering where she had gotten such strong chains, he twisted helplessly under Deanna's demanding pace.  With a howl of pleasure, he bucked and jerked off the bed.

 Deanna held on, gripping him tighter with her knees.  She threw her head back and gasped as his release triggered her own, even more explosive one.  She collapsed against his chest, still breathing hard.  She smiled into his chest and tenderly kissed the smooth expanse.  Nuzzling into him a little further, she closed her eyes.

 Worf brought his breathing under control as he felt the black lace of Deanna's outfit scratching his skin.  "Deanna," he whispered after a time.

 "Mmmm," came her sleepy reply.

 "Do you feel better now?"

 "Oh, much."

 "Could you unchain me now, please?"

 Deanna smiled into his chest again.  The manacles had definitely been worth the expense.  "Oh, I suppose so."  She dragged herself up to unlock the manacles.  As soon as they were unlocked, she felt Worf's arms surround her, holding her tight. With one hand, he tilted her face up to his for a soft, sweet kiss.  Deanna felt his hands move down to her hips and gasped in delighted surprise when she felt him lower her onto him again. She started to sit up but Worf stopped her.

 "No, now we sleep."

 Deanna wasn't sure she could sleep like this, but it could be an interesting way to wake up.  She closed her eyes and discovered that it was actually a very pleasant position to sleep in.

.....................................

 "Darling, I love having you back.  I missed you so much.  I love you.  Don't you have some work to do in your toy room -- I mean your ready room?"  Vash asked as sweetly as she could impatiently manage the following afternoon.

 "I get the hint, you want the quarters to yourself for awhile.  Should I set the replicator for chocolate overload before I go?"  Picard was well aware of the weekly chocolatefest ritual.

 "Good-bye, Jean-Luc.  I'll see you later, much later."  She shooed him out of the quarters before calling up the entire chocolate menu from the replicator.

 As she was setting out the last of the chocolate, the door chime sounded the arrival of her cohorts in chocolate.

 "Come on in," Vash called out.  "Grab the spoons and whipped cream on your way over here."

 Deanna, Beverly, and special guest Catherine Fontaine, entered the quarters and promptly armed themselves with spoon and whipped cream before heading over to the table.

 "Where is Captain Picard?" Catherine asked, looking around semi-casually.

 "He beat a hasty retreat," Beverly laughed as she began sampling her favorite chocolate concoction.

 "And since it's just us girls, let's not beat around the bush.  What's up with you and Will?"  Deanna was dying of curiosity.  As much as she loved seeing Will put in his place a time or two, even she was starting to feel sorry for him.

 "Oh yeah, what is going on with you and 'Commander-Eternity-Never-Looked-So-Lovely'?" Vash grabbed her own spoon and whipped cream and settled in at the table.

 "How do you know about that?" Catherine had thought that line rather smooth.

 "Jean-Luc does a priceless imitation of some of Will's classic lines.  Then, of course, Will tried that one with me when we first met.  Boy was he surprised to find out who I was," Vash laughed at the memory of that first encounter with the handsome first officer.

 "So, enough stalling.  Give with the details."  Beverly was busily working her way through the selections on the table.

 "Well, it should definitely be against Starfleet regulations for a commanding officer to be that sexy in uniform, or out of it for that matter."  Catherine raised one eyebrow suggestively as she took a big biteful of chocolate.

 "I thought I told you to rest," Beverly jumped in.

 "A girl can dream can't she," Catherine smiled.

 "Of course, I recall telling all of the away team to rest.  Could you possibly think up an explanation for that mark on your neck, Vash?"  Beverly had just noticed the telltale bruise on Vash's throat.

 "Um. . well, I fell," Vash replied hopefully.

 "Isn't it fortunate that the captain's lips were there to catch you."  Beverly wasn't buying it.  "I told you he wasn't up to anything like that, Vash."  Beverly shook her head in exasperation and reached for the double chocolate fudge brownies.

 "Well, funny you should phrase it that way.  He was quite up for it," Vash shrugged and held up two fingers staring down into the Death by Chocolate in front of her.

 "Twice?"  Beverly gasped.  Taking a deep breath, she continued in her best reprimanding tone, "I trusted you to make sure that he rested."

 "Jean-Luc had other ideas."  Vash looked up at Beverly like the cat that swallowed the canary.  "He really can be quite tenacious.  You know that black peignoir set I used to have? Your exhausted, injured, weak, debilitated Captain Picard threw me to the floor right over there and ripped it from my body."  Vash smiled as she heard the gasps of amazement from her cohorts. She figured if she was going down, there was no sense going alone.  Why not blame it all on Jean-Luc?  After all, what are husbands for?

 "That's not the Picard Maneuver I remember studying at the university," Catherine commented dryly.

 "No, I'm sure it's not."  Vash looked over at Catherine and arched an eyebrow.  "But, it's definitely the more memorable of the two."

 "I don't doubt it," Catherine chuckled.

 Beverly rolled her eyes and covered another brownie with a hefty dose of whipped cream, "Did anyone follow my instructions last night?  Deanna, tell Vash how Worf let you rest all night last night."

 Vash had already seen the same telltale mark on Deanna, just barely hidden by the neckline of her dress.  "Yes, Deanna, do tell."

 Deanna flushed and stared guiltily down into her chocolate, cherry, whipped cream sundae.

 "Et tu, Brute, Deanna?"  Beverly reached over to expose the hickey riding on Deanna's cleavage.  "I see the next time I impose resting orders on anyone in this crew, I'll have to confine them to an isolation tank with a very large and well-armed security guard."

 "Been there, done that," came Deanna's amused reply.

 "How did you manage to find the energy?  Will offered to escort me home last night, but I just didn't have the energy to do any more than just fantasize last night."  Catherine was amazed at the stamina of the married couples.

 "I tried to stop him, honest, Beverly," Vash attempted to defend herself to no avail.

 "Yeah, right.  You always wear a black satin peignoir set to bed," Beverly's slightly sarcastic comment held a hint of amusement.

 "Well, in Worf's defense, he did try.  But those satin-lined manacles I picked up on Risa on our last leave didn't give him much room to maneuver."  Deanna didn't even try to hide the self-satisfied grin.  "It wouldn't have taken so long except I didn't get the matching ankle manacles."

 "Ooh, toys."   That perked Vash's interest.

 "Risa, huh?  I'll definitely have to make a stop there, soon."   That particular equipment sounded pretty useful to have around to Catherine.

 "I wonder if we could get Jean-Luc to set course there anytime today?"  Vash idly wondered out loud.

 "I don't think Risa is on the way to the Klingon homeworld," Beverly pointed out.

 "Bummer," came Vash's disappointed reply.

......................................

 Early that evening, Picard smiled and silently leaned against the doorway of his bedroom.  Unnoticed and amused, he watched as his wife, dressed only in a white satin chemise, stood in front of a closet completely filled with beautiful clothes.

 "I have absolutely nothing to wear," Vash whined to herself as she stared into her closet.

 "I always knew this moment would come," Picard's deep voice resonated from behind her.  He just couldn't resist teasing her. "The part of your brain that controls your sense of fashion has totally seized up from sensory overload.  You have so many clothes in there that the choices have totally overwhelmed you."  He walked over and sat on the edge of the bed directly behind her.

 "Oh thank you, Captain Helpful," Vash chuckled with out turning around.  "I guess I could wear this to Data's for poker."  She reached in the closet and pulled out a red and white floral printed dress.  She turned around and tossed the dress on the bed next to Picard.  "What do you think?"

 "Uh?  Oh the dress is fine," he sounded distracted and his expression was one of loving concern.  He stood up and reached out to her.  Very gently, he traced the largest of several bluish-purple bruises on her neck with a finger.  "Did I do this last night?" he asked very quietly then bent down to place a tender kiss on the spot.  She closed her eyes and sighed as he gently kissed her neck.

 "You sure did, Tiger," she answered contentedly, opening her eyes.

 "I'm sorry," he said earnestly, standing up straight to look into her face.

 "Good Lord, what for?" she asked putting her hands on her hips.  In a voice that was amused but exasperated, she added, "Jean-Luc, it's a hickey.  Granted, I haven't had one this impressive since I was about nineteen."

 "I have never considered leaving any type of mark on a lady," he answered.  "It shouldn't have happened, and if I had exercised some self-control, it wouldn't have happened."

 "First of all, if you're worried that you hurt me last night.  You didn't," Vash said gently as she brought her hands up, splaying them across his chest.

 "Second," she looked up suggestively at him as she began to run her hands over the front of his uniform.  With one finger she slowly traced around his communicator and her voice took on a much more playful tone.  "I think it bothers you that you lost that legendary composure of yours and that I'm walking around with the physical proof.  You're worried that last night the cool, calm, collected Captain Jean-Luc Picard, turned into a magnificent pagan beast.  Well, you did.  Live with it."

 "Magnificent what?"  Picard blinked in shock at his wife. Vash's whole face seemed to light up with delight and she giggled at the stunned expression on his face.  Quickly recovering, he sighed, "No, on second thought, please don't; however, would you care to explain why you've been in such an elated mood all day?"

 "Just you being here, safe and sound, isn't enough?" she asked as she continued to play with his uniform.  Her nimble fingers were now exploring the rank pips on his collar.

 "That doesn't explain the somewhat frisky nature of your mood," Picard replied, trying to ignore the sensations caused by her delicate hands.

 "Truth?" Vash offered as she moved in a little closer.

 "Please," he coaxed, not exactly certain he wanted to hear this.

 "Last night you fulfilled my favorite sexual fantasy," she confided, not able to keep the desire out of her voice. "You're always the consummate starship captain; strong, confident, determined, and completely in control of yourself.  I often imagine that you're so overcome by lust for me that you can't control yourself."

 "I thought you proved, quite effectively I might add, that you could provoke me to that at will."  What Picard didn't add was that she was doing it again.  That chemise covered very little.  What it did cover, it covered very provocatively.

 "I proved I could get your attention and that I could tell when you were aroused," Vash corrected him, her hands still moving over his chest and shoulders.  "That is quite different from you, in unbridled passion, losing control and throwing us both to the floor so that you could have your way with me."  She nuzzled Picard's throat, placing little kisses on the sensitive area just beneath his ear.  "Last night was incredible.  The way you tore that nightgown was beyond anything I could have come up with, even in my wildest fantasies."

 "I should have been more careful," he replied.  "I'd never forgive myself if I . . ."

 Vash put her hand over his mouth to cut him off.  "I didn't want you to be careful.  Stop feeling guilty about something we both enjoyed and both wanted.  Besides, we both know I've got plenty of nightgowns."  Then she removed her hand from his mouth and cupped his strong jaw in her hand.  "I'm not some little porcelain doll that will break at the slightest touch."

 "You are to me."  He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer.  He leaned down and captured her lips in a deep, gentle kiss.  Breaking the kiss, he whispered, "I love you. I want to protect you.  Is there anything wrong with that?"

 "No, not at all," Vash whispered back, smiling  "It's wonderful and I love you.  But every once in awhile, when I'm alone with you, I need to climb off of that pedestal."

 "I don't think that's possible," he gently shook his head and smiled down at her.

 "Now that sounded like a challenge.  I think it's time to remind you just how talented your little 'porcelain doll' really is," she cooed seductively as she looked up with a devilish gleam in her eyes.  Her hands drifted down his uniform jacket past the waistband of his trousers.  Running her hands over his strong thighs, Vash found and caressed the evidence of his desire for her.  Even through the fabric of his trousers, she could feel his body's hard arousal throbbing under her touch.  "Oh Johnny, you're really hard.  Did I do this to you?"

 He felt his body tighten in response and cleared his throat.

 She dropped to her knees and wasted no time in ripping Picard's uniform pants open with her pearly, white teeth and moved her hands around to cup his hips, holding him steady.  Vash closed her eyes and licked her lip in anticipation of the taste of his skin.   She briefly nuzzled the juncture of his thighs before placing small lovebites along the tender skin of his inner thighs.

 Picard tangled his fingers in her hair, pulling her closer.  His last coherent thought as he closed his eyes and groaned was that they were definitely going to be late for poker tonight.

 Vash heard and felt his immediate response and smiled against his skin.  Her hand was stroking him as her mouth enveloped the bulge below.  Stroking it softly with her tongue, she could feel the heat that her actions was igniting.  Releasing him, she pulled strongly at the small, curly hair following quickly with her tongue.  Under her hands she could feel his muscles quivering as he struggled to remain still.  Moving back slightly, she held him steady and, with her tongue, traced very softly around the tip of his hardness.  Slowly, little by little she eased him into the warm cavern of her mouth.  Tickling him with her tongue, she began moving him in and out of her mouth.  She could hear his gasps and moans in the background, but her sole focus was the erotic act that was bringing both of them so much pleasure.  Suddenly, she felt him trying to pull her away.  Grasping his wrists, she pulled his hands behind his back and increased the tempo.

 "Sacre Bleu!"  Picard swore in wonder and relief as his hips jerked in release.  He looked down to see his impish wife thoroughly enjoying the fruits of her labors.

......................................

 "Captain, Vash,"  Data looked up as Picard and Vash walked into his quarters.  "We were not certain if you were coming?"

 "Oh, we were coming," Vash giggled, as she headed toward the card table and the empty chair next to Data's.

 "What's the game?"  the captain asked.  Holding Vash's chair for her, he pointedly did not respond to her comment, then he sat himself in the chair next to her.

 "Five-card draw, nothing wild, sir," Riker informed him. The first officer was barely able to drag his eyes away from Catherine, who was sitting across the table from him making a small adjustment to her very form-fitting, white jumpsuit.  He took the cards from Beverly and began to expertly shuffle the deck.

 "So, Catherine, are you here for the scintillating conversation or just another donation from the Bank of Will?" Deanna teased Riker knowingly.  She smiled up at Riker sitting next to her.

 "Both," came Fontaine's succinct reply as she leered at the first officer tauntingly.

 "Everybody ante up," Riker said quickly.

 After tossing her chips into the center of the table, Vash walked over to get herself and Picard each a drink, she felt that it was the least she could do for her husband.  As Picard watched her approach the table, he was drawn by the way the delicate material of her red and white floral dress fluttered with each step.

 Sitting on other side of Picard, Crusher was at a perfect vantage point to notice the captain studying his wife instead of his cards.  She leaned into him to softly whisper, "Admiring your handiwork?

 Picard turned and gave her a confused look.  With a knowing smile, Beverly reached up and rubbed her neck.  He hastily began to study his cards.

 "What's the bet?"  Vash set Picard's drink in front of him and settled into her seat to glance quickly at her cards.

 "Two of his little red chips should do it," Riker answered, gesturing to the captain's pile of chips.

 Vash threw two of Picard's red chips into the pile.  She looked up at him impishly and cooed, "Are you up for it?"

 "Always," Picard retorted, reaching over to her pile of chips to toss in the requisite amount.

 "I'm in," Beverly threw in her chips.

 "Just out of morbid curiosity," Catherine wondered to no one in particular, "who is driving the bus?"

 "I'm in," Riker said as Deanna shook her head no and laid her cards down.

 "Geordi relieved me seventy-three minutes ago," Data responded.  Worf grunted and threw his chips into the pile. Catherine and Data quickly followed suit.

 Some time later, Picard was holding his best poker face in a vain attempt to win a pot from his wife.  "Take it," he finally sighed to Vash.  It was the second time that night that she had called his bluff.  Dryly, he added, "You have everything else anyway."

 "Now, Jean-Luc, you know the definition of ownership in this marriage," Vash teased as she added the chips to her pile. "What's mine is mine and what's yours is mine.  It's an archaic and sexist double standard and I intend to milk it for all it's worth."

 "Works for me," came Deanna's amused reply.

 "Forgive me, Counselor," Picard retorted, "if I don't act surprised."

 "Which of you was married first?"  Catherine turned to ask Vash.

 "Well, that all depends on how you look at it," Vash explained.  "Nothing with this crowd is simple.  Worf and Deanna were Klingon mates first.  However, Jean-Luc and I were married on Earth before they were married on Betazed."

 Riker looked up with a glint in his eyes.  He had waited all week to get even with the captain for the 'Minuet' comment made at the last game, and here was the perfect opening.  He exchanged an evil grin with Vash and chuckled, "I'm still not exactly certain which ceremony had him more nervous."

 Fontaine looked at Picard questioningly, "I would think being the groom would be far more nerve-racking then performing the ceremony."

 Before Picard could respond, Deanna spoke for him as she got up to get herself a drink from the replicator.  "He didn't perform our ceremony.  He gave me away."

 "I still don't quite get it."  Catherine still looked confused.

 "It was the first time Jean-Luc had ever seen one of his officers..." Vash gave her husband a loving but amused look. "How did you put?  In the all-together?"

 "That's right."  Fontaine now understood. "Betazoid weddings are traditionally nude."

 "I was very honored by my roles in both weddings," Picard said diplomatically trying to salvage the situation.  Then he added in his most suave tone, "Vash and Deanna both made exceptionally lovely brides.  Now, can we just play cards please?"

 As she passed behind him on her way back to her seat, Deanna patted the captain's shoulder affectionately. Doing her best imitation of him, she teased him with his own phrase, "Nicely done."

 Watching Worf shuffle the deck, Picard said dryly, "Oh, thank you.  Did someone declare this pick on the captain night."

 "Well, you know it wasn't me," Beverly chimed in good-naturedly.  Looking at Deanna and then Picard, she continued, "I'm just the CMO, no one listens to my orders anyway."
 
 Several hours later, Riker looked down at his diminutive pile of chips as Data dealt the cards.  It had not been one of his better nights.  "This will probably be my last hand for this evening."

 "This will probably be the last hand for everyone," Beverly added, stretching.

 "Dealer folds," stated a slightly dejected Data.

 Vash, Beverly, and Deanna exchanged glances.  If Catherine was going to make her move it was now or never.  Laying down her cards, Vash echoed Data, "I'm out, too."

 Picard tossed in his chips.  Beverly didn't even look at her cards before announcing, "I'm out."

 Riker looked at his cards.  His poker face in place, he tossed in a few of his chips, "I'm in."

 Deanna glanced once at her cards and then up at Vash and Beverly.  She shook her long hair negatively and laid her cards on the table. 'FOLD' Deanna thought to Worf.  He looked over at her.  She gave him her most innocent look and thought to him again 'FOLD!'

 "I fold."  Worf laid down his cards.  Then he sent a grumbled thought to Deanna, 'Happy now?'

 'Yes, dear.  Thank you,' Deanna's voice sang sweetly in his head.

 "I'm in."  Catherine took a few chips from her huge pile, most of which had been Riker's, and threw them into the center.

 Vash glanced at Picard, who seemed to be contemplating his cards.  She gave her husband a swift kick under the table.  He looked up from his cards and over at her.  She looked back at him meaningfully, folding her hands over her cards on the table. With a glance he realized that, except Catherine and Riker, everyone had folded.  He got the hint.

 "I fold," Picard sighed.  Vash took the last sip of her drink and set the empty glass down.  With a small yawn, she leaned against him and discreetly patted his knee with approval. 'Yes dear,' Picard thought to himself, slightly disgruntled, 'I was a good boy.'

 Riker tossed a few more chips into the pile.  He looked across the table to meet Catherine's gaze.  Her eyes never left his as she tossed in her own chips.

 "Well, William," Catherine noted with a small smile.  "It looks like it's just you and me.

 Vash snuggled closer to Picard as he draped one arm over the back of her chair.  Laying her head on his shoulder, she whispered so only he could hear, "The cast has been made.  Now, is the fish biting?"

 "Looks that way," Riker answered Catherine.  He tossed in his last two chips.  "I see your bet and I'll raise you."

 "He's sniffing at the bait," Vash reported quietly to Picard.

 "Raise me?  In case it has escaped your notice, Will, you're out of chips," Catherine countered with an arched eyebrow.

 "If I win this hand, you agree to have dinner with me," Riker challenged.  Wondering to himself, 'Do her eyes have to be such a beautiful shade of emerald green?'

 "He's giving the bait a nibble," Vash continued with her commentary.

 "And, if I win?" Catherine asked, tilting her head slightly.

