1719 lines
100 KiB
Plaintext
1719 lines
100 KiB
Plaintext
Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
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Path: newserv.ksu.ksu.edu!moe.ksu.ksu.edu!vixen.cso.uiuc.edu!uwm.edu!math.ohio-state.edu!sol.ctr.columbia.edu!news.kei.com!ub!acsu.buffalo.edu!ubvms.cc.buffalo.edu!sguzdek
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From: sguzdek@ubvms.cc.buffalo.edu (Sandra Guzdek)
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Subject: New Story: More Than... [1 of 2]
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Message-ID: <CBK39u.5qF@acsu.buffalo.edu>
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News-Software: VAX/VMS VNEWS 1.41
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Sender: nntp@acsu.buffalo.edu
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Nntp-Posting-Host: ubvmsb.cc.buffalo.edu
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Organization: University at Buffalo
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Date: Tue, 10 Aug 1993 18:30:00 GMT
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Lines: 821
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I will be going on vacation tomorrow through the 19th of August. If you
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send me any comments/questions/replies... that is why I won't get right
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back to you. Actually, if you'd hold off on sending me anything til
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after that time.. damn stupid to post the day before I'm going, ain't
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it? (Gee, this sort of coincides with the the reposting of
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"Qlue", doesn't it!)
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-------------------------------------------------------------------------
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<Author's note: This story was begun in January of 1993, and
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while it might seem that some scenes (most notably the first
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scene between Deanna and Beverly) were lifted out of sixth
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season episodes, they were not. Most of this story was
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written between January and March, before episodes like
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"Second Chances" had even aired. Just so you know, it's
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taken me this long to finish the razafrazin thing. :) Also, the
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stardate that pops up somewhere along the line... it's
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completely and utterly random. Last but not least... many thanks
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to Kathy and Kellie (and all others) for their valuable help!!!
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-- sg>
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-----cut here-------
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More Than Meets the Eye
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Part 1
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by Sandra Guzdek, 1993
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Beverly looked out of the viewport and into the field of rubber-
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banding stars, and sighed a little more audibly than she would have liked.
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She found herself thinking of her Trillian beloved, Odan, every now and
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again, since he, or rather, it, was the only being she had even dared to let
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get close to her since Jack died. Part of her wished she had never learned
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of his true nature, a being made up of two separate beings, one unable to
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live without the other. Part of her wished Odan was here right now,
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holding her in comforting warmth...
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She heard the gentle clearing of a throat, to indicate a presence
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behind her. Somewhat embarrassedly, she turned with a smile to see
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Deanna Troi and her shining black eyes.
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"Hello, Beverly," she said politely. "I could read you from three
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decks away." Betazoid humour. Beverly smiled.
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"I'll bet you can tell me exactly what the matter is," the red-headed
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doctor said, with a modicum of sarcasm, as she sat down.
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Deanna nodded, her soft, black curls following the gentle motion of
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her head. "I know it's got to be Odan again. He's the only one beside Jack
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that you ever brood for."
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Beverly felt that comforting hand that Deanna was always so eager
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to offer graze her shoulders for an understanding hug. "At least Odan is
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far away, and not on board as a constant reminder of what was and cannot
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be again."
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She had often thought of the pain Deanna must suffer, seeing Will
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Riker every day of her life and knowing what could not be between them.
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Deanna was quick to offer the old "we're just friends, and we like it that
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way" story, but with each glance at the dashing commander, a little piece of
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her must shrivel and die.
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There was really no point to hanging around and being down about
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the unchangeable, so with a deep breath and a radiant smile, Beverly stood
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back up and suggested that the two of them go to the holodeck for perhaps
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a walk in Hyde Park, or a swim off the diamond dust beaches of Seyana
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Three, or maybe even a simple horseback ride. Being the highest ranking
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female officers on the flagship of the Federation rarely left them time for
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such things.
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***
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"I am getting weary," began the captain, "of the Enterprise being
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used as some sort of -- intergalactic shuttling service." He set down the
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computer padd and engaged the eyes of his first officer. "What I want to
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do is take this ship and hide in some distant star system, exploring to my
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heart's content, and only poke my head into Star Fleet Command as little as
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possible."
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Will Riker was surprised at this, coming from Jean-Luc Picard, of all
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people. Seeing this surprise elicited a smile on the latter's face. "You've
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got to understand, our mission is to seek out new life, new civilizations,
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and we end up picking up passengers like some sort of -- mass transit
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system."
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At this, Will out and out laughed, rising from his seat in the
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captain's ready room. "Come on, Sir. Time to welcome aboard our latest
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fare." Picard smiled at this quip, as the two of them left the ready room for
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transporter room three.
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On their way back to Earth for a conference celebrating the diversity
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of the Federation's allies, the Enterprise had already made three stops to
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pick up various officials and their entourages, including, for example, those
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from Vulcan and the Klingon home planet. One of the more exotic had
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been a feline humanoid, a Catian, covered head to toe to tail in short, silky
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white hair and bewitching, almond-shaped yellow eyes. She had a name
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that Riker had not been able to pronounce, multisyllabic and intricate, and
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she had the sleek grace of a dancer with every step she took.
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"Energize," said the captain, and on the transporter pad materialized
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who they assumed was the ambassador. The ambassador appeared to be a
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humanoid male; his skin was like opalescent marble, his eyes were
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lavender and shone like multifaceted gems, and his curly hair was like
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thick cornsilk, so blond almost to be white, kept from his face by a thin
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black satin ribbon. His features were strong, prominent, as if of some
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aristocratic blood flowed in his veins. His long black tunic was threaded
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with gold, and its hem swept elegantly along the floor. Watching this
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creature smile was like watching granite ripple.
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"Bon jour, Captain Picard, Commander Riker," said he, tipping his
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head to each respectively, descending from the transporter pad so rapidly
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that he seemed to float down. At their surprised looks, he continued,
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"That *is* a common Earth greeting, is it not? Hailing from your native
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France, Captain?"
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The officers looked to one another. They did not realize that he had
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gotten the chance to review their personnel files, and they felt a little
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embarrassed for not being equally prepared. The blond ambassador smiled
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again, taking their hands in turn; his grip was firm and his skin not at all
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warm. Silently, Will Riker got the creeps.
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"You are most kind, Ambassador," said Picard. "I wish I could
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know as much about your people -- the Federation has so little information
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on them. I only know that they are long-lived."
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The smirk that flashed across the Ambassador's face was so quick it
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was barely perceptible. "I must say, I much rather prefer the clothing of
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your twentieth century earth than... *this*." He indicated the elaborate
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tunic, and winked. "You wouldn't happen to have a decent pair of
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bluejeans, would you?" Riker and Picard smiled, pretending they knew
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what he was talking about. Turning serious, the ambassador added, "Our
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kind have a great dislike of radiant light. We are a nocturnal race."
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"We will keep that in mind as we assign you your quarters,
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Ambassador." The three of them made for the door, to leave the
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transporter room. Picard continued, "You are welcome to use any of the
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ship's facilities. Might I suggest a drink down in the Ten Forward lounge
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until your quarters are assigned?"
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"Sounds... divine."
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"Very well, Ambassador." Picard made to shake his hand again, and
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this time, his eye caught the shimmer of light on the visitor's fingernails.
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They were so very smooth, not unlike glass.
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The blond man nodded in acknowledgment, then walked a few
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paces before turning back to them. "Please," he said kindly, "call me
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Augustin."
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***
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Beverly wrinkled her fine brow. "Deanna," she said quietly. "Have
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you ever had the feeling you were being watched?"
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A soft smile spread across the counselor's pretty mouth. "Could it
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be the blond man at the bar?" she asked. Slowly, Beverly turned, and
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could not help but gasp. His gaze was fixed on Beverly as if there were a
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physical bond.
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"Heavens. Who is he?" she said, in a tone barely above a thought.
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Her eyes were hopelessly engaged, commanded by some intangible power.
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Deanna looked to the stranger that held her friend so spellbound, and then
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to Beverly again. She placed a hand on the doctor's shoulder and shook
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firmly, saying her name softly.
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Beverly turned back sharply, bewilderment apparent.
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"Are you all right?" asked Deanna.
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Pale and obviously shaken, Beverly began in a low voice, "Tell me...
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is he still there? Is he coming nearer?"
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Deanna nodded. Suddenly, those coal black eyes narrowed to slits
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as a strange sensation like probing needles poked the inside of her brain.
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She shook her head as the feeling stretched into the depths of her psyche.
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"Which is it, yes or -- *Deanna*! What's the matter?"
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As fast as it had begun, it was gone, and Deanna blinked the
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residual effect away. "I'm fine. I think, however, that I will go back to my
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quarters. I'm feeling a bit... well, my head was spinning... "
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"You're going to sick bay." Beverly grabbed her forearm; Deanna
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recovered it with a scolding glance.
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"*No*," she said firmly; then, a little more kindly, "it's nothing a
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cup of hot chocolate and a good night's sleep won't fix. It's been a busy
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day together, you and I; I will certainly give you a call if it happens again."
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As Deanna made to leave, Bev took her forearm again and held it
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fast. Desperately, Bev whispered, "Please, don't leave me here alone."
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"You are not here alone." Her glance indicated his close proximity.
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"I will talk to you soon."
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Deanna turned and left, and as she passed the attractive, pale blond
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man, their eyes met for a split second. Deanna's mind leapt out forcefully
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to try to get some clue about this stranger, but he was curiously blank,
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perhaps even impenetrable. Those eyes, though; something in those violet
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pools sent shivers up her spine. Whether that was good or bad, Deanna
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could not decide.
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As she boarded the nearest turbolift, she found herself murmuring a
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reverent prayer to her Betazoid gods to keep her friend safe from any
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harm. When she thought about it, she had no idea why she had done it.
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***
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_Be strong, Beverly,_ thought the doctor, as the man came even
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closer, fixing her chin into the stubborn position of a secure woman. This
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defiant chin was soon seduced down, however, by the smooth, rich timbre
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of this man's voice. "I hope you do forgive me for intruding on your
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solitude... I do feel as if I know you, Doctor... Beverly."
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Then astonishment swept over her face, as her head swirled in
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disbelief. It couldn't be, it just couldn't be. Tentatively, she asked,
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"Odan?"
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His quizzical look told her at once she had just made a total idiot of
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herself. _Great first impression, Bev,_ she thought harshly.
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He smiled; almost, Beverly thought, as if he had heard her scolding
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herself. He settled himself into one of Ten-Forward's always comfortable
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chairs and introduced himself: his name was Augustin, and he was an
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ambassador, en route to the conference/celebration on Earth. She was
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reminded at once of the other ambassador in her life.
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"As soon as I saw you, I had to tell you," he began, "that you bear a
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striking resemblance to someone I knew on Earth, many years ago."
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She gazed upon him with bleary, worshipful eyes. Something about
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this man was at the same time settling and yet wild. She felt an instant
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attraction hit her low in her chest, overpowering any frightened or worried
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feeling she had only moments ago with Deanna present. Suddenly, as if he
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had kicked her in the shin, she straightened out of her daze and spoke in
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an unsteady voice.
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"I... I'm Beverly... *Doctor* Beverly Crusher. I'm the Chief Medical
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Officer of this ship."
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It was almost painful to hear her trip so obviously over such simple
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words. Awkwardly she extended a hand for him to shake, which of course
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he did not. Instead he touched his lips to the back of her hand.
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She blushed furiously, at the same time trying and failing hopelessly
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to cover it up. "It is a... pleasure to meet you, Ambassador."
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He let one of his wide, enchanting smiles unfold, meant undoubtedly
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to capture her trust, her heart and her soul. "Please, Doctor Crusher. You
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may call me Augustin."
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She smiled, a real, heartfelt smile. He was beautiful, charming...
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_No wonder the man is an ambassador,_ she thought tangentially. _He's
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got me acting like a silly schoolgirl. Wonder what he does at the
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bargaining table._ She took in a deep breath, and wondered if it was too
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late to begin again.
