Hello,

Thank you for all the lovely responses. Truly, it means a lot to me. As I stated before, I don't claim to be an expert in Star Trek lore but I will try to stay as accurate as possible. This chapter is shorter then I had anticipated, but I hope you still enjoy.

Fuchsia. Grasshopper: I am studying theater and work as an actress so on occasion a few theater phrases or lines slip into my writing. Points for catching that :)

Please continue to let me know what you think.

Much love and many thanks

Chapter 2: The Puzzle of John Harrison

Aria sat in silence as she and Harewood traveled to meet and confront this Commander John Harrison. Her mind was working hundred miles a second, trying to piece this puzzle together; none of the aspects of this matter made sense to her. Why would Admiral Marcus send this man to work with her without any warning? Not just any academy graduate was allowed to work at the base Aria was stationed at, let alone allowed to work along side her. This base, classified as Section 31 in Marcus' unofficial books, was hidden in plain sight as an archive and was a specialized weapons development and research facility. Scientists and specified specialists alike were working to create new and advanced combat tactics as well as advance weaponry to prepare for any threat Starfleet may face in the future.

Aria was given command over a small, selected group of officers who did not know her true identity or origin but would follow her instruction without question. Due to her genetically engineered mind and vast knowledge in the field, she was considered one of, if not he only, head of these projects. She was vaguely aware that there may be others working on weapon designs, but she had no idea who they were nor did she particularly care. This was not a job she had chosen. This was the job she was forced to take after Marcus destroyed her crew. The admiral had trapped her in an involuntary servitude: make these weapons for him, or else he'd kill her and thus eliminating her race. Aria couldn't afford to have the sort of weight on her mind; the guilt was already enough.

But even that brought her mind back to this John Harrison. Few people besides Marcus knew her predicament so what qualification did this individual have that would include him in such an elite group? Why did Marcus choose him as her assistant? More importantly, why did Marcus believe that she needed an assistant? She worked alone for multiple reasons: someone may catch on to her complicated background, very few (no one really) were able to keep up with her, and lastly, she preferred solitude. Could it be that Marcus trusted this man with her secret? Perhaps Commander Harrison already knew who Aria really was. If that was the case, then she didn't trust him. Any ally of Admiral Alexander Marcus' was an enemy of hers.

"Have you got John Harrison's file on you?" she asked, finally breaking the tension slightly.

"Of course," Harewood replied, taking one hand off the steering so to hand her the grey tablet that contained all this mysterious recruit's information and transfer orders, "I figured you would want to look it over immediately, Commander."

"You figured right," Aria said as she unlocked the screen. Instantly, the information she needed lit up the tablet:

NAME: Harrison, John

AGE: 30

BACKGROUND: Born in Dover, Great Britain, Earth

-Both parents killed in attack on Tarsus IV in 2246

-No living relatives

EDUCATION: Graduated from London School of Economics in 2250

PERFORMANCE REVIEW: Average marks as researcher

-Prefers to work alone

PSYCOLOGICAL REVIEW: N/A

SPECITLY: Data research

SECOND SPECITLY: None

Aria looked it over again and again. She stated at the screen in complete befuddlement. This was the most incomplete, vague profile she had ever come across. No picture, no birth date, no educational information prior to his apparent graduation from the Economics school. Was he even an official member of Starfleet? ''Average marks'? What sort of commanding officer receives average marks?' she thought as she scrolled through the profile for the 5th time, ' 'Prefers to work alone.' Why would he agree to transfer for an assistance job if he doesn't work well with others?' The pieces of the puzzle weren't fitting together and that only made her confused which quickly developed into frustration.

Quickly, Aria's eyes narrowed and she turned her attention to Harewood: "What is this? This is not an accurate file, " she barked, anger seeping through every word, "This is deficient, invalid to me, utterly useless. What is Marcus trying to take me for? An idiot?"

"I-I don't know, miss," Harewood stammered, clearly shaken by this new tone of hers, "I mean, you're not an idiot Commander Morrow, obviously. But, um, er, the…the admiral's men had given that information to-"

"I do not care who gave this so called 'information' to you. This is not a complete profile which leads me to believe that this Harrison character is not who Admiral Marcus has set him up to be." Aria snapped, "Tell me: what did he look like?"

"Harrison?" Harewood asked just to be sure.

"Yes, I need details," Aria demanded, "Young or old? What race is he: Human? Vulcan? Tell me!"