 "Lady's choice," Riker answered, his blue eyes sparkling with their usual bravado.  After all, he had a damn good hand.

 "And he swallows it hook, line, and sinker!" Vash whispered triumphantly to Picard.

 Closing his eyes briefly, Picard shook his head at the younger man's folly.  He was going to have to have a talk with Will.  You never give that kind of leverage to a woman, especially a beautiful woman.  He looked down at Vash.  It had been his experience that they were more than capable of taking it on their own.

 "You're on," Catherine accepted the challenge, with a regal toss of her hair.  "Let's see your cards, Ace."

 "And she reels him in!" came Vash's triumphant conclusion to her play-by-play commentary.

 "A full house," Riker grinned as he laid out his cards.

 "How long till your next shift?" Catherine asked.

 "Nine hours," Riker answered, quite pleased with himself.

 "That should be enough time."  Catherine looked down and laid out her cards.  Riker's jaw dropped as he saw her hand, a royal flush.

 "Well-played, Ambassador.  I guess it's time to pay up. What does the lady choose as her winnings?" came Riker's disappointed response.

 "You," she shot him a carefully appraising glance then looked over at Picard and smiled.  "Captain, I have just won the services of your first officer for the next eight hours.  I would consider it a personal favor if there were no red alerts called during that time."

 Vash thought the stunned look on Riker's face was priceless.  Quickly, she turned her face into Picard's chest and tried to suppress her giggles as she whispered to him, "He's now the catch of the day."

 "I think I can manage to arrange a quiet night," Picard assured the Ambassador with an amused smile.

 "Thank you, Captain.  Goodnight everyone."  With that Catherine rose from her chair.  She walked over and patted Riker on the shoulder.  "Come along, Commander."

 Still stunned, Riker got up and followed Fontaine out of Data's quarters.  The last thing he heard before the door shut behind him was the captain's suspiciously amused-sounding, "Goodnight, Number One."

 As soon as the door shut behind the two of them, Vash, Beverly and Deanna burst out in laughter.  Vash laid back across Picard's lap, giggling so hard that tears rolled down her face.

 Both Deanna and Beverly had collapsed onto the table, giggling.

 "Ladies,"  Picard implored all three of them, as he gently sat his wife upright.  "I realize that was amusing..."

 "Actually,"  Data interjected, chuckling.  "It was damned funny."

 "Data,"  Picard looked at his second officer. "You're not helping."

 "It was humorous," Worf admitted as Deanna leaned against him trying to catch her breath.

 "Did you see his face?"  Still giggling, Vash asked as she wiped tears from her eyes.  Deanna could only nod.

 "He looked like a deer caught in a spotlight," Beverly choked out between giggles.

 "And on that note,"  Picard stood up and helped Vash out of her chair. "I think we'll just say goodnight.'

............................................

 "Well, that certainly was entertaining," Vash giggled to Picard in the privacy of the turbolift after the doors had closed.  Leaning against the wall of the lift, she added with admiration, "I'll have to hand it to Catherine.  That was a well-planned and well-executed ambush, one worthy of myself."

 "Vash, I don't think the Ambassador, or you, for that matter, could have planned that," Picard lamented with amused exasperation.

 "Of course she did, Jean-Luc," Vash countered with a small, knowing smile.  "As for me, are you about to tell me that you helping me look for the Tox Uthat on Risa had nothing to do with the skimpy, little, bronze swimsuit I just happened to be wearing at the time?"

 "I've been a married man long enough to know there is no safe answer to that question," he noted dryly.  Although not the deciding factor, the sight of Vash in that swimsuit had played into the decision.  Of course, he wasn't stupid enough to admit that to her.

 "And, just like his sexy commanding officer," she continued with a seductive wink, "Will walked right into it, completely confident and clueless.  I'll bet you a bottle of my favorite perfume against a bottle of Aldeberan whiskey that by morning there will be nothing left of your first officer but his brass and a smile."

 "You're on," he winked back as he accepted the challenge. Reaching out, he traced the high neckline of her red and white floral dress.  "You look wonderful in this dress.  And I must admit, I was grateful that you choose a dress with a discreetly high neckline."  With a sigh he added. "However, it was obvious Dr. Crusher was already aware of certain facts."

 "Bev saw it this afternoon," Vash explained with a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders.  "I tried, Jean-Luc.  I told her I fell."

 "And?"

 "She said it was a good thing your lips were there to catch me," she giggled, it was a great line.

 "I'm not amused," he replied succinctly.

 "Oh well, I was," she confessed, still laughing.  "It was clear Bev wasn't buying it.  So, I told her what happened."

 "You what?" Picard gasped.

 "What was I supposed to say?" Vash's blue eyes sparkled as she gave him her most innocent look.

 "I don't suppose that, during these chocolatefests, you would consider leaving me with just a little of the dignity due to a starship captain?" he complained wearily.

 "Ummmm, no."  Vash at least pretended to think it over for a second.  "To me you're just another 'Why?' chromosome.  Besides, Catherine seemed very impressed.  She said that wasn't the Picard Maneuver she'd heard of."

 "I don't believe this," he groaned as he tugged at the waist of his uniform jacket.

 "Okay, so I implied that you're great in bed, or on the floor, as the case may be."  Vash wore a grin of unholy glee as she watched him make that habitual adjustment to his uniform.  It was so fun to torture him.  "It's not as if I told them that the man they are trusting to get them to Qo'nos can't seem to remember our exact location on a semiregular basis."

 "Ouch," he exclaimed with feigned insult.  "That, my darling wife, was below the belt."

 "Don't feel too bad." Vash seemed insufferably pleased with herself.  "We weren't the only ones disobeying Doctor's orders.  Deanna and Worf made you and I look absolutely angelic."  She paused a moment and added, with an arched eyebrow and a come-hither look, "it seems toys were involved."

 "I really, really don't want to go there," Picard sighed, closing his eyes and shaking his head.  He knew it was hopeless, however.  Vash was on a roll, and there would be no stopping her.

 Moving to stand next to him, she took hold of his muscular upper arm with both hands.  With her head on his shoulder, she looked up at him through her lashes.  Her small hands caressed the steely bulge of his upper arm as she cooed seductively at him. "Oh but I really, really need to take you there.  The toys in question were pink, satin-lined manacles."

 "I don't, for one minute, believe Worf would do that to Deanna after what she had just been through," he asserted as he turned his head to look down at her.

 "I never said anything about Deanna being the one chained to the bed," Vash purred impishly, giving him a playful swat on the seat of his pants before she walked out the opening turbolift doors.

 "I just can't believe the things you women will tell each other over a couple pieces of chocolate,"  Picard muttered to himself in total disbelief as he followed his wife out of the turbolift.  He had the sinking feeling that he would be buying a very expensive bottle of perfume at the next starbase.

.............................................

 Riker entered Ambassador Fontaine's quarters somewhat hesitantly.  This evening was not exactly going according to plan.  As he stood in the middle of her quarters, wondering what he was supposed to do next, Catherine came out of the bedroom wearing a full-length green satin robe.

 "Take it off."

 "Excuse me?"  Will was a bit confused.

 "Your clothes, take them all off," Catherine clarified, tossing a small scrap of black cloth at him.  "And put that on."  She sat on the couch and looked expectantly at him.

 "You want me to change right here?" Riker asked, incredulous.

 "Right here, right now, my little prize."

 Riker slowly kicked first one boot and then the other off.  He then reached up and pulled the snaps of his uniform top open. He peeled the top from his massive chest, exposing the muscular expanse covered with dark, coarse hair to her avid gaze.  Dropping the top on the floor, he hesitantly reached for his pants.  Catherine nodded, wordlessly encouraging him to continue. He unfastened his pants and shook his hips to get his pants to fall around his ankles.  He was starting to see the possibilities of this entire scenario.  He turned around to reach down and pull his pants off, giving her a bird's eye view of his muscled backside.  She caught her breath as she caught sight of the bulge constrained in his underwear from between his legs.  What a wonderful specimen of manhood, she thought to herself.  He turned back around to face her.  Running his hands up and down, Riker caressed his hips seductively.  Covertly, he used the movement to wipe the sweat from his palms.  Things were definitely out of control and heating up fast.

 "What are you waiting for, Will?  You're not finished yet," Catherine pointed out from her vantage point on the couch.  Riker drew in a deep breath and slipped his thumbs under the waistband of his underwear.  Swaggering over to stand directly in front of her, he inched the underwear down over his hips and let them fall to the floor.  Reaching out for her hand, he was surprised when she evaded him and stood up.

 "Put those on," she gestured to the scrap of black on the floor, "and go draw my bath."  With that she walked over to the replicator and ordered a glass of white wine.

 Riker stared after her, somewhat bewildered.  He walked over and picked up the black cloth.  It turned out to be a very small piece of underwear with little silver snaps along each minuscule side.  He slipped into it, somewhat self-consciously.  He wasn't as sure about what she had in mind, but he decided to play along and see where it got him.  He went into the bathroom and started a bath.  Selecting a scented bubble bath, he felt inspiration strike, and lit some candles, placing them around the room.

 Catherine walked into the bathroom and, seeing the candles, smiled to herself.  Riker was obviously getting the point. Opening the robe, she dropped it to the floor to join Riker's jaw as he saw that she was now wearing nothing but a rhinestone clip holding her hair up in a French twist.  She held her hand out expectantly to him.  He took her hand and helped her into the tub.  He could only stare in wonder as he saw the water cover every delectable inch of her smooth, flawless skin.

 Catherine's imperious command startled him out of his daze, "Bathe me."

 Riker dimmed the lights in the bathroom, leaving only the candlelight to see by.  He picked up a loofah sponge laying on the edge of the tub and lathered it with soap.  Kneeling down behind the tub, he began gently caressing her skin with the soft sponge.  She dropped her head forward and closed her eyes in satisfaction as she felt the smooth strokes of the sponge on the back of her neck.  She almost purred when he moved the sponge down to slowly caress every inch of her back.  He reached around with his free hand to cup her chin and gently eased her back to lean against his chest.  Reaching around with the sponge, he softly ran the sponge down the swan-like column of her throat.  He noticed her breasts rise quickly as she took in a deep breath. He took the opportunity to slide the sponge down and around the fullness of one of her breasts, taking his time with the nipple now straining for his attention.  Deciding to play this game out by her rules, he moved the sponge away and ran it down the length of one arm.  He smiled into her hair as he felt her arch into him.  His smile quickly turned to an unbearable ache as her back brushed his nipples, sending streaks of fire racing into the already-shrinking fabric of the g-string she had given him to wear.  He took a deep breath and moved the sponge to caress her other breast.  This time, he followed the sponge with a finger from his free hand, wondering just how long he could stand this sweet torture.

 "Aren't you going to do the rest of me?" Catherine inquired breathlessly

 Riker closed his eyes briefly.  The little g-string was getting smaller by the second.  He moved around to kneel beside the tub and re-soaped the sponge, stalling for time to compose himself.  He ran the sponge down through the valley between her breasts and lingeringly moved it around the flat skin of her stomach.  He felt her jerk when he ran the sponge around her belly button.

 Catherine held one long, shapely leg out of the water and watched the bubbles slide down her smooth skin.  She looked over at Riker and raised an eyebrow.  Obeying the implicit command, he moved down, working the sponge around each individual toe. Admiring her delicate ankles as he continued to bathe Catherine, he was desperately praying this was actually going somewhere. Every muscle in his body was screaming for release as he finished that leg and then performed the same ministrations on her other leg.  Finally, there was only one area that had yet to be sponged.  Riker actually moaned aloud at that thought.  He usually had pretty good self-control, but this was definitely pushing him to the limit.  Catherine ran one hand through Riker's thick, wavy hair before placing her hand on his broad shoulder and pushing herself up to stand, naked and dripping, in the middle of the tub.

 "Does this make it easier for you to finish?" she asked, feeling somewhat sadistic but not really caring.  She was enjoying having Commander Tall, Dark, and Handsome obey her every whim just a little too much.  But he was so good at it.

 Riker forgot how to breathe as he saw her standing there, dripping water and bubbles, in her beautiful glory.  Entranced, he reached out with the sponge and began caressing the soft feminine curves of her hips.  She put her hands on Riker's shoulders to steady herself as Riker leaned forward to reach around her.  Her head fell back and her eyes closed as she felt the soft bristles of his beard caressing the sensitive skin just below her belly button.  As he washed the backs of her thighs, he couldn't help snaking his tongue out to lick her wet skin.  Her hands moved up to tighten in his hair, wanting so much to move his mouth lower.  Riker nuzzled the smooth skin of her hips before pulling back to glide the sponge down around the softness of her upper thighs.  Quickly putting an end to this torture, he rinsed her and helped her gently out of the tub.  Picking up a large, fluffy towel, he painstakingly dried every inch of her body.   He dropped the towel and reached out to draw her into his arms.  Catherine had other ideas, however, and walked over to pick up a bottle of body lotion.  Tossing it to Riker, she said ominously "you're not finished yet."  She sauntered into the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed.  "Now it's time for my massage."

 Riker almost whimpered in frustration.  If this went on much longer.... he didn't even want to think about that.  Shaking his head, he joined her in the bedroom.  Catherine was laying on her side, stretched out on the black satin sheets covering the bed. She patted the bed beside her and turned to lay face-down.  Riker knelt beside her on the soft bed and poured some lotion into his large palm.  Rubbing his hands together, he began massaging the scented oil into her skin with slow, firm strokes.  Catherine purred, delightfully adding magic, masterful hands to Riker's growing list of qualifications.  Riker let his fingertips brush the sides of her breasts as he worked the muscles in her back. Her back arched as Riker's hands traced the smooth indentation of her spine down her back to begin massaging the tight, supple curves below.  Putting more lotion on his hands, he worked his way down one leg, massaging the taut muscles as he went, before ending with her small foot.  Repeating this with the other leg, he managed to whisper, "you'll need to turn over if you want me to do the rest."

 Catherine leisurely rolled onto her back.  She laid on the bed, enjoying the sight of Riker's dark head bent over her Beginning with her feet, he stroked the muscles of her calves on first one leg then the other, stopping just above her knees. Adding more lotion to his hands, he straddled her hips and settled himself comfortably against her.  He let his fingers glide sensuously along each of her collarbones, before beginning to work the tension from her shoulders.  Working his way down one arm, he caressed the soft length all the way down to the wrist before placing a gentle kiss on each fingertip.  Moving to the other arm, he again massaged down her upper arm, caressed the curve of her elbow, and moved down to her wrist.  Catherine closed her eyes, expecting a repeat of his actions on her other hand.  She gasped in surprise as Riker slowly licked each finger before taking her forefinger into his mouth and sucking gently. Laying her arm back down, he moved his hands to her waist and began massaging the satiny skin there.  He worked his hands up to just brush the underside of her breasts.  As Catherine squirmed restlessly beneath him, he let his fingers trace around her breasts with a feather-light touch.  When he felt her arch into his hands, he rewarded her by deepening the touch.  Palming her breasts with his huge hands, he kneaded them briefly before leaning over to massage first one nipple and then the other with his tongue.

 Catherine's hands moved up to capture his head and tried to pull him up to her lips.  Deciding that a kiss would send him out of control, Riker moved down instead, whispering "I'm not finished with your massage yet."

 He slowly massaged the now-quivering muscles of her inner thighs.  Catherine moaned aloud as she felt an ever-so-soft brush against the straining juncture of her legs.  Deciding to enjoy his large, masculine body a little while longer, she pushed against his broad shoulders.  With him laying on his back, she took a brief moment to enjoy the sight of the tightly stretched g-string.  Straddling him, she let her hands slide up the length of his dark-furred chest.  Entwining her fingers in the small, curly hair of his chest, she leaned over to trace around one nipple with her tongue.  With her hands still entangled in his chest hair, she sucked strongly at first one nipple then the other.  Riker laid there, helpless to anything but groan aloud at the exquisite sensations coursing through his body.  Then Catherine reached down to caress him through the fabric of the g-string now threatening to cut off circulation to that part of his body.

 "Cathy,     Oh God...."  Riker begged incoherently.

 Catherine grabbed the g-string and pulled sharply.  The black fabric came away easily in her grasp.  Riker opened his eyes in surprise as he felt the last barrier between them disappear.

 "That's what the little silver snaps are for," she smiled seductively.

 Riker grasped her hips and started to roll them over, but Catherine had other ideas.  Evading his grasp, she moved down to lick the sensitive skin just below his belly button, the way he had when he was bathing her earlier.  Riker's hips came off the bed as he felt her hot, wet tongue caress what she had just freed seconds ago.

 "Cat... .I . . . oh Christ," Riker could no longer even think coherently.

 Catherine teased him further by raising up to allow her hips to just barely brush against him, over and over, in a feather-light simulation of what Riker now wanted so badly. "What are you going to do about it?" she asked tauntingly in response to Riker's incoherent pleas.

 When Riker grabbed her hips this time, she allowed him to roll them over on the bed.  Winding her hands in his hair, she pulled his mouth up to meet hers in a passionate, demanding kiss. As their tongues battled, she wrapped her long legs around his back and pushed her body towards his.

 "This," Riker breathed, hovering over her.  "Oh God, this," he murmured in desperate relief as he joined them with a quick, deep thrust.

 Catherine arched into the pillows and moaned her satisfaction.  He was even better than she could have imagined. She wrapped her arms and legs even tighter around him and pushed herself up to allow him even deeper access   Riker took one earlobe into his mouth and tugged on it with his teeth as he began moving with strong, firm strokes.  He could feel the familiar tension building in him.  Just as he had reached the point of no return, he felt her tighten around him, deep inside her.

 "Not yet,"  she gasped.

 She pulled his face down to capture his lips in a forceful, demanding kiss.  Releasing him, she moved her hips against his, indicating wordlessly to continue.  Twice more, as he almost reached release, she clenched against him, stopping him just at the edge.  At one point, when Catherine was almost mindless with pleasure, she felt Riker turn her over onto her stomach.  She couldn't remember him withdrawing from her but she gasped and gripped the satin sheets tightly in her fists as she felt him drive himself back into her with one long, deep thrust.  She rolled her hips back against him as he moved in and out of her with hard, bruising force.  She threw her head back and moaned as Riker reached around to caress her with his fingers as he continued his punishing pace.

 "Oh yes, right there," Catherine breathed as she felt the beginnings of her release.  Just before she reached that point, she felt Riker roll once again so that he was laying on his back. Before she could protest the loss of contact, he lifted her with his massive hands to settle her down onto him.  She quickly picked up the pace once again to continue their frantic movements.  Not breaking stride, Riker rolled them so that Catherine was once again beneath him.  She arched her hips up to meet his quick powerful thrusts, as he continued his primitive possession of her.

 "Now, Will, oh God now!"

 Finally, Catherine felt herself lose control.  As she quivered uncontrollably, she felt Riker attain his own release. He collapsed onto his back beside her, breathing heavily.

 "Give me a minute or two to rest, and I'll show you a trick  I learned on Risa a few years ago," Catherine panted.

 Riker's eyes widened in shock.  He could barely breathe, let alone do that again this week.  She expected him to be ready for Round Two tonight?

 'Oh God she's good.'  Was Riker's last coherent thought as, minutes later, he felt himself stirring back to life.  Round Two.

.................................

 Early the next morning, Picard watched as Riker slowly entered the turbolift.  As the doors closed, Riker slowly slid down the wall of the lift to collapse onto the floor, grinning.  He let out a huge sigh and heard a throat clearing.  He looked up and noticed, for the first time, that he wasn't alone.  A very amused Picard was standing over him, shaking with barely suppressed laughter.

 "Is there something funny, sir?" Riker asked, knowing full well what Picard found so amusing.

 "I've just lost a bet with my wife.  She said there'd be nothing left of you but your brass and a smile," Picard responded.  It was quite obvious that his first officer had gotten very little sleep the night before and the grin on his face left little doubt as to why

 "I am getting too old for this," Riker remarked shaking his head wearily, but still smiling.

 "Indeed."  Picard straightened his uniform tunic and arched an eyebrow,  "You'd never survive Vash," he responded dryly as he strode out onto the bridge.

 Riker stared after his commanding officer, his eyes wide with a mixture of awe and amazement.

......................................