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In a decidedly more calm and sure tone, she said, "You may call me
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Beverly... Augustin."
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At that moment, the pin on his chest squawked out his name,
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startling the both of them. He tapped it lightly, and he seemed delighted
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as he was informed that his quarters were secured and ready, if he cared to
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go to them. She suddenly realized that she did not want him to leave her
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side so soon after meeting him. Her warm hand found its way to his, and
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she heard herself say to him, "Let *me* show you to your quarters. I'd
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like the opportunity to talk some more with you." She smiled yet again.
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As she said it she wondered where inside of her it was coming from.
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From this brief encounter she felt as if she had known him for... well,
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forever, inexplicably. She had a real thing for falling hard for men like this,
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it seemed, she mused to herself.
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The walk was silent, but not uncomfortably so. Upon getting to the
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room, he turned to her and engaged her eyes. God in Heaven, were they
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endless. They were incredible, shining like the sun, yet as cool and clear as
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the twin moons of Mirixia. Pools of shimmering silk; she was drowning in
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them, and didn't care.
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"D-- do you like your quarters?" she managed in a small voice,
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forcibly breaking herself from the bond. At once he looked like he
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regretted something, and walked to the painting that hung on his wall,
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something magical and surreal by Marc Chagall.
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"They will do very nicely. I thank you, and your wonderful ship.
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The comforts here are more than adequate. Some of the places I've been...
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I can't recall the last time I slept in a comfortable bed."
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She noticed the strange luster of his skin, pale and shimmering, and
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reached out to touch his hand. When he turned to her, looking surprised,
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she drew it back as if his very skin had burned her. "You move... so
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quickly," she said, the words escaping her before she could choose better
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ones.
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A smile slid over his features. "That is in my nature."
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"To move so quickly?"
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Augustin turned to her again, gesturing noncommittally. "I know
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that down in Engineering right now, there is a conversation, or rather an
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argument, about how precisely the dilithium crystals should be aligned,
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and..."
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"And?" she asked, hopefully.
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His voice dropped down so low she could barely discern it. "I can
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hear your heart beating in your throat."
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She looked aside.
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"Please. Don't be afraid of me. I want to know I have your trust
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before I presume to touch your hand again. I do not take what I am not
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offered."
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Trying to convince him with a smile, she was taken aback by the
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intense, overwhelming gaze he met her eyes with, like the one she had
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encountered in Ten-Forward and again only moments ago.
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"Augustin, you have it." She lifted her chin. He came nearer to her,
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and her heart began to race that much faster. _I don't know why, but you
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have it._
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She felt the cool lips on her cheek, full and sensual, and she
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shuddered, feeling her knees buckle with desire. His arm found her waist
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to support her. As her head began to spin, her eyes closed as he nuzzled
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into the crook of her neck.
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ThisismadthisiscrazyIdon'tevenknowhim
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Beverly was no longer afraid.
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***
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CAPTAIN'S LOG: Stardate 46717.3. The Enterprise picked up its most
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recently boarded delegation today, and despite the varied races on board, it
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is surprisingly quiet. Hopefully, it will stay that way, as the Enterprise is
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one week away from its destination of Earth.
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***
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She could hear the alarm ringing but she could not make a move to
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quiet it. _0600 already?_ she thought blankly. Her head was pounding
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and her limbs were leaden. When the energy finally did come to her, she
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voiced a command to silence the noise and staggered over to the bathroom
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to splash some cool water on her face.
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_*Beverly*,_ she thought, examining the dark circles around her
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eyes and the pasty pallor of her skin, _You have a senior officers' meeting
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in *one* hour. Get a grip._ She also reminded herself that she was no
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longer eighteen, and that nights like the one before, and the one before
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*that*, with Augustin would definitely have to be less frequent. Yet she
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smiled at the thought of him. He was so romantic, a true gentleman, so
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very intelligent, attending and meeting her every need, sweet and tender
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and seductive with a voice to match. Again, she told herself to get a grip.
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Beverly climbed into the shower, standing under the steady pulse a
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little longer than usual, and washing her hair thoroughly, something which
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always seemed to revitalize her. When she got out, there was a slightly
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rosier glow to her, but she felt just as drained. As a doctor it was silly of
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her to ignore such fatigue, but she really did believe it would pass, chalked
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up to nothing more than another late night. After all, how many of *those*
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had she had since her Academy days?
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She pulled her copper hair back with a brush, chuckling to herself.
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Even her hair had lost its will to live.
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***
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Around the broad, dark table in the observation lounge, the
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Enterprise's senior crew members were gathered: Picard, Riker, Data, Worf,
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Geordi and Troi. It was near to 7 am, and one seat was conspicuously
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empty. Deanna threw a worried look to Riker, which was intercepted by
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the captain.
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"Counselor," began Picard, "is there something wrong?"
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Troi had her mouth opened to reply when the door slid aside and
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the weary-looking doctor entered. Beverly smiled, or at least tried to smile,
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but it obviously pained her. "Am I late?" she queried, as she sank to her
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seat.
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"No, Doctor, you aren't," answered Picard. As he looked at her
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longer, he noticed the exhaustion evident on her face and in her
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movements. "Beverly, are you all right?"
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She nodded. "I'll be just fine. Let's get started, shall we?"
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Geordi began, clearing his throat, and spoke of new warp drive
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modifications that would allow the Enterprise to more efficiently maintain
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the speed of warp 4 it currently was running at. Worf spoke of a possible
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security breach of Federation technology by one of the delegations, and that
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the main suspects, the Ferengi, were under close surveillance. "Nothing to
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be alarmed over," Worf said in conclusion, and his word was as good as
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gold-pressed latinum.
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Deanna was beginning a report on the steadily rising levels of
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uneasiness on board the ship since the last delegation had been picked up,
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when she was interrupted by a dull thud. All heads turned to see that
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Beverly was now face down on the glassy jet surface, auburn locks splayed
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around her.
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Deanna was the quickest to respond, jumping to her feet
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immediately. With Geordi's assistance, she pulled the doctor back into an
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upright position. Beverly's head lolled lifelessly to the back of the chair. In
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that same instant, Picard was by her side as well, worry evident in every
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line in his face.
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The captain gently slapped her cheek, calling her name. Into his
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comm pin, Riker barked for a medical unit. Picard gestured that Worf
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should help him to stretch her flat upon the table, so that the blood might
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get to her head again. After they did, a moment or so later, she began to
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come around, eyes fluttering opened.
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She grabbed for the captain's hand and held it fast. His blue eyes
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looked warmly to her, and he said in a comforting tone, "You'll be just
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fine."
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"What happened?" she queried, still a bit foggy.
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"You passed out," said Picard.
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Riker offered, "Don't worry, a medical unit will be here shortly."
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Her confusion gave way to anger. "*Passed out*? What do you
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mean, I passed out?"
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"It may have to do with the fact that your body temperature is
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slightly lower than normal," offered Geordi.
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Minutes later, Doctor Selar confirmed this, that not only was her
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blood temperature down, but her blood pressure was dangerously low, and
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her red blood cell count, anemic.
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Nurse Ogawa furrowed her brow and shook her tricorder, as if this
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would solve the inconsistency she was reading. "Doctor Crusher, have you
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had any recent, profusely bleeding wounds?"
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"Of course not," Beverly replied, her brain starting to fade again.
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"Why?"
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"According to this, your blood *volume* has dropped significantly
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from normal."
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"I think I would know if I bled *that* much," Beverly said
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defensively, as if the nurse had been questioning her superior's judgment.
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Ogawa smiled softly.
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Deanna, however, said, more to herself than anyone else, "Then
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where did it go?"
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Beverly sat up defiantly. "Let's get down to sick bay, and to the
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bottom of this. Doctor, get me the antigrav gurney." Dizziness overcame
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her, however, and she passed out again, luckily caught by the captain's
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quick arm. He helped Selar put Beverly on the gurney.
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To the Vulcan, Picard said, "Let me know when I can come and see
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her."
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Selar gave him a curt nod. "Aye, Sir."
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|
|
|
***
|
|
|
|
Picard sat at the desk in his ready room some hours later, head
|
|
cradled in a hand as he stared blankly at Beverly's medical history. The
|
|
"intoxication" they had all suffered from the Tsiolkovsky virus. A cut arm
|
|
here, a broken leg there. That coma induced by Jev. The last really major
|
|
physical medical trauma she had gone through was childbirth, for crying
|
|
out loud. And now this. He sighed roughly, running his hand back along
|
|
the smooth skin of his scalp. He would probably feel one-hundred percent
|
|
better if he knew what caused it. Or, if it would affect any other of his
|
|
crew. He couldn't let word of this mysterious affliction get out -- with all
|
|
of the different delegations on board, it wouldn't take long for accusations
|
|
to start flying.
|
|
He very nearly jumped when his door chime sounded. He hardly
|
|
recognized his own voice as he said, "Come."
|
|
Picard had expected to see anyone else but Lieutenant Worf. "Mr.
|
|
Worf," he said, turning the computer screen off. "Any news?"
|
|
Worf straightened ever-so-slightly. "Sir. We have another...
|
|
problem."
|
|
"Another problem?" Picard echoed, resting his head to the back of
|
|
the chair.
|
|
"I have tried my best to keep any attention from being drawn to this
|
|
situation, as it may alarm the remainder of our... guests, unnecessarily,"
|
|
began Worf. "You see, Sir, Klingon delegate T'aklar has been found
|
|
murdered in his quarters."
|
|
This is much, much more than Picard had expected to hear, and his
|
|
utter surprise crept into his voice when he spoke. "*Murdered*,
|
|
Lieutenant?"
|
|
Worf took several steps closer to the captain's desk. "The severe
|
|
gash to his neck would suggest that the wound was *not* self-inflicted," he
|
|
said in a low rumble.
|
|
"Oh, I don't doubt your judgment."
|
|
The Klingon nodded modestly in appreciation.
|
|
"Do you have any clues, any ideas as to who perpetrated this terrible
|
|
crime?" asked Picard.
|
|
"My security team is currently making a search of the quarters. We
|
|
have turned up nothing... yet."
|
|
Picard nodded thoughtfully. "Well, I thank you for your discretion."
|
|
He straightened in his chair, looked to the black computer terminal, and
|
|
added as an afterthought, "What about Beverly? That's *not* a natural
|
|
illness."
|
|
Worf knit his generous brow. "I had not thought of a connection
|
|
between the two. Do you think it's possible?"
|
|
Picard thought for a moment, looked to the blank terminal and saw
|
|
his reflection in the jet surface, before a smile crept across his face.
|
|
"Probably just my mind getting suspicious on me. Seeing things that aren't
|
|
there."
|
|
"However, Sir, as Security Chief, it is my *duty* to be suspicious. I
|
|
will not rule out the possibility," said Worf. "I must return to T'aklar's
|
|
quarters and ensure the investigation is going smoothly." He paused for a
|
|
moment before adding, "Ensure that T'aklar is transported directly to the
|
|
morgue."
|
|
A new chill climbed the length of Picard's spine. "By all means,
|
|
Lieutenant."
|
|
As the doors closed behind Worf, Picard's comm pin sounded. It
|
|
was Doctor Selar's voice.
|
|
"Beverly Crusher is conscious and stabilized. You can see her at
|
|
your convenience, Sir."
|
|
"Thank you, Doctor," he said curtly. "Picard out."
|
|
|
|
***
|
|
|
|
He stood before the turbolift doors, a dozen red roses in hand for
|
|
Beverly. He did not realize he had taken so much from her the night
|
|
before, and scolded himself for being so careless. He studied the roses,
|
|
inwardly laughing at the backwards folklore about his kind and the blooms
|
|
of the Mother. These flowers flourished in his grasp, flourished just as he
|
|
always had. Humans, always fearing what they do not understand.