"Yes, miss, sorry." Harewood cleared his throat and began to describe the man he had seen that morning: "He's human. Tall, broad shoulders, muscular: I couldn't get a good look at his face, though. He wore all black just like the officers escorting him, but he had a hooded coat on as well. The hood was pulled over his eyes and he kept his head down while they took him down to the lab."

"His escorts, how'd they look?"

"Like any other escorts, miss. Nothing out of the ordinary except…" Harewood stopped short and nervously began to suck his lower lip.

"Except what, Harewood?" Aria hissed in agitation, "Now's not the time to keep secrets."

"One of them was carrying a bag when they brought Harrison in," he continued, "but after they dropped him off, the bag was gone as well. It's probably nothing, Commander. Science equipment, perhaps."

"Based on how little information I have on this man, I don't take this information as nothing." Aria replied, "As of right now, I don't trust this Harrison character, not until I'm face to face with him and can speak with him myself. Now can this contraption go any faster? Step on it, Harewood. God only knows what that idiot was really sent to do in my lab."

"How…how do you mean?"

"He could be dangerous."

"What makes you say that?"

"I said step on it!"

Without another word, Harewood straightened up and quickened their speed. The uncomfortable, tensioned silence returned; the only sound was the whizzing of the engine and the light tapping of Aria's impatient fingers against the information tablet. Despite how frustrated it made her, she couldn't take her eyes off the profile before her. Her mind now flowed with thoughts of curiosity mixed in with anger and her warrior alter ego was beginning to take over. Something deep in her soul made her believe that this Harrison fellow was a threat to her, a dangerous and potentially fatal threat.

Perhaps Marcus had received the entire inventory of advance weaponry he wanted from her. Perhaps he had hired John Harrison to take over her role as a commanding officer and thus eliminating her role in Starfleet. Her demotion of course would merely be the kick-starter of her demise: First loss of title, then exile, and then eventually execution. Aria was, after all, the last of her kind thus it would make sense if the admiral wanted to finally end her life; get rid of the last piece of evidence linking him to the awakening of a race of genetically enhanced beings to benefit his own needs.

To a normal human being, this would seem as an over exaggeration, a fit of mental paranoia as it were. But to Aria, it made perfect sense. She knew that her stay in Starfleet wouldn't be permanent; it was only a matter of time before Marcus would give the order to kill her. She was merely a toy to him that could be disposed of in a matter of moments. This was a fact; he had even told her so that night she and Khan were separated.

A surge of guilt filled her mind suddenly as the memory stirred in her mind. She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath to calm her nerves, but it was of no use. That memory was just as poignant as the one in her nightmares: never going away, never loosing its affect on her.

000000

She blinked her eyes open, slowly coming to. Her head was pounding and the bright, white, fluorescent light coming from all around her wasn't helping it. With a groan, she managed to get to her feet and find her balance. It quickly came back to her: the fight in the med room, the hands around her neck, his eyes.

"Khan." She breathed out. She was about to go running out to find him, but reality struck her. She had been returned to her cell in the ships brig. She was a prisoner once again.

"Nice to see that your up and about," That deep, unnerving voice said as it echoed off the walls of her cell.

"Marcus," she muttered under her breath as a cold shiver of anger ran up her spine. She turned around to lock a gaze with the man who had dragged her into all this chaos; the man who had begun to derail her life…or rather the life she had before she was put to sleep. He just stared back at her as if she were on display at a zoo. There was a shadow of pride on his face that made her feel a tad uneasy. But that didn't matter; what mattered was the issue at hand.

"Where is he?" she snapped, pounding a fist against the glass of her containment cell, "I demand an answer!"

"You're superpowers don't scare me, Morrow," Marcus teased, calmly folding his arms across his chest, "There's nothing you can do to me."

"Are you willing to take that chance?" she hissed, tensing her body up so that she appeared to be nothing but pure muscle.

Marcus merely laughed and shook his head: "I knew you were hot headed," he said, "but I didn't think you'd be stupid enough to attempt to threaten me while I have your entire crew locked in my cargo bay. Aren't you and your captain supposed to be supreme beings? Can't you use your brains?"