 The following evening, Deanna opened her eyes to find Worf staring intently at her. She was sitting in the middle of the floor in their bedroom and had just finished meditating, nude, as was her nightly custom. She stretched her arms over her head and arched her back as she asked, "Penny for your thoughts?"

 "I was just wondering how Klingon warriors could stand taking their mates into battle with them.  Now don't get angry with me.  I know you are quite competent, I do not doubt a woman's ability to fight alongside her mate.  I just cannot imagine watching you go into battle.  I would never be able to fight effectively if I thought you were at risk."  Worf moved to sit beside her on the floor.  He bent to nuzzle her cheek and wrapped his arms loosely around her waist.  "When you and the others were missing, all I could think was that I should be there to protect you.  I am your mate, your husband, I should have taken better care of you."

 Deanna closed her eyes as familiar feelings of desire coursed through her.  She smiled as she felt the emotions behind Worf's words.  "I am back safely, that is all that matters."  She wrapped her own arms around his waist and pulled him down to lie beside her on the floor.  One leg wrapped around his hips and she arched her body tighter into his own powerful form.

 Worf pulled away to quickly dispense with his own clothing and laid back down into Deanna's waiting arms.  He closed his eyes and held her tightly to him for a brief moment.  He could not seem to get enough of her, especially since she had been returned from the Romulan ship.  He captured her lips in a deep, demanding kiss.  His tongue forced its way between her lips to claim the hot, moist cavern of her mouth.  At the same time, he moved his body over hers, carefully supporting himself on his elbows to keep his weight off of her own slender body.  He could feel Deanna's legs wrap around his waist and pull him, urging him forward.  He pulled back from the kiss to growl in her ear, "I do not think I could endure any more worrying for your safety.   Perhaps it is time to start a family."  Worf felt Deanna tense suddenly beneath him.

 "What does one have to do with the other?" came a soft whisper from beneath him.

 "Perhaps we should discuss this later."  Worf leaned down to kiss Deanna as he shifted slightly to resettle himself between her supple thighs.

 "Perhaps we should discuss this now," Deanna's voice was louder and stronger.  She pushed at his shoulders.   What did you mean by that comment?"

 Worf swore under his breath and rolled off to lay on his back, staring at the ceiling.  "I only meant that I was very worried about your safety, I could not concentrate on my work knowing you were in danger.  I do not wish to have to worry about you like that again."

 Deanna stood up and started pacing the floor around him.  "I worry about your safety whenever you go on away teams.  I can't concentrate on my work while you're off the ship.  Nothing could take away the pain if I were to lose you."

 Worf stood up and walked over to stand behind her where she stood gazing thoughtfully at the mirror across the room.  She looked so beautiful standing there like that.  He wrapped his arms around her waist from behind and bit gently at her shoulder. "But you are here and I am here.  There is no need to concern ourselves with losing each other this night."

 Abruptly, Worf found himself flipped very forcefully onto the bed in front of Deanna.  Absently impressed with the skill she displayed in that Mok'bara maneuver, he was startled to hear her angry voice addressing him.  "How could you possibly think I want to have sex with you right now.  We are in the middle of a discussion, if you hadn't noticed.  Now what exactly did you mean when you intimated that starting a family with me would alleviate your concern over me?"

 Worf sat up and turned to see Deanna standing with her arms crossed just beneath her naked breasts.  "I wish to continue this discussion later.  Right now I want my wife."

 "Well your wife doesn't want you, right now," Deanna threw his words back at him.  "I think I'm mad at you right now."

 "Well, be mad at me later."

 "Worf, women can't just forget their emotions when they are intimate with someone.  How can you want to be with someone intimately when you know they are mad at you?  Don't you care how I feel, or are you just interested in how I feel to you when you're touching me?"

 Worf paused to consider his response.  "Woman, is there a right answer to this, or am I going to get nailed regardless of what I say?"

 "Just explain what you meant by the remark about family," she refocused the argument.

 "We had always discussed children.  I naturally assumed that when we were ready to begin raising a family that you would . . ."  Worf broke off, certain by the look on Deanna's face that he did not want to finish that sentence.

 "What?  You naturally assumed WHAT?  Go ahead finish it," she coaxed harshly.

 Worf remained silent.

 "Resign my commission?  Is that what you oh-so-naturally assumed?  Well, if you want someone raising our children, why don't you resign your commission?  Or have you forgotten that I outrank you, Lieutenant Commander Worf," Deanna bit out angrily.

 Worf walked around the foot of the bed to where she was standing, waiting for his answer.  "I am a Klingon warrior.  I do not stay home and mind infants while my wife pursues a career," he growled back, feeling the best defense here was a show of offense.

 Deanna saw red.  She grabbed and twisted his thumb into an awkward position, forcing him to his knees.  "Listen to me carefully, whatever you assumed regarding my career and our future family together when you married me is not my problem, get over it.  I have no intention of throwing away my psychology career or my current rank of Commander, just because you want me barefoot and pregnant."

 "I did not say you wouldn't have shoes," he protested. "You are being unreasonable."

 "You ... you ... Y chromosome," she fumed, twisting the thumb harder.  "You are the one being unreasonable.  You're just upset because I was on an away team that you weren't.  Being on that away team was part of my job and as unpleasant as the experience was, I would do it again if I had to   If, I repeat, if we ever have sex again in this millennia and a child comes into this family, that will have no bearing your job, will it?  Well, I have news for you -- it won't have an effect on my job either. If you aren't capable of raising our children in the event that anything happens to me, you can always call on my mother, she would be delighted to help you."  Here Deanna paused for effect. "I do not ever want to have this discussion again, do I make myself clear?  Let me make myself crystal clear, if there ever is a next time, I will be twisting an entirely different body part. Understood?"

 Worf growled under his breath, wondering if his thumb was dislocated.  Grudgingly, he conceded her point.  He was being perhaps not as reasonable as he could be in suggesting that she resign a successful career to tend their offspring.  Their marriage had never been a traditional Klingon marriage, perhaps he should accept this as one of the differences.  It would certainly end this discussion much faster.

 "Well, that suggestion did sound much better before I said it.  Perhaps I should think on this more.  Would you let go of my thumb, please?"  He looked up at Deanna, his face full of resignation.

 Deanna's lips quirked.  It wasn't exactly an admission of wrong, but looking down at her giant Klingon warrior-husband, on his knees in front of her asking her to let go of him, the situation suddenly became very funny.

 Worf rose to stand in front of his wife with his hands behind his back, surreptitiously massaging his injured thumb.  He could tell Deanna was amused by something.  It was now or never if he was going to salvage his intentions for this night. "Do you still think you're mad at me?"

 Deanna shook her head and chuckled.  She knew what he was feeling and was quite impressed that he hadn't finished with  'or can we mate now,' at least not out loud.  She moved toward her chastised husband and placed a kiss in the center of his chest. Nuzzling her cheek against one of his nipples, she reached her hands around Worf's waist to cup his taut, rounded backside with both hands.  Without answering his question, she told him everything he needed to know by pulling his hips against her body.

 Instantly, Worf took the initiative.  Throughout the entire argument he had been in a very uncomfortable condition.  His body was now throbbing painfully, aching for him to put an end to this evening.  He wound one hand through Deanna's hair and pulled to bend her backwards, exposing her breasts to his hungry mouth.  He maneuvered one hairy, muscled thigh between hers to rest her body on as he devoured first one breast and then the other. Alternately biting and sucking strongly at her breasts, Worf could hear her moaning and gasping.  One of his massive hands cupped her hip, holding her against his thigh.  He kissed up her chest to claim her mouth in a deep, punishing kiss.

 Between his hands, Deanna's hips began moving, writhing, in an attempt to ease the ache that Worf had begun in her.  As she arched her body upward to meet his hard, demanding kiss, she became aware of the feel of the solid thigh between her own soft, supple thighs.  She could feel the coarse hair stroking at her as she writhed on it.  Tightening her grip on his arms, she began moving faster.

 Worf felt Deanna's movements change and he moved the hand cupping her hip around to her back to hold her more securely.   Breaking the kiss, he howled a warrior call of triumph.  He looked down into Deanna's face.  Sweat beaded her brow, her eyes were closed and her face was twisted in intense concentration.   Her hips still gyrated against his thigh and suddenly, her movements became frantic.  She shuddered violently in his grasp and collapsed against his hands, still holding her against him.   Worf swept her into his arms and laid her on their bed.  Covering her body with his, he interlaced his fingers with hers and settled himself between her welcoming thighs.  Bending to capture her full lips, he ended his torment in one deep, driving thrust.

 Deanna gasped as she felt Worf fill her completely.  She wrapped her legs around his waist as she arched her hips off the bed to meet him.

 Worf growled as he felt Deanna's response and continued to drive into her.  He set a fast, punishing pace, driving for the release he needed.  He could feel her rise to meet him, matching him stroke for stroke.

 Deanna broke the kiss as she felt her body tremble frantically with the beginnings of a powerful explosion.  As her body was gripped with the tremors of her response, she heard Worf howl.  She felt him drive forcefully into her, taking her breath away, before he collapsed on top of her in the aftermath of his own powerful release.

 Worf rolled to his side and raised his head, with effort, to speak.  Before he could say anything, he heard Deanna's voice in his mind, 'Sleep, love.  Just sleep.'  Drained, he did just that.

.................................

 The next morning, Data reported from his position at ops, "Sir, we are approaching Qo'nos."

 "Thank you, Mr. Data," Picard replied from the command chair, before ordering, "Put us in a standard orbit around the Klingon Home World."

 "Aye, sir," answered the young lieutenant stationed at the conn.

 Picard glanced over his shoulder at his chief of security. "Mr. Worf, please hail Chancellor Gowron."

 "Captain," the Klingon replied, "Chancellor Gowron is hailing us."

 "Indeed," Picard blinked in surprise.  Standing up in front of his command chair, he straightened his uniform jacket, "Very well then.  Mr. Worf, put the Chancellor through please."

 "Aye, sir."

 Chancellor Gowron's image appeared on the bridge's main view screen, "K' Plah, Captain Picard."

 "K' Plah, Chancellor," Picard responded in kind.

 "The Empire would like to welcome the Federation and Romulan delegations to Qo'nos with a formal reception this evening at the Hall of the High Council," Gowron offered.

 For his part, Picard ignored the way Gowron spit out the word Romulan as if it were a curse.  "The Federation delegation would be honored to attend, Chancellor."

 "Very good," Gowron nodded.  He began to turn away and then turned back with a small smile on his face, "Oh Picard, I've heard rumors that my Arbiter of Succession has finally taken a mate."

 Picard preferred to keep personal matters close to the vest, especially that personal matter.  Forcing his most diplomatic smile, he answered, "Indeed, I have, Chancellor."

 "Must be a very impressive female to have ensnared such a honored warrior.  I look forward to meeting her tonight," Gowron chuckled.  "K' Plah, Picard."

 "K' Plah Chancellor," Picard replied.  As soon as the channel was closed, he sat back down in his command chair, closed his eyes and wearily rubbed the bridge of his nose.

 "You had to have known that was coming," Riker said as he looked over at Picard.  "But, I get the feeling that you weren't planning on taking Vash tonight."

 Picard sighed, "Let's just say taking her into a room full of Romulans and feuding Klingons is not my idea of an enjoyable evening; however, at the moment, I see no alternative."

 Having heard the discussion, Data hesitated briefly over the announcement he had to make.  "Sir, Taibak's ship has just decloaked and is entering standard orbit around Qo'nos."

 "Acknowledged, Mr. Data," Picard sighed, rubbing his neck.

 "When it rains, it pours," Riker quipped.

 "Thank you, Number One, that was very helpful," Picard retorted.

....................................

 As he entered his ready room, Picard found Vash waiting for him.  She was curled up on the couch with her shoes off, drinking a cup of hot chocolate, reading the latest of her archaeology journals.  Judging by the simple khaki jumpsuit she was wearing, she had probably been working in her lab.

 "I hope I didn't take you away from anything important," he said as he walked in the room.

 Smiling up at him, Vash set her drink and the journal down on the table next to the couch, "I was just cleaning up some artifacts from our most recent dig.  It's nothing that can't wait another millennium or two."  Stretching, she made room for him on the couch. "I'm assuming that I was called up to the principal's office for a reason.  So, what did you want to discuss with me?"

 "The High Council is giving a welcoming reception for both the Federation and Romulan delegations," Picard explained, sitting down on the couch next to his wife.  "Chancellor Gowron specifically mentioned that he was looking forward to meeting my 'mate'."

 "I'm flattered," Vash gushed.  Then she heard Picard sigh as he leaned back into the cushions of the couch, a worried expression on his face. "Why do I get the feeling you're not overly pleased about this?"

 "Because, I'm not," he answered, running a hand over his head.  "The idea of taking you into a room full of Romulans does not thrill me; however, I'm not sure how I can avoid it."

 "So, who are we taking down to this little soiree?"  Vash had already decided she would be going.

 "The ambassador, of course," he said, stating the obvious.

 "Of course," she teased.

 "Worf, Deanna, Data, myself," he continued, ignoring her comment.  "and, if I decide to take you, Lieutenant Lar."

 "First, I'll tell Gene that I won't be back in the lab today, then I'll make an appointment with Mr. Mot, and your dress uniform will need pressed," Vash quickly started planning for the evening ahead.  "Now, which gown?  Either the red or the gold."

 "Vash."

 "The gold gown would be perfect," she continued as if she didn't hear him. "but the red one would also . . ."

 "Vash," he said again. "I'm not sure if you're going."

 "Of course, I'm going, Jean-Luc.  I have to go."  Vash patted his arm.  "I'm just not sure what I'm wearing."

 "No, you don't have to go," he argued. "And I don't like the risks involved if you do go."

 Vash stood up and walked across the room to his desk.  Sitting herself on the edge of the desk, Vash looked at her husband.  "Jean-Luc think about this.  I was invited by name.  If I don't go it might be seen as a sign of weakness on our part.  What you consider a precaution, the Klingons could see as the proof that the Federation's flagship Captain can't protect his own mate off-ship.  And even if it isn't seen that way initially by the Klingons, our dear Romulan friends, who also know about me anyway, will certainly put it in those terms.  We can't take that risk."

 "I'm willing to take that risk," Picard stated simply as he walked over to stand in front of her. "What I'm not willing to risk is you."

 "I'll be with you, Geoffery and Data.  What risk could there possibly be?"  Vash rolled her eyes with exasperation.  "Even without you, there is Geoff Lar, my telepathic security guard who is quite tenacious about his duty.  So tenacious in fact, that the last time we were on DS9, Quark asked me,  'Tell me, Vash, does he allow your husband to touch you?'  And then there is Data.  My champion, the man that twisted a duranium girder into a pretzel while explaining to a dilithium miner that it would be wise to remove his hand from my backside.  My champion, your informer, we both know Data's favorite words should be 'Guess what?'  So tell me, darling, what risk is there to me that is great enough to justify my not going."

 "I really hate it when you're right," Picard sighed in defeat, pulling her into a protective embrace.  He lowered his face to capture her lips in a tender kiss.  He felt her arms slide up around his neck as she returned his passion.  As their kiss became increasingly hotter, he thought to himself, 'Why not? The door is locked.'  Tightening his grip around her waist, he picked Vash up off the floor slightly and took a small step forward to again sit her on the edge of his desk.  His lips moving over hers no longer passionate, but fiercely ravenous.

 Vash broke the kiss off suddenly, throwing her head back to draw in huge gulps of air.  When she began breathing normally, she pulled back to look at Jean-Luc.  Letting go of her waist, Picard rested his hands on the desk on either side of her.  He glanced down at his desk and then returned to her gaze.  Eyeing the desk briefly, she looked back at him.  His eyes were an intense steel grey.  He raised his eyebrow meaningfully as he gave her the slightest hint of a smile.

 "Ohhhh, no you don't.  Not this time," she teased him as she wiggled back slightly only to find that she was trapped between his arms and the desk.  "Shame on you.  What would your crew think if they knew that the only reason I have bridge clearance is so that you can indulge in a little afternoon delight."

 "I believe Will would be suitably impressed with the arrangement," Picard teased back as he leaned down to nibble on her neck just below her ear.

 "Of that, I have no doubt," Vash retorted squirming slightly on the desk in response to his lips on the sensitive skin of her neck.  She moved her hands to his shoulders and gently pushed him back.  "However, Johnny Picard, I'm not that kind of girl.  You're going to at least have to take me to the party first."

 "That's blackmail," he said, feigning insult.

 "Blackmail is such an ugly term," Vash told him as she ran her hands over the sleeves of his uniform enjoying the feel of the strong muscles of his upper arms.  "I prefer to think of it as my most effective bargaining tool in dealing with you.

 "I see."

 "I thought you would.  And now I have things to do."  Vash leaned up and quickly kissed him on the lips before sliding off the desk and slipping underneath one of his arms.  He turned, his eyes following her as she walked over to the couch to slip her shoes on.  Just as she reached the door to leave, she turned to him and smiled, "There is one more reason why I have to go to the reception tonight."

 "And that is?" he asked as he leaned against the desk.

 "I'm a Picard."  And with that she turned and left the room.

 As the door closed behind her, he gave a small proud smile, "Indeed you are, ma chere."

............................

 In his quarters, Picard sat behind his desk working on the ship's log.  The door chimed softly and he laid down the PADD and stood up, straightening the crimson jacket of his dress uniform. Pulling once at the uncomfortable gold piping that trimmed the high collar, he checked the placement of rank pips on his right shoulder then smoothed his hand along the gold piping that ran down the right side of the jacket.  He called out, "Come."

 "Sir," Riker, dressed in his usual duty uniform, said with a smile as he walked in.  Lieutenant Lar followed Riker into the room.  Lar, like the captain, was in his dress uniform.

 "Number One, Mr. Lar," Picard greeted both of his officers as they entered the room.

 "Good evening, sir," Lar answered as he glanced around the room.  "Where is Mrs. Picard?"

 Picard tilted his head toward the bedroom behind him. "Last time I checked she was rummaging around in her jewelry box."

 "Let's hope she didn't lose something," Lar grinned. "She has an absolute tizzy when she loses an accessory, especially if it's something you've bought for her, sir.  Last month, I spent nearly an hour combing a shuttle for her amethyst bracelet."

 "I never heard anything about that.  Did you find it?" Picard asked.

 "Of course, sir," Lar answered good-naturedly. "That's why you didn't hear about it."

 Exchanging an amused glance with Riker, Picard told Lar, "You're a good man, Lieutenant."

 "Thank you, sir."

 "Now, to the matter at hand," Picard said, getting down to business.  "Mr. Lar, I want to reiterate that Mrs. Picard is a civilian and her personal safety is your foremost priority."

 "Understood, sir," Lar's demeanor was instantly serious.

 "Good," Picard nodded.  "This whole mission is a political quagmire.  I'd like you to use your telepathic abilities and see if you can sift out anything useful."

 "Yes, sir," Lar responded, then his smile returned  "Keep Mrs. Picard out of trouble and do a little telepathic fishing. Anything else, sir?"

 "I'm fairly certain Taibak is Tal Shair.  If Vash and I are separated, keep him from getting anywhere near her," Picard ordered and then he paused allowing himself a small smile. "Klingons have been known to get a little rowdy.  And if this reception even looks like it is about to become a barroom brawl, don't wait for my order, just beam her back to the ship."

 "Oh, Queen Bee will just love that," Riker drawled amused.

 "She will get over it," Lar said without much sympathy.

 "Indeed she will," Picard agreed.  He noticed Lar pulling on the gold piping of his gold colored dress uniform, he looked as uncomfortable as Picard felt.  "Trust me lieutenant, pulling at it doesn't help." Picard advised the younger man with an understanding look. "It'll still be damned uncomfortable."

 "I know, sir," Lar answered with a nod. "But, hope springs eternal."

 "I think you both look very gallant," Riker needled good-naturedly.  He was very relieved he wasn't wearing one of the gold trimmed straight-jackets.

 "Number One, that sound suspiciously like someone not wearing his dress uniform at the moment," Picard replied to his first officer.

 "Well, look at it this way," Riker quipped with a smile. "For some unknown reason, the ladies absolutely love them."

