The BLTS Archive - Entre (Enter(
Sixth in the Blackbird series
by Cavalaxis (cavalaxis@hotmail.com)

---

(c)11/16/1999

Reading Suggestions:  Drinking chai and listening to Enigma - Le Roi
est Mort, Vive Le Roi

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

Archive: Yes.

Feedback, s'il vous plait

---

Ever my enemy, fatigue steals me away from him. Within the strength of
his embrace, I feel the need for vigilance cracking, slipping away.
My body insists that the rest I need can be found in this sanctuary,
the circle of his arms.  My body also hungers for his touch, but that
can wait. Indulgences, sensuous indulgences, will have to wait. And so
I yield.

The sun upon the soles of my feet awakens me.  I open my eyes to meet
his gaze.  I smile and stretch, my fears having drowned in those eyes.

"Azizam."  I reach up and touch his furrowed brow. "Would that I could
slip sideways out of this world, and spend forever here, with you,
between the moments."  This soothes his anxiety momentarily.

"Tell me.  Where do we go from here?"  His voice is soft, concerned.

"I know someone on Mars Outpost who can help us. From there, I do not
know.  You will have to decide."

"How is the Dominion involved in this?"  He brushes a strand of hair
from my face and runs his fingers down my jaw.  I shiver in pleasure
as he brushes the comm embedded in the bone.  He pauses, tenderly
exploring it.  I let him.

"Our combined knowledge of the Borg and the Dominion suggest that
perhaps they have a common origin. Their strategies are linked, their
technology is linked." His fingertips stray to the hollow beneath my
ear, and then to the base of my neck.  My eyes drift shut as I
concentrate to keep talking, even has he gingerly explores the edges
of the implant at the base of my visual cortex.  "Some even theorize
that the Borg are the failed attempt to create a machine race to serve
the purpose that the Jem Hadar now serve." The sensation is
irresistably erotic and a small sigh escapes my lips.  "Jean-Luc, how
does this woman answer you if you continue..."  His lips descend to
capture mine.  A moment later, the taste of him upon my lips, we
separate.

"Forgive me," he utters, his cheek beside mine. "Please continue."  He
continues to explore the edges of my mnemonic implant.  My hands find
their way to his bare chest.  I feel as if I am being tested.

"There is no proof of this, but the theory remains. Along with the
idea that hostile nanotech is being employed against high ranking
individuals within the Federation.  The compartmentalization of
information in my circle has kept any details from agents at my level,
but I have other contacts.  The watchers are being watched."

I find myself trembling as his hand withdraws from my hair.  He cups
my cheek in his palm, again bending to taste of my lips.  He lays his
head on his arm, and I find my eyes not able to meet his intense look.
"You've been significantly modified."

"Yes, but not genetically.  Only enhanced electronically."  I feel the
heat rising in my cheeks.  My implants are voluntary, his are not.

"I thought this kind of modification was no longer practiced."

"It is in the world that I live in."  I lay my hand over the silvery
thread of a scar on his breast bone. "Necessity is the mother of
invention."  His hand covers mine.  He nods slowly, absorbing the
realization that our two worlds are very different. He draws me close
to him again and with no words necessary between us, we sleep again.
---

The lazy autumn sun panned across the foot of the bed.  She sleeps
in my arms until well after dusk.  I doze occasionally, watching her.
Her dreams are difficult.  There comes a moment when I hold her
tightly as she fights some unknown demon.  Not even my voice
penetrates the veil that separates her from this world.  Eventually,
calm returns, but not relaxation.  I have had my combat dreams.  I
know what restless sleep they bring.  When her breath slows again for
a time, she turns to place her back against my chest.  Between waking
and sleeping, she murmurs my name.  I kiss her neck and again wrap my
arms about her.

Thoughts of the information she had shared keep me from a true sleep.
The idea of a war being waged in my bloodstream seems a surreal jest.
Surely the transporter filters would have captured any untoward
infestation.  My mind wanders back to tiny grey device that rested now
on my dresser.  Personal cloaking technology.  Could nanotech cloak
itself? Is that how it escapes detection?  A brief chill of educated
fear rushes over me as I remember the mutating shields of the Borg
drones.  My subconscious memories of implants being grown in my flesh
drive me away from that train of thought.  I wonder at the
infiltration of the Federation by the Dominion and how they could
possibly be involved.  Delta quadrant, conquer by assimilation...I
collect all of the evidence and still, there isn't enough to make
sense of it all.  Add into the equation a covert branch of the
Federation military 'uniquely empowered' to do whatever they feel is
necessary, and the concoction only gets muddier.  I ask myself again,
who is this woman?  How is it that she has so enraptured you?