"Don't mock me!" she snapped, "Where is he? What have you done with him?"
"He's a lot stronger then I imagined, quick too," Marcus went on, "a real gem to your kind, I must admit. It's no wonder he was your leader. Nearly took out the guards when he came too." He suddenly stopped and wicked smirk grew across his dry, worn down face: "He asked about you," he unwillingly teased, "wanted to know what we had done to you, where you were. He seemed real hell bent on making sure you were safe. Did the two of you have something or am I to believe that it was strictly 'just business' between you two?"
"You mock me again!" she barked, slamming her hand against the glass again, "I would suggest you don't make that mistake a third time or it may very well cost you your life!"

"Threaten me again and it will cost you his." Marcus hissed in return. She froze and her eyes grew wide with fear. She wasn't meant to feel fear; it wasn't in her nature. But there was only one thing that could cause that emotion to show. The possibility of loosing him: her world, her captain, her Khan. Long ago, she had allowed him to take hold of her heart, which became her only weakness. Emotions always were a warrior's downfall and for her, there was no exception.

"Where…where is he?" she asked again but in a much lower tone. Marcus immediately pulled out a small silver device from his front pocket and punched in a code. An image appeared on the small screen and he showed it too her. There, lying in the middle of the floor of what appeared to be a hanger bay, semi-conscious, was Khan. She couldn't fully make out how injured (if he was at all) he was, but what mattered was that he was alive. Yes, he was alive.

"He did well in the interrogation process," Marcus said, "only fought back a few times before we had to sedate him again hence his current state. As I said before, it makes sense why you elected him as your leader."

"What's going to happen to him?" she said, almost pleaded.

"Khan Noonien Singh will been taken off of this ship to a disclosed location, never to be found." Marcus replied, taking the image away from her, "I have plans for him and when I'm through…"

"If you kill him, I swear I will end you." She snapped, knowing exactly where his thought process was going.

Marcus smirked wickedly at her again and chuckled: "I told you that you'd be separated from your people once you had awoken him. The only reason you are still alive, Morrow, is because I'm allowing it. You've kept you end of the bargain, so I'll let you live. You'll be put into Starfleet as a science officer, specializing in advance weaponry. You're job will be to adapt our armory with weapons of a higher caliber."
"I'm not your puppet," she hissed, narrowing her eyes at him, "You can't just make me do as you please."

"Is that so? Then perhaps I'm not making my self clear," he hissed through his all to perfectly white teeth, "Here is how things are going to work from now on: you do as I say or I kill your entire crew, starting with your precious Khan."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Want to test me? There are 74 of your kind left, 72 of which are still in a cryogenic sleep, while I have an entire fleet of starships at my disposal. Who has the upper hand here, Fist Officer Morrow? Keep your mouth shut, do as your told and maybe, just maybe, I'll let you and your people go."

"And when would that be? How long do I have to stay your prisoner?"
"As long as I damn well say you are! That was the deal; you give me Khan and I let you live. You're walking on thin ice, Morrow, and I won't hesitate to let you fall through. I'm letting you live for now and only for now."

000000

A loud beeping snapped Aria back to reality. Her eyes shot open and she looked around in a slight panic. She was still in the transport, still holding John Harrison's incomplete file, still on her way to confront this mysterious man. 'It was just a memory,' she told herself, taking in slow deep breaths, 'You just got ahead of yourself for a moment, Rhi. Focus!'

"Sorry, Commander," Harewood nervously said, tapping a few buttons on the dashboard, "that was my communicator. I didn't mean to break your concentration."

"No, no, it's alright." She replied, half-heartedly, "It was…it's nothing." The beeping suddenly stopped and a look of worry came across Harewood's face: "Why didn't you answer?" Aria asked. It wasn't like her to ask about other's doings but anything would do to get her mind off of Marcus at the moment. Also, this was Thomas Harewood, the only member of her team whom she could some what trust. He never asked questions, never pried into her business, a good worker and followed orders without any trouble. If he didn't have respect for Admiral Marcus, Aria might have let him in on her secret.

"It…It was a personal call, miss," he replied, "Family matter."

"You should have answered then," She said, "I wouldn't have minded. Is…is everything alright?" She felt odd asking that, but that is what people did wasn't it? If someone was in distress, then one should inquire about it out of courtesy. Feelings were part of her genetic code; Emotions were her weakness after all.

"It's my daughter," Harewood said after a long pause, "She's very ill; cancer, actually. We…we had to check her into intensive care this morning."

"Oh, I'm…I'm sorry to hear that." Aria replied, cringing at the robotic tone of her words. She was in fact trying, even though it was in vain. It wasn't that she didn't care; she just didn't know how too.