 "Vash certainly does," Picard admitted.

 "That's because dressed in it you look like Prince Valiant, Jean-Luc," the soft, seductive, feminine voice came from behind Picard.  He realized both of his officers were now staring right past him, thoroughly captivated.

 Picard turned to see Vash standing in the bedroom doorway in an elaborate floor-length, strapless, gold-beaded evening gown. It crested the top curves of her breasts to skim her slender silhouette.  A slit up the right side revealed tantalizing glimpses of knee and thigh as she stood, poised for effect.  She was a vision.  The gown followed every line and curve of her body in a sensual invitation no man could resist.  A long scarf of gold lame' draped across her left shoulder to hang down and trail seductively along the floor.  The scarf was held in place by an elaborate broach apparently of Klingon design with an insignia similar to the Klingon seal.

 "Whatever the Captain unknowingly paid for that dress was well worth it," Riker quipped with his usual admiring, but irreverent, sense of humor.

 "Indeed."  Picard walked over to raise his wife's hand and brush a soft, courtly kiss across the back of it.  "I see you went with the gold dress. "You do look lovely."

 "Thank you, darling," Vash smiled up at him.  "I decided that Geoffery would clash with the red dress; but he matches this one perfectly."

 "Vash," Picard said, with only the slightest hint of exasperation, "Lieutenant Lar is a highly trained Starfleet security officer.  He is not one of your fashion accessories."

 "It's quite all right, Captain," Lar noted dryly. "If she thinks of me as a matching accessory, she won't want to lose me."

 "Now, Geoffery," Vash admonished her security guard. "I've never lost you."

 "No, you've never lost me; but, on a number of occasions, you have wanted to lose me," he retorted.

 "Lose, never.  Temporarily misplace, maybe," Vash responded sweetly.

 "There will be no misplacing anyone, temporary or otherwise, tonight," Picard warned his wife, with a gentle squeeze to her hand

 "I promise to behave myself, Jean-Luc," Vash reassured him. "I would never try to misplace you, Data, and Geoffery all at the same time.  Even I'm not that good."

 "Don't be so modest, ma petite," Picard sighed as he ushered her out the door, followed by an amused Riker and Lar.

.............................................

 When they reached the turbolift, Lar entered first followed by Picard with Vash on his arm.  Riker started to enter the lift and then suddenly stopped.  Turning slightly, he did a double-take back down the corridor.  His features displayed an open expression of desire before quickly returning to a polite, professional, diplomatic demeanor.

 Vash noticed the brief expression and that certain gleam that the first officer couldn't seem to keep from his eyes.  She looked up and exchanged an amused smile with her husband.

 "The ambassador," Vash and Picard whispered to each other in unison.  Catherine Fontaine stepped onto the turbolift followed by a slightly shocked Riker.  The ambassador was wearing a virtually sheer gown of emerald green.  It was full-length, sleeveless, with a high-neck, choker collar of green beads and a very low back which actually began at her hips.  In the front, there were two stripes of strategically-placed green sequins and beading that ran down the front to a solid row of beading riding low on her curvaceous hips.  Between the stripes and along the sides of each stripe was a sheer strip of chiffon material.  The lower half of the skirt was reverse-beaded so that there was one strip of sequins and beading down the center of the dress, front and back, with chiffon revealing both of her slender, trim legs all the way up to her hips.

 "Good evening, everyone," Fontaine greeted everyone.

 "Ambassador," Picard said with a polite nod of his head.

 "That's a magnificent gown, Catherine," Vash admired. "It's a Marguerite design, isn't it?"  She had almost ordered a similar gown in blue, but decided against it.  She feared Jean-Luc would faint dead-away at the sight of something so risqué on his wife in public.  Although it would have been a good giggle, she couldn't justify the expense involved.

 "Thank you, Vash," Fontaine smiled.  "But how did you know it was a Marguerite design?"

 "I love her work," Vash answered.  "Her designs make up half my wardrobe."

 "Half?"  Fontaine gasped.  Just how much was Starfleet paying the flagship captain?  Marguerite was one of the premier fashion designers in Paris, therefore one of the premier designers on earth.

 "It does help when your husband," Vash patted Jean-Luc's arm, "owns the
vineyard that produces the designer's favorite French champagne."

 "Yes, I can see where that would be convenient," Fontaine nodded.  She had almost forgotten about the Picard vineyard.

 "Ladies," Picard interrupted, sounding amused.  "If the fashion portion of this evening's festivities is now concluded, I believe there are more important matters to discuss."

 "Of course, Jean-Luc."  Vash patted his arm again.

 "Ambassador,"  Riker finally spoke up.  "What should you expect from a Klingon state reception?"

 "These Klingons are used to dealing with other races.  Most are part of the Ruling Council or members of their diplomatic corps.  There will be the usual formalities prevalent in warrior-cultures, but I understand that you have dealt extensively with Klingon tradition yourselves so that should be no problem. Providing there are no surprises from the Romulans, I would expect a normal state dinner reception with a smattering of Klingon fare," Fontaine answered.  Then with a glint she added, "Chips, dips,..."

 "Chains, whips," Vash volleyed back impishly, sounding very pleased with herself.

 "Ladies, please," Picard admonished both of them, sounding like a schoolmaster.  "Don't make me separate the two of you."

............................................

 Picard and his party beamed down to the Hall of the High Council of the Klingon Empire.  He was accompanied by Vash, Fontaine, Troi, and Lar.  Data and Worf rounded out the party.

 Gowron met the party in an antechamber off of the main council hall.  "Welcome, Picard," he said in his low, gravel voice.  "I hope you have an enjoyable feast."

 "Thank you, Gowron.  I believe you already know Ambassador Fontaine, Commander Data, Commander Worf, and Counselor Troi. This is Lieutenant Lar," Picard replied as he gestured to each member of the party.  He was unable to keep the pride out of his voice as he added, "May I also present my wife, Archaeology Council Member Vash Picard."

 "I've looked forward to meeting the mate to the Arbiter of Succession," Gowron turned to Vash.

 "I'm honored, Chancellor," Vash responded with a small graceful nod of her head.  Regally dressed in her sparkling gown, she slipped into the role of a dignitary as if she had been born to it.  She greeted Gowron with a traditional greeting spoken in perfect Klingon.

 "You have chosen well, Picard," Gowron nodded his approval.  "She is a mate worthy of a warrior."

 "Thank you," Picard said, slightly stunned that his wife had managed to charm this particular Klingon so quickly.  "Have you heard anything else regarding the Romulans or the undecided families?"

 "No, nothing yet.  The leaders of all the families are here.  So are the Romulans."

 "Which Romulans?" Picard asked in a low voice.

 "Ambassador Pardek," Gowron responded," Commander Tomalak, of the Romulan defense legions; and Commander Taibak, whom I believe you know."

 "Yes," Picard said.  "I know them all."

 "Taibak is credentialed through the Romulan embassy as a mid-level military attaché, however, I believe he is a very high official in the Tal Shiar."

 "Taibak was in command of the operation against us on the border," Picard said.

 "Actually," Gowron stated, "our intelligence informs us that Tomalak is in overall command of the operation here.  Taibak is on a special mission of some sort.  We are unable to determine what."

 "You better update your intelligence, Gowron," Picard advised.  "When I was a prisoner on the Romulan ship, Taibak almost had Tomalak executed on the spot for assaulting me after I escaped from my cell.  Taibak is the real power here.  He's the one to watch."

 "We watch everyone, Picard," Gowron said, betraying some irritation.

 Fontaine jumped into the conversation before Picard and Gowron went any further.  "What do we know about the other families on the Council?"

 "A third of them are loyal," Gowron replied, turning toward her, "a third are cowards, and a third are traitors.  What more is there to know?"

 "I'm only a human female, my old friend, humor me," Fontaine gently coaxed Gowron, giving him her most charming smile.   Her eyes and her green dress, what there was of it, glittered under the lights in the chamber.  "Where do the individual families stand?"

 "You're an impudent female," Gowron growled without any real rancor.  "Very well, the houses of Moag, Korlock, Roshkul, Kumendaar, Arogone, Kor, Kang, and Koloth are with me.  Chag'rul, Espitar, Rechsant, Sep'torish, Iskar, and Miurak are neutral," contempt dripped from his voice at the word 'neutral'.  "They are cowards, wanting to see who is going to win so they can swear allegiance to the victor.  I almost consider them to be worse than traitors.  Without these so-called 'undecideds' there would be no crisis.  Either I would win or the Romulans, but it would be a fight out in the open.  The remaining ten houses led by the Duras family are against me and in league with the Romulans."

 "Will we have any influence on the undecided families before the vote?" Picard asked.

 "I do not know," Gowron answered in a tired voice.  "These families are divided internally, with no one to speak for them. Several of their leaders, mostly ones who have supported me, have been assassinated recently.  The survivors do not want to meet the same end."

 "I'm hoping that as the Arbiter of Succession, chosen by K'mpec himself, I might have some influence with enough of the undecided families to ensure a favorable council vote on the Federation treaty"

 "I hope you are so fortunate, Picard.  But I doubt you will be very successful.  Cowards do not listen to reason."

 "Well, shall we go in and try?" Picard invited.  Gowron turned and headed toward the Great Hall.  Vash took Picard's offered arm and they followed Gowron to the Great Hall with the others close behind.  Walking toward the Hall, Picard again noticed how striking Vash looked in her elegant gold gown as it skimmed the feminine curves of her svelte figure.

 The group walked into the Great Hall which was brightly lit, but still retained a hint of its usual gloomy austerity.  A great number of people were milling around.  Many small groups of Klingons were engaged in animated conversation, yelling loudly and waving their arms.  Some conversations appeared to be unfriendly, but did not yet erupt into violence.

 Picard leaned over to Vash as they walked through the Hall. "I should not have brought you.  There is going to be trouble."

 "Don't be silly, Jean-Luc, I have been here before.  I'm a big girl and I can take care of myself," Vash reminded him as she reached up to make a small adjustment to the Klingon broach on her shoulder.  "Besides, you're forgetting about Sir Lancelot and Sir Galahad back there," Vash teased tilting her head toward Data and Lar.

 Walking through the Hall, it quickly became apparent that Klingons were not the only guests at the banquet.  A sizable number of Romulans were also in the hall talking to Klingons in several groups.  Picard turned to Data and Lar, nodding slightly.  They immediately broke away from the group and moved to the outer walls of the Hall, keeping the entire crowd under observation.  Data positioned himself near the main entrance way, while Lar began circling near Romulans and the Klingons they were talking to, attempting to pick up any telepathic impressions.

 As they moved through the Hall, a portly looking Romulan with gray hair and narrow eyes approached them.  "Chancellor Gowron," he nodded.  "Captain Picard.  I am so pleased to see you again.  I trust you have been well since you left Romulus."

 Vash's head snapped around and she stared at her husband in open shock.  At the last second she stopped herself from screaming 'YOU WERE WHERE!?'

 "Senator Pardek," Picard acknowledged, pointedly ignoring Vash's reaction.  "What brings you to Qo'nos?"

 "Just business, Captain.  A civil servant's work is never done.  How is Ambassador Spock?"

 "I imagine he is well," Picard replied vaguely.  "I have not talked to him in some time."

 "Oh," Pardek parried back.  "I cannot imagine what he could be doing that would make him so difficult to reach."

 "I wouldn't know, Senator; but as a civil servant, I suppose his work is never done either."

 "I completely understand," Pardek said.  He then looked at Vash standing next to Picard.  As his eyes swept over her, he reached for her hand, "And who is this lovely creature, Captain?"

 "Mrs. Vash Picard, member of the Federation Archaeology Council," Vash introduced herself as Pardek placed a courtly kiss to the back of her hand.  She looked up at the Romulan through her lashes, "I see you have already met my husband.  I'd love to hear all about it"

 Picard was making a crescendo of throat clearing noises, but Vash chose not to hear them.

 "Yes, we have met," Pardek confirmed.  "I'd be delighted to tell you all about it, lovely lady, but sadly it must wait for another time."  He turned to Picard.  "My congratulations on your marriage, Captain.  I get news so slowly, I had no idea.  May the two of you have a long and happy life together."

 "Thank you, Senator," Picard answered.

 "I must be going now.  So many people to see.  Jolan Tru, Captain Picard, Mrs. Picard," Pardek smiled appreciatively at Vash before he turned and walked away toward a group of Klingons near the center of the hall.

 Picard noticed his wife gazing up at him expectantly.  He cut off the question he knew was coming with a succinct, "Later."

 "Count on it," Vash answered, just as succinctly.

 "Lovely creature?"  Picard shook his head with a sigh as he thought of both Sir Guy and Pardek.  "What is it with you and older men?"

 "I don't know."  Looking up at him coyly out of the corner of her eyes, Vash added in a flirtatious tone, "You tell me."

 Gowron spoke, "Pardek is trying to rally the undecided families to the Romulan cause, but I do not think he is as rabid about it as some of the other Romulans."

 "He betrayed Ambassador Spock on Romulus," Picard warned. "He is not all he appears to be."

 "I am aware of that," Gowron replied.  "I still believe he is just a diversion while someone else applies the real force."

 "If that is the case, then the 'someone' would probably be Taibak," Picard speculated.

 "Possibly," Gowron said.  "I must go.  I will speak to you later, Picard."  Gowron turned and walked toward another group of Klingons standing near the Chancellor's chair.  Fontaine, Troi, and Worf accompanied Gowron, leaving Picard and Vash alone for the first time at the reception.

 "Gowron's eyes could give kids nightmares," Vash noted in an amused whisper to Picard.  "I just can't get over them."

 "Gowron may appear frightening," Picard answered, "but he is very loyal to his allies and is totally committed to preserving the Empire as an independent state.  By any definition he is a true Klingon."

 "I'm glad he's on our side."

 "More precisely," Picard corrected, "we are on his."

 "Oh."

 As Worf and Fontaine discussed the impending treaty vote with a small group of Klingons, Deanna decided to wander the room in hopes of picking up on something that might help the captain. She moved to a large table that was covered with Klingon delicacies.  She recognized one of the delicacies and took a small piece of it.  The taste was similar to a dark chocolate, but not quite.  She had no idea what it was made of.  She had discovered long ago that when it came to Klingon food, she was better off if she didn't play guess the mystery item.  She sensed a familiar wave of deceit coming from behind her.

 "Counselor Troi," came Commander Tomalak's voice from behind her. "How delightful to see you again."

  "Commander Tomalak," Troi said politely as she turned to face him.

 "I'm so sorry we didn't get a chance to become better acquainted during your visit with us," Tomalak said, leering at her.  "Oh well, perhaps next time."

 Before Troi could answer, she felt a massive wall of warrior at her back.  Her heart leaped into her throat, feeling trapped.  She immediately relaxed when she heard her brother-in-law's blood chilling growl from just behind her.  Quickly, she was surrounded by Kurn and some of his men.

 "This female is a member of the house of Moag," Kurn warned, his voice sounding dangerous.  "There will be NO next time, Romulan!"

 Deanna noticed that Tomalak had blanched slightly at the sight of the dozen Klingon warriors that now surrounded her.  She thought he was about to say something.

 "BE GONE!" Kurn bellowed and Tomalak left quickly without another word.

 "That was not necessary, but thank you, Kurn," Deanna turned and smiled up at him.

 "Yes, it was and you're welcome, little sister," Kurn answered.  Gesturing to one of his soldiers he added, "Barrok will protect you for the duration of the night."

 "Now that is really not necessary, Kurn.  I appreciate your concern, but I am fine, really,"  Deanna insisted, not wanting a Klingon warrior shadowing her throughout the party.

 "I'm afraid I must insist, little one.  I cannot allow any Romulan to think that the house of Moag has no honor or respect for it's women," Kurn smiled down at her.

 Deanna winced as Kurn unknowingly used her mother's favorite, and her least favorite, nickname for her.  She looked over to see Worf nod his agreement to Kurn from his position near the Chancellor's chair.  No help for her there.  The Klingon tradition of women being treated as property was really annoying at times.  She insisted gently, "I don't see that anyone could think that just because I don't have a personal bodyguard.  It's unnecessary."

 "The matter has already been decided," Kurn stated flatly.

 Across the room, Picard and Vash had begun moving toward a group of Klingons when they were suddenly intercepted by a tall, lean Romulan with angular, hawkish features.  "Ah, Captain.  I must again apologize for the inconvenience you suffered aboard our ship.  I do hope your injuries are not too severe."  He looked at Vash.  "Your wife, I presume."

 Vash instantly recognized Taibak from the battle.  Her hand tightened slightly on Picard's arm.  'Jean-Luc was right,' she thought to herself, 'this Romulan does have Tal Shiar written all over him.'  Vash moved closer to Picard, standing next to and just slightly behind him.  Her body became tense.

 "Yes," Picard answered warily as he felt Vash's reaction. Protectively, he laid a hand over the small hand on his arm. Diverting Taibak's attention back to himself, he continued, "As far as my injuries go, I'm fine."

 "I'm glad to hear that," Taibak said. "I'm afraid you have a bad opinion of me."

 "On the contrary," Picard answered.  "I hold you in the highest esteem -- but only as a knave."

 "It's gratifying to know that ones talents are appreciated by such a distinguished connoisseur.  You know," Taibak continued, changing the subject, "there is no need for these ongoing misunderstandings between the Romulan Empire and the Federation.  It is entirely possible for our two governments to work out a mutually beneficial arrangement that would allow both to control the entire quadrant."

 "I think you are forgetting the Klingons and the Cardassians," Picard pointed out.

 "No, I do not believe so," Taibak replied.  "It is no secret that the Romulan Empire and the Federation are the only two real powers remaining in the quadrant.  The Cardassians are no match for either of us any longer, and the Klingons are so wrapped up in their petty internal power struggles that they cannot even launch a scientific expedition, let alone a war."

 "The Klingons launched a very impressive expedition on the border a couple days ago," Picard countered.  "Remember?"

 "Inconsequential," Taibak said.  "Either one of our empires could destroy the Klingons and the Cardassians if we decided to do it."

 "The Federation is not an empire," Picard defended.

 "Come now, Captain, of course it is.  Oh, you may claim to be a voluntary collection of worlds who have banded together to aid in the common good, but the truth of the matter is far less attractive to your visionary types.  Starfleet enforces Federation rule in your area of space, much as our defense force does in ours.  You claim to be voluntary, but I would like to see what the response of your 'voluntary' Federation would be if Vulcan, or Alpha Centuri, or Rigel decided to leave and go off on their own."

 "Those are integral worlds to the Federation," Picard countered.  "They are necessary to the continued existence of the Federation."

 "Of course they are," Taibak said.  "And your government would have every right to use whatever means were necessary to keep them in the Federation.  What offends the Romulans is the hypocrisy of the Federation; at least we are what we say we are.  You are the same as us, but claim to be something else."

 "We are not the same as you,"  Picard said emphatically. "Our members are free to join or not join the Federation as they see fit.  Unlike you, we have never forced a world into the Federation.  We do not conquer worlds and enslave their populations."

 "But you do," Taibak said,  "You just do it softly.  You need to expand, just as every empire needs to expand.  I'll admit that our methods of expansion are usually more direct than yours, but the end result is the same.  You conquer your victims with your culture.  You make them believe that they want to be in your empire.  You create a lie and make the weaker worlds live it.  If you are not Earth, Vulcan, Centuri, Rigel or one of the other major worlds, you have no say in how the Federation is governed. You may not ride in on a curtain of phaser fire, but I would submit that your methods of conquest are sometimes even more effective than ours."

 "I do not subscribe to your interpretation of Federation expansion," Picard shot back.  "All members have a voice in the affairs of the Federation.  We do not trick them into wanting to join.  They join of their own accord."

 "A defender to the end," Taibak said approvingly.  "I like that.  I enjoy talking to someone who knows where they stand and are not afraid to say it.  It's very refreshing -- and very uncommon on Romulus."

 "You should try it sometime, Taibak," Picard suggested.  "It might do you some good."