|
|
The doors parted with that noise that never ceased to grate on his
|
|
nerves. To his surprise, the small compartment of the turbolift was already
|
|
occupied with none other than the captain of this vessel himself.
|
|
The thoughts that filled the captain's mind when he saw who was
|
|
about to join him in the turbolift were a mixed bag: he tried to be cordial to
|
|
Augustin, yet felt intruded upon in his turbolift ride to see his CMO. He
|
|
relived the moment of first greeting the ambassador in the transporter
|
|
room, his cool manner and skin that unnerved the captain so. Perhaps it
|
|
would have been a wise idea, Augustin thought, to reveal his telepathic
|
|
powers, to put them on equal ground, so they could be duly warned about
|
|
which thoughts they should guard...
|
|
He grinned. It was much more fun when they *didn't* know.
|
|
The doors closed, trapping them in the small space alone, as the
|
|
turbolift whirred towards its destination. Augustin told it to go to sick bay.
|
|
The captain looked to him briefly with undisguised surprise. "Sick
|
|
bay, Ambassador?"
|
|
He said to Picard, "I am going to visit a sick friend. I believe you
|
|
are close to her as well."
|
|
It was obvious to even the most recently arrived passengers aboard
|
|
the Enterprise that Jean-Luc and Beverly were close friends, but it was as
|
|
plain as the nose on Picard's face that he had no idea of the relationship
|
|
she and Augustin had begun.
|
|
"And of whom do you speak?" the captain asked.
|
|
"Doctor Crusher, Captain."
|
|
Finally he put two and two together, the ambassador's statement and
|
|
the flowers that he carried. Augustin found Picard's expression to be
|
|
priceless, and a twinge of protective jealousy did not go unnoticed.
|
|
Picard said, "I was not aware that the two of you were...
|
|
acquainted."
|
|
The fact that Augustin stood some four inches over Picard rattled the
|
|
captain just a little, that much was obvious to the ambassador. In the best
|
|
interpret-this-statement-as-you-will tone the captain would hear since
|
|
meeting William T. Riker, Augustin said, "We are."
|
|
Picard seemed to be very grateful for the end of the turbolift ride,
|
|
and he muttered a very curt, "Excuse me," as he exited. In a blink the
|
|
ambassador was flanking him. Picard was strong willed, proud, even
|
|
stubborn. More like Augustin than the captain would care to admit.
|
|
As they came into sick bay, they could see Beverly sitting up in her
|
|
bed, looking intently at the doctor that was running a test beside her. Even
|
|
in her weakness she looked like an angel, and when her eyes met
|
|
Augustin's, she radiated. The captain smiled to see his friend so obviously
|
|
happy.
|
|
Augustin went to her side and kissed her cheek, and presented her
|
|
with the roses. "They are lovely, Augustin. Thank you so much," she said
|
|
in a frailer tone than Picard was used to hearing. She would be just fine,
|
|
thankfully.
|
|
"It was nothing, ma chere," said Augustin. Picard took notice that
|
|
he was using the French language again. The ambassador's eyes met the
|
|
captain's for one brief moment, before looking to Beverly again.
|
|
"How are you feeling?" asked Picard in a neutral tone, coming to
|
|
stand beside the ambassador.
|
|
"I'm doing fine. I should be out of here in a couple of hours."
|
|
"Do we know how this happened?" Picard asked. He wanted to ask
|
|
so many more questions, but the ambassador's presence somehow stopped
|
|
him. Augustin felt a surge of distrust towards himself coming from the
|
|
captain.
|
|
"I don't have the slightest," she replied. He didn't have to be
|
|
telepathic to see she honestly didn't. "The rest of the staff are working on
|
|
it."
|
|
"You had better take it easy. We want you back as CMO as soon as
|
|
humanly possible."
|
|
|
|
|
|
***
|
|
|
|
It was some minutes before they noticed the ambassador had gone.
|
|
Picard and Beverly shared a look to communicate their bewilderment.
|
|
She said to him lightly, "I guess it *can* be said that you do frighten
|
|
off my suitors," as she smiled, bringing the flowers to her face to take in
|
|
the sweet scent.
|
|
Picard smiled, but felt deep down inside there was something much
|
|
more to this than that.
|
|
|
|
***SECURITY CHIEF'S REPORT***
|
|
1800 hours
|
|
|
|
The quarters were sparse and cold; Spartan, in fact. Worf looked
|
|
around approvingly, taking in all he could in one, long, steady glance. The
|
|
medical team was about to take the body of the honoured Klingon
|
|
diplomat to the morgue, and now it was his duty to look for any last signs
|
|
of evidence, motives, anything for a lead. Leads had never been so scarce.
|
|
T'aklar had had the quarters to himself, and the rooms to either side were
|
|
both occupied by the other Klingons. _So much for the "annoyed
|
|
neighbour" theory,_ he joked lamely to himself.
|
|
Worf went over to where the body was. The picture of the body as
|
|
it was found would remain all too vivid in Worf's mind for years to come:
|
|
he was on his back, arms and legs fixed into a position that suggested
|
|
wildly flailing limbs at the moment of death, fingers digging into the floor,
|
|
head arched back at an uncomfortable angle. The neck wound hung
|
|
opened, tendons and muscle visible, major blood vessels slashed agape,
|
|
draining out the last of his lifeblood. Worf undid the front of T'aklar's
|
|
vest, to search the clothing up and down. He then searched the man's
|
|
sash. He had composed the body again (as much as a body in that state
|
|
could be composed) when he noticed a brooch on the diplomat's tunic. He
|
|
scowled and wondered if what he was suspecting could be at all possible.
|
|
|
|
***
|
|
|
|
"I feel so honoured, getting so much of the captain's time," Beverly
|
|
said, as Jean-Luc Picard brought the crowning glory of a delicious dinner,
|
|
chocolate raspberry mousse with whipped cream topped with delicate dark
|
|
choclate shavings, to the table. "You're going to pack 20 pounds on me
|
|
singlehandedly."
|
|
"It's all good for you," he said with a wink, as he took his seat once
|
|
again across from her. "And don't you worry. The Ambassador will like
|
|
you regardless."
|
|
She smiled shyly, and he noticed that she had recovered enough to
|
|
be able to blush quite feverishly. She shrugged. "I appreciate your sense
|
|
of humour about this," she said, swiping off the top of the whipped cream
|
|
with a finger, then licking it clean. "I'm no spring chicken... but he makes
|
|
me feel like I am. Not everyone would understand."
|
|
"I do. And if you're happy... that's what matters."
|
|
She silently mouthed the words "thank you", with a smile, before she
|
|
dug in with her spoon, and brought the concoction to her lips for a taste.
|
|
"Mmmm. You should have been a cook, Jean-Luc."
|
|
Her hair was pulled into a simple ponytail and she was as plain-
|
|
looking and pale as a Victorian aristocrat, her creamy skin devoid of any
|
|
artificial cosmetics, her pretty greenish eyes wide and glossy with the touch
|
|
of love beneath slim reddish brows. The captain thought for one brief
|
|
moment how very privileged Augustin was, and he smiled.
|
|
His happy state of mind lasted until Lieutenant Worf paged him on
|
|
his comm pin.
|
|
|
|
***
|
|
|
|
Deanna Troi slipped into a silken nightgown and pulled a hairbrush
|
|
through her thick curly hair. She had spoken to Beverly since her collapse
|
|
in the observation lounge, and was glad to hear that she felt so much
|
|
better. She had even offered to make the recovering doctor a late dinner,
|
|
only to discover that the captain had beaten her to the punch.
|
|
Deanna had not realized how tired she was until she yawned so
|
|
wide that her eyes teared up, even at this early hour. She slipped beneath
|
|
her sheets and snuggled up to the warmth there. It could never hurt to get
|
|
extra sleep, for on some missions sleep was a precious commodity.
|
|
It seemed that as soon as her eyes closed, she was standing in the
|
|
dampness after a light summer rain. She noticed she was wearing an old
|
|
style dress, with a tight bodice, lace, and a bustle in the back. Her hair was
|
|
pulled up at the crown, and fell in ringlets around her shoulders. She
|
|
stood on one side of the street, and looked across to the other side. On
|
|
both sides, there were imposing houses engulfed in foliage and some were
|
|
surrounded by bleak looking wrought iron fences. Deanna walked along
|
|
the street, looking to each house as she passed it, amazed by the greenness
|
|
of everything and by the beautiful individuality of each house. It even
|
|
seemed as if she could smell the air, that distinct smell of fresh air that was
|
|
only found planetside, heavy with the scent of bougainvillea and other
|
|
tropical flowers.
|
|
Suddenly there was a voice beside her. It was Will Riker, and she
|
|
could feel his arm slip around her waist. Strangely, he was dressed in his
|
|
Star Fleet uniform. Will smiled down to her with such adoration that her
|
|
eyes misted over. He spoke to her, murmuring words of love into her ear,
|
|
which she was all too eager to receive. Finally, her imzadi was hers and
|
|
hers alone. He began to kiss her with such a deep passion that she began
|
|
to lose her head, until she realized, remembered, that they were in the
|
|
middle of the street, in a strange city, and it had begun to rain again,
|
|
flattening her curls against her face and neck. She began to protest, and
|
|
pushed away, when she noticed that it was no longer Will whose arms she
|
|
was in, but the ambassador, Augustin. He was not holding her in the
|
|
ardor of passion, but more with the grip of a vise on her upper arms. She
|
|
felt afraid. She looked down and noticed her clothing had become stained
|
|
and torn with wear, and she could feel the stones of the road beneath her
|
|
bare feet. The city around her had disintegrated to one of poverty and
|
|
disrepair.
|
|
Beside him was a young blonde child in a velvet dress, her golden
|
|
curls looking positively silky framing her round, ruddy face. Despite the
|
|
rain, she was immaculately clean and dry. She smiled prettily, looked up
|
|
to Augustin, and said plainly, innocently, "Can we take from her, father? I
|
|
am so very *hungry*..."
|
|
Deanna woke with a start at the dream's sudden, inexplicable turn of
|
|
events. She had had the dream with only Will the night before, and had
|
|
not thought anything of it, because she and Beverly had just been
|
|
discussing their love lives, during their mini-vacation in the holodeck. But
|
|
Augustin? And this... child...
|
|
She discovered that nearly an hour had passed since she had laid
|
|
down to sleep, which puzzled her. She blinked the sleep out of her eyes,
|
|
and ordered the replicator to make her a cup of soothing cocoa. As she
|
|
stood to get it, she felt a wave of dizziness overcome her. She hadn't
|
|
realized she was tired to the point of passing out. Slowly she went to the
|
|
replicator, got her hot chocolate, and made for her bed.
|
|
As Deanna laid back down to sleep, she had the passing thought of
|
|
the similarity between this... and something... something she just couldn't
|
|
put her finger on...
|
|
|
|
***2100 hours***
|
|
|
|
"So I see the motive. But I don't understand who knew, and why
|
|
they would kill him because of it."
|
|
"You're right. The connection is weak."
|
|
Worf looked to Picard and then back to the brooch. The gemstones
|
|
of the brooch had been peppered with information dots, which had on
|
|
them the breached Federation information Worf had been concerned about
|
|
only that morning.
|
|
"If someone were to kill him because of this brooch, I see no sense in
|
|
leaving it with the body," commented Picard. "I can only wonder if he has
|
|
been killed for the sole purpose of being exposed. Can it be that one of his
|
|
own delegation has done this?"
|
|
Worf seemed to mull this over for a moment. Honestly, anything
|
|
was possible, and he told the captain his opinion. "Do you recall,"
|
|
continued Worf, "if T'aklar has been wearing this all along? Or is it a
|
|
recent acquisition?"
|
|
"I can't say that I do remember. I guess it is about time we brought
|
|
in the rest of the Klingon delegation."