"Thank you," Harewood said with a nod.

They finally reached their destination and Aria immediately snapped back into commanding mode. She stepped out, adjusted the collar of her maroon greatcoat then took in a deep breath: "Harewood, you…you should go and be with your family." She instructed, back to him, "I can handle Harrison on my own."

"Um, th-thank you, Commander." He replied, sounding relieved, "Are you absolutely certain, though? You had implied that Harrison could be dangerous."

"I can handle myself, trust me." She replied, looking over her shoulder at him, "Be with your family. That should be your priority right now." She may not be the prime example of caring for others, but Aria understood the meaning of family. A warrior is taught that their fellow comrades are their brothers and sisters in arms; they are a family and vowed to protect one another. Aria lost her family so she understood what Harewood was going through. To loose a member of one's family is the most painful thing to experience, that she understood better than anything else.

Taken back a bit but this sudden and unnaturally kind gesture, Harewood sighed heavily and hoped back into the transport; "Good luck, Commander Morrow." Aria gave him an affirmative nod then headed inside the building.

Section 31 kept up its facade even on the inside. Various officers were stationed on the top layers just to appear as if they are working at a Starfleet Archive. It was the lower level where the real work was taking place. As Aria passed thought the massive glass doors, she zipped by a few men and women who immediately recognized her and straightened up instantly.

"Commander."

"Good afternoon, Commander Morrow."

"Pleasure to see you Commander."

She took no notice to them; she was on a mission and had little to no time for casual necessities. She reached the security scanner; passed the quick examination, then step into the lift. Swiping her security badge, Aria quietly rode the lift down to her private basement lab.

The lower levels were made up of various workstations for designers and scientist alike, but it was the bottom most level that was classified; that was Aria's lab. No one was allowed in without her permission and even that was a rarity. Despite it being a work place, it was a second home for there. When in her lab, Aria designed her weapons, built her prototypes then tested them. Majority of the time that process would take many long and tedious hours. Having a private lab meant that she didn't have to worry about being interrupted or dragged off on other assignments. She was alone and that was how she preferred it.

The lift came to a hissing stop and the large silver doors slid open. Aria stepped out, made a right down the dimly lit corridor then stopped in front of her lab door. She took hold of the silver hand and closed her eyes for just a moment. Her mind needed to focus on the task at hand, no matter what that would be. She had no idea what was waiting for her inside. John Harrison could just be waiting for her orders as her new assistant or he could be waiting in there to kill her. Nothing was clear to her, but she wasn't afraid. She was a superior being after all; who was this man to break her of that?

She rolled her shoulders back, fixed her posture so that her back was ramrod straight, opened her eyes then turned the handle. Aria strode into the lab and quickly shut the door behind her. Everything was eerily still; there was no sound of any one else being in the room. She casually began to walk around the room, seeming as if everything was fine and normal. Her eyes darted around, though, taking in every minuscule detail about the room. All of her equipment was still in place and none of her paperwork had been tampered with. She made her way over to her desk and that was when she saw it: A large, black duffle bag, plopped down beside of one of the workbenches.

"So you are here." She said, a sly smile growing across her face, "For a second there, I thought my officer had just made you up."

There came no reply, but Aria knew that Harrison was in the room. She could just feel it. Her senses were heightened and were better adjusted to high stake situations; this qualified as a high stake situation. Her blood began to quickly pump through her veins as she felt an urge of excitement take over her body. She missed times like this: the small thrill of catching the enemy (that is if Harrison was in fact an enemy). Casually, Aria walked over to the bag and knelt down to pick it up.

"Strange, isn't it Mr. Harrison?" she continued to talk as if he were right beside her, "You're performance review states that you prefer to work alone and yet here you are to be my assistant. Change of heart or did Marcus offer you a damn good deal?"

There was still no reply. Unphased, Aria plopped the bag down on the work bench and slowly began to unzip it: "Perhaps some clues to your identity are in here," she said, "Your file is a tad…incomplete, to put it lightly. It's almost as if someone just pieced it together in the last minute. Is that what happened? Marcus' needed you to pass an official officer of Starfleet so he whipped you up a file? Have I got that right?"
No reply.

"It's an interesting one, for what little is there," she went on, " 'Graduate of the London School of Economics', impressive. 'No living relatives', sorry to hear that. Oh and my personal favorite part: 'Average marks as a researcher'. Honestly, it's as if Marcus didn't even try to pass you off as an outstanding commander. Only an average one."

