As the doors slid shut behind him, Henry slid the floor of his quarters with relief. His lie had been accepted; he could see it in Picard's face. He tucked his knees to his chest and rested his chin upon them.
Well, what was I supposed to tell them? I'm a bloodsucking member of the undead with supernatural prowess…Here he grinned. And by the way, I'm over eight hundred years old. So please don't drive a stake through my heart or expose me to sunlight. Yeah right.
I couldn't possibly tell the truth. Then why do I feel guilty for lying to Picard? Beverly will support me, I made dead sure of that, but I have no reason to trust the captain. Anyway, it was a starship captain who sold me to the Ferengi.
Henry remembered Captain Oneida's unctuous smile and shuddered. His head ached at the thought, though the bump had long since healed. Oneida had not been Federation, true, but Henry was resolved to take no more unnecessary chances.
Hoping to distract himself from this melancholy train of thought, he accessed the virtual library.
Suddenly, a shrill beep sounded, and Henry looked up, startled. It took a few minutes for the implications of the noise to sink in. He scrambled to his feet.
"Come in."
A pretty young woman with dark hair and darker eyes entered the room. Her heartbeat rang out in the enclosed space and Henry absorbed her scent automatically. Not human, but close. And very pretty. Her uniform was skintight, and he had to force his eyes to remain innocently on her face. He was male after all.
The woman smiled. "Hello, I am Deanna Troi, ship's counselor. Captain Picard asked me to talk with you and make sure you were settled comfortably."
Henry smiled. He listened with amusement as Deanna Troi's heart began to pound. Eight hundred years' worth of women had been struck dumb by that smile.
"I am honored by your concern, Deanna. Please convey my thanks to your captain and tell him that I am quite comfortable." He took a step closer and heard her blood singing. He turned the smile into a shy, sweet grin. "I appreciate your company though. I've felt a little lonely since I got here."
Deanna felt her legs beginning to melt and forced herself to remain upright. I've had too much experience to be taken in by just a smile, she chided herself. I don't even know the man! Still…
"Well if it makes you feel better, of course I'll come and visit you," she replied. His smile brightened and she felt an answering smile tug at her lips.
"You're so beautiful when you smile like that," Henry murmured. She blushed and tried to maintain a professional bearing.
"Well, if you want to talk to me about anything, about what happened, the computer can direct you to my office at any time."
"Thank you," he said. "I'd like that."
He couldn't help but notice the bounce in her step as she left the room.
Curiosity ran wild. News spread quickly of the incident with the Ferengi and the unusual cargo they had been carrying. At last, to quell some of the speculation, Picard introduced Henry to the rest of his officers.
Riker nodded to the other man, a smile on his face. "Welcome to the Enterprise, Mr. Fitzroy."
Henry smiled as well. "Thank you, Commander. Your hospitality is truly extraordinary." His tone was gracious, but something in his manner was remarkably regal.
"Mr. Fitzroy, perhaps you could enlighten us," Data said. "How precisely did you end up on a Ferengi vessel? This sector is not well-traveled."
Henry hesitated for a moment. "I was traveling on a starship under the command of Captain Oneida." He grimaced. "A mercenary and small-time smuggler. The Ferengi came on board to discuss a specific cargo. I remember being hit from behind, then waking up in the Ferengi vessel. I don't know what they wanted with me. I'm certainly not important."
"This experimental procedure, what were the side effects you mentioned?" Data pressed.
"Other than occasional memory gaps and an altered physiology, nothing that I know of." Henry shrugged. "I think it was designed to treat those whose internal organs failed. If they perfected it and it saved lives, I guess a few side effects aren't much of a price to pay."
"I guess not," Geordi LaForge agreed. He too was beginning to like this stranger, and could certainly understand Deanna Troi's evident admiration.
"We will do whatever we can to make you feel welcome while we decide what to do with you," Picard said. "Perhaps someone can escort you to the holodeck, or to Ten Forward?"
"The holodeck please, Captain. I'm not much of a drinker."
"Very well." Picard's tone was brisk. "I'll have someone escort you…"
"I will escort him," Worf spoke up. "As head of security, it is my duty to accompany guests through the ship."
"Very well." Picard nodded briskly. "Mr. Fitzroy, if you will please go with Lieutenant Worf, he will show you the holodeck."
Henry nodded his thanks and cast a small smile at Deanna Troi and Beverly Crusher, seated side by side. Then he followed Worf from the room. Everyone exhaled.
