The BLTS Archive - Oiseau (Bird)
Fifth in the Blackbird series
by Cavalaxis (cavalaxis@hotmail.com)

---

(c)11/03/1999

Disclaimer: Paramount owns Star Trek.  All of it. I claim no profit.
I do claim the story.

Archive: BLTS, yes.  All else, please ask.

Feedback,  s'il vous plait

---

In the moments between the plaza and the sterile interior of the
transporter station, we each slip into our roles, like comfortable
clothes.  I am surprised when she edges ahead of me at the ticket
console.  She feeds a credit chit into the slot and keys in the
requirements for transport to Los Angeles.  In sleight-of-hand, she is
direct.  She gathers a small electronic device from a pocket inside
her jacket and palms it to console's face. A ticket emerges which she
hands to me while she removes and hides the device.  My face reveals
none of my astonishment as I read the ticket.  A "Mr. and Mrs.
Jonathan Montgomery" will depart Manhattan for Paris by way of Los
Angeles in one quarter hour.  We walk toward the local transport and
again, she pays in credits, exact.  I cannot keep my eyes from her
hands as she keys in the transaction.

In a heartbeat, we are in the Manhattan station and then in the Los
Angeles station.  The night feels completely different here.  The
desert air is still cool, but dry.  The ticket has us transporting to
Paris in three quarters of an hour.  I seek her gaze and it awaits me.
Her eyes look tired, but yet she smiles as she takes my hand.  I bring
it to my lips, placing a gentle kiss.  For a moment her composure
changes, revealing a passionate world beneath, but that is quickly
regained.

"By the time they start looking for me, we should be off-planet.  In
that time, I will tell you all that I can."  Her voice is that of an
officer, one who has commanded before.  Blackbird, you are a creature
of many facets.  I nod my assent.  I can listen and I can fill my eyes
with the sight of her.  "Would you like something to drink?"  She
indicates a cafe across the concourse.  I move in that direction,
through the river of people, to a darkened corner with a replicator
slot.  We order our drinks and then I am gazing at her across the tiny
table.  Something so simple as this, we have not done yet.  Sanity is
left mumbling to himself in the corner.

I watch the cup in her hand travel from the table to her lips and back
again.  Her hands curl about it, an unconscious habit.  Her lips purse
as she tries to decide where to begin her explanation.  A long moment
passes.

I break the silence.  "Start with the Dunhill's. That one really got
me."  I share the look of mirth in her eyes.

"That one was in the file by Saurian Brandy.  It seemed obvious."  She
taps her temple.  "It's all up here.  Your date of birth, your
brother's favorite vintage, your heart implant, your contact with the
Continuum . . .  your assimilation." These words are somehow within my
comprehension and the ramifications chill my blood.  She knows
virtually everything of import there is to know about me.  She
continues, "Even your tenuous professional and personal relationship
with Jack Crusher's widow."  Alright, *everything* of import.  "You
are an important man to the Federation, Jean-Luc.  And there are
people who would like to see you fall from grace."

"Is that why you were in the club?"  My voice sounds faint.

She smiles and takes both of my hands in hers. "No.  I was there to
relax.  To step back from my responsibilities for a moment, just as
you were. You just happened to make yourself...known."

I remember that walk across the room.  The walk of a giant among men.
I remember stealing her away from - someone.  I remember the press of
her body against mine.  My head sinks over my tea.  Bloody Saurian
Brandy.  A low chuckle escapes my lips. Can't a man do anything
simply?  More precisely, my accusations directed inward, can't *this*
man do anything simply?  Something in me wants to look over my
shoulder to see if Q is laughing at me again.  No, that would be
simple.  I look up into her now-worried eyes.  I smile, an attempt at
easing her tensions.  This is far from simple. "Please, go on."

She hesitates, trying to find the words.  "I work for a group that
considers the security of the Federation its highest priority.  The
War, as you should know, is being waged on many different levels of
visibility."  A pause while she sips her drink and her brow furrows.
"My loyalties are...were to a group uniquely empowered to wage this
War."