|
|
"What puzzles me the most, Sir, is that no one was recorded entering
|
|
or leaving the room all day. He attended breakfast with his delegates,
|
|
returned to his quarters... and was found dead later that afternoon."
|
|
Picard did not look happy. Worf was almost sorry he had even
|
|
made the statement. He hoped this would not take long to solve. His
|
|
instincts told him otherwise.
|
|
|
|
***
|
|
|
|
Selar scowled, an unusual thing for Vulcans to do. What she was
|
|
seeing just did not make sense. She checked the tricorder again, against
|
|
her own vital stats, and the tricorder was right on the money.
|
|
"Doctor Ste-Germain, could you please come here with your
|
|
tricorder?"
|
|
The doctor came towards her from across the morgue, adjusting her
|
|
lab coat. She walked toward the lifeless form of the Klingon that Selar was
|
|
completing an autopsy on. "Yes, Doctor?"
|
|
"I think my tricorder is malfunctioning. Please tell me if what you
|
|
read on yours is the same as mine."
|
|
Ste-Germain pushed her thick blonde braid behind her shoulder and
|
|
did the appropriate scan. She then saw exactly what Selar had seen, looked
|
|
to her colleague then back to her tricorder. "Is this what you had
|
|
detected?"
|
|
Selar gave her a curt nod.
|
|
"Something is very wrong here. We had better inform the captain."
|
|
|
|
***
|
|
|
|
Kordrin lifted his upper lip into a sneer. He was a large,
|
|
proportionally well-built Klingon male, towering over Worf by almost ten
|
|
centimeters. He had an unusually convoluted forehead, intimidating and
|
|
immediately commanding respect. "We demand that this death be
|
|
avenged. Who is the murderer? The Klingon High Council will demand
|
|
retribution! How could something like this have happened on the flagship
|
|
of the mighty Federation?" The last sentence came across as being more
|
|
than a little sarcastic.
|
|
Worf came close to the Klingon delegate and said in a tremendously
|
|
patient tone, "I am doing all I can to ensure that this crime does not go
|
|
unpunished."
|
|
"We are certainly fortunate that Gowron did not join us for this trip.
|
|
It would be Gowron in the morgue right now, and not T'aklar." This came
|
|
from the other Klingon in the room, the final of the delegates, Etah, tall and
|
|
roughly featured, with long, intricately braided blonde-brown hair and a
|
|
figure that confirmed all too strongly that she was indeed of the female
|
|
gender.
|
|
Picard's voice seemed a whisper in comparison to the booming
|
|
Klingons'. "You will all be the first to know anything that we might
|
|
discover."
|
|
Etah spoke up. "If you do discover the identity of the perpetrator,
|
|
we insist that you allow us to return the kleon to the Klingon home world
|
|
for appropriate prosecution." She was rather articulate, not something
|
|
Klingons were always noted for. Picard was duly impressed.
|
|
"Hopefully this will be solved before we reach Earth, and at that
|
|
time this criminal will be turned over to the Federation for prosecution. I
|
|
*will* make your request known, however." Picard tried to reassure her
|
|
with a smile. Her reaction was sour.
|
|
"Doctor Selar to Captain Picard."
|
|
"I'm here, Doctor. What is it?" The Klingons pricked up their ears
|
|
as well.
|
|
"Permission to speak freely about my Klingon patient."
|
|
"Permission is granted, Doctor."
|
|
"I believe I have an interesting piece of news for you, Sir. There is a
|
|
significant amount of blood that is not accounted for. I have taken into
|
|
consideration the amount of blood at the scene and there is just too much
|
|
that is missing."
|
|
Picard scowled, something he did not like to do in front of non-
|
|
Terran delegations. He declined asking the doctor if she was sure, because
|
|
she wouldn't have bothered him if she wasn't. "What could have caused
|
|
this?"
|
|
"Unknown. I will let you know if I discover anything."
|
|
A sick feeling settled in the pit of Picard's stomach. Missing blood.
|
|
This seemed too similar to Beverly's condition to be a coincidence. "Thank
|
|
you very much, Doctor. Lieutenant Worf is on his way to the morgue to
|
|
speak to you."
|
|
With that, the door closed behind Worf.
|
|
|
|
***2300 hours***
|
|
|
|
Picard sat in his quarters, unwinding with his flute, trying diligently
|
|
to master Debussy's Syrinx. This was a sure sign that he was going to be
|
|
interrupted, he thought wryly. He needed desperately to forget everything
|
|
that had happened, Beverly's illness, now the murder. As captain, he was
|
|
the sounding board for every major problem on the ship. Yet forgetting
|
|
them was all too difficult, and it showed in the playing of the instrument.
|
|
Already tonight he had received a message from Worf, regarding the
|
|
body...
|
|
He shuddered at the thought of the report. Almost fifty percent of
|
|
the blood was unaccountable. He couldn't help but feel terribly worried
|
|
for Beverly, that she was fortunate to survive, and perhaps the perpetrator
|
|
would come back to finish her off...? He put the flute down. It wouldn't
|
|
do to start thinking like that. The guard he had put on post outside her
|
|
door would suffice, other than taking up post at her door himself.
|
|
He heard his door chime sound, and he wondered who it could be.
|
|
He called the lights up and said, "Come."
|
|
It was Guinan. He couldn't have been more surprised if it were the
|
|
body of T'aklar himself reanimated, and it was all too evident on his face.
|
|
Guinan offered him a sweet, understanding smile. "Captain," she said. "I
|
|
know it's a little unusual for me to visit you in your quarters, but there's
|
|
something that... I don't know. Something just isn't sitting right with me."
|
|
What she was saying made perfect sense to him. "Please come in,"
|
|
he said, moving aside to let her in. She came in, long robe sweeping
|
|
behind her.
|
|
"There's something I must tell you."
|
|
"Let me make you some tea. I'll bet you haven't had a good cup of
|
|
Darjeeling in a long time."
|
|
She looked to him with chestnut brown eyes. "Captain... Jean-Luc.
|
|
This is not about tea. This *feels* much more important than that."
|
|
At once her solemnity became a dark cloud. "Guinan. Very rarely
|
|
have I seen you this serious. I did not intend to make light of this. Please,
|
|
sit down." He offered her a chair, which she declined. Instead, she stood
|
|
there, hands clasped in front. She, always the pillar of strength.
|
|
"Let me try to explain what I'm feeling. There is a... presence on
|
|
board this vessel. Or, rather, two prescences, equally dominant, yet
|
|
somehow familiar, that work both with and against each other, as an
|
|
immutable pair. I feel drawn to both, yet I cannot pinpoint who or where
|
|
they are coming from."
|
|
Picard mulled this over. "What does this mean to me, and my ship?"
|
|
Guinan looked away to the viewport. "I cannot discern whether they
|
|
are... good, or evil. They could be one, the other, or both. I just thought
|
|
you would like to be aware of this. In case you would like to make any
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necessary preparations."
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Picard knew what she meant. Someone on board was not what they
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appeared, someone with a very powerful mind. Two someones. And that
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Picard should not let up his guard for a moment. He nodded in
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understanding. "As always, I appreciate any insight you can give me."
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She bowed her head in an almost reverence. "Anything, anytime."
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As she left, he stood there, pondering her words. He didn't have
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much time to do that though, because he got a buzz from Beverly Crusher.
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"Yes, Beverly... what is it?" he asked, concerned still for her health.
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In the background, she could hear muffled noises that sounded like
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sobbing. It was getting awfully late, he was downright sleepy.
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Nonetheless, he always had time for her.
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"Captain... I've got Troi here, and she's *not* happy."
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"I can hear that. Can you tell me what's wrong?"
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He heard Beverly let out a long sigh. "I don't think I can talk about
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this over the comm system. Could you please come to my quarters?"
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Reluctantly, he agreed.
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Minutes later, Picard sat between the two ladies, both dressed in
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their nightwear. Troi's eyes were red, both from crying and fatigue.
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Beverly was weary as well, and the fact that she had only been in sick bay
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with a life-threatening condition that morning was all too clear.
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"Deanna," coaxed Beverly, "tell the captain what you told me, about
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the dreams you're having."
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Deanna shook her head; whether or not that meant an affirmative
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was beyond knowing. "I can't sleep," she said, "because I can't get her
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face out of my mind." Tears came streaming out of her coal black eyes.
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"The little girl, with an angel's face and a devil's mind."
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Jean-Luc turned to look at Beverly.
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"She keeps talking about a little girl with blonde hair and a velvet
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dress," explained Beverly.
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"I close my eyes, and her face is there, almost as if I'm fully awake,
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and staring right at her. I can't tear myself away from her gaze," Deanna
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elaborated as best she could. "I'm going to go crazy."
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Beverly rose quietly to her feet, her nightgown swaying around her
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knees. "I'm going to get some beta-wave inducers. She can stay here
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tonight." Picard gave her a slight nod. Her eye movement indicated he
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should follow her.
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"So," he said quietly, "what's the matter with her? Can you guess,
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Beverly?"
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Beverly made another sighing noise. "I don't know. Obviously she's
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having a terrible nightmare. I'm not a mental health expert; I'm afraid
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that's Troi's expertise."
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Picard's eyes were beginning to droop. Bev smiled, getting the beta-
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wave inducers out of the bathroom drawer, obviously there for her own
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use in nights gone by. "All I can do is try to alleviate the physical
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|
problems."
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Within a couple of minutes, Troi was fast asleep beneath heaps of
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blankets on Beverly's sofa. Beverly yawned.
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Jean-Luc conceded. "Let's get to bed."
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Beverly raised a singular auburn eyebrow.
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"Good*night*, Jean-Luc," she said, a smile touching the side of her
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mouth as she escorted him to the door.
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<end, Part 1>
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Copyright 1993 by Sandra Guzdek. All rights reserved, and all disclaimers
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apply in triplicate.
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---
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Sandra Guzdek email:sguzdek@ubvms.cc.buffalo.edu
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3rd of 7, JuKeSaJaMeLiCa * Young one of the SFLAaE/BS
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VP in Charge of Life Drawing/Model Recruitment
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Minister/Undersecretary/Whatever/Lady High Muckety-Muck of Art, HRH Janis I
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"You're just being weird, and that results in creativity."
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Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative
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Path: newserv.ksu.ksu.edu!moe.ksu.ksu.edu!vixen.cso.uiuc.edu!uwm.edu!cs.utexas.edu!math.ohio-state.edu!sol.ctr.columbia.edu!news.kei.com!ub!acsu.buffalo.edu!ubvms.cc.buffalo.edu!sguzdek
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From: sguzdek@ubvms.cc.buffalo.edu (Sandra Guzdek)
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Subject: New story: More Than... [2 of 2]
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Message-ID: <CBK3C7.5s4@acsu.buffalo.edu>
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News-Software: VAX/VMS VNEWS 1.41
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Sender: nntp@acsu.buffalo.edu
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Nntp-Posting-Host: ubvmsb.cc.buffalo.edu
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Organization: University at Buffalo
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Date: Tue, 10 Aug 1993 18:31:00 GMT
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Lines: 871
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<See Part 1 for appropriate remarks. -- sg>
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-----cut here-------
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More Than Meets the Eye
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Part 2
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by Sandra Guzdek, 1993
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***
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Svyrk hit the chime on his superior's door, then thought how
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illogical it was for her not to answer. "Saraj, it is time for the captain's
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breakfast. Are you prepared?"
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The tall Vulcan placed his slender hands together palm to palm,
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waiting for Saraj to answer. He thought for a moment, then thought the
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next logical step was to enter he quarters to see if she was in good health.
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"Computer, emergency override, code alpha-one-gamma, Delegate
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Svyrk." The doors parted, and nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
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Until he saw Saraj cowering in the corner of her quarters, looking
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more frightened than any humanoid had a right to look. Her straight, dark
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hair was disarrayed, and her ascending eyebrows were raised as far as they
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could go without jumping off of her forehead. The sinew of her neck was
|
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standing out, ready to snap, and her eyes were bulging in terror. She held
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a bed sheet fast in her claw-like hand, gripping it like a lifeline.
