A Price on His Head

Archer sat on the Bridge staring at the view screen: the swirling nebulae before him teased and taunted him. They couldn't get close enough to actually take a shuttle in to appreciate it, but they could hover near and send in probes. The plan was to take scans of the class 10 phenomena for three Earth days … that and to enjoy a small break on a neighboring planet, one friendly to Terrans and Vulcans.

Leaning back in his chair, he read the latest information from the press. The news about the coalition was good; the Andorians, Tellarites, humans and Vulcans were just beginning to make some progress. Even the media was starting to turn in Starfleet's favor as xenophobia on Earth slowly began to dwindle.

The captain liked to think the acceptance of aliens was because Enterprise, and ships like her – including the Columbia, which were out in space making a positive difference. Maybe that and the people of Earth, after reading reports about Enterprise for five years, were used to hearing about strange new worlds and new civilizations.

T'Pol stared over her scanner. "The probe has picked up something unusual."

She'd been just as interested as he was in finding out more about the phenomena, maybe more so. Vulcans had only classified a type 9; the one in front of them was more interesting, holding more scientific data.

"Oh?" he said with a smile. He expected to hear a report on gasses or ion particles, and was surprised to hear a tinge of alarm in her voice.

Suddenly the stoic glee in her voice turned sour.

"An Orion vessel."

Archer furrowed his brow. Ever since he'd rescued his crew from being sold at auction into slavery only a year ago, every meeting with the Orions turned into an "incident."

He'd had a price on his head – more credits than he could count if a bounty hunter brought Archer's head in to the Syndicate council chambers. Ship after ship had been sent to apprehend him. It seemed to be something that occurred every few months with increasing success. Each time he'd managed to escape, and yet each time the Orions came closer to their mark, including a harrowing escape after being captured last time. The scar on his back was a reminder of that incident. It also brought into clarity a phrase he'd heard Ambassador Graal say about Shran: "the man is like an Orion: he never forgives and he never forgets."

"Hull plating," Archer said.

It didn't need to be said, and Malcolm gave a grunt for an acknowledgement already having acted on the advice.

The ship in front of them was a war ship, but didn't bear the markings of the Syndicate. This one on screen was a deep emerald with amber contrasts.

"Commercial class ship," T'Pol said.

As the captain was about to give another command to Hoshi, the comm officer scrunched her face from left to right and then punched a few buttons.

"They're hailing us," Hoshi said.

That never happens.

"On viewscreen," he said.

"My name is Captain Uru'adan." His green face, piercings littering his cheek and chin, and menacing smile caused Archer to shift uncomfortably.

"What can I do for you?" Archer asked. Although he guessed it was clear who he was, he was cautious all the same.

"I have a woman who would like to speak with you."

Archer scowled as she stepped in his view: a green woman with long, curly black hair and blue eyes. Her smile was painted with dark green lipstick and her teeth where white. The clothes she wore, what little there were, clung to her curves showing enough to tantalize a man's imagination. And a severely swollen belly peaked through the garments that barely covered her midriff.

Archer frowned. "Navaar?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see his first officer shoot him a curious glance.

Stroking her stomach lazily, the Orion gave a smile. "Jonathan."

Her attention directed toward her navel. He drew in a deep breath and narrowed his eyes.

"I have urgent news."

He didn't like where this was going.

"My baby."

Waiting, he held his breath.

"It's yours."

"What!" he said.

"My child is yours, the one in my womb, was seeded by you."

He fell back in his chair. When words finally came to his mouth, he disagreed. "It's been two years since I've seen you. There's no way --."

"Orion women have long gestation periods. I know it's yours. You're the only man in three years ..."

Frowning, he disagreed silently. I doubt that's the case.

T'Pol whispered behind him. "Their gestation period is more flexible, lasting up to three years if necessary."

"We never --" he said again.

Navaar said, "I found out only recently. But, when I my child was associated with you, I realized the danger our child is in. You're a wanted man."

Her large blue eyes blinked helplessly and Archer found himself remembering his entrancement; he recalled a time where he almost couldn't deny her anything. His heart beating, he leaned forward as the knots in his stomach reached his face, sprouting into a decided frown on his face.

"What do you want?" he asked, his tone terse.

"To tell you of your son." She paused. "To seek refuge."

"Navaar --."

Without looking, he heard tiny steps behind him and felt his first officer staring at his back. Reasserting his earlier statements, he puffed out his chest.

"I don't think so."

"Cut transmission," T'Pol said.

Looking down at his shoes, he tried to gather his wits about him. Since he'd taken command of Enterprise, there'd been few times where he'd been genuinely embarrassed. This was one; he was loath to have his dirty laundry shown this way in front of a few crewmen … even a few friends ….

When he finally gazed up, he noticed the Bridge was deathly quiet and all eyes were pointed on him. Hoshi looked stunned, Travis seemed curious and Malcolm appeared to hold many questions … and possibly disappointment. About to deflect the seriousness of the matter, Archer opened his mouth when his science officer interrupted.

"I would like to speak with you in the Ready Room." she said.

Swallowing deeply, he nodded.

