Hawkins stood before the full-length holographic mirror, meticulously straightening the cuffs of his crisp, dark undershirt. He had already discarded his jacket on the nearby chair, preparing to change into his formal wear for the upcoming beam-up to Briasyraa’s luxury yacht. The ceremonial tuxedo lay carefully spread out on the bed, its sleek black fabric glinting faintly under the room’s muted lighting. Hawkins had left Radcliffe so he could pack his gear ready for the wedding that Radcliffe wanted to do in the here and now. 

He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, forcing himself to focus. This wasn’t just any wedding but a carefully orchestrated part of his cover. It was a dangerous game within a larger one. One, he knew he needed to play carefully to take him further along to get closer to his target. 

The door chime shattered the silence, jolting Hawkins out of his thoughts. Frowning, he quickly grabbed his robe, wrapping it loosely around himself before moving toward the door, the air thick with anticipation.

“Who is it?” he asked, his voice neutral.

“It’s me,” came a familiar voice. It was low, sultry, and unmistakably confident.

Hawkins raised an eyebrow and tapped the control to open the door. Standing there was Torvak, her presence a striking and unexpected vision. She wore a floor-length gown of shimmering silver fabric that clung to her figure elegantly, with intricate embroidery running along its hem. Her hair was swept up elaborately, framing her flawless features. Dark eyes lined with precision met his with an intensity that was as disarming as it was unreadable.

“Torvak?” he said, his confusion evident.

Before he could say anything else, she brushed past him, her heels clicking softly on the polished floor.

“Nice place,” she said casually, surveying the room as she placed a small, metallic purse on the table. She turned to face him, her expression unreadable. “We need to talk.”

Hawkins closed the door and crossed his arms, leaning casually against the wall. “Talk about what? The weather? Or perhaps why you’ve decided to invade my evening?”

Her lips quirked into a faint smile, but her eyes were all business. “I know about the wedding,” she said, her voice low and deliberate.

His eyebrows rose slightly. “And? Is that really why you’re here, all dressed to the nines? Or are you just trying to make a point?”

Torvak opened her purse and pulled out a small handheld Romulan scanner. Activating it, she swept the device over the room, her movements precise and deliberate.

“What are you doing?” Hawkins asked, suspicion creeping into his voice.

Torvak’s gaze locked onto his, her scanner still in hand. “Making sure we’re not being listened to.”

Something shifted in Hawkins’ expression. The nonchalance drained away, replaced by a guarded wariness. “Alright,” he said slowly. “What is this really about?”

Torvak stepped closer; her tone was even and sharp. “I know who you are, Starfleet Intelligence.”

The air between them seemed to thicken. Hawkins’ jaw tightened, but he kept his composure. “You’re mistaken,” he said flatly, though his pulse quickened.

Her scanner beeped faintly, and she held it up, reading the display with a grim look before fixing him with a pointed stare. “Am I? This says otherwise.” She stepped forward, holding the scanner up to him. Hawkins’ chest tightened as the device beeped again. “Sub-dermal transponder,” she said coolly. “Starfleet issue.”

Hawkins exhaled slowly, then reached for his own scanner. He activated it and, in one smooth motion, ran it over her. The results appeared on the device’s display: a network of embedded technology beneath her skin, including a small pouch that he took off from her to show what contained an unmistakably registered as a felodesine chip.

His eyes narrowed. “Tal Shiar,” he murmured.

Torvak’s expression didn’t shift. She neither confirmed nor denied his accusation, her silence speaking volumes. Instead, she lowered her scanner and met his gaze evenly. “You can deny it all you want, Hawkins, but I know why you’re here. You’re investigating Briasyraa, just like I am.”

“And what about you?” he shot back, his tone laced with accusation. “Why were you skulking along the walls of Briasyraa’s complex the other day?”

Torvak’s lips tightened, and she took a deep breath. For a moment, Hawkins thought she might walk out or refuse to answer, but then she squared her shoulders. “Because I’ve been watching her. I know she’s up to something that could destabilise both the Federation and the Romulan Free State. My sources tell me she’s testing subspace communication jamming technology stolen from Daystrom Station. Technology that could give her the upper hand in a conflict neither of us wants. Technology that would give the Orion Syndicate the upper hand in this region.”

Hawkins narrowed his eyes. “So, what’s your angle? Are you here to stop her or to exploit the situation for your own gain?” he accused, his distrust evident.

“I’m here to ensure the Orions don’t plunge us all into war,” Torvak said firmly. “An asset of mine, someone very reliable, has shared intelligence that Briasyraa plans to manipulate both our governments into a confrontation. If she succeeds, the result will be catastrophic.”

Hawkins turned away, running a hand through his hair as he tried to piece together her motives. “And I’m supposed to trust you? You’re Tal Shiar.”

“I never asked for your trust,” she replied sharply, stepping closer. “I’m telling you what you need to know. Whether you believe me or not is irrelevant. I know you’ve got access to her plans and inventory.”

He glanced at her, his wariness giving way to reluctant consideration. He decided to ignore her last comment. “Who’s your asset?”

Torvak’s lips curled into a faint smirk. “That’s for me to know.”

“Of course it is,” Hawkins muttered. He moved back to the bed, pulling his shirt off the hanger as he prepared to finish dressing. “So, what now? Are you suggesting we team up?”

“Perhaps,” she said, her voice softening slightly. “When the time comes, we may not have a choice.”

Hawkins pulled on his shirt, fastening the buttons with quick, practised movements. He was intrigued by her remarks. He then stopped and saw the ring on his finger that had only been placed there a few hours ago. “And what about Orlando? Where does he fit into all of this? You seem very protective of him.” He wondered if there was something more going on here that Radcliffe had not shared with him. Was he being played by Radcliffe and Torvak here? Some sort of ménage à trois? 

At the mention of Radcliffe, Torvak’s expression eased, though her eyes remained guarded. Her fierce determination was steadfast. “Like I’ve told you. Don’t hurt him,” she said calmly. “Whatever else is going on here, he doesn’t deserve to be collateral damage. He’s a good guy.”

Hawkins paused, meeting her gaze. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the tension between them a fragile balance of distrust and shared purpose. He knew she may be right about Radcliffe, but he didn’t want to let his own guard down. 

Torvak broke the silence first. “Just… be careful, Lieutenant Hawkins. You’re walking into a viper’s nest.”

With that, she turned and moved toward the door. As it slid open, she glanced back over her shoulder. “And try not to get yourself killed. It would be inconvenient. I hate having to clean up any mess alone.”

Hawkins snorted faintly, shaking his head as the door slid shut behind her.

Alone again, he exhaled deeply and stared at his reflection in the mirror. The tuxedo was perfect, his expression calm and collected. But behind his composed exterior, his mind raced. The stakes had just been raised, and the web of intrigue around Briasyraa was tightening. He took a deep breath again. What else would happen before he said ‘I do’?