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Saraj saw Svyrk, and did something that no Vulcan had ever heard
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another do...
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Scream like bloody murder.
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***
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Troi woke, the disorienting feeling of having no idea where she was
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surrounding her consciousness. She blinked once, then twice, and realized
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it was Beverly's quarters. Troi had no idea how she had come to be there.
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She called for the doctor.
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Instead the redheaded friend she expected to see, she saw Augustin.
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She suppressed the intense urge to scream, and where this urge came from
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she could not say. He smiled and said to her, "Hello, sleepy one."
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"What are you doing here? Where is Beverly?"
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Suddenly she heard a voice in her mind. At first she didn't even
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notice that she wasn't hearing it with her ears. Then she knew all at once
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why she wanted to scream.
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<<She's not here right now.>>
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At her look, he said aloud, "Oh, yes, I have telepathic abilities.
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Does that frighten you?"
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<<It doesn't surprise me,>> she thought, carefully protecting her
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mind as if it were the only thing she truly owned.
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"It doesn't?"
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"Where's Beverly?" she repeated.
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"She went down to sick bay for a checkup. Are you all right?" As
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he came closer, she visibly recoiled from him. He seemed to have
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anticipated her move; he smiled, and sat on the chair across from Deanna.
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He looked at her as if he were looking *through* her, and that sent another
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round of chills up the back of her neck.
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Deanna heard his voice again, speaking softly. His gaze made Troi
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think of a feline about to bear down on its prey. He was trying very hard
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to convince her that he would cause her no harm, yet she felt down to the
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pit of her soul that he could do nothing else. "You're having a dream,
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about a young blonde girl."
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Now she did not know what to think or say, for this was something
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she thought she had closely guarded from him. She was going to ask him
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how he knew, but that was a pointless question. His telepathic powers far
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surpassed any she had ever encountered.
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"Tell me about the dream."
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Deanna looked to him with a sidelong glance, still unwilling, unable
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to trust him. He continued, "I know she is an angel in appearance only...
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with the heart and soul of something truly evil. A child with a
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dangerously adult mind."
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Deanna's look softened, and she drew the blanket around her. "I
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hope you will understand when I tell you that there is much about you I
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do not know, and therefore I cannot trust you. Yet, I don't understand..."
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"I know of who you dream. She was one of my kind... my
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daughter. She tried to kill me, more than once..." He looked almost
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nostalgic, which she found unusual considering. "The others killed her in
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the worst way... exposure to direct sunlight. It eats away at my kind like
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the strongest acid." He stopped for a moment to think, then added, "She
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should have never been."
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Deanna felt the loss, yet in contradiction felt the intense hatred
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seething for this child coming from him. She sighed. "I don't understand
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why I am dreaming something from your life."
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<<I believe there is another of my kind on this ship, one that I
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cannot read or feel. I think you are intercepting visions meant for me.>>
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The turn back to the internal dialogue seemed almost intimate, and while it
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made Deanna feel somewhat uncomfortable, the fear of him still sitting low
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in her gut, she was beginning to see why Beverly was so attracted to him.
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He turned to her, and she became lost in his violet eyes, like the
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deepest of the seas on Seyana Three, with the very diamond dust dancing
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on the rims of his irises. She reached out to touch him, and gasped at the
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feel of his skin, so smooth and unyielding to the soft pressure of her
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fingers. His glossy fingernails stroked her cheek, as he smiled so slowly
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she couldn't recall seeing his facial muscles move at all. <<Deanna.>>
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This hummed through her head as his cool lips touched to hers for an
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otherworldly kiss.
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When she opened her eyes again, he was gone. Deanna blinked a
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couple of times. As she tried desperately to overcome her sleepy stupor,
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Beverly returned from sick bay. She had retured to make sure Deanna was
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doing all right; she misinterpreted the look of confusion on Deanna's face
|
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for one of just not knowing how she had come to be in someone else's
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quarters. "Glad to see you're awake, Deanna. How are you feeling?" The
|
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doctor herself looked much better than she had.
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Deanna sat there, deep in thought. Suddenly she turned to the
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doctor and asked, "Have you seen Augustin today?"
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Bev shook her head, wondering where the question had come from.
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"Not yet today." She smiled, thinking fondly of him. "Our presence is
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required, however, for a breakfast meeting..." she began with mock
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stiffness, then softened as she added, "and I think he'll be there."
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Deanna was perplexed. She could not help but wonder if she had
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dreamed the whole thing.
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She hoped not.
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***
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Captain Picard, clad in his dress uniform, made for the state
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breakfast he'd had Riker arrange, a smile on his face. That in itself was
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strange, because he really had nothing to smile about, what with an
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unsolved murder on his hands and only three days until the arrival on
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Earth, in which time he really needed to present something, *anything*, to
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his superiors. But Beverly was well again, and the delegations at the
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breakfast were looking forward to meeting for something a little less
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stressful. Food.
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As he exited the turbolift, he was waylaid by the good Doctor
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Crusher. "Bad news, Jean-Luc."
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He stopped dead in his tracks. "That is not something I want to hear
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right now."
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"I just thought you should be warned, if the Klingons and the
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Vulcans start going after each other... or *you*... with their grapefruit
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spoons, you'll know why." Her tone dropped yet again, as if it were
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possible. "One of the Vulcan delegates, Saraj, was found by her associate,
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Svyrk, nearly dead of fright."
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"What is this, the Orient Express?" His impatience was unseemly,
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and he immediately cleared his throat and murmured an apology. "How is
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Saraj?"
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"In a deep coma. One of those Vulcan self-healing trances. I have
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advised the other Vulcans not to attempt anything like a mind meld to
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further her healing. From what Svyrk tells us, she was found in pretty bad
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emotional shape. And... missing quite a bit of blood."
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Picard sighed, thankful that the corridor was empty save for the two
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of them. "Not again."
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Beverly, still looking a little careworn, continued. "The Klingons are
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convinced the Vulcans are behind the murder of T'aklar, convinced that
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one of them are Romulan confederates. They are not afraid to voice their
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opinions. And, to make things worse, the Vulcans are accusing the
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Klingons of being illogical barbarians, going after one of their delegates
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with Klingon scare tactics and torture. Of course they don't show any
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anger or displeasure, but their usual icy looks have grown even icier." She
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|
paused a moment. "Let's just say it is not a pretty picture in that
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stateroom. Luckily, they're not sharing a table," she added, trying
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|
unsuccessfully to be funny.
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Picard looked to her, as if to garner some bravery from her consoling
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look. "Good luck, Sir," she said, reminding him of his duty, as, for some
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reason, she took his hand and squeezed it for a moment before releasing it
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again.
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Imagine his surprise when they entered the stateroom to find
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everything calm, as the delegates looked to him with respect, standing
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upon seeing him.
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"Captain. Doctor. Good morning," said Etah, bowing her head.
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They all sat again, as their breakfasts were served. Where was the chaos
|
|
and mayhem Beverly had warned him of?
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The two officers stood frozen at the entrance like deer in the grasp of
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headlights, and looked to each other briefly for explanations that were not
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to be found. Beverly turned back to the room with a pasted-on smile, as
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the captain spoke.
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"Good morning to all of you. I'm glad to see you have all made it
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here." He instantly regretted his words, remembering T'aklar and Saraj.
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Inexplicably, a low laughter rumbled throughout the room. What the hell
|
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was going on?
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Riker, who had found a seat beside the bewitching Catian for the
|
|
express purpose of flirting shamelessly with her, saw the captain's
|
|
bewilderment and felt obligated to explain. Without words he indicated
|
|
that he should like to speak with his commanding officer. "Excuse me,
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|
Tabby..."
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|
She purred in response. "Take your time, Rrrrikerrrrr."
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He still hadn't mastered her name, and had taken to shortening it
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considerably; he loved what she did to his. He edged his way slowly
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|
across the room, stopped occasionally for a quick conversation. By the time
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|
he got to the captain's table, he found the captain deep into his Eggs
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Benedict, still looking for all the world more confused than he had the right
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to. "Sir," said Riker upon approaching, "I think we should speak."
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The captain, in the middle of a chew, looked up, swallowed, and
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|
said, touching a napkin to his mouth, "I should say so. Excuse me, will
|
|
you all?" He rose from his table, nodding politely to all. The doctor shot
|
|
him a questioning look from next to the captain, to which Picard nodded.
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He, Crusher and Riker made for a corner of the room where no one would
|
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think to disturb them.
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"I suppose you had heard of the Klingon and Vulcan rift," began
|
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Riker.
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Beverly nodded. "He thinks I'm a liar now, for sure."
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Riker smiled. "It was really quite incredible."
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"What are you talking about?" Picard was becoming ever more
|
|
impatient. "*What* was incredible?"
|
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"Ambassador Augustin. He took the Klingons and the Vulcans
|
|
aside, and when they broke to be seated, the Vulcans and the Klingons
|
|
were behaving like old friends. Amazing. Augustin has the reputation of
|
|
being a very persuasive mediator... I just had no idea how persuasive."
|
|
They could see Augustin speaking with Etah, and for all the world
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Picard would swear to the fact that he saw the Klingon female... smile.
|
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Beverly spotted him, smiled, and excused herself, her desire to be near him
|
|
almost tangible.
|
|
When he was sure Beverly was out of earshot, he commented to his
|
|
companion, "A little too quickly reconciled for my liking." He suddenly
|
|
remembered Guinan's cryptic words and wondered if this is what she had
|
|
been on to. On that thread, who was the other of the two minds she could
|
|
sense? And which was this, the good or the evil? Was there even a good
|
|
one?
|
|
He thought further. If the Vulcans were responsible for the death of
|
|
T'aklar, and the Klingons retaliated on Saraj, how did Beverly fit in to all of
|
|
this? And, the blood. What about the blood?
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|
"Sir?"
|
|
Riker interrupted Picard's train of thought, when he felt he had been
|
|
on the verge of something. He was a little more than perturbed at this, and
|
|
when Riker saw this in his eyes, he visibly shrunk away. Now, that train
|
|
of thought was irrevocably derailed. Damn. He didn't want to give any of
|
|
these suspicions away to Beverly, either, being as close to him as she was.
|
|
He was going to have to be very careful.
|
|
"Picard to Mr. Data."
|
|
A disembodied voice filled the air. "Data here, Sir."
|
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"Please, find out as much as you can about Ambassador Augustin.
|
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Where he's from, where he's been. Something we should have done from
|
|
the start."
|
|
"Acknowledged. Data out."
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|
"What's this all about, Captain?"
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Picard smiled and hoped it was convincing. "You know me, Will. I
|
|
don't like leaving any stone unturned." That seemed to satisfy him.