When the two reached the office and the door slid behind them, T'Pol raised both eyebrows – her face itself an accusation.

"That's not my child," he said.

A wandering eyebrow poked against her bangs. "Oh?"

"T'Pol."

Folding her arms across her chest, she challenged him. "Captain, I remember you being under the influence of the Orions."

"Under the influence – yes. But…."

Her lips flattened. "The pheromones were powerful. Even Dr. Phlox indicated there might be memory lapses due to the antidote."

"Memory lapses is one thing, but …." His lips tugged down.

"You're not certain?"

Archer remembered many things about the encounter with the Orions, even though it was two years ago. When they'd visited his ship, his feet had found Navaar's door faster than his brain could comprehend. Just as he'd told himself he shouldn't kiss her, his mouth connected with hers … with more passion than he'd wanted to admit. He recalled T'Pol had contacted him and Navaar's hands had unzipped his uniform, spreading the buttons of his shirt to undo them. She'd kissed at his neck, biting it gingerly between her teeth, and then ….

"Captain?" she asked.

Staring up, he weakly stumbled into the seat behind his desk. "It's just not possible."

"You don't remember?" she asked. It was difficult to miss the confusion and condemnation in her voice.

His hands swept over his face. "I think I would've remembered if we …."

Her face was bland, and she stared at him until he squirmed under the pressure.

"It's just --"

"This could be your child?"

After his zipper had been tugged past his waist, she'd let her hands roam wildly along his body. All the while he focused on getting back to the bridge.

"I didn't have enough time between when you called and --"

"You didn't have enough time …?" she asked.

He cringed. "To …."

"Mate?"

"Yes." His gaze shifted uncomfortably.

"When?"

He wiggled in his chair and avoided her inspection. "I went to Navaar's room to debrief her on protocols when –"

Noticing the way she lifted her brows at the words "debrief on protocols" forced him to glare and then continued. "When you contacted me about the planet."

It seemed she remembered the moment clearly. "It was approximately twenty minutes before you arrived on the bridge."

The two blinked at each other.

She finally asked, "Are you indicating twenty minutes would not leave you enough time to procreate?"

Hanging his mouth open slightly, he disagreed. "No …. I'm saying--"

As her eyes perused him, he averted her gaze. And he tried to tell her again. "I'm saying twenty minutes is enough time to … but …."

"But?"

His lips twitched. "But, I don't think we did."

"You don't think, however, you cannot remember."

"T'Pol …."

"When you came to the bridge, you were … agitated. We know from Dr. Phlox that is a symptom of by prolonged and concentrated exposure to Orion females."

He understood her point all too well; she was indicating that the reason he was so wired and keyed-up on the bridge – ready to attack a ship – was because he'd had sex with Navaar.

"No," he reasserted. "I was antsy, I think, because --"

"But you don't know."

He sighed again. Squinting his eyes, reasserted his comment. "It's just not possible."

"Captain --?"

Slumping his shoulders, he acquiesced. He turned his back to her so that the confession was less humiliating.

"Fine. I don't remember. I suppose there's a possibility – remote though it may be – that the child is mine. I just can't believe, T'Pol that …."

Navaar's fingers had dipped and swerved around his body; each caress had caused him to practically jump out of his skin with delight. He'd bent Navaar over his console, kissing her feverishly … and that was the extent of his memories.

"We should ask Dr. Phlox to review the DNA of the unborn fetus and compare it to yours."

He nodded lamely.

After a few minutes of silence, T'Pol's voice quieted. "Perhaps you should ask the staff not to repeat what they've heard."

Just as hushed, he voiced his agreement. "I will."

She continued saying the things he was already wondering. "Rumors and allegations are bound to come out; I have noticed in my time aboard Enterprise that sometimes allegations are just as bad, if not worse, than the truth. When Navaar walks aboard this vessel – heavily pregnant, people may wonder."

"Yeah." Turning his back to stare out the window, he heard her speak behind him.

"I'll arrange for her to come aboard and meet with Dr. Phlox."

"I'd appreciate it."

She coughed lightly. "I might suggest you refrain from seeing her until I contact you."

Glancing barely over his shoulder, he contradicted her. "T'Pol, if this is my child --"

"Although Dr. Phlox can assist you, you will not be immune to Navaar."

He shook his head. "But, this might be my son."

"You would want to see her even if she lured you into mating with her? Or, if she used you and stole your DNA to create your offspring?"

Snarling his lip, he stared out the window. The answer was still the same.

"Yes."

An eyebrow lifted. Sternly, she spoke to him. "You have counted on me many times in the past. If this is your child, you can rest assured I will notify you."

He was silent, and she spoke again. "You can depend that I will do everything in my power to help you."

For the first time since their discussion, he looked deeply into her eyes, his lips forming the smallest smile at the glint in her eyes. And, once he caught her gaze and she returned it, he kept looking.

"I know."

That was part of the shame he felt; that he'd let down T'Pol. Without saying anything else, she inclined her head to one side and walked onto the Bridge to deal with Navaar directly. It left Archer alone to ponder whether he'd sired a baby and a little helpless until the doctor ran the results.

TBC