"And I have changed this?"  I wonder how the conflagration between us
could have altered such a definitive course.  A covert operative
rarely questions the-powers-that-be, relying heavily on the faith that
the larger picture is not visible from the pawn's point-of-view.  I
cannot imagine what I possibly could have done to degrade that faith.

"You have changed this."  She murmurs, the faint whisper of her
homeland returning to her voice.

"How? Tell me."  Somewhere I find the strength for her.  For myself.

Her voice is quiet and yet pregnant with meaning. "You are the
antithesis of all that I expected. You are the exception to the rule.
The rule that I, and others like me, have lived and died for." Again,
her words fail her.  An anger flashes in her eyes, a plasma storm that
ends as quickly as it began.  Her eyes beseech me.  "If I am
wrong...about you, I will become one of the less fortunate.  And what
infuriates me most of all is that, if I am wrong and *they are right*,
then this quadrant will fall to one of two tyrants, neither of which
you or I would want to serve."

I look into her face, the face of this woman with whom I have
entrusted my life.  The revelation of her true purpose has not eroded
my conviction to be here, as part of me feared it would.  In fact, it
has done just the opposite.  "There is more." I utter the words,
urging her on.  "What rule am I the exception to?"

She looks down at her hands, at our hands entwined.  "That all
humanity is destroyed upon assimilation.  That it can never be
regained."

The look of consternation on my face is one from deep inside me,
uncontrolled and uncontrollable. "What?!"  The anger now flashes
within me.  That someone could doubt that I was not human?  That
someone who had never even seen a Cube could make such a statement!
She covers my hands with hers, again her eyes drawing me to her.

"Jean-Luc, please."  I will myself to listen, focusing on the sound of
her voice.

"This belief is widespread, propagated by a man who lost family to..."

"We all lost," I interrupt angrily, "Friends, family, much more than
the lauded eleven thousand."

She calmly continues.  "A man whose family was assimilated, and not
recovered successfully.  A man who would like very much to believe
that even if he could have saved them, that there would have been
nothing left to save.  This man has such convictions in his beliefs
that they have become the beliefs of many whose families suffered the
same fate. Can you understand that?"

My initial reaction of anger and disbelief turns slowly into disgust
and despair.  For a moment, my silence is all she has for an answer.
And all I can think, I think aloud: "A powerful man."

"Yes." Her thumb caresses the back of my hand, "A very powerful man."

I try to think, try to ignore the pain and emotion that this has
stirred in me.   Again, I focus upon her, this time the gentle touch
of her hand.  The soothing motion becomes my world for a brief moment,
far from all things familiar.  I tentatively mimic her touch, my thumb
brushing the inside of her wrist.  The moment slows in time. Words
return us to the present. "How does he justify this belief?"

This evokes a look from her that I cannot decipher.  She shifts in her
seat, again carefully choosing her words.  "I have read the reports of
Borg nanotechnology that has contaminated Federation technology.  I
have read the reports of those who were rescued after assimiliation
not surviving due to chronic nanotech re-infection. Implants were
removed, only to grow again, or worse.  You were one of the lucky
ones.  Or so some believe.  Others believe that when the time
comes..."  Her voice trails off into nothingness, the emptiness itself
speaking volumes.  Her eyes rise to meet mine.  "I no longer believe
that this is a surety, only a possibility."

The softness in her face bares the strength of her emotion.  It is a
frightening thing to see it, only because I am coming to know that I
feel the same way.  We both have taken extreme risks to come to this
place.  As this I try to digest the implications of this
'possibility', I close my eyes briefly, as if I could wish us back to
that darkened alley.  The scent of her surrounds me. Her chronometer
chimes.  Time has flown.