 "You misunderstand, Captain.  I enjoy it in others, I would not think of doing it myself.  On Romulus that can get you killed very quickly."  He leaned closer to Picard.  "Captain, we have a historic opportunity here to eliminate one of the most brutal and expansionist empires in the known universe.  Both the Romulan Empire and the Federation would be much better off without the Klingons to deal with.  The Romulan government considers Federation intervention in Klingon affairs to be a direct threat from the Federation.  Your withdrawal would be looked at with a great deal of approval and gratitude on Romulus.  Who knows where that could lead?"

 "Most likely an eventual war between us," Picard predicted. "The Romulan Empire is dedicated to conquest and control.  After you have subjugated the Klingons, the Federation will be next. This entire 'vote' is a plot by your government to drive a wedge between the Klingons and the Federation to put us on the defensive so you can wear us down a little at a time.  When you think we are weak enough, you will move in for the kill."

 "That is exactly the position we are in now, only in reverse," Taibak answered.  "The Federation-Klingon alliance has put the Romulan Empire on the defensive throughout the quadrant. It is only a matter of time before the Federation dictate terms to the Empire.  When that happens it will guarantee war.  We will not go the way of the Klingons.   The Romulans will fight to the last to stop that from happening."

 "The Federation will never launch a war against the Romulan Empire," Picard said flatly.

 "Not now, of course," Taibak replied.  "We are still too powerful.  You might lose.  But in time, as your position gets stronger, there is no telling what you will do."

 "You seem to be convinced that the possibility of cooperation and mutual benefits between our governments is completely out of the question," Picard countered.

 "That is not the way of the universe, Captain," Taibak said. "In the cosmos, all things are eventually consumed to make way for something else.  Natural forces do not cooperate for the common good.  Someday there will be a confrontation between our two forces.  One or the other will prevail.  There is not room for both.  Eventually, the victor in our battle will be consumed by some other force not yet dreamt of.  It's the cosmic cycle of life, Captain.  There is no escape."

 "You have a very depressing view of the universe, Taibak," Picard observed.

 "I'm a realist, Captain, you can work with it or be destroyed by it.  Anyone who resists will be swept away."  Taibak looked at Vash.  "Even you and your charming wife will not be spared by what will happen if you were to interfere in the natural progression of events."

 "Is that a threat?" Picard asked in a low voice.

 "No, Captain, just an observation.  Think about what I have said today.  Unfortunately, there are others I must talk to. Enjoy the reception.  Hopefully we will have the opportunity of talking again."  He nodded to Vash, "Madam."  Taibak turned and almost instantly disappeared into the crowd.

 Picard heard Vash let out a sigh as she relaxed slightly. Looking down at her, he gave her hand a gentle squeeze, "You all right?"

 Vash nodded as she glanced around the hall.  She spotted Lar watching her from across the room.  She noticed Data also watching her and Picard from where he stood next to Ambassador Fontaine who was busy talking to a group of Klingons.  As he caught her eye, Data gave her a quick wink.  Smiling, Vash turned back to her husband. "Yes, I'm fine.  But, I have one question."

 "What's that?"

 "Was there really any point to discussing cosmic and political philosophy with a Romulan version of Heinrich Himmler?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

 "Every once in awhile, I find I just must engage in an act of total futility," Picard retorted with a rueful smile.

 From across the Hall, Gowron called.  "Picard, come here.  Some people want to talk to you."

 Picard waved and smiled, signaling Gowron to wait a moment.  He then looked around and Vash immediately realized who he was searching for.  She tilted her head to indicate the general direction, "Geoffrey is right over there, watching every move I make.  Leave him alone, Jean-Luc, I'll be fine.  How am I supposed to mingle when I'm dragging a security officer around by the ankle?"

 "This is not a place for you to be unprotected," he said. "Taibak is a very dangerous man, one of the most dangerous I've ever met.  I cannot allow you to be alone in the same room with him."

 "Look around you, Jean-Luc.  You call this alone?" she gestured to the crowd of nearly one hundred people.  "Taibak may be dangerous, but I don't think he's stupid.  He's not going to try anything against me here at the reception.  Besides, you, Geoffrey and Data are here to protect me."  She made a shooing gesture with her hand.  "Now, run along."

 Picard looked at her skeptically, but slowly moved away.  As soon as he was a reasonable distance away, Vash casually started to make her way through the crowd to find Senator Pardek.  She wanted to ask him all about Jean-Luc's little trip to Romulus. Maybe then her darling husband would cease bringing up her little trip to Sarthong V.  An hour or so later, Vash had talked to about two dozen or so Klingons.  Much to her chagrin, Senator Pardek had spent much of his time talking with the same group of high ranking Klingons that her husband was with.

 Unknown to Vash, Tomalak stood near by.  He watched with interest as she made a small adjustment to the gold scarf that flowed over her shoulder and then ran her hands down the sides of her delicate frame, smoothing the gold gown over her perfect curves.  His eyes trailed over the long, supple length of leg revealed by the slit that ran up one side of her gown.  'Well, well, Picard,' Tomalak thought to himself with an arched eyebrow, 'I see you don't wear all your medals on your chest.'

 He walked over to stand right next to her.  Quietly he spoke into her ear, "You are truly bewitching, my dear.  The description of your beauty in our intelligence file doesn't do you justice at all.  I would enjoy a chance to privately discuss your views on the Gamma quadrant.  Just the two of us."

 Vash rolled her eyes as she felt Tomalak's breath on her neck.  Drawing herself up into her most regal bearing, she took a step back and turned to face the Romulan.  Disdainfully, she glared at him as if he were an overly amorous, drunken Ferengi. In a haughty voice, she purposely lowered his rank as she asked, "Subcommander, have we met?"

 "Commander Tomalak of the Romulan Defense Legion at your service," he paused for effect, before adding,  "Archaeology Council Member Vash."

 "That is my professional title, Commander.  At a social function such as this I prefer Madam Vash Picard," Vash corrected him using the French version simply because it always sounded much more dramatic.  This was the Romulan who had struck her husband during his captivity on the Romulan ship.  Of course, the coward had two of his men holding Jean-Luc at the time.

 "As you wish," Tomalak replied with a nod of his head.

 "As for that private conversation, it will never happen," Vash informed him in an icy tone. "Seeing as my very protective husband is the captain of the Federation's flagship."

 "My little terran dove, you may not always have his uniform to hide behind," Tomalak retorted as he started to reach up to cup her chin.  He stopped mid-action.

 Data and Lar came up from either side of Vash to stand shoulder to shoulder in front of her.  Having placed themselves between Vash and the Romulan, both officers glared at Tomalak.

 Data spoke, his voice cold, "Commander Tomalak, I would recommend that you locate yourself elsewhere."

 Tomalak decided that this was not the time to test the reported strength of Starfleet's android officer.  With a slight bow he said, "Gentlemen, Madam Picard."  He walked off into the crowd.

 Both men turned to Vash.  Lar looked at her concerned, "Mrs. Picard?"

 "Vash?" Data asked her gently.

 "I'm fine," Vash smiled up at both of them. "I've been handling brutes like that since I put on my first pair of high heels.  Tomalak doesn't frighten me.  However . . ."

 "Taibak does," Lar finished for her.

 "Yes, he does," Vash admitted.  She looked at Lar amused. "But Geoffery, may I please finish my own sentences."

 "Sorry, ma'am," Lar smiled. "If it makes you feel better, the captain gave me special orders to make sure Taibak got nowhere near you."

 "Sounds like Jean-Luc," Vash teased. "Now boys, I'm going to go mingle.   People to see."  She started to walk off, then felt a gentle but firm hand on her shoulder.  She looked to see Data holding onto her protectively.   Lar was blocking her path.

 "I think you have soloed enough for one evening," Data told her.  "If you are not with the captain, I would prefer you stay close to myself or Lieutenant Lar."  Letting go of her shoulder, he paused and studied her face, "You seem to be up to something."

 "She wants to talk to Pardek about the time the captain spent on Romulus, sir," Lar informed Data.

 "Thank you, Lieutenant."

 "Geoffery, you're such a terrible snitch," Vash complained as she playfully swatted at his chest.

 "All a part of the job, ma'am," he teased back.

 "Vash, talking to Pardek is not necessary," Data said with a small smile.  "I can tell you the declassified details of the captain's trip to Romulas. I went with him."

 "Data, darling," Vash took his arm and leaned into him, "spill it!"

 Later, Vash stood by herself near the main entrance of the Great Hall.  Picard was standing with Gowron and a group of Klingons halfway to the other end of the Hall.  Data and Lar stood a short distance away from her talking to several Klingon warriors of Gowron's guard.

 Vash closely surveyed the crowd.  Many people broke off from large groups to have private conversations near the walls and alcoves along the sides of the Hall.  Vash could tell by the body language of the participants in these conversations that many plans and plots were being discussed.  How many were supporting Gowron and how many were against him she had no way of knowing.

 Picard stood next to Gowron with his back to her and the main doors, talking to three or four other Klingons, by their dress, they appeared to be the heads of families.  As Vash looked around, she noticed that after their conversation, Tomalak was nowhere to be found.  After several minutes she spotted Taibak speaking to several Klingons and Romulans beside the Chancellor's chair.  Pardek was not too far from him.  The low echoing rumble of a hundred people talking in at least three languages made it impossible for Vash to sift out any conversations.

 As she watched the crowd, a lone Romulan soldier entered the Hall through the great doors.  Vash quickly picked up on the Romulan and tracked him through the crowd.  He did not appear to be part of the official Romulan delegation.  He was dressed in a slate-grey tunic, unlike the bright silver dress tunics the members of the Romulan party wore.  He did not stop to talk to anyone, but slowly moved through the crowd, avoiding the larger groups of Klingons.

 Vash glanced at Data and Lar, but they were still engaged in conversation with the Klingons and unaware of the Romulan's presence.  Deciding not to say anything to them, Vash began to drift in the same direction the Romulan was moving.  The Romulan appeared and disappeared behind groups of people as they moved parallel with each other toward the front of the Hall.  Vash was getting a bad feeling as the Romulan moved closer and closer to where Picard and Gowron were talking with the others.  Vash noticed that the Romulan's hands had been inside his pockets since he entered the Hall.  She began to move closer to the Romulan, trying to get a better look at what he might be doing.  No one else in the Hall seemed to have noticed him.  She thought about shouting something to her husband, but decided that would be premature until she knew what was happening.

 Both Picard and Gowron had their backs to the Romulan as he approached.  Vash could now see his hand moving inside his uniform as if he were about to retrieve something.  The Romulan broke into the clear, thirty feet away with no one between him and the group with Picard and Gowron.  At the same time Vash stopped between groups, twenty feet from the Romulan.

 In what seemed like an eternity, but was only several seconds, Vash saw the disruptor as soon as the Romulan pulled it from his uniform.  No one but her was near him.  The Romulan leveled his disruptor at Picard -- or Gowron -- it did not matter.  Vash's hand was a blur as it flew to the broach on her gown.  "JEAN-LUC!" she screamed as she let the dagger hidden within the broach fly at the Romulan.  The dagger buried itself in the Romulan's shoulder a fraction of a second before he fired. With a howl he pulled his arm upward, firing a disruptor blast into the ceiling of the Hall.  Instantly people were running everywhere.  The Romulan attempted to flee back through the great doors, but only made it a few feet before he was buried under a squad of Klingon security.  Suddenly, Data and Lar were standing next to Vash, looking in all directions for any danger to her.  Shaking as she felt the blood drain from her face, Vash leaned against Data for support.  Seeing the stricken expression on his wife's face, Picard quickly ran to her.  Gowron stormed toward the cluster of Klingon warriors surrounding the would-be assassin.

 Vash threw herself into her husband's arms and buried her face into his shoulder   As he held her tightly, Picard felt her body tremble slightly.  He heard her take a couple of deep breaths to calm herself enough to speak.  Quietly, she stressed, "He was going to kill you."

 "It's all right," he whispered into her hair.

 "Like hell it is," Vash muttered into Picard's chest, tightening her arms around him.  Taking another deep breath, she let go of him and stepped back to look into his face.  "That's the second time in one week that the Romulans have tried to kill you while I could do nothing but just stand there and watch."

 Picard glanced at the part of the broach still left on her shoulder and then looked back up at her face. "Madam Picard, this time you did somewhat more than watch and we don't know who the target was yet.  It could have been me or Gowron."

 "Or both, sir," Lar added from right behind them.

 "Very possibly, Lieutenant," Picard acknowledged, reaching down with one hand to interlace his fingers with Vash's.

 Gowron broke through the crowd of warriors as they dragged the Romulan to his feet.  "What is the meaning of this!?" he demanded.  He reached up to the hilt of the dagger still embedded in the Romulan's shoulder and ripped it out.  The Romulan nearly collapsed in agony.  "The pain from a female's broach is nothing compared to what I am going to do to you," Gowron growled

 The Romulan looked at Gowron through the pain and swallowed something.  His eyes suddenly bulged out and he began making choking noises.  Gowron watched the Romulan crumple to the ground, greenish blood oozing from his nose and mouth, eyes staring vacantly.  "Get this thing out of here," he ordered his warriors.  He turned, still holding the bloody dagger, and walked toward were Picard and Vash stood.

 "Sir?" Worf's concerned voice boomed as he, Deanna and the Ambassador approached the captain.

 "I'm fine, Commander," Picard answered his security chief's unasked question.

 Turning to Vash, Worf bared his teeth in a small smile, "Impressive throw."

 "It was, wasn't it," Vash said, quickly returning to her usual impish self.

 Lar looked up to see Gowron approaching the captain and Mrs. Picard with the dagger in his hand.  When she was off-ship, the safety of the captain's wife was Lar's responsibility.  He took that responsibility very seriously.  He moved even closer, standing right behind Vash and focused his attention on the Chancellor to determine his intentions.  Unable to read Gowron's mind due to the confusion in the hall, Lar stepped in front of Vash, placing himself directly between her and Gowron.

 Gowron nodded perfunctorily with satisfaction at the security guard's vigilance.  Holding the bloody dagger, he stopped a few feet in front of Lar, "Relax, Betazoid, I intend no harm to your charge."

 "It's all right, Lieutenant," Picard assured his officer. With a slight nod, Lar took a step to the side and a very small step back.

 "Picard," Gowron turned his attention to the captain.  "With your permission I would like to return to your mate her property."

 "Of course," Picard agreed, moving back slightly to stand with Lar.

 "Council Member Picard," Gowron used the sleeve of his ceremonial robe to wipe the Romulan blood off the dagger. "The Empire owes you a debt of gratitude."

 "Chancellor," Vash said with a respectful tilt of her head. "I simply acted out of an instinct to-"

 "Protect your mate," Gowron finished for her as he placed the dagger back onto the broach on her shoulder.  "I'm aware of that; however, you may have accomplished more than just thwarting an act of Romulan treachery.  Many in the Empire, as well as many Romulans, consider humans weak and cowardly.  Your actions have given them reason to reconsider."

 "Thank you, Chancellor," Vash replied graciously.

 "With your permission, Chancellor," Picard said as he took a step forward to stand next to his wife, "I believe it is time that we return to the Enterprise."

 "Of course."  Gowron took a step back.  "K' Plah, Picard."

 "K' Plah, Gowron."

..............................

 As the away team materialized, Riker rushed into the transporter room.  He came to a halt right in front of the transporter pad.  With anxiety plainly visible on his face, he looked up at Picard, "Captain, Kurn just informed us about the assassination attempt.  Are you all right?"

 Vash spoke up before Picard could reassure his first officer, "It's all right, Will.  I was there to save him."

 "We don't know who the target was; however, there were no injuries, Number One," Picard said, stepping down off the transporter pad.  As he extended a hand to help Vash down, he raised an eyebrow at her, "Except for one very unfortunate Romulan assassin."

 "Yes, sir," Riker replied, still sounding a little worried but deciding to let it go for the moment.  He turned his attention to Catherine, who still looked fresh and absolutely breathtaking.  He smiled as he offered his hand to her.  "May I, Ambassador?"

 "Thank you, Commander," Fontaine smiled back at Riker as she accepted his hand and stepped down from the transporter pad.  Then, looking over at the Picards, she addressed Vash, "I've been wondering about something.  Where did the wife of a Federation starship captain get a ceremonial Klingon dagger and learn to throw it like Kahless the Unforgettable himself?"

 Trying to sound as innocent as possible, Vash looked at the ceiling. "Before I settled down into domestic wedded bliss with Jean-Luc, I went through a slightly wild, rebellious period."

 "Now there is an update from the department of the obvious," Picard offered dryly.

 Vash turned to look at her husband and matched his tone, "Oh really and tell me President Kennedy, how was your trip to Dallas?"

 "Am I to assume you're making a reference to my trip to Romulus?" Picard asked her.

  "Of course I'm referring to your trip to Romulus."  Vash threw her arms up in exasperation. "You are the captain of the Federation's flagship, one of Starfleet's top brass.  What the hell were you thinking?"

 "It was a mission, Vash," Picard sighed.

 Vash put her hands on her hips, the action emphasized the way her gold gown molded itself the feminine hourglass lines of her figure.  She scolded him, "A mission where you and Data went strolling through the streets of the capitol city of Romulus. Did it occur to you that you might bump into some, oh, I don't know, Romulans maybe?  And just in case the fact has eluded you, my darling military strategist, they don't really like you very much!"

 "Now what would ever give you that impression, ma chere?" Picard gently baited his wife.  He just couldn't seem to help himself, she was beautiful when she was fired up about something. Besides, his trip to Romulus took place years ago.

 "They've only attempted to kill you several times this week," she pointed out in an overly perky tone.

 "They weren't very good attempts," Picard teased.  Shaking his head, he chuckled, "What I want to know is how you always manage to turn things around so that I end up on the hot seat? I believe the conversation was originally about your Klingon dagger-broach, which is technically a concealed weapon.  I think it would best for all concerned if I held on to it for a while."

 "Oh phooey," Vash pouted as she handed the broach to her husband. "Nobody ever lets me have any fun."

 Suddenly, Worf's deep voice reverberated from behind as he answered Deanna's last thought to him out loud, "I thought it was necessary."

 An amused Catherine leaned into Riker and whispered "Do Worf and Deanna always discuss things half telepathically and half verbally?"

 "Uh-huh.  It tends to make things real confusing for us spectators," Riker whispered back to her.  He looked up to see Data standing next to him.

 "This has been brewing all night with the four of them," Data said quietly to Riker.  With a small smile he added, "Popcorn, anyone?"

 "Why don't we ask the Captain for his opinion?"  Deanna asked Worf as she made her way off the platform and over to where Picard and Vash were standing.  "I'm a highly trained professional.  I don't think the fact that my mate happens to be in a powerful position necessitates my having a security guard. Don't you agree, Captain?"

 "Dee,"  Vash laid a hand on her friend's shoulder. "I think now would be a good time to remind you that I haven't been anywhere off-ship without a security guard since my bachelorette party."

 "Counselor, this sounds like a personal issue between you and Mr. Worf," the captain sounded amused. "And with the exception of Lieutenant Lar, Vash managed to ditch every last one of those security guards at one point or another."

 "What makes Lar the exception?"  Fontaine wondered half-aloud.

 "Ever try to ditch a telepathic security guard, Catherine?" Vash asked.

 "No," Fontaine shook her head. "But I can see where that might be difficult to accomplish."

 "Of course, I wasn't the one the Romulans tried to assassinate tonight," Vash reiterated pointedly

 "We're not sure if I was the intended target," Picard tried again to reassure her.  Underneath her impish attitude, he could tell that recent events really had frightened her.

 "I'm sure, Jean-Luc," Vash insisted firmly.  "The Romulans were after you.  You've been a thorn in their side for a number of years, maybe someone is bucking for a promotion.  Killing you would go over very well with Romulan high command.  We could even be dealing with a personal grudge.  You've defeated Tomalak in battle on several occasions.  Earlier tonight, Tomalak made a remark to me about my not always having your uniform to hide behind.  Thinking back, maybe he was planning on you being dead by the end of the night."

 Picard knew his wife could be impulsive at times, but she was also extremely intelligent and perceptive.  Suddenly all business, Picard turned to Lar, "Lieutenant, did you pick up on anything?"