My focus shifts to the warm body in my embrace.  The memory of
sleepless nights staring out the view portal haunts me.  I allow
myself the luxury of trailing my free hand down her side to her hip.
It has been so long since I have allowed myself to savor anything,
much less surrendered so completely to these dark waters.  Dark
desires.  No, not dark.  I cannot name these desires as dark as a
result of my own self-denial.  Her head rests in the crook of my arm.
I cup her full breasts and the fire returns as she responds.  The
nipple between my fingers grows hard, as if in answer to parts of my
own anatomy. The wisest course of action would be to retreat to safety
and the comfort of my ship.  But the prospect of the unknown...  The
desperate nature of my own need...  The irresistible attraction we
both seem to feel...  These things have combined in a strange alchemy,
overwhelming the sensible, the safe, the known.   All that is left to
me is purely instinctual.

I argue with myself even as my hand strays to her center - humanity is
the ability to respond according to well-defined standards of action.
And now as her mouth opens to release her sighs, I realize that to be
human is to respond to free will, even as it is defined by insatiable
desires.  The ability to chose surrender.  She turns her head to
capture my mouth, and my hands pull her to face me.  This is not
weakness, my mind cries in revelation.  I slip between her thighs and
she welcomes me into her for the first time.  This is strength.  I am
over her now, stroking in and out of her, gazing into her eyes.
Strength in surrender.  Her fingers dig into my flesh, her back arches
and I thrust into her again.  Savor you...but she is drawing me deeper
and deeper into her, rising to meet my strokes.  I hold back, allowing
myself to feel her rhythm and then joining it.   Savor you, surrender
to you.  Soon, it is she who relinquishes all control.   I bury myself
deep inside her and assail her with short, savage blows, pounding
against her own vulnerability.  I hear my name in a cry of ecstasy as
she cascades over the edge.  Again I feel her flesh wresting the very
life from me.  Somehow, I manage to resist following her.

I find myself being greedy.  As she relaxes, tiny tremors still
flickering through her, I slip apart from her.  Her hands beg me not
to go but my mouth soon finds her center, and she writhes as I delve
into her again.  The taste of her ecstasy is strong and sweet, and I
relish in it, drinking her essence as I would a fine wine.  My tongue
ravishes her clit, as I had imagined I would in that doorway.  Swollen
and hot, the barest touch causes her to shudder in ever-increasing
excitement.  I hear a hungry growl in my own throat as she grips my
neck.  I penetrate the little mouth with my tongue and then my finger,
searching for that exquisite pearl of pleasure within her.  It is only
moments before the next wave crashes over her, this one even more
powerful and I ride with her, ceaseless in my ministration as she did
so to me.  Soon she falls exhausted to the bed and I rise above her
again, a smile of deep satisfaction on my face.  Whatever baseless cur
within me worried that I might not be able to satisfy her now ran away
in defeat, its tail between its legs.  If ever I have satisfied a
woman, I have only begun to satisfy you, my Khephera.

She opens her eyes and meets my gaze of self- satisfaction.  The
emotions on her face are legion, and I wonder at the brimming wetness
in her eyes. "My name is not Khephera."  I did not realize that I had
spoken the words aloud.  And I did not realize that she had yet more
secrets to divulge.  "If you are to call me yours...then call me
Leila."

The secret of identity.  Even with all of her technology, the giving
of her name seems the magic to truly pierce her invulnerable exterior.
The power of what she has now given me does not escape me.

As she draws me down to her, I slip deep within her again, our gazes
locked.  "Leila."  The word escapes my lips, a lover's touch, rainfall
on the desert, a cool ocean breeze.  All of these things are apparent
in the wonder that is her face.  I savor this as I savor the feel of
her hands gripping my back, as I savor the feel of her moving beneath
me, as I savor the depths to which I am now within her.  I savor the
pleasure even as I am taken by it and in surrender, I cry her name.

The moments after are filled with silence, as I slowly crumple within
her embrace.  Deliciously and acutely aware of the blood coursing
through my body, I can feel my sweat mingling with hers.  Her arms
wrap about me and her breath slowly returns to normal.

And then, it is held.

As I start to rise, she holds up a fist and I freeze instinctually.

The sub-sonic rumble of the approaching craft is more felt than heard.
And then, the unmistakable whine of an engine is joined by another,
and then another.

Silently she rolls out from under me and grasps her E'n'E from its
resting place.  I can see her curse. She is out the door in a breath,
and I can hear her bare feet on the stair.  She returns momentarily
with a smaller version, presumably the one she had attached to my
jacket.

I am on my feet, grabbing a pair of trousers from the chair.  My mind
races trying to determine just what kind of entourage could be
arriving so abruptly, completely unannounced.  If it was a craft from
the Enterprise, there would only be one.  "...not reading any life
signs.  Do you really think she'd come here?"  The hollow voice
emitting from the E'n'E catches me by surprise.