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|
Eventually, he would let Will in on it. But for now... "Now, I'd like to get
|
|
back to that breakfast. It isn't every day we get fresh brewed coffee."
|
|
|
|
***
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|
Blackness filled the room, and the figure at the door squinted,
|
|
wondering what was wrong with the lights in her room. "Hello?" She
|
|
stepped forward unsurely, the light from the hallway providing the only
|
|
illumination. She gasped audibly when that was snatched from her as well,
|
|
and she stood there in the total void as the doors closed behind her.
|
|
"Lights up, computer!" she yelled, feeling her neck pulse and the
|
|
adrenaline hot in her veins.
|
|
She heard a guttural laugh come from the depths of her quarters,
|
|
and she stiffened. Then a motion caught the corner of her eye; she thought
|
|
she saw a figure pass her line of vision. She then realized in horror that
|
|
she did not *see* a figure, but rather felt the air move as someone passed
|
|
her by. She felt something graze past the hem of her pants.
|
|
"Who's there?" her voice asked in a breathless whisper, fists
|
|
clenched.
|
|
She felt a chill pass down to the core of her when she felt soft fingers
|
|
on her cheek. She heard a voice in her head, a sultry voice she couldn't
|
|
quite tell if she was hearing with her ears or something that was going
|
|
directly into her brain. It repeated her name again and again; it lulled her
|
|
until she sagged into the arms of her intruder. A gentle web of steel held
|
|
fast her mind, and she could do nothing against it, limbs powerless. Quick
|
|
hands brought the closure of her uniform open and pushed its halves away
|
|
from her neck, exposing her. She felt a cool mouth on the flesh between
|
|
her neck and shoulder, and inside she screamed and kicked as the skin was
|
|
broken. She dared not even open her eyes for the horror she might see.
|
|
Her heart pounded in her chest, and she felt a soft mane of hair
|
|
brush against the exposed flesh of her shoulder, every nerve ending
|
|
memorizing the sensation.
|
|
Finally she mustered the will from somewhere deep inside her to
|
|
utter the sound she did, and with the power of that sound came the power
|
|
to open her eyes...
|
|
And she was alone. She blinked crazily against the sight she knew
|
|
could not possibly be seeing: the lights were up at full power, and she was
|
|
alone.
|
|
Yet the mark on her shoulder was all too real.
|
|
As she fled from the room for sick bay, not even stopping to arrange
|
|
her uniform, she did not see the figure huddled in her bathroom.
|
|
She did not see this figure abandon her place in the bathroom and
|
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slip out unnoticed from the officer's room.
|
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_I shall have to be more careful,_ she thought.
|
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|
|
***
|
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|
|
Guinan watched as Augustin entered Ten Forward. She watched as
|
|
he stopped, looked around, approaching the bar. She felt the needles prick
|
|
up the back of her neck. She knew, and had already, before he had gotten
|
|
near this deck, put all of her mind-guards in place.
|
|
Augustin turned his eyes to Guinan slowly, with a smile that drove
|
|
the needles further into her. She stiffened, placing her hands palm down
|
|
on the bar. He came closer to her, and he spoke to her.
|
|
"I know you."
|
|
"It's a possibility," Guinan replied coolly. "I know many. What can
|
|
I get for you?"
|
|
He shook his head. "I have no need for anything at this time."
|
|
"What brings you here, then?"
|
|
He smiled.
|
|
"The doctor," Guinan supplied for herself. "Tell me, who is your
|
|
counterpart on this ship?"
|
|
She was almost glad to see his brow wrinkle. "I am alone."
|
|
"And may I ask... who is 'Maharet'?" Guinan queried.
|
|
He was clearly taken aback by this. "I see much of Maharet in
|
|
Beverly. Maharet is... one of my mothers."
|
|
_His 'kind',_ she smirked. She knew all too much about his kind,
|
|
and even more specifically, about him. She knew now of what she had felt,
|
|
that she had shared with Picard. Guinan was thoughtful. "You are alone
|
|
in your delegation, you say. But I can feel two of you."
|
|
Finally Augustin smiled. "You feel something I do not. You are
|
|
Betazoid."
|
|
Guinan shook her head. "I am Guinan."
|
|
What Guinan said to him next confirmed a suspicion he'd had for
|
|
days. She said it especially to allay his fears.
|
|
"I remember 1984."
|
|
Beverly could not have come at a more inopportune time. For both
|
|
of them.
|
|
"Hello, Guinan," she said, her smile flashing bright beneath her
|
|
tawny lips. Guinan turned to look at the friendly doctor, and Guinan
|
|
noted with amusement that she had The Look, the distinct look of someone
|
|
far too happy to not be in love. And he looked far too uncomfortable to
|
|
have only her on his mind. She wondered what it was he was thinking of.
|
|
"Hello, Doctor. Having dinner here tonight?"
|
|
She wouldn't have asked if Beverly was not wearing one of her
|
|
favourite outfits, a pale green, off the shoulder top with matching pants.
|
|
Her hair was swept up in one of Mott's finest creations, a braided twist
|
|
that made her hair look like spun silk. The slight tinge of pink that flushed
|
|
her cheeks served as an answer. _She must be in love,_ thought Guinan.
|
|
_Beverly's not a blusher._
|
|
She said nothing to Beverly of what she knew of Augustin, because
|
|
she knew the doctor was in no danger. Nor was the Enterprise. Five
|
|
hundred years ago, maybe, but not now. The sly devil, up to his old tricks
|
|
once again. Known by this name now, too; stealing the name of a brother
|
|
that had been long dead. His old name had become too notorious, she
|
|
supposed. Guinan smiled, and she placed a finger over her lips, as if to
|
|
say, _I will say nothing._
|
|
It seemed as if Augustin actually smiled.
|
|
"Doctor Ste-Germain to Doctor Crusher," came the unwanted
|
|
summon over the comm system. Guinan thought she saw the unshakable
|
|
ambassador visibly stiffen.
|
|
Beverly was not amused at having her leisure time cut into yet
|
|
again, and her tone of voice conveyed that all too well. "Crusher here,
|
|
what is it?"
|
|
"It's Deanna Troi, Doctor. She's not feeling well, and... well, I think
|
|
this is something you had best handle yourself."
|
|
Beverly felt that wintry chill creep up her spine. She knew this was
|
|
not going to be a good night at all.
|
|
|
|
***
|
|
|
|
Data cocked his head as he filtered through the information at
|
|
breakneck speed. He had run across a correlation that had to have been
|
|
much more than a coincidence. Surely this was something that Captain
|
|
Picard would be interested in.
|
|
In moments, he was before the captain's door, and he thought for a
|
|
nanosecond, as he pressed the door chime, that perhaps this was not the
|
|
right time of day to share this information. _But the captain said to tell
|
|
him as soon as I found anything,_ thought the android. _That would
|
|
certainly infer now._
|
|
When the captain opened his door with one eye sealed with sleep
|
|
and looking a little tousled, Data reconsidered. _Perhaps I was in error._
|
|
"Mr. Data," said Picard, grasping at the door for a little balance, "is
|
|
this part of some conspiracy to deprive me of my sleep?"
|
|
"Not that I am aware of, Sir. I shall complete a report and present it
|
|
to you in the morning. Good night, Sir."
|
|
However, Data had learned to expect that the captain's curiosity
|
|
often won over everything else, so he did not leave at once, as Captain
|
|
Picard would more likely than not ask him what he had found regardless
|
|
of the hour. After ten seconds, Data thought maybe his assumption had
|
|
been wrong, and began to turn away, when he heard the captain sigh.
|
|
"It's been a long night, but I *am* anxious to hear what you have
|
|
found. Please come in."
|
|
Data made a small android smirk and came into the room, what he
|
|
had learned to be the appropriate facial expression for satisfaction.
|
|
"Lights up, computer. Mr. Data, let's have it. If I don't get a good
|
|
night's sleep soon, I will be useless at this conference."
|
|
Data knit his brow, and shrugged. "Very well. I started with the
|
|
very first time the Federation had used the Ambassador's services. It was
|
|
one-hundred fifty years ago."
|
|
"That long, and this is the first I've heard of him?" Picard mused.
|
|
Data continued. "Augustin has served the Federation with much
|
|
decoration, yet, there are periods of up to twenty years where he just...
|
|
disappears."
|
|
"Disappears, you say. Could be a hibernation period, not too
|
|
unusual, in long-lived races. What race is he, anyhow? Do we have
|
|
anything on his people?"
|
|
"I do not even have a name for his kind. I have noticed that he does
|
|
exhibit some of the same sensitivities as Guinan. Recall his great ability at
|
|
reconciling the Vulcans and the Klingons. Could it be he is of her kind?"
|
|
Picard shook his head. "I don't believe Guinan's and Augustin's
|
|
people are related at all. There's something more to his diplomatic skill
|
|
than meets the eye; there's a lot we don't know about him. After all, there
|
|
is that mention he made of his people and their abhorrence of radiant light.
|
|
Have you ever heard of a humanoid species that can survive without
|
|
sunlight?" He tried to put his foggy thoughts together. "I find that hard to
|
|
believe. And the French. I must admit, I was a little impressed at his
|
|
knowing the language when he first came aboard, but I've since heard him
|
|
say French words as an initial reaction. That's usually reserved for
|
|
someone native to the language."
|
|
Data had taken a second to formulate a theory on humanoid life
|
|
without radiant light, but when he saw the annoyed look on his captain's
|
|
face he quickly abandoned it to continue his explanation. "I have also
|
|
discovered that there were instances of unexplained illnesses on planets,
|
|
starbases, and/or starships he was either about to visit or while he was
|
|
already there. All of these illnesses were characterized by a loss of blood
|
|
that could not be explained."
|
|
"Just like here." Picard sighed.
|
|
"Especially since, in reviewing some of the more recent illnesses in
|
|
our own sick bay, some of them were accompanied by a small loss of blood
|
|
that had until now been deemed tricorder malfunctions."
|
|
Picard blinked his dry, tired eyes, determined to continue. "There is
|
|
no evidence of any wounds. Except of course for T'aklar, which seems to
|
|
have been intentional. Could it be that Augustin is carrying some sort of
|
|
virus that our biofilters cannot detect?"
|
|
"A possibility. That would not explain the incidence of illness that
|
|
occurs *before* he arrives, however."
|
|
It occurred to Data that the captain had mentioned it had been 'a
|
|
long night'. Data had not considered to ask what else had occurred that
|
|
evening to qualify this as 'a long night', so he did.
|
|
Captain Picard smiled the weary smile of a leader who had done too
|
|
much in one day to care about decorum. "It's Counselor Troi. She ended
|
|
up in sick bay, and it was discovered that she, too, is missing some blood."
|
|
The captain said to Data as the android made for the door, "And Deanna's
|
|
seems to be worse, because she appears to be having hallucinations. She
|
|
insists that there is a mark on her neck, when there is none."
|
|
As Data was about to leave, Picard had one last thought,
|
|
remembering what Guinan said. "Check the personnel roster for any new
|
|
crew, that might correlate some of the other illnesses. I have a suspicion
|
|
that there is another of Augustin's kind on board, that we are not aware
|
|
of."
|
|
"Yes Sir."
|
|
Since Data did not require sleep of any kind, he got on it right away.
|
|
|
|
***
|
|
|
|
"Sir, I believe I have a lead on T'aklar's murder."
|
|
Picard looked up from his console with a fair amount of surprise.
|
|
"That is something I have been looking forward to hearing this entire trip.
|
|
We are, after all, inching ever closer to Earth."
|
|
Worf's proud smiles were few and far between, and it was always a
|
|
pleasure to the captain to have evoked one. "A couple of Ferengi who
|
|
were prowling the halls for 'clients' remembered seeing a young human
|
|
woman in the corridor around the time of T'aklar's death."
|
|
Picard drew his brows together. Finally he said, "A human woman?
|
|
Was there a description of this woman?"
|
|
"The Ferengi have tried to describe her, but details are eluding them.
|
|
They do know for sure that she is of medium build and quite light-skinned.
|
|
In fact, they seem to recall her skin being almost... pearly."
|
|
For the first time, Picard felt confident that they would be able to
|
|
solve this mystery. "That bit of information is quite insightful."
|
|
Worf let out a pent-up breath. "I'm not sure I understand."
|
|
"Allow me to explain. It seems Ambassador Augustin is not all he
|
|
appears to be."
|
|
|
|
***
|
|
|
|
Deanna stared at herself as she thought of a couple of lines to an old
|
|
Earth song she had heard once, long ago: _I fear the strange and lonely
|
|
looks the mirror's sending me these days._
|
|
It had taken a great deal of courage for her to go back to her room
|
|
after the violation she had been subjected to, real or imagined. Will Riker
|
|
had been a good enough friend to offer to walk her back from sick bay and
|
|
spend the evening with her, sacrificing his own plans with the Catian he
|
|
called Tabby. He had even stayed in her room last night, slept on the
|
|
opposite side of the bed as she, holding her only as she needed to be held
|
|
and not to satisfy some lecherous pleasure.