 "It will take me at least a couple hours of meditation to sort everything out, sir," Lar replied.  "While Tomalak was talking to Mrs. Picard, I detected no obvious threat toward you from his mind; however, he was very focused on something regarding Mrs. Picard.  That is why Commander Data and I intervened."

 "Exactly what about Vash?"  Picard pressed.

 Vash watched as Lar shifted his weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other.  Feeling it was time to save her security guard, Vash spoke up, "Probably about a dozen things you'd find referenced in that lovely leather-bound, illustrated copy of the Kama Sutra you keep on your bedside table."

 "Thank you, ma 'am," Lar said quietly to Vash, sounding relieved.

 "Anytime, Geoffery," she smiled at him.

 Picard sighed as his eyes quickly traveled over Vash's entire frame, taking in how the glittering gown revealed her shapely silhouette.  Tomalak's reaction to Vash was not surprising.  What was that line from the old American ditty Riker teased him with the night before he got married?  'Never make a pretty woman your wife?'  Picard glanced around the room at his officers, "I will want reports tomorrow at the senior staff meeting.  Ambassador, you're more than welcome to join us tomorrow."

 "Thank you, Captain," Fontaine replied. "I believe I will."

 "Mr. Lar, I would also like you to join the senior staff meeting tomorrow with your report," Picard said turning to the lieutenant.

 "Yes Sir."

 "Oh and, Lieutenant," Picard added, "about Gowron.  You perceived him as a possible threat, and without any regard for who he was, you acted."

 "I was concerned about Mrs. Picard's safety," Lar said hesitantly. "I meant no disrespect to the Chancellor, Sir."

 "Of course not, Lieutenant, your reaction is precisely why I've chosen you as my wife's security guard," Picard smiled at his officer approvingly. "Good work."

 "Thank you, sir," Lar smiled.

 As Vash listened to Jean-Luc and Lar, she thought about the evening's events.  Several times that night Lar had interposed himself between her and a possible danger.  Occasions like that were rare; however, they reminded her that her security guard was there to protect her, with his life if necessary.  Vash looked up at the lieutenant, "Geoffery?"

 "Yes ma'am?"

 "I really do appreciate what you do.  Thank you," she told him sincerely.

 "Anytime, ma'am," Lar told her with a chivalrous nod of his head.

 Picard felt Vash take his arm and lean against him with her head on his shoulder.  He got the hint.  "It's been a long day, dismissed."

 Lar and Data said their goodnights and made their way out of the room.  Worf and Deanna followed, still mentally discussing the night's events.  Fontaine looked up at Riker, "Walk me home?"

 "It would be my pleasure," he replied taking her hand. "Goodnight everyone."

....................................

 A furious Taibak strode into Tomalak's personal chambers.  As Tomalak took a step toward him, Taibak sent him sprawling to the floor with a powerful backhand.  The Tal Shiar officer's voice was hard and cold.  "How dare you make a move on Picard without my permission!  Stupidity!  On more than one occasion now you have jeopardized this mission.   Not only have you demonstrated your ignorance by attempting to kill Picard, you have demonstrated your incompetence by FAILING!  Anyone else with your incompetence would have been eliminated long ago; your rank will not protect you much longer.  The entire Klingon High Council, including our allies, is now talking about the bravery of the Federation Captain's wife as she honorably defended her mate from a treacherous and dishonorable Romulan assassin."

 As he sat on the floor, a trickle of green blood ran down Tomalak's chin from his lower lip.  He glared up at Taibak, "How was I supposed to know the Terran bitch would be armed?"

 "Obviously, you didn't read past Vash Picard's physical description in the rather lengthy dossier on her our intelligence provided for you," Taibak replied with disgust.  "She caught the attention of the Tal Shiar long before she married Picard.  An expert in interstellar archaeology, her field methods are considered very unorthodox.  Like her husband, she has an amazing ability for survival.  Unlike her husband, she plays by the rules only when it suits her.  This makes her just as dangerous as, if not more so than, her husband.   She is well versed in the customs and languages of dozens of cultures, including Klingon.  Tonight, she armed herself in a way she knew the Klingons would consider appropriate even honorable for a woman.   That brooch was a traditional piece of jewelry that concealed a woman's dagger.  In many ways the Picards remind me of a Terran animal called a lion.  The humans refer to it as the 'King of the Jungle,' even though it is the female lion that hunts and makes the kill."

 "Your point, Taibak."

 "You should take one lesson away from this disaster.  If you are going to take aim at a Picard, you would be wise to have both of them in your sights."  With that, Taibak turned on his heel and walked out the door.

................................

 "Jean-Luc, help me with this fastener."  Vash came out of their bedroom, struggling with the back clasps of her gown.  "Jean-Luc?"

 "Not just yet, darling."  Picard turned away from the control panel as soft, romantic music began playing in the background.  "There's something I need to do first."

 Picard straightened his uniform jacket and walked across the living room toward Vash.  He stopped just in front of her and gave Vash a courtly bow, "May I have this dance, Madam Picard?"

 "Of course, Jean-Luc," Vash answered hesitantly.  "But what?  Why?"

 "Shhh," Picard placed a finger across her full lips.  "This is something I promised myself."  With that Picard took her into his arms for a slow, quiet dance in the dim starlight coming in the bay windows.

 Vash settled into the strong warmth of his embrace, laid her head on his shoulder and gazed out into the starlight.  "I wonder if Catherine got Will back to her quarters all right?"

 Picard pulled back slightly and looked down at his wife.  "I really don't want to think about anyone else for the rest of the night," he said tenderly and then he leaned down to seal her lips in a passionate, heated kiss.

 After long moments, Vash broke the kiss and whispered, "neither do I."

....................................

 As they reached the door to her quarters, Riker looked down at Catherine, "Well, here you are, all safe and sound."

 "Aren't you coming in?" she asked, toying with the rank pips on his collar and gazing up at over six feet of tall, dark and very good looking.

 Briefly he closed his eyes, enjoying the brush of her delicate fingers on his neck.  Gently, he covered her small hand with his, pressing it against him.  Opening his eyes, he brought her hand up to brush a kiss against the back of it.  Riker gazed longingly at the sparkling, emerald green, almost gown and sighed in resignation, "It's been a long day for you.  I think it would be best if I said good night here."

 "I really don't think I could possibly manage to get out of this gown by myself and I really don't think it would be appropriate attire for tomorrow's staff meeting," Catherine cooed, batting her eyelashes flirtatiously.  She enjoyed the soft brush of his full beard against the back of her hand.

 As Riker's eyes swept over her mostly-exposed frame, he noted huskily, "Doesn't look like there's all that much there to get out of."

 Grabbing two fists full of his uniform jacket, Catherine pulled Riker's face to hers.  In a sultry whisper she asked him, "Didn't anyone ever tell you men are not allowed to play hard-to-get?"

 "Sorry," Riker managed to squeak as Catherine pulled him bodily into her quarters.

 As the doors shut, she pushed him up against the wall next to the door.  Stretching up on tiptoe, she crushed her lips to his.  As the kiss heated up, his powerful arms wrapped around her waist, molding her body tightly against his.  She could feel her breasts pressing against the hard muscular expanse of his massive chest.  She released his jacket to wind her arms around his neck. After several long moments, Catherine pulled back slightly breaking the kiss.  She ran her fingers through the thick dark hair at the back of his head, "And you were thinking of leaving."

 "To tell the truth, this is all I've been able to think about from the moment I first saw you step into the turbolift earlier this evening," Riker told her with a suggestive glint sparkling in his blue eyes.  His hands slowly slid up her curves from her hips to just under her bustline.  "I've spent the whole evening on the bridge trying not to think of you and this almost dress."

 "So tell me," Catherine purred, arching into his large hands as he gently caressed the tips of her breasts with his thumbs.  She continued, somewhat breathlessly, "what have you been trying not to think about."

 "I'd rather show you," he suggested wolfishly.  Then he claimed her lush, red lips in a ravenous kiss and swept her up into his arms to carry her into the bedroom.

 Returning his passionate kiss, Catherine let her body completely relax against Riker's.  She luxuriated in the masculine scent of his cologne and the warm, solid breadth of his chest.  She thrilled at the strength of the corded muscles of his arms as he effortlessly carried her across the quarters to her bedroom.

 Riker set Catherine down on her feet next to the bed. Moving to stand behind her, he gently brushed her hair over to one side.  His hands tightly grasped her hips and he rocked his straining hips against hers.  Nuzzling his face into the soft skin of her neck just behind her ear, he moved back slightly and let his fingers trail lightly down her spine to the small of her back.  Riker paused there and whispered playfully, "It would be my pleasure to assist the lady in removing her dress."

 Catherine shivered as she felt Riker's fingers deftly unhook the clasp of her dress that rested there.  An intense wave of desire swept through her as her body was pulled back to press against the massive wall of Riker's hard, muscular form.  She gasped as she felt him undo the clasp at the back of the collar of the gown with his mouth.  Her pulse raced as she felt the moist warmth of his mouth on the back of her neck as the collar fell open.  To keep the gown from falling just yet, she held it at her chest with both hands.  She arched herself back against him as he slipped his hands inside the back of the gown.

 Riker groaned softly when he felt her hips press back against the tense hardness of his own.  As he continued to nibble on her neck, he let his hands move over the soft skin of her hips.  Suddenly, he realized that he was feeling only her skin and the muscles of his body tightened almost unbearably.  He sounded awestruck as he rasped in her ear, "Catherine, you're not wearing anything under this gown."

 Catherine took great delight in the astonished tone of his voice and feel of his body's reaction pressing against her through his uniform.  She had been wondering how long it was going to take him to discover that little fact.  Stepping away from him, she turned around to face him.  With a small, enigmatic smile, Catherine coyly gazed up at him through her lashes.  She let the gown slowly slip from her body, over the full curves of her breasts, down her slim waist past the feminine flare of her hips, and finally down her shapely legs to the floor.  Except for her emerald, high-heeled pumps, she stood nude in front of him.

 "You're so incredibly beautiful," Riker breathed as his eyes slowly traveled over her, drinking in every inch of her curvaceous silhouette.

 "And you're so incredibly overdressed," Catherine purred as she moved in closer to him.  Her eyes held his as she reached up to leisurely undo the clasps of his uniform jacket.  As her hands traveled back up the front of his open jacket to the collar, he lowered his face to hers and captured her lips in a deep kiss. She slipped her small hands into the collar of his jacket, pushing it off the massive expanse of his chest and his broad shoulders to fall to the floor.

 "I'm sure we can rectify that," Riker told her, finally breaking the kiss.  He stripped his t-shirt off, dropping it to the floor to join his jacket.

 "Oh my, you really are a big boy," Catherine teased softly looking up at him.  She trailed her fingers down through the coarse, dark hair that covered his muscular chest and torso, passing the waistband of his uniform trousers.  She lightly ran her fingers over the tense muscles of his inner thighs.  She heard his gasp as her teasing fingers just barely brushed the hard proof of his desire.  Opening his trousers, her small hand firmly grasped him and she cooed, "A very big boy and so . . ."

 She was cut off as Riker slid his powerful arms around her waist, crushing her to him and his mouth took possession of hers in a savage kiss.  His tongue plunged into her mouth, decisively staking claim to everything in its path.  Her lips and tongue met the fiery demands of his.  He continued to kiss her fiercely until her hands moved up to grip his shoulders and her body melted against his.  With both of them breathless, he broke the kiss and watched as her eyes fluttered open.

 Catherine gazed up at Riker, his kiss had left her completely undone.  His blue eyes were smoldering with passion, making her feel weak in the knees.  Her entire body was trembling from the intense need that had taken over her.  Running the fingers of one hand over his bearded cheek, she pleaded softly, "Please, William."

 Without a word, Riker swept her up in his arms and laid her on the bed.  Quickly, he rid himself of his boots and trousers. Looking down at Catherine laying in wait for him on the bed with her long, dark hair spread out over the pillows, he knelt on the bed at her feet.  Lingeringly, he pulled one of her heels off and gave her a crooked smile and raised an eyebrow at her as he casually tossed it over his shoulder to hit the floor.  In a second, her other heel had joined its twin on the floor.  He growled playfully at her as he inched his way up her body.  He finally stretched his six-foot frame out and placed himself between her long shapely legs.  Lowering his face to hers, he captured her lips with his in a deep, passionate kiss.  His hands journeyed over her body, enjoying her soft, satiny skin.  His hands skimmed up her tiny frame to cup the full curves of her breasts.  As his thumbs moved rhythmically over the hardened crests, he felt her arms slide up around his neck.

 A warm tingling flowed over Catherine's skin from the feel of his large, powerful hands so gently massaging her.  She quivered as one of his hands traveled down past the flat plane of her stomach to caress her intimately.  Sighing softly into his kiss, she surrendered herself totally to the exquisite sensation of his fingertips arousing her so expertly.

 Riker felt her body's ardent response to his touch. Breaking the kiss, he moved to hover over her with his arms braced on either side of her shoulders.  He looked down at her, finding the look of ecstasy on her face very provocative.  Her beautiful, green eyes fluttered open and locked with his. Without his eyes leaving hers, he leaned his head down to take the nipple of one of her breasts between his lips.  He swirled his tongue over the rosy tip.  She closed her eyes and arched toward him, moaning.  His mouth teased and tormented the peak of one breast and then the other.

 Riker pulled back, again hovering over her.  Gazing down at her lovely face, he whispered hoarsely, "Catherine."

 Hearing him call to her, she opened her eyes and returned his gaze.  Insatiable desire was consuming her, driving her to near insanity.  Gripping his shoulders tightly, she implored him in a soft whimper,  "Oh please . . . Will.  Please, I need you now!"

 He stared down into her emerald eyes, which were blazing with passion.  His own excitement had been feeding off hers. Finally, Riker couldn't stand it any longer and he entered her with one deep, powerful thrust.  He drove himself into her hard and fast.  Catherine's eyes were closed and her entire body shook from each impact.  He thrust into her with an ever increasing urgency and she twisted her hips up to meet every movement of his.  He could feel her supple curves writhing beneath him, spurring him on to even higher heights of desire.

 Catherine gripped his shoulders tightly, feeling the corded muscles bunch and ripple with each swift, bold movement of his hips   He thrust deeply into her over and over again.  With each thrust his body completely filled her own.  Wave after wave of intense pleasure crashed over her as he drove into her relentlessly.  Suddenly, as an explosive release ripped through her, she let out a primal scream and arched her entire body up to meet his.

 The spasms deep in Catherine's body gripped Riker tightly. As she strained against him, he could feel her body twist and tremble.  Her response pushed him over the edge and he made one last, forceful thrust, holding himself deep inside her.  As he achieved his own powerful release, he threw his head back and roared, "Oh yes, Catherine, yes!"

 Almost immediately, he rolled over to collapse onto his back next to her.  Both of them were flushed, breathing heavily and covered with a thin film of perspiration from the physical exertion.  They laid there for several minutes, side by side, feeling their pounding hearts slow back to normal.  Still trying to catch his breath, Riker managed to chuckle ruefully, "We were probably heard three decks away.

 "I was guessing four," Catherine sighed, sounding like a contented cat.

 "I can just hear the Captain's reprimand now," Riker laughed as he placed his hands under his head and stared at the ceiling.  Doing his best imitation of Picard's command voice, he continued, "Number One, your personal life is your own business; however, when almost half the ship, including myself . . . "

 "That's very good.  You've got his command tone down pat," Catherine giggled.

 "We've worked closely together for years," he told her. With a glint in his eyes, he added, "And, I've been told he does an equally good impersonation of me."

 "Now, that I would like to hear," Catherine teased, as she raised herself up on her elbow to look down at him.  "But you're barking up the wrong tree."

 "Now what is that supposed to mean?" He arched an inquisitive eyebrow at her

 "From what I understand," Catherine said coyly, as her index finger idly traced designs in the coarse, dark hair that covered his chest. "Captain Picard is probably a little too occupied at the moment to notice any commotion outside his own quarters."

 That really piqued the first officer's curiosity.  Gently, he coaxed her, "Miss Fontaine, is there some ship gossip you'd like to share with the rest of the class?"

 "Uh-huh," Catherine nodded as she continued to toy with his chest.  Giving him a conspiratorial smile, she added, "But for the record, you had to force this out of me."

 "Oh, of course," he agreed returning her smile.  "Now spill it.  What do you know?"

 "When the captain, Troi, and I returned to the ship after being held by the Romulans, Dr. Crusher gave us orders to rest.  No 'extra curricular' activities," Catherine started.

 "That was the night you shut me down cold," Riker interjected.

 "Oh poor baby, you had to wait a whole twenty-four hours," Catherine teased, sounding so sympathetic.  With a regal toss of her hair, she gleefully continued, "Anyway, according to his wife, the good captain had plans of his own.  That night the 'Picard Maneuver' consisted of him throwing them both to the floor, ripping the peignoir off her body and taking her right there on the living room carpet."

 "You're kidding," Riker chuckled, slightly surprised.  That was not exactly what one expected from the distinguished Captain Jean-Luc Picard.  He knew that Picard had not always been that disciplined.  The Captain had admitted to Riker that in his youth he had been known as a brash, womanizing, hard drinking, card shark that nearly got himself stabbed to death in a barroom brawl.  Riker considered the possibility that time had not completely domesticated his good friend and commanding officer. With note of admiration in his voice, he sighed, "That sly old dog."

 "Sly old dog?" Catherine asked as she collapsed on his chest giggling.  After composing herself, she looked up at Riker. "Will, we are talking about an attractive, successful Frenchman happily married to a lovely woman half his age.  Did it ever occur to you that with the ladies he is legendary for more than just commanding a starship?"

 Catherine delighted in the confused look that Riker gave her.  She took his face in both her hands and whispered, "Will Riker you are extremely handsome and completely clueless."

 Before he could answer her, she pressed her lips against his to silence him with a very passionate kiss.

.........................................

 The next evening, Vash and Picard sat down together at dinner.  Without looking up from the PADD he was working on, he muttered, "Uh huh."

 'He hasn't heard a word I've said,' Vash thought as she pushed up the sleeves of her pale pink cashmere sweater dress and looked across the dinner table at her husband.  She studied his features and kept her tone neutral, "So when he came back into the lab I said, 'I would not like them here or there.  I would not like them anywhere.  I do not like green eggs and ham.  I do not like them, Sam-I-am.' "

 "Uh huh," he said with a perfunctory nod, never looking up.

 Usually something a little nonsensical, like Dr. Seuss, is enough to get his attention.  She raised an eyebrow impishly "Jean-Luc, I'm having an affair with an Andorian pirate."

 "That's nice, dear," Picard answered, totally impervious to what she just said.

 "Jean-Luc," Vash chuckled as she reached across the table and laid her hand on one of his.  "You haven't heard a single thing I've said."

 "Of course I have, I've heard . . ."  Picard stopped midsentence when he looked up to see his wife slowly shake her head.  Her bemused expression was as soft as the cashmere she was wearing.  He gave her a conciliatory smile as he put down the PADD.  "Was I that obvious?"

 "You be the judge.  You just said that it was nice that I was having an affair with an Andorian pirate," Vash informed him as she gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

 "I would say that's fairly blatant," he admitted with a resigned sigh.  "And, I apologize."

 "It's all right," she replied, indulgently.

 As he ran a finger lightly across her small palm, his expression and voice became more troubled.  "I'm somewhat preoccupied by the situation down on Qo'nos; however, that is no excuse for my inattention."  He brushed an apologetic kiss on the back of her hand.  "Mea culpa, darling."

 "Do you want to tell me about it?"  Vash asked quietly.

 Releasing her hand, Picard sat back in his chair and tugged on the waist of his uniform jacket.  "Counselor Troi and Lieutenant Lar both concur that Taibak's mind is extremely well disciplined and he is most likely an agent for the Tal Shair.  All Lar could get from Taibak at the reception was images of mass destruction.  Ambassador Fontaine and Gowron have both had numerous reports about the Romulans threatening the undecided families.  The threat is always the same; the Romulans have and will use a weapon that will destroy Qo'nos if the vote does not go their way."

 Vash stood up and walked around the table to stand behind him.  She started to massage his neck and shoulders, "Are you sure this 'doomsday' device really exists?  Could the Romulans be bluffing?"