Just as Aria was about to pull out the top item in the bag, there was a quick brush of air against the back of her neck. She quickly spun around to see what it was, but there was nothing. Remaining unphased, she slowly turned back around to empty the bag. Suddenly, an arm shot out from behind and wrap around her middle, pinning her arms to her sides. A large weight then pushed her forward so that there was no space for her to move between the bench and what ever was holding her tight. She opened her mouth to speak but a hand immediately covered it.

"You so much as utter another word, I will end you." A voice hissed in her ear. A cold, merciless chill ran up her spine; one that she had only felt because of only one other person. That voice, why did it sound so familiar? Aria attempted to move to face her capture but it was of no use. He was too strong. But that was impossible? Her strength was well beyond any average human beings, so why couldn't she move him off? Cooperating only for the sake of finding some answers, Aria relaxed her body a bit into her capturer's hold.

"You're not as hot headed as you appear," he whispered, "perhaps I was wrong about you." Swiftly, he moved the arm around her middle to pin both of her arms behind her back. Seeing this as her chance, Aria bit down on one of her capture's fingers as hard as she could. He released the hand over her much and let out a small cry. By gaining this tiny bit of freedom, Aria managed to free her arms and bolt for the door.

Unexpectedly, he was in front of her in the blink of an eye. This was John Harrison, she was sure of it now. He matched Harewood's description: tall, muscular, dressed in all black with a hood pulled over his face. And based on the current predicament they were in, her previous thoughts on him were true, then; Marcus had sent him here to kill her.

Obviously not willing to go down with out a fight, Aria threw a left jab to his cheek but it was of no use. Harrison caught her fist and swung his neck blow toward her. She ducked and backed up slightly as he continued to make punches at her. He caught her slightly off guard in a mere moment, but it was enough cause her fall back against the workbench. The blow was unexpectedly fierce and strong; Aria could even feel a small trickle of blood on her now cracked lip. As she tried to steady herself again, Harrison pushed her back so that she was practically lying on the bench. He pinned her wrists above her head with one hand and placed the other hand around her neck. His strength was almost equal to hers, but she knew that was impossible. She was superior so it would be impossible for him to even be near her level. Why couldn't she break free from his hold?

Before Harrison could even get a chance to squeeze, Aria managed to head butt him. He stumbled back slightly, releasing her neck and hands. Her adrenaline pumping through her veins, Aria lunched herself upright and kicked Harrison's legs out from under him. He fell against the cold tiled floor with a thud and Aria wasted no time in pinning him there. She wrapped her legs around his waist, squeezing her knees into his sides, then grabbed his wrists in both of her hands and slammed his arms down on either side of his head.

Her heart raced with the thrill of the fight and her eyes were wild as she glared down at her victim. She expected him to fight against her hold, but to her surprise he didn't. Harrison only lie there, hood still over his face, but staring up at her. He mouth curved up into a wicked grin suddenly he let out a deep, chuckle that sent another cold chill down her spine.

"There you are," he said, his voice clear and deep, "That's my lark. I thought I'd lost you."

Aria stared down at him in utter confusion. Lost her? What was he talking about? They had never met. And what did he mean 'his lark'? No one had ever called her that, well no one at Starfleet at least. That was a nickname her crew gave her all those years ago because she had a more carefree quality back then. But Harrison wouldn't know about that unless…No, there was now way of him know that.

Slowly, he began to sit up. She let go of his wrists with caution but was honestly to taken back to notice that she had. Her eyes were now wide with shock as oppose to the excitement of the fight. Harrison sat up straight and grabbed the edges of his hood with his hands.

"How…how did you know about my name?" Aria asked, her voice abnormally soft and quivering a bit.

"Because I'm the one that gave it to you," he replied and her breath stilled in her chest. Harrison finally removed his hood and let it fall against his broad shoulders. His eyes pierced into her own: blue and cold as ever. A few strands of dark hair hung low in his face; a face that Aria thought she'd only ever remember and never relive again. He then took her hands into his and gently pressed his lips against her knuckles. She didn't fight it; she just gazed at him in wonder.

"It has been far too long, Aria," he said, nuzzling his forehead against her own. She closed her eyes and let out a shaky breath as she entangled her fingers with his.

"Khan," she whispered, "Khan."