|
|
But now he had gone on to duty, and she stood in front of her
|
|
mirror, examining the bags beneath her eyes, and the smooth, unblemished
|
|
flesh of her neck that she would have sworn to seeing a wound on. She
|
|
wanted to get out of her room as quickly as she could and stay in some
|
|
populated place where no one could hurt her. However she could not tear
|
|
her gaze away from her own reflection. She knew something was terribly
|
|
wrong, yet the things that were happening to her made her distrustful of
|
|
her senses. If she was a crew member, she would have recommended a
|
|
talk with the ship's counselor. She laughed for what it was worth.
|
|
Deanna was then startled from her reverie by a comm page.
|
|
"Dr. Crusher to Counselor Troi."
|
|
"Troi here."
|
|
"Deanna, Vulcan delegate Saraj came out of her coma late last night.
|
|
If you're feeling up to it, I think it would be a good idea for you to talk to
|
|
her."
|
|
A sense of relief washed over her. This was the room filled with
|
|
people that she had wanted. The safety of numbers.
|
|
"I'll be there soon. Troi out."
|
|
When Deanna got to sick bay, she was hardly prepared to see the
|
|
Vulcan look as composed as she did, her glossy black hair smoothed down
|
|
to meet her jawline. She was rather young, thought Deanna, to have such
|
|
advanced control after such a horrible assault.
|
|
"I am Counselor Deanna Troi," she said, approaching the woman.
|
|
"How are you?"
|
|
Coolly, Saraj said, "I am in acceptable health."
|
|
"I am glad to hear that," Deanna returned, secretly wishing to hear
|
|
her say that she felt better, or she felt fine, or she felt anything at all. "Can
|
|
you tell me anything about your attack? Do you know who your assailant
|
|
was?"
|
|
"Counselor, I do not know." For a moment, she almost seemed
|
|
wistful. "I entered my quarters, and the lights did not come up as I
|
|
requested. Since they appeared to be malfunctioning, I turned back for the
|
|
door when... "
|
|
Deanna began to tremble as the Vulcan's crisp, distant voice faded to
|
|
the back of her consciousness, hearing the woman describe to her her own
|
|
experience. Suddenly Deanna was back in her room, surrounded by pitch
|
|
black and the charged electricity of fear all around her as she felt the
|
|
nearness of her intruder, as she felt lips hungrily lock on to her shoulder.
|
|
Man or woman? Had it even been human at all?
|
|
Deanna heard her title among the stream of words and snapped
|
|
back to the present, to reality. "Counselor, I can see that you seem to be
|
|
uncomfortable hearing the details you yourself asked for. Shall I stop? Is
|
|
there something wrong?"
|
|
Folding her hands together to stop their quivering, Deanna said, "I'll
|
|
be fine. You have, however, just described to me the manner in which I
|
|
myself was just attacked last night."
|
|
The Vulcan's brow folded just a little in concern. "I am sorry to hear
|
|
that. I would not wish such an invasion on my worst enemy."
|
|
"Thank you." Deanna tried to smile, but could not convince herself
|
|
to do it. "I appreciate your time."
|
|
|
|
***
|
|
|
|
"Five."
|
|
Data referred to the personnel records of five crew members who
|
|
had been transferred to the Enterprise within the past four months. "I
|
|
narrowed the search based on prior assignments and shore leave taken, in
|
|
relation to the sites where there were suspicious deaths and/or illnesses.
|
|
With those parameters, I arrived at these five. I believe these five can
|
|
further be narrowed down."
|
|
Worf, who stood behind the android at his station on the bridge,
|
|
asked, "What about the ambassadors and delegates on board?"
|
|
"I did a separate search on all of them, and except for Ambassador
|
|
Augustin, their paths have not crossed any of the sites at the times under
|
|
question."
|
|
"Let me see them."
|
|
The first image came up on to the screen. "This one is a Mizarian
|
|
female. I believe she can be ruled out because her people are a completely
|
|
peaceful and non-partisan race."
|
|
"I agree. Continue."
|
|
Data nodded briefly at his words, bringing up the two at once. "If
|
|
we accept what the Ferengi told us as fact, then these two men must also
|
|
be ruled out."
|
|
Worf made a noise that sounded oddly like a sigh. "It is unfortunate
|
|
that *they* are our best lead."
|
|
Another screen of two came up, this time two human women of
|
|
similar colouring and build. "These are the remaining choices."
|
|
Worf bent closer to look at the record of one of the two women, a
|
|
medical lieutenant with long, wavy blonde hair, the other, with short, thick,
|
|
blonde hair. Strange, the lieutenant's service record seemed terribly spare
|
|
in comparison to the other woman's, who was a mere ensign.
|
|
"I also have an interesting report from Deep Space Nine. Chief of
|
|
Security Odo did some investigating after my initial inquiry, and has
|
|
discovered that the murder victim had a... well, a few 'skeletons in her
|
|
closet' was the phrase he used. As the victim was relatively new to the
|
|
station, no one knew her well enough to know of her questionable past and
|
|
criminal dealings."
|
|
"Apparently, someone did."
|
|
"It is also worth noting that neither the Ambassador nor any one of
|
|
the five crew members were on or near the station at the time of this
|
|
particular murder. As a matter of fact, Augustin arrived several days
|
|
afterwards."
|
|
"That's officially," Worf said, thinking once again to the lieutenant's
|
|
short service record. "Out in that part of the galaxy, many things are done
|
|
*un*officially."
|
|
Worf knew exactly where to start now, and straightened up, but not
|
|
before taking note of the fact that the lieutenant was presently on duty in
|
|
sick bay. "It would have taken me weeks to complete this search. Batlh
|
|
Daqawlu'taH."
|
|
The android knew that his taking up of a particularly time-
|
|
consuming search was often interpreted by others as a personal favour, so
|
|
he was not unaccustomed to hearing words of thanks for what Data
|
|
considered to be part of his duty. Rather than explain this time and time
|
|
again, Data had instead made ready an appropriate response.
|
|
"You are welcome, Worf."
|
|
|
|
***
|
|
|
|
That voice. The moment he heard that voice, the pieces fell into
|
|
place. The reason Guinan sensed a prescence, when he himself did not.
|
|
The visions haunting Deanna. The attacks and yes, the death, that the
|
|
captain and his senior staff could not, despite their efforts, adequately veil
|
|
their thoughts of, and the reason that he had been thought of as a possible
|
|
suspect.
|
|
Logically, he concluded, it could have been no one else but Her.
|
|
Augustin took a step off the turbolift on deck seven and walked
|
|
casually towards sick bay, or at least he hoped his walk would pass as
|
|
casual to the human eye. He'd already assured that Beverly would be
|
|
occupied in preparing a final 'dinner for two', before he had to depart the
|
|
Enterprise for the conference on Earth.
|
|
He stopped suddenly, having second thoughts. He even disliked the
|
|
idea of going into sick bay again; the notion of being too near those
|
|
advanced machines was increasingly unnerving. Immediately he
|
|
admonished himself for his selfishness. Without a confrontation now, she
|
|
would never stop this madness.
|
|
As the doors slid aside, he could see the blonde mane lying against
|
|
her back as she bent over a console. _Forever the lover of science,_ he
|
|
thought. Fortunately, sick bay was empty save for her and a pair of
|
|
sleeping patients.
|
|
"At long last, Mother," he said to her, his voice quiet and smooth.
|
|
The blonde woman turned in a snap, frustration evident in every
|
|
line of her face.
|
|
Augustin realized with some dismay that this was not Her.
|
|
"*Excuse* me?" she said, anger evident as she slapped down her
|
|
tricorder. "Do I know you, or is this just my unlucky day?"
|
|
Apparently, this was not her first interruption.
|
|
"I thought you were someone else," Augustin said, knowing that his
|
|
apology sounded cliche. "I am terribly sorry."
|
|
She smiled as she realized her impatience. This pretty young
|
|
woman did bear a remarkable resemblance to Her; even the voice was
|
|
uncannily similar. Augustin thought that it was possible that she was a
|
|
distant relative, in more ways than she could ever imagine.
|
|
"I'm sorry to snap at you, but when you're trying to get some
|
|
research done that you're already behind on... First I'm grilled by the Chief
|
|
of Security about a murder... now you think I'm your mother." She sighed.
|
|
"It's just been one of those days, you know?"
|
|
So he had not been alone in his line of reasoning. The Klingon,
|
|
whose thoughts were a little harder to read, had been following the same
|
|
path.
|
|
He bowed at the waist and smiled. "Thank you for your
|
|
understanding."
|
|
As he walked away, he had the feeling that it was indeed she that
|
|
must be on board. Letting the Klingon in on it would compromise himself.
|
|
He must find her on his own; he would just have to resort to more primal
|
|
means to do it.
|
|
But first... on to other loose ends.
|
|
|
|
***
|
|
|
|
Cursing to himself the whole way, Worf walked briskly towards the
|
|
shuttle bay where the other woman, the ensign, was on duty. Not missing
|
|
a step, Worf glanced down to the notes he had made on the padd in his
|
|
hand to remind himself of her name. Ensign Lioncourt.
|
|
He approached the shuttle bay with some sense of finality. He had a
|
|
strange suspicion that whatever was going to happen next would yield
|
|
results and end this case. All that was needed was confirmation from the
|
|
Ferengi... something he should have done before charging down to sick
|
|
bay.
|
|
Worf walked into the shuttle bay and to his shock found it deserted.
|
|
That is to say, the shuttle itself was gone, as well as any personnel that
|
|
were assigned to be down there. Worf's brow curled in confusion. This
|
|
was not right.
|
|
"Computer, where is Ensign Lioncourt?"
|
|
"There is no one assigned to the Enterprise with that name."
|
|
"Confirm this, computer. I have seen her records myself. I repeat,
|
|
the name is Ensign Lioncourt."
|
|
The computer stood by what it had said already.
|
|
"Is there any ensign in Star Fleet with the name Lioncourt?" he
|
|
asked, at wit's end.
|
|
"There currently is no one in Star Fleet on active duty with the
|
|
surname of Lioncourt."
|
|
Worf was bewildered. "Can you at least confirm that the shuttlecraft
|
|
Wiles has left the Enterprise without authorization?"
|
|
The computer spoke after a moment. "There is no record of any
|
|
shuttle called Wiles ever being on board the Enterprise."
|
|
Something was up. He had to speak with a real person. Or at the
|
|
very least, an android.
|
|
"Worf to Commander Data."
|
|
"Data here."
|
|
"Commander, I am getting information from the computer that there
|
|
is no one stationed on the Enterprise by the name of Ensign Lioncourt,
|
|
when you and I reviewed her records only this afternoon. And someone
|
|
has taken the Wiles, yet the computer has no record of this shuttle ever
|
|
existing."
|
|
Data was silent. "Lieutenant, I can find no record of this Ensign
|
|
anywhere in my databanks, and I do not recall any such meeting with you
|
|
this morning. Furthermore, I do not recall there ever being a shuttle by
|
|
that name on board this ship. I am sorry I cannot be of more assistance."
|
|
Frustration crept into his voice as he said, "Worf out."
|
|
There was no way a crew member and a shuttle could disappear
|
|
without the knowledge of *someone*. Yet, if Data didn't remember it...
|
|
He would alert his security crew. This sounded like a case of
|
|
computer tampering, Data included.
|
|
At that moment, a young man in operations yellow came into the
|
|
shuttle bay carrying a padd. Upon seeing Worf, he straightened. "I'm
|
|
sorry, Sir. I did not see you in here before."
|
|
"At ease, Lieutenant. I was not here before." Worf thought for a
|
|
moment that he looked familiar, and realized that he was one of the young
|
|
men, a lieutenant junior-grade, from the group of five he had been shown
|
|
by Data, which Data had no memory of.
|
|
"What is your field of expertise?"