 Picard briefly closed his eyes as he felt Vash's small hands skillfully working the tensely knotted muscles.  "Well, our scans haven't picked up anything.  That doesn't really rule out its existence, though.  The Tal Shiar are not known for bluffing and Klingons do not capitulate easily."
 
 "I see your point," Vash replied as she used the heel of her hand to apply pressure to a fairly nasty knot in his right shoulder.  She felt the knot dissipate.  "That feel better?"

 "Yes, dear, much better.  Thank you," Picard replied picking the PADD back up.

 Vash spent the next hour mulling over what Jean-Luc had told her.  As she sat on the couch filing her nails, she had an idea. It was fairly simple and straight forward, the best ideas usually were; however, she knew Jean-Luc would hate it.  She knew what his first response would be.  She could almost hear him say it; 'You are out of your mind!'  Deciding that there was no time like the present, she got up and headed for their bedroom.

 As she stepped into the bedroom, she noticed her husband's uniform jacket casually tossed on the bed.  Looking down she saw that Jean-Luc, stripped to the waist, was doing push-ups on the floor at the foot of their bed.  Jean-Luc's physical perfection never ceased to take her breath away.  His forearms were bulging under a glistening sheen of sweat as he pounded out one push-up after another.  The muscles along his back rippled and bunched as he worked at a steady pace, up and down, effortlessly graceful beneath the tightly leashed power in his lithe form.  In fact, one might say a little too effortless.  'No pain.  no gain,' Vash thought as she sauntered over, sat down on his back and continued to file her nails.

 'She's up to something,' Picard thought, adjusting for her added weight without slowing his tempo.

 "Jean-Luc, I've been thinking," Vash said as she held up one hand for inspection.

 "Oh God, no," Picard grunted with mock horror between pushups.  "Anything but that."

 In response to that, she bounced once on his back.  A smile of sadistic glee crossed her face when she heard his muffled 'oomph.'

 "All right, what?" he sighed.

 "Do you remember the broach I wore to the reception last night?" Vash asked a little too casually.

 "Chere, everyone remembers the broach you wore to the reception last night," Picard pointed out, trying to ignore the tickle of cashmere on his bare back.

 "Well, anyway," she continued as nonchalantly as she could. "It was given to me by a colleague, who happens to be the current head of the Klingon Antiquities Institute."

 "Does this colleague have a name?" he inquired, as he continued with his workout.

 "Karok, Son of Valhal."  Vash waited for a reaction to the name.  She didn't have long to wait.

 "Vash," Picard, astounded, paused in his push-ups.  "The Valhal family is one of the oldest and most powerful families on Qo'nos.  If they were on the ruling council they would probably own the planet."

 "I do believe I remember Karok mentioning something to me about that.  Of course, he's now the head of that powerful family with all its connections."  Vash's voice had an undeniable lilt to it.  "I'm sure he would know what the Romulans are holding over the undecided member's heads.  And if someone were to speak to him privately . . ."

 "Do you think he would tell me?" he asked as he resumed his push-ups.

 "Not a chance, but he might tell me."  Vash started to speak faster and her voice became determined.  She had to get him to at least hear her out.  "I'm going to have to go back down to Qo'nos alone to meet with him."  Suddenly, she felt herself being dumped on the floor as Picard jumped up and stalked across the room.

 "You are out of your mind!"  Spinning on his heel, he glared at her. "There is no way you are going back down to Qo'nos.  And the alone part isn't even worth discussing."

 "Jean-Luc be reasonable.  Why not?"  Vash demanded from where she had landed on the floor.  Her hands rubbing her slightly sore back end.

 "Why not?"  Picard parroted back to her.  "I'll tell you why not!" he snapped.  He took a deep breath to gather himself.  He knew she was trying to help, but the very idea of her going to Qo'nos alone was enough to panic him.  He walked back over to her.  "Here," he said gently as he offered a hand to help her up from the floor. He sat her on the edge of their bed, his tone was still gentle but firm.  "I had reservations about taking you with me to the reception last night because a trip to Qo'nos is precarious even under the best of circumstances.  With the addition of political instability, the Romulans, and a possible weapon of mass destruction, another trip to Qo'nos is clearly unthinkable."

 "I'm not talking about a 'walk-about' tour of the capitol city," Vash informed him, straightening out her dress.  "All I'm asking is to beam straight to Karok's office for about an hour or so.  Then I'll beam back.  You can keep a constant transporter lock on me.  You need this information and this is the only way you're going to get it."

 "No," Picard said firmly.  Exasperated, he added, "Do you really think I'm going to let you do something this risky?"

 "I can take care of myself," Vash persisted.  "I'm the only one who can do this."

 "The answer is no," Picard stated again. "And I really don't want to fight about this."

 "We're not fighting," Vash insisted, as she flopped back to lay on bed and stare at the ceiling. "We are discussing my impending, albeit brief, return to the planet surface."

 "You are not going back to Qo'nos."  Picard's quiet command was like steel.  "I am still Captain of this vessel and I forbid it."  As soon as he said it he knew that particular Picard Maneuver had been a major tactical error.

 Vash stood up and was now standing toe to toe with her husband.  Glaring up into his face she said slowly, each word a bullet, "Now . . . we . . . are . .   fighting!"  Taking a deep breath, she launched into her tirade.  "You forbid it!  Get over yourself, Captain!  How dare you even try to pull rank on me in our own bedroom.  Save the command theatrics for the bridge.  I am not the least bit impressed with that smug, pompous, arrogant, French aristocratic attitude.  Out there you are captain, in here those rank pips don't mean squat!"  As if to prove her point, she grabbed his uniform jacket, with the rank pips on the collar, off the bed, balled it up and threw it out the bedroom door.

 Picard clenched his fists at his sides.  She could be so infuriating.  If she would only be reasonable, he wouldn't have to pull rank.  "This could be extremely dangerous.  Do you know what you're asking me?"
 
 "I know what I'm not asking you," Vash snapped at him "I'm not asking you to wait three days for news from me from behind enemy lines.  I'm not asking you to sit helplessly on the bridge through a battle where I'm on an enemy ship.  And I'm not asking you to watch as the Romulans take pot-shots at a shuttle I'm traveling in."
 
 "What if the Romulans attempt another assassination?" Picard shot back.

 "And pray tell, who stopped the last one?"  Vash retorted pointedly.

 "It was a lucky throw."  He knew that was a lame shot, but he was quickly running out of arguments and issuing that order hadn't even phased her.

 "Ohhh, that's beneath you, Jean-Luc," Vash fumed at him, her hands on her hips.  How dare he stand there looking so smug and so sexy.  "Luck had nothing to do with it.  I never miss, three sheets to the wind on Romulan ale and I can still hit a Muldarian dragonfly at a hundred paces.  Korak was a very good teacher and a very good friend.  All I'm asking is to visit an old friend who may have some helpful information."

 "That," he hissed pointing at the broach, his eyes never leaving hers,  "is not the gift a Klingon Warrior gives a friend and colleague."

 "You're right."  Vash raised an eyebrow and taunted in a flippant tone.  "Karok is a colleague and dear friend, with whom I had a brief, intense, physical relationship.  Satisfied?  Or do you want intimate details?  Jealousy really doesn't become you."

 Picard stiffened visibly.  "That is not the issue here, and you know it!"  The issue is your safety.  I saw your eyes after you threw that thing.  You have never thrown it at anyone before last night, have you?"

 "I threw it at Q, repeatedly," she hurled back at him.

 "Vash," Picard gasped, looking somewhat stunned. "You could have -

 "What?  Killed him?  In your dreams," Vash countered impishly.  "Although, there was that one time when he pulled it out of his groin and squeaked, 'That's not very ladylike.'"  Vash watched as Jean-Luc's anger melted away right before her eyes. In fact, he was trying very hard not to smile, but amusement lit his grey eyes.  Giving him her most devilish grin, she teased, "Don't you dare smile, Captain.  We're fighting remember."

 "I really hate it when you do that," Picard complained to her as a small smile crossed his face.  "You could give a man emotional whiplash."  He looked down at the lovely, delicate woman in front of him, who, he had just been reminded, was able to handle Q.  Reaching out to stroke her cheek, he asked, "Do you trust Karok?"

 "Yes,"  Vash told him earnestly.  "Jean-Luc, Klingon society may be violent by human standards, but Klingons live by a very strict code of honor.  Most would rather die then be found dishonorable.  Due to our past relationship and our current friendship, Karok is bound by honor to protect me."

 "As well as the oath he made when he gave you the broach," Picard added meaningfully.

 Vash nodded.  "It's along the lines of a knight promising to be a lady's champion, but yes, it is a lifelong promise.  Even if both are later mated to others."

 "You will transport directly to his office.  I want a constant transporter lock on you and I want Dr. Crusher to implant a subcutaneous transponder on you."  Picard couldn't just agree to her idea without adding one extra condition of his own.  Vash might start expecting complete surrender from him all the time.

 "You caved!  I can't believe you caved so easily," Vash cooed, resting her hands on the bare, masculine slope of his powerful shoulders.

 "You're asking me to let go of you," Picard continued quietly.  He pulled her into his arms, the soft cashmere tickling his skin as he pressed her supple curves tightly against him.  "I don't want to let go of you."

 "I don't want you to let go, ever," Vash whispered as she snuggled in closer.  "Just relax your grip a little.  I'll be fine.  Trust me, Jean-Luc, I have no qualms about hiding behind you when the universe gets too much for me to handle."

 As her hands moved over the corded strength of his shoulders and upper arms, Vash raised her face to press her lips to his in a sweet, tender kiss.

 "I'll try.  It just sometimes seems that your idea of when the universe is too much for you to handle and mine are at different ends of the galactic spectrum.  You go ahead and get ready for bed.  I need to do the ship's log.  I won't be long."  Picard dropped a quick kiss on her forehead and headed out into the living room.  Own his way out, he stopped and bent down to pick up his uniform jacket from the floor.  Turning around, he gave Vash an adoring smile as he threw the jacket back on the bed.  Then he continued on into the living room.

 Sitting behind his desk, Picard had just finished the ship's daily log.  Behind him, he could hear Vash moving around in the bedroom.  He was about to turn off the desk's computer terminal, when he was struck by an idea.  "Computer, access all files on Karok, son of Valhal, current head of the Klingon Antiquities Institute."  In no time, the information appeared on the screen. As Picard read the information, he became more impressed.  Karok had made some important finds and most of these finds were made under very hazardous conditions.  That wasn't too surprising, Klingons somehow managed to turn everything into a battle.

 After reading the bio, Picard sat back with his hands steepled, index fingers resting against his lips.  He contemplated the screen, finally he spoke, "Computer, display most current visual for Karok."  An enormous Klingon, about Riker's height with Worf's muscular build, in full armor holding a bat'telh filled the screen.   However, this Klingon was different from any Picard had ever seen, Karok was, by human standards, very handsome.  With his olive skin tone, jet black eyes, strong square jawline, and well defined cheek bones, he looked like an ancient Roman legionnaire.  To Picard, the most shocking thing was that Karok was totally and completely bald, Picard briefly pondered the thought that Vash might have a secret fetish.  In the visual, the bat'telh, a fairly good sized weapon, looked almost diminutive in Karok's massive hands.  Picard stared at the visual on the screen, but he wasn't seeing it.  In his head was the image of Vash crushed in Karok's powerful embrace as the Klingon's large hands moved over the supple curves of her delicate frame.  His jaw clenched tightly in response to his own mind's invention.

 "So, Jean-Luc Picard has a jealous streak," came the amused feminine whisper.  "What would people say?"

 Picard startled at Vash's soft voice in his ear.  She was standing behind him, holding the back of his chair to keep him from turning around.  It seemed as if she had read his mind and knew exactly what he was thinking.  How the hell did she do that?  He realized he had been caught with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar.  There was only one thing to do.  Lie.  "I, uh, was simply doing a security check, nothing more and I'm hardly a jealous man."   Deciding the best defense was a good offense, he cajoled her gently, "If I reacted vehemently every time a man made eyes at you the galaxy would be littered with dead bodies; among the numerous corpses would be almost every one of my single male officers, Dr. Bashir from DS-9, several fellow ship's captains and more than a few admirals."

 "I didn't say you were a jealous man," Vash corrected him, leaning down to briefly brush her lips against the bare skin of his shoulder.  "I said you have a jealous streak.  It's small, but very specific, it only seems to surface when you are confronted with any of my former flames.  Not that you have any reason for concern."

 "And I suppose," he quipped, looking up over his shoulder at her playful expression, "that if our roles were reversed you wouldn't have any problem at all with this."
 
 "I had no problem when you went out to lunch with Captain Phillipa Louvois," she informed him sweetly.

 "Captain Louvois is a fellow officer."

 "With whom you had a brief, intense, physical relationship. And this is the same Captain Louvois,"  Vash gave him a devilish grin and let go of the back of the chair, "that only one week before we were to be married, sent you a communiqué.  In it, she advised you not to jump into such a hasty marriage."

 "You knew about that?"  Picard turned around to face her. He noticed Vash had wrapped herself up in one of his bathrobes. Even though she was only a few inches shorter than himself, her much smaller frame was almost lost in the white terrycloth of the robe.  He eyed her with amusement as she strolled across the room to the easy chair and sat down.  "Not counting your peignoirs, you have at least eight robes, I have two.  Why do you insist on wearing mine?"

 "Because it's yours," Vash said simply, as if she was stating the obvious   She ran her hand over the Starfleet emblem embroidered on the collar and snuggled into the robe's softness. "And don't change the subject.  We were talking about Louvois, of course, I knew about the communiqué."

 "We weren't talking about Louvois, we were talking about your bald, Klingon, Marc Antony."  Picard stood up and walked around to lean against the front of the desk.  Crossing his arms, he regarded her expectantly.

 "So, what does Napoleon have to worry about from Marc Antony?" Vash chided playfully.  Feeling like a naughty tease, she took great pleasure in Jean-Luc's reaction to Karok.  She returned his gaze.  He was still naked from the waist up, gloriously so.  The sight of his lean, muscular build had been taunting her ever since she had walked in on his workout.  She admired the way the bulges of his upper arms flexed when he crossed his arms over his chest.

 Picard reached across the desk to shut off the computer. "Vash, you're a beautiful, desirable, young woman," he told her, his voice intently serious.  Then, shaking his head with dry amusement, he added, "So much so, that I sometimes wonder what you're doing in my bed?"

 "Turn around," Vash requested seductively.

 Picard turned back around to face Vash and his jaw dropped to join his robe on the floor.  She had nothing on, well almost nothing.  There was a sweet, powder-blue babydoll that hung just low enough to cover her breasts from his gaze.  The little nothing stopped just above her midriff, giving him a tantalizing view of her delicate navel.  It was trimmed with ruffles and lace with little pink rosettes down the front.  The matching scrap of an excuse for panties was little better with the matching rosettes drawing his eyes hypnotically downward and thong straps skimming her trim hips.

 Delighted, she watched his eyes go wide with surprise then harden with desire as they traveled the length of her body.  Very aware that he watched her every move, she slowly sauntered over to stand in front of him.  The nightie swayed provocatively as she moved, brushing her midriff.  "Just a little something I picked up at the last Starbase."

 " 'Little' being the operative word here," Picard noted in a voice that was huskier than it had been just moments before.

 "If you don't like it," Vash teased, the intense steel grey of his eyes clearly displayed the effect she was having on him. "I can go change."  She started to turn from him.

 "I didn't say that."  He reached out and caught her, both hands encircling her naked waistline just below the nightie.

 So, you do like it."  Vash looked up at him coyly through her lashes.  She let her hands move up the corded muscles of his arms to rest on his broad shoulders.

 "You know damn well I do," Picard muttered hoarsely, using his large hands to span her tiny waist.  He leaned down to let his lips capture hers in a fiercely possessive kiss.  Slowly, his strong hands slid up the smooth, bare skin of her stomach to rest just below the full curves of her breasts.

 Goosebumps puckered her satiny skin from the thrilling heat of his hands stroking her cool skin.  Ardently returning his kiss, she felt him gently cup her breasts in his hands.   She arched into the heaviness as his thumbs caressed the hardened peaks rhythmically.  Finally she broke the kiss, her head falling back and a soft moan escaping her.  Her hands clenched and unclenched, mindlessly massaging his powerful neck muscles.  She took in deep, gasping breaths, all too aware of how her breasts pushed up against his bare chest with each inhale.  One of his hands slid around to the small of her back pulling her supple curves even tighter to him.  His other hand slid to the back of her head, pulling her into another deep kiss.

 "Oh, Jean-Luc," Vash gasped when they finally broke off for air.  "The things you do to me are unbelievable.  You are truly one of a kind."

 Picard leaned down to nuzzle the side of her face.  Quietly, he whispered in her ear "And fortunately for the universe, so are you, my love."

 When Vash leaned back to protest in mock indignation, Picard placed two fingers against her lips, "I love you just the way you are.  Now, would my one-of-a-kind wife care to scrub my back?"

 Raising an eyebrow, she appeared to think his proposition over before cocking her head sideways, "I thought you'd never ask."

............................................

 Early the next afternoon, Vash walked into transporter room one.  She was hardly surprised to see her husband standing behind the transporter console.  Amused, she quipped, "The ship's captain running the transporter, are we having staff problems today?"

 "No.  I just thought I would handle this transport myself," Picard explained, his gaze traveling over his wife as she walked over to stand on the other side of the console.    She looked wonderful  . . . too wonderful.   She was wearing the same sapphire-blue, linen suit she had been wearing when he returned from the Romulan ship.  The look of the suit was softened by the tailoring which gently skimmed every curve of her figure.  The skirt fell just above her knees, setting off her long, shapely legs.

 Noticing the troubled expression on Jean-Luc's face, Vash glanced down at herself as she asked, "Is something wrong?"

 "No, you look lovely, that suit is very flattering," Picard replied.  "I'm just a little surprised that you chose to wear one of your best outfits.  I guess I expected you to be wearing one of your work jumpsuits."

 "Those frumpy things!  Not in this lifetime!" Vash rolled her eyes, before teasing, "No self-respecting woman goes to see an old flame without making sure she looks absolutely drop dead gorgeous.  After all, you have to make sure he knows what he missed out on."

 "Is that also the reason for wearing a piece of jewelry he gave you?"  Picard asked, his voice a touch tighter than he meant it to be as he gestured to her shoulder.

 "You mean like this broach I have on, the one I used to save your life the other night.  This is just silly and you don't need me here for this conversation," Vash retorted, becoming annoyed.  She began to turn to head toward the transporter when Jean-Luc gently caught her by left wrist.  Turning back to face him, she huffed indignantly, "And yes, I'm wearing my wedding ring."

 "Of course you are, chere.  I'm sorry," Picard sealed his heartfelt apology with a courtly kiss to the back of her hand.

 "You should be," Vash sighed, she could never stay angry with him when he turned into Sir Galahad.  She squeezed his hand gently, her voice then turned serious, "A half hour?"

 Picard let go of her hand and nodded, "Thirty minutes - no more."

 Vash walked over and took her place on the transporter. "I'll be back within a half an hour."

 "Yes, you will," Picard stated flatly  "Energizing."

 After seeing that Vash had safely materialized in Karok's office, Picard glanced at the time.  He sighed, it was going to be a long half hour.

......................................

 Karok watched as a familiar form materialized in his office.  Vash looked just as he had remembered her.  Her beauty had made her seem to him at first as nothing more than a hothouse flower.  He had been mistaken.  Her delicate frame and feminine silhouette belied her surprising resourcefulness.  He quickly learned that she was a force to be reckoned with.  His gaze traveled over her appreciatively as he greeted her simply, "K' Plah Vash."

 Vash smiled at the sound of Karok's deep baritone.  She quickly realized that he was the reason Worf's voice had always seemed so familiar to her. "K' Plah, Karok.  Thank you for taking the time to see me."

 "I had the time to take.  You've done well for yourself, my enchanting Ate," Karok answered, using the nickname he had given her years ago. "A chair on the Federation's Archaeology Council, heading the archaeology department on the Federation's flagship and mated to one of the Federation's most respected warriors."