"No, but this is where he will return.  It is the only logical choice.
Proceed."

"Aye, sir.  Alpha one and two, standard visual search."

I start to speak and am silenced. We dress hastily and she quickly
straightens the bed covers.  Once she is dressed, there is no trace of
her in the room. She pockets the darker grey of the two units and
beckons me towards her.

"Perhaps there is an easy explanation for all of this,"  I begin.  She
shakes her head at me.

"Two possibilities: they want me or they want you. Either way, I don't
intend to stick around to find out.  We must leave now."

I nod my understanding, but express concern.  "The Enterprise will be
expecting my return in less than two days."

Her gaze levels at me.  She snaps the unit shut. "Can you get us..."
she hesitates, "there?"

I nod. Mars Outpost.

"I can have you back within the window."  She pulls her hair back and
knots it into a bun.

"My craft.  One half kilometer south, docked in the carriage house."
Someone is rapping on the front door.  The crafts outside have shut
down their engines.  I hear the front door mechanism snap and the door
open.

"Captain Picard?  Sir?" A female voice from the entryway.

She nods curtly and steps to the window, opening it in one smooth
motion.  She turns to me and indicates that I should precede her.  I
wonder when the little demon formerly known as my sanity came over to
this side of the debate, but he has and seems to be urging me onward.
Three ships.  How could someone rationally explain the necessity for
three ships? Something definitely reeks about the whole situation. The
waters have become even muddier and yet I find myself plowing onwards,
deeper into the conspiracy.

---

After a late night jaunt through the vineyards, we had boarded the
craft and lifted off with no incident.  She bids me to stay low to the
terrain, as she works intently on the sensor array.  "The nice thing
about Federation tech is that it can be turned back on itself in a
variety of ways."  A crackle of electricity and the sounds of curses
reach my ears. "Come on, it's not that difficult to make you look like
a freight ship.  Change the engine output, double the detectable mass,
add a little cough and sputter."  Is that ozone I smell?

"Everything okay back there?"

"Yeah."  Another pop and the smell of burnt flesh reaches me.  More
curses.  "Apologies, Captain. Now rerouting control to the helm."  I
confirmed the presence of extra information in the sensor array
controls.  She returns to the cockpit, alternately sucking on two of
her fingers and shaking them vigorously.  "This is one sweet, testy
little vehicle you have here."

"Yes, well...are you sure you're okay?  There's a medkit in here
somewhere."  I watch as she punches up the specs for a Martian trash
barge.

"No.  Just a little burn.  I'll be okay.  Get some altitude before I
try this."

"I thought we were avoiding..."

She interrupts me, grinning that engineer's grin that chills the
hearts of pilots everywhere.  "Yes.  I'd just like to have a little
cushion to catch us in case this doesn't work the first time.  Margin
of error I believe you'd call it?" Her hands, black with soot, quickly
alter the engine parameters and the craft begins to react sluggishly
to my commands.

I pause and give her a long look.  Sanity mumbles that the safety of
my ship is only a few minutes away.  "You do realize that we could
return to the Enterprise, and my CMO would be more than willing..."

"To back up your security officer when he throws me in the brig for
abducting you.  Do you really want to face your senior officers with
the information I have given you?   When you spell it out on that
level, Jean-Luc, does it sound plausible at all?"  The stunned look on
my face must be amusing, as I watch that mischievious, and somewhat
vicious smile creep about the corner of her mouth.  "Forgive my
bluntness, but you're flying blind.  So am I at this point.  I only
know that your bloodstream *may* or *may not* be contaminated with
volatile nanotechnology of a possibly hostile, alien nature. And until
we have the answer to that question, everything else is in a state of
flux.  We may well need the assistance of your CMO at some point, but
until I can give clear, concise, irrefutable evidence as to the nature
and extent of your contamination, I risk being arrested and tried as a
terrorist for your abduction.  From that point onward, your own life
would be at risk as a direct result of the knowledge that I have
shared with you.  The Section will protect its interests, fiercely."
Her voice shifts from determined to tender.  "I'd rather you not be
subjected to that."

After that succinct outburst, she can only think of my safety.  I
can't do anything but agree with her. I also feel thoroughly
chastised.

"Mars Outpost then.  Precisely what is it you're going to do to my
ship?"  We climb into the sky.

"Oh, don't worry.  It's a pretty standard maneuver. Well,
yeah...pretty standard."  The shift between planetary and artificial
gravity is noticeable, and I can hear the engine start to chuff and
mutter to itself.

She turns to me and smiles, brushing a strand of hair from her eyes.
A black smear of oil graces her forehead.  And she is enticing all the
same.

I plot the course she indicates and the vessel turns towards Terra's
red sister.  I silently curse Fate for the fickle bitch She is.

---

~File Terminate~