"We're due to depart soon."  My eyes open to see her standing, putting
our cups back into the replicator and keying in the recycler code.
Her hands move as if to hide her heart's intensity.  I sense that we
are very much alike in our fear of binding emotions.  I take her hand
as she starts to move away and pull her close, wrapping my arms about
her.  This startles her but she yields to me easily and is soon
reciprocating this uncharacteristic display of emotion.  I feel her a
choke back a tiny sob against my chest.  My hand finds her chin and
draws her eyes to meet mine. Through tired tears, I am graced with the
same look that so pierced me on the dance floor.  A look to launch a
thousand ships.  She smiles, bearing her fatigue graciously.  I bend
and brush my lips against hers.  I savor the spice of her tea upon her
lips and the gentle heat that meets my tongue.  We taste each other
for a moment and then, part softly.

"Have you ever been to Paris before?"  I inquire as I release her.
Brushing the wetness from her cheek, she checks the area, ever
vigilant.  She shakes her head.  "Well, then.  You're in for a treat."

"I would prefer to leave the cities behind for awhile."  We are moving
back towards the station.

"Alright.  You seem to have a plan."

"No, azizam.  I have an idea."  She winks at me through long lashes.
"That is different from a plan."  The seriousness of this matter
batters itself against the inside of my skull, but none of the discord
reaches the outside.  I tender myself to her care.

"An idea is good."  Words to fill the seconds. Her attention is
divided between me and the crowd. "Are you worried about being
followed?"

"Always."

---

Her vigilance doesn't wane, not through the station nor once we get to
Paris.  A level of confidence I wasn't aware I had lost came
thundering back with the familiarity of the surroundings.  Again, she
pays in credits for the ground transport.  I don't even offer to pilot
as she seems to have things sewn up.

"I thought you said you'd never been to Paris before."  I'm astonished
as she navigates expertly through the oldest part of the city.

"I haven't."  The transport banks hard as she avoids a cyclist.  She
calmly taps her temple again.

"Photographic memory?"

"Enhanced with implants, yes.  Invaluable in my line of work."  She
plots a course for the vineyard unerringly.

My astonishment does show this time.  Within a half an hour, the
transport is kicking up the dust of the front drive of the chateau.
Gingerly, I disembark as she programs the transport to for its
unmanned return.  I stride towards the house as the craft takes off.
She emerges from the roiling dust cloud, looking tired in the early
morning light.

A sigh overcomes me.  Home.

Here, I can relax and allow the side of me that wants to comfort her
have free reign.  I take her in my embrace as we enter the front door.
"You need a bath and a rest."  I take the jacket from her shoulders,
hanging it beside my own.  She allows me to steer her upstairs to the
guest room. My comm link rests on the bedside table, silent.
Thankfully.

My hands go through the motions of stoppering the tub and turning on
the hot water.   I smile broadly as her eyes grow large.  "Yes, it's
all still mechanical."  But slowly she is shaking her head.

"It's huge."  The tub, old man.  She's talking about the bath tub.
The look on her face is that of a small child at Christmas.  She
stands with her hand on the edge and leans down in to touch the rising
surface of the water.  "You don't understand.  I haven't had a
hydroshower in months.  I've only had a real bath once before in my
life."

"Oh, really?"  I uncork the bath salts and shake in a handful.  This
tub and the others like it in the house have been the norm for me my
entire childhood.

She nods and steps back into the other room.  "It seems such a waste."
My brow furrows at this, as I follow her.  She sits in the chair
beside the bed and stoops to unlace her boots.

"A waste?"  I truly don't understand this.

"I grew up on a mining colony.  Najat Four. Desert planet, entirely
company owned.  Water was one of the most precious commodities we
had." Suddenly she looks up at me and then down the stairs.  Quickly
she pulls the device I'd seen in the transport station out of her
pocket and flips it open.  It is a flat disk, the diameter of an
apricot, reminiscent of a twentieth century pocket watch, with a matte
grey metallic finish.  She sighs audibly as she snaps it shut.  I
raise my eyebrows, awaiting explanation.  She seems at a loss for
words.

"The, um...dampening field.  Still in effect. Larger range than I'd
supposed it would.  Sorry."