 Vash exhaled sharply at the nickname Karok had insisted on giving her, being referred to as the goddess of rashness was not exactly a compliment.  Not that she minded the goddess part, but she definitely didn't like to think of herself as a woman who led men to ruin and disaster.  Mustering her most charming smile, she replied, "You've done very well yourself, Karok.   The director of the Klingon Antiquities Institute as well as heading your powerful family with all its connections.  Which is why I'm here.  I need your help."

 "I heard about the events at the Great Hall the other night.  It would seem that you remember how to use my gift," Karok gestured to the broach Vash wore on her shoulder.   "It would also seem you remember its significance as well."

 "I had a very good teacher," she told him.

 "So Ate, what can I possibly help you with that your very powerful mate cannot?" the Klingon inquired as he sat down behind his desk.

 "Information," Vash answered succinctly as she walked over to stand in front of Karok's massive desk.  "What threat are the Romulans holding over the undecided families?"

 "Who wants to know?  You, Ate, or the Arbiter of Succession?"  Karok asked pointedly.

 "Since the Arbiter of Succession is my mate, there is no distinction," Vash countered.  Not the least bit intimidated by the size of the Klingon in front of her, she leaned against the desk toward him.  "Dammit Karok!  Help me to help him.  We're talking about a warrior who managed to take out the Borg.  I'm sure he'll have no trouble handling whatever this Tal Shiar agent has planned, or do you think K'mpec picked Jean-Luc to be the Arbiter of Succession because he liked his hairline?"

 "You Terran females are a cold blooded lot," Karok sighed as he ran a large hand over his own smooth scalp.  His tone turning serious, he continued in a low voice, "My family is not on the Council, so the Romulans have not approached me directly; however, I've been told the Romulans have shown the undecided families data on a weapon they have that will stop all nuclear fusion in the Qo'nos star.  The Romulans say if the vote goes in favor of a treaty with the Federation, they will destroy the Klingon Empire by stabbing her through her very heart."

 "Merde," Vash whispered her husband's favorite curse as she instantly thought of the Tox-Uthat.  Jean-Luc destroyed the twenty-seventh century weapon when they found it on Risa.  However, what if the weapon had somehow managed to survive and the Romulans had gotten a hold of it.  She needed to get back to the ship, pronto.  She straightened back up, "Thank you, Karok."

 "Tell me, Vash, just how did you convince your mate to allow you to beam down alone to see me?" Karok asked with a smile.

 "Allow me?" Vash sounded incredulous.

 "Rumor has it, Picard never lets you off his ship with out a security guard.  I've often wondered if he is trying to protect you from the Universe or the Universe from you," Karok teased.

 "A little of both, my friend, a little of both," Vash quipped giving him a sly smile.  She tapped her communicator, "Vash Picard to Enterprise, one to beam up."

 " K' Plah, Ate," Karok said, baiting Vash one last time with the nickname before she disappeared into the transporter beam.

.........................................

 In the transporter room, Riker idly leaned against the transporter console and watched his commanding officer's hand hover over the controls.  "She's only been down there about ten minutes.  You beam her up now and she'll be fit to be tied."

 "Agreed," Picard sighed as he moved his hand away from the controls.

 Riker glanced at the transporter pad.  "I'm sure it was a difficult decision to let her go down to see Karok.  You must be feeling . . ."

 "I have absolutely no reason to be jealous, Number One," Picard good-naturedly admonished his first officer.

 "Of course not, sir, however, I'm sure you must be somewhat apprehensive about her being on Qo'nos without a security guard," Riker replied, noting the pained expression on Picard's face.  It was very rare for Picard to react by jumping to conclusions.  It reminded Riker that even the most powerful man was at the mercy of a woman he loved.

 "My apologies, Number One," Picard wearily rubbed the bridge of his nose.

 "Not necessary, sir," Riker gave Picard a conspiratorial smile.  "At least it was just me.  I'll forget you said it.  Deanna, on the other hand, would have jumped on that like it was a Thalian chocolate mousse."

 "Merde," Picard muttered as he thought about his ship's counselor's reaction to that slip.

 "I warned you not to marry a pretty woman," Riker quipped, referring a long standing joke between the two of them that dated back to the night before Picard and Vash were married.

 Vash's voice came over the conn, "Vash Picard to Enterprise, one to beam up."

 As Picard began to work the transporter he heard a deep male voice over Vash's open commlink. "K' Plah, Ate."

 Vash materialized on the transporter pad.  Without missing a beat, she strode off the pad and toward the door of the transporter room barking orders at her husband.  "Jean-Luc, have the Ambassador and the senior staff meet us in the observation lounge.  We may have a big problem. "

 Riker looked at the captain for confirmation.   Sounding bemused,  Picard nodded, "Number One, call a senior staff meeting and ask the Ambassador to join us."

 "Aye, sir," Riker replied as he followed the Picards out of the room.  As the three of them approached the turbolift, they saw Data waiting for them.

 "The bridge, sir?" Data said, holding the door of the turbolift for the captain, Vash and Riker.

 "Yes, Mr. Data, thank you," Picard replied as they entered the lift.  He turned to his wife and teased, "I take it your meeting with Karok was successful, Ate."

 "It was," Vash huffed as she rolled her eyes.  Leaning against one of the walls of the lift indignantly, she continued, "I can't believe he had the audacity to call me by that horrid nickname.  I know I can be a bit impulsive, but that hardly makes me Ate."

 "Ate?"  Riker asked, curiously.

 "Accessing,"  Data blinked as he accessed the proper file.  A smile spread across the android's face as he reported, "According to ancient Earth mythology, Ate was the Greek goddess of rashness and infatuation.  She was known for leading men to ruin."

 "Would you have me stand idly by as she led you to your destruction?"  Picard's voice became almost wistful.  Seeing Vash's questioning expression, he explained, "Something Q once asked me - about you."

 "The praying mantis has the right idea," Vash said pointedly eyeing Jean-Luc.  Striding past her confused husband, she marched onto the bridge and headed toward the door of the observation lounge.

 "Could Vash be referring to the fact that immediately following copulation, the female praying mantis quickly kills and devours the male?" Data inquired.

 "Ouch," Riker quipped under his breath.

 Picard raised an eyebrow.  "I'm sure that wasn't the reference she meant."

 "You hope," Riker said with a grin.

.................................

 Picard, Riker, and Data followed Vash into the observation lounge.  The rest of the senior staff and Ambassador Fontaine were already seated around the conference table.   Picard  sat down in the chair at the head of the table with Riker and Data taking the two open seats to his right.

 Vash sat down in the empty chair on her husband's left.   Her voice was filled with trepidation as she asked, "Jean-Luc, are you sure you destroyed the Tox Uthat back on Risa?"

 Picard's eyebrow shot up in surprise.  When they found the artifact many years before, he had destroyed it using transporter code 14.  "You and I both watched the Tox Uthat explode in the transporter beam.  Why?"

 Vash anxiously pushed a stay strand of hair back into place.  "Karok told me the Romulans have shown the undecided families data on a weapon they have that will stop all nuclear fusion in the Qo'nos star.  All I could think of was the Tox Uthat, after all, it was a quantum phase inhibitor designed to do that very thing."

 "I can see why you thought of the Uthat, but I'm positive it was destroyed," Picard assured his wife.

 "We both know the Vorgons are capable of time travel," she reminded him.  "What if they came back and tried again, this time retrieving the Uthat?"

 "Let's not get into temporal theories, I'll grant that it  is always a possibility.  However, I doubt they would have allowed it to fall into the hands of the Romulans," Picard replied.  With his next thoughts came memories of Amargosa, Veridian, the nexus, and the destruction of the Enterprise D.   Turning toward Data, he asked, "Mr. Data, could the Romulans have found away to sufficiently stabilize a trilithium compound to make a weapon?"

 "Similar to the one fashioned by Dr. Soran and used to destroy the Amargosa star?" Data inquired.  Seeing Picard's confirming nod, he continued, "Unknown, sir.  However, it is certainly within the realm of possibility."

 "Don't tell me that there is actually someone stupid enough to play around with trilithium?"  Vash gasped, sounding shocked.

 "Amazing, isn't it?"  Dr. Crusher quipped.

 Ambassador Fontaine glanced over at Vash, "This Karok you talked to - would he happen to be Karok, Son of Valhal?"

 "Yes, he's an old friend and colleague," Vash explained.

 With a low whistle, Fontaine added, "And part of that slightly wild, rebellious period before you settled down into domestic wedded bliss."

 "Exactly," Vash chuckled.  She began to push herself back from the table.  "Now if all of you will excuse me, I'm going to run, not walk, back to my little science lab."

 "And miss all the fun?" Fontaine asked conspiratorially.

 "Ambassador, I have learned a very important life lesson living aboard this ship," Vash explained with a knowing glint in her eye.  "Ignorance is bliss, especially, when my husband gets that expression on his face that tells me he is about to undertake some sort of  rash, very Captain Kirk-like action."

 Picard watched the doors close behind his wife as she left the room.  He turned to Worf, "Mr.  Worf, I will need to speak to Gowron personally.  Please hail Qo'nos and arrange a meeting with him."

 "Aye, sir."

....................................

 Leaving Gowron's chamber, Picard walked through the passageways of the Klingon Great Hall.  He had expected the Klingon Chancellor to be angry;  however, he was a bit startled to see Gowron chop his desk in two with his bat'leth.  Gowron's aides didn't seem greatly surprised, which led Picard to wonder just how many desks the Chancellor had gone through during his rule.  The captain's thoughts were interrupted by a cloaked figure coming up beside him and a Romulan disrupter muzzle being thrust into his ribcage.  Standing stock-still, Picard kept his voice even, "I wonder how the Romulan Senate will respond to the Tal Shair after three failed assassination attempts on one lone Federation Starship Captain."

 "You're not just a starship captain, Picard, or should I call you the Arbiter of Succession - or maybe even Locutus?" the Romulan inquired quietly.  "If I were Tal Shair, you'd be dead already and you certainly wouldn't still have your communicator; however, there is someone important who would like a word with you.  If you'll please come with me."

 "It seems I have little choice," Picard replied.

 "That is quite correct, this way please," the Romulan answered.

 The Romulan directed Picard to a small, inconspicuous dwelling in the seedier section of the Klingon capitol city.  The captain stepped through the door and it took his eyes a moment to adjust to the low lighting.   Sitting at a table in the middle of the room was Senator Pardek.

 "Thank you for coming, Captain."  The stout Romulan's expression was grim as he gestured to the chair opposite him.  "Please join me."

 "Your invitation was one I was unable to refuse," Picard replied dryly.

 "My apologies, but it was necessary," Pardek told him.  Turning to look at the other Romulan, he ordered, "You may leave us."

 "But Senator . . ."

 "It's quite all right, political assassinations are not the good captain's style," Pardek chuckled, "And he seems to have left his very lovely, knife-wielding wife at home."

 "Yes, sir," the other Romulan nodded and left the room.

 As Picard sat down opposite of him, Pardek smiled slightly, "I was quite impressed with your wife's performance at the reception the other night.  I'm sure that added a few pages to the dossier the Tal Shair have on you."

 "I'm sure it did.  Now, what did you want to discuss with me?" Picard asked, quickly steering the conversation away from Vash.

 "This isn't easy for me, Captain, the Tal  Shiar were only supposed to threaten the Empire, but Taibok plans to really destroy it.  The Tal  Shiar are very powerful.  I may be signing my own death warrant by betraying them to you; however, I would rather be responsible for one death - my own - than the deaths of billions," Pardek said solemnly.  His face showing the grave weight of his decision.

 "I understand, Senator, we've heard rumors that the Tal  Shiar has a device that will destroy the Qo'nos star," Picard replied, matching Pardek's grim tone.  "What is Taibok planning?"

 Pardek took a deep breath, "Tal  Shiar agents recovered one trilithium device from the Amagosia observatory before you and your crew intervened.  They were unable to replicate the design, so there is only the one device.  I'm afraid Taibok has every intention to use that device on the Klingon star if the council does not vote for a treaty with the Romulans."

 "Where is it?"  Picard leaned forward intently.

 " I do not know.  Regretfully, I am not privy to that information," Pardek sighed resignedly.  "I have told you all that I know about this device.  The fate of the Klingon Empire now rests in your hands, Picard, I can die with a clear conscience."  Pardek dropped his chin to his chest and waved Picard out of the small dwelling.

.............................

 Picard methodically paced the length of the Enterprise's bridge.   To the outside observer, his demeanor would have appeared to be one of composed determination.  His senior officers knew differently.   When Captain Picard was pacing, he was feeling restless and impatient.  He wanted a  solution and he wanted it yesterday.  He stopped to stand directly behind Data, who was working at one of the science stations.

 "Anything to report, Mr. Data?"  Picard asked, clasping his hands behind his back.

 "Nothing yet, sir, it will take a few more minutes to complete the analysis of the spectrographic data sent back from the probe," Data answered as he continued his work.

 "You are sure this will show us any cloaked ship in the area?" Picard inquired.

 "Sir, cloaking devices work by the selective refracting of light.  Any cloaked vessel in the area will change the wavelength of the light bent around it," Data explained.  Glancing up at his captain he added, "They can not change the laws of physics."

 "Understood," Picard replied.  He gave a small self-deprecating smile.  "As Vash would say - I'm breathing down your neck, aren't I?"

 "Yes, sir; however, since I am an android it has little effect on me," Data offered a small smile as he looked back down at the computer console.  "It is also probably safer than doing it to Mr. Worf."

 "Agreed," Picard chuckled as he returned to his command chair.

 A short time later, Data looked up.  "Captain, I have found four cloaked Romulan vessels orbiting the Qo'nos sun.  I am putting their current positions on screen."

 Riker sighed with disgust as he looked at the main view screen.  "Damn, four cloaked ships, one trilithium device and no way to scan the ships to find out which one is carrying it."

 "Four chambers and one bullet, I've never been very fond of Russian roulette," Picard commented dryly.  He paused of a moment as a thought came to him.  Standing up, he straightened his jacket and headed for his readyroom.  "Number One get me a secure channel to Chancellor Gowron and patch it through to my readyroom. "

........................................

 An hour later, Picard walked into the observation lounge where the squad leaders for the away teams on this operation were waiting to be briefed.  The away teams were led by Riker, Worf, Lar and a lieutenant selected by Worf from his security teams.  The captain found he was momentarily at a  loss for the man's name.  He looked like a younger version of Will Riker and Picard vaguely recalled that he had been raised on a ranch in Montana.   The only thing that came to mind was 'the Cowboy', an affectionate moniker that Vash had given him that had stuck.  Suddenly the young officer's name clicked into place, Mark Randall.  As Picard took his seat at the head of the conference table, he gestured for everyone to take a seat, "Everyone, please."

 As everyone took their seats, Picard placed a view of the Qo'nos sun with the positions of the four warbirds on the room's main viewscreen.  "As you are all aware - we have four cloaked warbirds and one trilithium device.   After consulting with Chancellor Gowron , we have formulated a plan.  With their cloaks up, the Romulan warbirds' shields are down.  Gowron has sent us four cloaked Klingon scoutships, we will send a small away team on each scoutship to just within transporter range of a warbird.  Each away team will beam onto their assigned Romulan warbird and scan for the trilithium device.  Once the device is found, disarm it, destroy it, or bring it back with you.  The trilithium torpedo will not detonate unless it is inside the sun's core, so phaser fire is not a hazard.  Each ship will maintain an emergency transporter lock on the away teams at all times.  If you are discovered, contact the Enterprise.  We will maintain communications with each scoutship and can order simultaneous emergency transports of all away teams.  Commander Riker will lead team Alpha, Commander Worf, team Bravo, Lieutenant Lar has team Charlie and Lieutenant Randall, team Delta."

 "Remember we want to get in, out, and back here quickly without the Romulans knowing a thing," Riker added.

 Seeing everyone nod, Picard said, "You have your orders, dismissed."

 As they stood, Lar turned to Randall and quipped, "A covert operation means no whoopin and shit-kickin, Cowboy."

 Randall grinned back, "No, Betazoid-boy, a covert operation just means the whoopin and shit-kickin is to be done real quiet-like."

 Riker stepped between them and put a hand on each of their shoulders.  "How about we do the whoopin and shit-kickin from here after we're back, boys."

 "Yes, sir."  Both men grinned at their superior officer as they exited the conference room.

....................................

 On the bridge, Data looked up from ops, "Sir, the scoutships report all away teams have successfully beamed onto the warbirds."

 "Thank you, Mr. Data," Picard acknowledged.  "Keep me informed."

 The ops console beeped and Data looked down quickly, tapping keys.  "Captain, incoming transmission from Alpha Team, audio only."

 Picard stood from his command chair, straightening his tunic.  "Patch it through, Mr. Data."

 Riker's voice sounded a bit ragged and there was phaser fire in the background as he reported.  "Team Alpha, we've located the device but were unable to reach it.  We've been discovered."

 "Understood, Alpha.  Stand by."  Picard motioned for Data to open the channel to the scoutships.   "Enterprise to scoutships, emergency transport."

 There were a few anxious moments before Data reported back.  "Sir, all teams secure.  The Romulans have not detected the cloaked scoutships and they are en route for Qo'nos."

 "Very good, Mr. Data."  Picard returned to his command chair.

 "Captain," Data looked up from his station.  "There is an incoming transmission from warbird alpha."

 "On screen."  Picard stood back up and adjusted his uniform jacket.

 Taibak stood on his bridge, shaking with barely contained rage. "That's the last straw, Picard!  You have meddled in Romulan affairs for the last time.  Do you have any idea what I have onboard this ship?  A trilithium device capable of destroying -"

 Data spoke up quietly from Ops.  "Captain, I have muted the transmission.  After analyzing the information, I have determined that if Commander Taibak fires the weapon from that range, it will strike the Qo'nos sun and detonate in 10.1 seconds.  It would take approximately 13.4 seconds to establish a phaser lock."

 Picard nodded and motioned for Data to reestablish audio.

 "-you will be unable to do anything but watch, Picard," Taibak was screaming.

 As Taibak ranted, Picard very casually moved to the Conn station and nudged the officer.  He slid into the chair and tapped several keys.

 "Fire!" screamed Taibak from his bridge.

 As the trilithium torpedo left the cloak of the warbird and became visible, Picard engaged the warp engines at maximum on an intercept course for the torpedo.  The Enterprise flashed toward the sun in a desparate attempt to block the torpedo's path.   The ship rocked as the torpedo struck the shields and destructed, minus the force of the trilithium warhead which rocketed away into space, harmless.  Picard's hands moved swiftly across the console, tilting the Enterprise to skim along the corona of the sun and out onto the other side.

 "Disengaging warp engines," Picard announced, turning the station back to the Conn officer.  "Set a course for the warhead.   Tactical, when we're in range, fire phasers on the warhead.  Let's destroy it before anyone else gets any bright ideas."

 A few moments later came the report from Tactical, "Warhead destroyed, sir."

 "Understood.  Set a course for Qo'nos and engage," Picard ordered from the command chair.

 "Captain," Data reported from Ops.  "The Romulans are leaving orbit on a course for Romulan space."

 "Amazing how fast the game ends when you take their ball away from them," Picard remarked drily.

.................................

 In his quarters that night, Picard sat behind his desk finishing up the ship's log, "After the destruction of the trilithium warhead, the four Romulan Warbirds left Klingon space on a heading for Romulan space.  The Klingon High Council voted for Federation Treaty.   Chancellor Gowron and  the Klingon High Council have 'extended their appreciation to the Federation for allowing the Arbitor of Succession to represent them admirably in the treaty ratification negotiations.'  The Enterprise is en route to Risa for a well deserved shore leave.  Ambassador Fontaine has requested and received permission to remain on board the Enterprise until we arrive at Risa."

 "Ahem," a soft feminine voice came from the bedroom doorway.

 "Computer, end log."  Picard looked up to see his wife wrapped in his bathrobe.

 "Has Captain-Admiral-Captain Kirk finished saving the universe for the day?" Vash inquired.

 Picard stood and paused to adjust his tunic.  As he strode toward the bedroom, he remarked in mock indignation.  "I did not blow up the Enterprise."

 "You certainly gave it the old college try," came her pert response.

**FINIS**