|
|
"I've been working in Engineering since I was an ensign."
|
|
"You were once assigned to the Echelon, were you not?" Worf
|
|
asked.
|
|
"Yes, Sir, I was."
|
|
"There was another ensign, a woman with the last name of
|
|
Lioncourt, who also worked in Engineering on the Echelon at the same
|
|
time. Do you remember her at all?"
|
|
The young man really thought about it hard. "No, I knew everyone;
|
|
the Echelon's a small ship. She definitely was not there."
|
|
Worf felt even more annoyed and disheartened. "Thank you."
|
|
With that, Worf left the shuttle bay, and made for the bridge, to alert
|
|
the captain with what he found.
|
|
Worf wondered, however, how he was going to explain to the
|
|
captain that his suspect had disappeared without a trace. The computer
|
|
tampering could be justified as the work of an industrious ensign, but how
|
|
could he explain the lack of memories about this woman?
|
|
|
|
|
|
***
|
|
|
|
He was late. It wasn't like him to be late.
|
|
Beverly paced a little before coming to rest on the sofa on the
|
|
quarters of Augustin's room. He had asked her to put together one last
|
|
dinner for them while he took care of some business, and that had been
|
|
finished long ago. Now it was up to him to come back to his quarters to
|
|
share in it.
|
|
She asked for the time... he was fifteen minutes late. Her stomach
|
|
told her she was hungry, and she hoped he was too. Then Beverly's brow
|
|
folded in confusion. For a moment she had the oddest feeling that she had
|
|
never seen him eat. Sure, his food always disappeared from his plate, but
|
|
not once could she recall him putting a fork or a spoon to his mouth. "Oh,
|
|
Beverly," she muttered to herself, lying back into the sofa, "you're being a
|
|
little silly now. Where else would the food go?"
|
|
As she stretched back into the couch, she closed her eyes and drew
|
|
in a long breath. When she opened them again, her eye was caught by a
|
|
folded piece of paper lying on the table beside the sofa, one that she was
|
|
sure was not there before. "Computer, time," she asked, wondering how
|
|
much later Augustin was than before. To her shock, a half-hour had
|
|
passed since she had last asked, time she could not recall passing. _Ah
|
|
well,_ she thought, _must have dozed off._ She wondered if it was a note
|
|
from him that she had missed earlier, explaining his tardiness. Without a
|
|
thought, she opened it, and was immediately sorry she had.
|
|
|
|
My dear L.,
|
|
I'm terribly sorry things had to end this way,
|
|
but you know I don't like being caught. This
|
|
time, our reunion was not meant to be. And
|
|
don't chastise me for what I have done. You've
|
|
done it yourself. Each and every one of the
|
|
beings I killed was dishonest and criminal to the
|
|
bone and deserved the death they asked for (see?
|
|
I am becoming more like you want me to be,
|
|
every year!), and the ones I did not kill, I assured
|
|
they would not remember. I cannot help it if I
|
|
still feel the hunger. I am not as strong as you.
|
|
I am sorry about the Vulcan and the
|
|
Counselor; the Vulcan, I had no idea my powers
|
|
would not effect her memory, and the
|
|
Counselor... well, I couldn't help myself in going
|
|
back for more. She's a beautiful young mortal,
|
|
isn't she?
|
|
On to my next journey,
|
|
G.
|
|
|
|
Each and every limb of her body was racked with tremors. _I can't
|
|
believe it,_ she thought. _Augustin is a murderer._
|
|
She heard the door open and panic set in to the core of her. Her
|
|
adrenaline surged and she leapt from the sofa, fight or flight response
|
|
taking over. "Stay back," she hissed, assuming a combat stance.
|
|
His forehead creased ever so slightly with concern. "Beverly, what is
|
|
it?"
|
|
Her exit to the door was blocked, and she was about to call out for
|
|
help when she felt him clamp a hand over her mouth. She didn't
|
|
remember seeing him move towards her, nor did she see him take the note
|
|
from her clasp.
|
|
Augustin's lavender eyes scanned over the text of the note. "Mon
|
|
Dieu," he muttered, sighing. At once he realized that Beverly was
|
|
moaning and struggling beneath his hand, needing the air he was
|
|
obstructing.
|
|
She coughed, dropping to the floor, one hand on her throat, the
|
|
other supporting her upright. "You'll never get away with killing me, you
|
|
know..." she gasped pitifully.
|
|
"Beverly, you must know that I will not ever hurt you. I am sorry
|
|
about what just happened... sometimes I forget my own strength."
|
|
She did not cease to shake. "You know who the murderer is? You
|
|
have to tell Worf, so he can--"
|
|
Augustin shook his head, interrupting her. "It is too late for that.
|
|
Gabrielle is long gone, and when she doesn't want to be found, she won't
|
|
be found."
|
|
"Wh-who is Gabrielle?" she asked, her voice raspy.
|
|
He crouched down beside her and smiled. "She is my mother... and
|
|
my child."
|
|
Bev whispered, "I don't understand."
|
|
"Have you ever, dear Beverly, heard of vampires?"
|
|
Beverly's green eyes glazed over.
|
|
"You don't m-mean to say..."
|
|
"I am loathe to tell you... but that's what I am, that's what Gabrielle
|
|
is. I was made immortal over seven hundred years ago. I made her
|
|
immortal not long afterwards. That's why I could not tell that she was on
|
|
board this ship; I cannot read the ones I've created." He seemed so very
|
|
calm, and quite introspective. "She killed the Klingon. It must have been
|
|
her... it could have been no one else," Augustin continued. "She's become
|
|
rather good with manipulating technology... which doesn't surprise me. It
|
|
would seem her speed rivals your own Mr. Data's. She can sneak in and
|
|
out of rooms without detection... probably how she left this note for me. I
|
|
*am* sorry you had to see this."
|
|
At once the scientist in her took over. A vampire! The stuff of
|
|
legends!
|
|
"So, do you... really drink blood? Do you turn into a bat, into
|
|
vapour?"
|
|
His throaty laugh was sinister, yet sexy. "I don't need to anymore...
|
|
but sometimes I cannot help myself, like with you."
|
|
The missing blood. Of course. "Did you *mean* to almost
|
|
completely drain me of blood?" she asked, half angry, half afraid.
|
|
"Certainly not. I adore you too much." He looked down upon her,
|
|
light dancing in his eyes. "And, I do not... transmutate. As I am prone to
|
|
ask... do you?"
|
|
Beverly actually cracked a smile before remembering her precarious
|
|
position. This creature, this immortal creature, had the power of life and
|
|
death at his command, and had for hundreds of years. He said he would
|
|
not hurt her, yet almost had strangled her without thought. She gulped
|
|
down air for confidence before asking, "Is Augustin really your name? Or
|
|
is that something you made up to pull the wool over all of our eyes? What
|
|
does 'L.' stand for?"
|
|
"You have caught me there. Augustin is the name of one of my
|
|
brothers, one who died many years ago."
|
|
He was obviously not going to tell her, so she did not press.
|
|
"How is it that Gabrielle can... do this, and not be caught?"
|
|
"It is as I explained... and more. She's always been good at blending
|
|
in. If she doesn't want anyone to recognize her, she'll cut off her hair.
|
|
That's why Mr. Worf and I were both fooled into thinking that young
|
|
doctor of yours, Ste-Germain, was suspect. With the long hair and all..."
|
|
He paused, seemingly in thought, looking away to the painting on the wall,
|
|
that glorious Chagall. "Then it grows back anew each night, back to the
|
|
length it was shen she died.
|
|
"She finds someone immoral, lets them know she knows their secret,
|
|
and then kills them. She can be rather vicious. Then she leaves when she
|
|
believes herself about to be caught, removing all traces of herself, from
|
|
computers, from minds. She's done it before, and she'll do it again; this
|
|
time with the Star Fleet organization, next time... who knows."
|
|
Beverly remained level-headed enough to say, "You realize that we
|
|
have to tell the captain about this... she must be caught."
|
|
Augustin shook his head, looking remarkably grim, his pale face a
|
|
tragedy mask. "No, we cannot. Because if she goes, I must go too, for all
|
|
of my crimes, for who I am. I will die, we will both die, in any prison on
|
|
earth. Not a physical death, for we are immortal, so old that the sun
|
|
hardly hurts us anymore... but a death of who we are." He paused to look
|
|
back to her, touching the place right over where his heart lie in his chest.
|
|
"And now you know; I am not safe."
|
|
Beverly scrambled away from him on the floor, backing up against
|
|
the couch. "But... you said you wouldn't hurt me," she whispered.
|
|
<<I know.>>
|
|
He came close to her in the blink of an eye, straddling her as he
|
|
placed his hands on her shoulders, holding her down, holding her still.
|
|
Fixing upon her with that powerful gaze, he thought one word to her:
|
|
<<Forget.>>
|
|
Beverly's eyes rolled shut and she listed over to one side, as
|
|
Augustin placed his lips upon her cheek for a tender kiss, then moved to
|
|
her mouth for a more passionate one.
|
|
As she opened her eyes, she had a smile on her lips. "That was
|
|
nice," she said huskily, "but I'm hungry for food right now."
|
|
He stood so she could get up from the floor.
|
|
"Please, serve away," he said to her in the most pleasant voice he
|
|
could muster.
|
|
He refused to let his eyes tear up, for the blood-tears would ruin
|
|
everything he had just accomplished. Instead, he took Gabrielle's note, tore
|
|
it into small pieces, and placed it into the disposal unit.
|
|
He would miss this beautiful mortal so.
|
|
|
|
***
|
|
|
|
CAPTAIN'S LOG, SUPPLEMENTAL. The Diversity Conference has
|
|
been a resounding success, and we are now on our way to the Io formation
|
|
to study the electromagnetic effect of the nearby electron storm on gaseous
|
|
material. Deanna's attacker is still unknown, and T'aklar's murderer has,
|
|
according to Mr. Worf, disappeared without a trace. He continues to look
|
|
for records of a woman that Star Fleet has never heard of; I trust him, and
|
|
have allowed him this leniency. Ambassador Augustin has given Star Fleet
|
|
notice of his retirement, and has himself seemed to have disappeared.
|
|
|
|
***
|
|
|
|
Beverly looked out of the viewport as the green-blue planet Earth
|
|
got smaller and smaller to finally become one of a million twinkling lights.
|
|
She pressed her hands against the glass that separated her from the void of
|
|
space. _Goodbye._
|
|
A voice embraced her, startling her momentarily, as she forgot she
|
|
was not alone in the room. "I don't know why you are prolonging this for
|
|
yourself," came the serenity of Deanna Troi, who sat at the conference
|
|
room table, shrouded in shadow.
|
|
"I'm glad you could stay with me, Deanna," Beverly sighed,
|
|
bringing her fingers down along to caress the glass. "I think, if I look hard
|
|
enough, I can see him down there."
|
|
"You'll see him again, Beverly, don't wor--"
|
|
She turned to Troi, a frown settled firmly on the corners of her
|
|
mouth. Solemnly, she said, her voice barely audible, "No, Deanna. I don't
|
|
think I ever will."
|
|
|
|
***
|
|
The End
|
|
|
|
Many thanks and high praise to Anne Rice, whose vampire characters I have sort
|
|
of... borrowed. She is the genius behind my second greatest passion.
|
|
I bow to her the deepest of bows.
|
|
|
|
Copyright 1993 by Sandra Guzdek. All rights reserved, and all disclaimers
|
|
apply in triplicate.
|
|
---
|
|
Sandra Guzdek email:sguzdek@ubvms.cc.buffalo.edu
|
|
3rd of 7, JuKeSaJaMeLiCa * Young one of the SFLAaE/BS
|
|
VP in Charge of Life Drawing/Model Recruitment
|
|
Minister/Undersecretary/Whatever/Lady High Muckety-Muck of Art, HRH Janis I
|
|
"You're just being weird, and that results in creativity."
|
|
|