"Dampening field?"  She slips her boots off and wiggles her toes.  I
reach in the linen closet for a towel, trying to let this new
information settle into the rest of the scheme.

"Your heart."  She takes the towel from me and places one hand against
my chest.  "It has a distinctive electronic signature that is able to
be tracked from, well, orbit basically.  You're bugged and you didn't
even know it."  She looks up into my face, smiling mischieviously.
"That's how we were tracking your movements.  When we met this
morning, I decided I didn't want them to watch you anymore. I took the
liberty of giving you one of my ee-yen-ees."

"E and E?" I repeat, languishing as her touch is taken away, carefully
observing as she pulls the device out again.

"Yeah, it's a little something I use.  'Eyes and Ears', originally,
although these little ones do more than that.  Watch."  She whispers
directly into the device.  "Elohim."

I can't believe my eyes as the light bends and ... she simply
disappears.

A personal cloaking device.  I've heard of such technology before but
have never believed the rumours.  So many surprises from one woman.
My astonishment fixes me as her disembodied voice speaks.

"Sharp, eh?  This one is my prototype so it doesn't have all the
grabbers and other nanotech bits, but it could be considered hardened
for that very reason."  I don't get her meaning, but I do get the
sound of clothes hitting the floor.  My eyebrows, and my heart rate no
doubt, soar as her blouse materializes on the foot of the bed.  "This
one limits itself to the personal signature of the wearer's
electromagnetic field.  I designed it myself."  I listen intently as
her jeans crumple and then materialize next to the blouse.  A
languorous moment passes, and I gawk as her underthings appear next to
her shoes.

I stand frozen, barely breathing in the silence. Her caress startles
me as she moves my hands away from my body.  I hear a muffled laugh.
The buttons of my shirt begin undoing themselves.  My cock has
shimmered to life.  Breath and movement elude me as her touch grazes
my chest.  My shirt falls about my shoulders and floats in the air
before laying itself neatly beside the other clothes.  The button on
my trousers gives her a little trouble and I inhale involuntarily as
she tugs at it.  Soon, they too have joined the others on the bed.  My
skin flushes as her ghostly touch slips under the band of my briefs
and drags them to the floor as well.  I can't contain a gasp as her
warm breath grazes my cock.  I am a bit embarrassed but there is no
hiding the raging erection now displayed before God and all.  She lets
a throaty laugh escape and I smile in return, realizing that I have
backed up to lean against the armoire.  I see her form materialize
before me as she lays the device from her mouth into the palm of her
hand.   "It cloaks for a good five minutes before the power gives
out."  She's setting the device next to my comm link on the dresser
and standing before me.  Utterly naked and unabashed.  Her eyes are
afire now as we stand inches from each other.  Time, ever gracious
between the two of us, slows to a crawl.

"Now show me this bath.  If it's not overflowing." She turns in a
breath towards the bathroom.  I hear the squeaking of the faucets and
realize I haven't followed her.  I urge my muscles to action, just as
I hear the gentle splash of her entering the bath.  I realize that my
defenses are completely neutralized as I follow, the hard tile of the
small room wrapping the gentle sighs of her pleasure about me.

Now what, old man?  Have you a shaker of salt to sprinkle on your
blackbird's tail?  I watch as she slips in up to her shoulders and
then sinks beneath the water, emerging moments later, silent except
for a single sigh.  Her hands push the water from her eyes and she
smiles at me again.  I stand by the door watching her.   I am content
to fill my eyes with the sight of her dark skin starkly contrasted
against the porcelain.   Soon she has washed the dust and weariness
away and is standing, reaching for me.  I give her a hand down from
the tub and wrap her in the towel I've been dutifully holding.  Again,
the brush of her bare skin against mine sends an electric charge
through my flesh.  All my will is now subjugated to this course of
action, and all I can think is that I want this moment to last
forever.  As I rub the water from her body, I savor the fullness of
her. All curves, yet firm underneath, a feline strength that hides
itself in lazy attitude beneath the surface.

I let the towel slip from my grasp and tentatively caress her arms.
She responds by reaching up to me, just as she did in that darkened
doorway, hours ago.  So much has changed since that moment, but the
inferno still beckons. I gently savor her mouth as she pulls me close.
The feel of her against me seems unreal save for the now-insistent
throbbing of my cock, which roars to the forefront of my awareness as
her flesh connects with mine. There is something deliciously forbidden
about relinquenshing all control to these sensations.  I am drawn into
her embrace, my own hands snaking about her waist.  Her scent, musky
and rich, surrounds me.  I pull back for a moment to catch my breath.
Her hands move down from my neck across my chest to my hips.  Oh,
beautiful...so very beautiful.

She increases the distance between by an inch. "You were the child who
always accepted a piece of candy with gratitude and stuffed in your
pocket to eat later, yes?"  Her voice speaks of secrets discovered and
I must smile.

"You know me too well, and I know so little of you."

"That will change.  I was the same when I was small." I shiver in
anticipation as she lowers herself to her knees, using the towel as
cushioning against the tile.  "Any luxury was a prize to be savored."
I look down into her eyes as her cheek brushes against my cock. "In
privacy."  Oh yes, please.  My silent prayers are heard as she gently
caresses me with her lips. The velvet of her tongue brings my breath
to a halt.  My eyes close as, tenderly, her mouth begins to devour me
in ernest.  I wonder if my knees won't fail as her hands wander over
my thighs, my bum, my balls.  A shuddering breath escapes my lips.  I
am being savored and the feeling is divine.  Minutes slip pass as I
lose myself in her touch.  Completely and utterly I surrender to her,
her lips now moving up and down the shaft of my cock.   I grip her
shoulders as she flickers her tongue over
that...one...incredible...spot.  Then she is swallowing me again, and
I gasp out loud as I collide with the back of her throat again and
again.  Then I am coming, stunned as I hear my own cry of pleasure,
unending pleasure as she continues, not allowing the sensation to
subside. The moment lasts a lifetime and then we grow still, my cock
still convulsing in her mouth.  She sucks once gently and I gasp.
Then she is standing before me, one hand wiping her lips.  I pull her
close to me savagely, burying my face in her hair, breathing hard.

"I...wouldn't...have."  My words emerge a whisper.

"I know," she replies.  "You are a gentleman." Her caress is an
endless tide over me.  "We have many things in common, you and I."

I reach down and lift her off the ground, clinging to her.  The bed,
where I can savor you, blackbird.  Savor you.  My mind, my thoughts
blur together as I carry her towards the bedroom.  I lay her down and
she pulls me down with her.  We are entangled in each other, our
mouths seeking and tasting, our hands touching, relishing in the
contact we both ache for.  Her hands stray towards me, with the intent
of reviving my newly-spent manhood.  But I capture them, raising them
above her head, kissing her soundly.  "No... Rest first."  Greedily I
ravage her mouth with my own and then move to the crescent of her
neck.  The spicyness of her mouth is shared in her skin, and I vow
silently to taste every inch.  I whisper on her ear, "Sleep first.  So
that you can be savored later."  She murmurs in protest but my lips
silence her.  I wrap myself firmly about her and hold her tightly.  I
still my thoughts by concentrating on her breathing.  What have I
wrought here, I wonder.  The tension slowly leaves her body but not
entirely.  A caged bird.  Ah, my beautiful enigma.  I smile as she
nuzzles me, as if we could be even closer.

"Promise me."  She mumbles.  In sleep?  I hold my words.

"Jean-Luc, please promise me."  Her voice a little firmer.

"And what shall I promise you?"

"That if it comes to that, you'll finish it, right?"  Ah, the oath of
the trenches, timeless. I wonder what precisely she imagines it coming
to, that I would not succumb to as well.  Sanity urges me not to even
contemplate that path.  For once, I listen.

"Aye."  I soothe her, stroking her hair.  "Sleep now."

And we do.

---

~File Terminate~