"Wow," Geordi breathed.
"No kidding," Riker agreed. "I felt as if I should salute."
"This pad allows you to design your own program, which you may alter at any time," Worf explained. Henry was watching him intently. "A crew member will be able to provide assistance if you require it."
"What programs do you run, Mr. Worf?"
"I have designed a great number of programs," Worf said. "I use the holodeck primarily for bat'leth practice and other training exercises."
At this, Henry visibly brightened. "I have had some experience with a bat'leth. Perhaps you would care to spar with me, if you are not busy?"
"The captain will expect me back at the bridge…" Worf said, but Henry interrupted.
"You can use the opportunity to show me how to work the holodeck. Besides, I would relish the chance to test my skills against a Klingon."
"Then it would be an honor," Worf said. "Computer, play program Worf 1."
The holodeck doors slid open with a pneumatic hiss. Henry followed Worf inside, a small smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. The training room floor was covered in a thin white mat, while racks of weapons hung along the walls. The room was well-lit, but not uncomfortable, even to Henry's sensitive eyes. Worf picked up two bat'leths from a rack and handed one to Henry.
"Of course, I have my own bat'leth in my quarters. It has been in my family for ten generations." Worf shifted his grip on the weapon's haft into a more comfortable position. "But for now, we will use these blunted practice bat'leths."
Henry's grin was faintly mocking. "Afraid you'll hurt me, Worf?"
"I have not yet assessed the full measure of your skill," Worf replied, a little uncomfortable. "Until that time, it would be…unwise to handle fully-sharpened blades."
Henry snorted. "Ready then?" Worf noticed that he shifted quite comfortably into a fighting stance, hands gripping the bat'leth with an easy familiarity. Worf eyed his opponent carefully, taking his measure. Something told him this wasn't going to be an easy victory.
He stepped forward and swung, a short blow designed to test his opponent's defenses. Metal clashed with metal as Henry's bat'leth whipped up to block. His reflexes are faster than an average human's, Worf thought.
Watching Worf's face, Henry suppressed a smile. He would be angry to find out that I'm going easy on him.
From Worf's perspective, the fight was evenly-matched. Blow after blow rained upon uplifted steel. Attack, block, attack again. Henry's style was smooth and fluid; he clearly did not lack training. Worf could feel the strength behind his opponent's blade, and no matter how fast he moved, Henry matched it. Within minutes, both men were breathing heavily.
At last, Worf called a halt. "You are a capable warrior," he said, bowing to his opponent. "Where did you acquire such training?"
Without hesitation, Henry copied Worf's gesture. As he straightened up, he placed his bat'leth on the rack, stalling for time. What should I tell him? The truth... he decided.
"I visited Q'onoS for a time," he said. Worf was surprised to hear the traditional pronunciation of the Klingon home world. "I searched high and low until I found a Klingon who was willing to instruct a human."
Actually, he mentally corrected, he was only willing to instruct me because I wasn't human. And because he was well paid for his trouble.
"That is most unusual," Worf said. "What was this instructor's name?"
Henry paused, already halfway to the holodeck doors. "Ba'el," he replied. It feels odd to be telling the truth. Well, mostly. "Thank you, Worf. I enjoyed our sparring session."
He was gone before Worf had a chance to formulate a reply. "Most remarkable," Worf muttered to himself as the doors hissed shut. He placed his bat'leth on the rack almost absentmindedly. "How could a human have visited the Klingon home world?"
Captain Picard's voice emanated from Worf's communicator, interrupting his thoughts.
"Lieutenant Worf, report to the bridge."
Worf tapped his communicator immediately, feeling slightly guilty. His absence had been longer than he intended.
"On my way, sir."
Shaking his head to clear it, Worf exited the holodeck.
Ten Forward was a lively place as usual that evening. Drinks and conversation were exchanged freely as the crew of the Enterprise enjoyed their off-duty hours. From her place at the bar, Guinan could observe everything that occurred in her small domain. There was a hiss as the doors opened and a young man entered.
This man instantly attracted Guinan's attention. She didn't recognize him, which was unusual in itself, but he had a confident, alert demeanor that impressed her. Red-brown hair framed his face like a halo.
As he gracefully passed the bar, Guinan called out to him. "You're new here."
The young man paused, then came over to her. "My first night on the Enterprise."
"Then you must be Henry Fitzroy," Guinan said. "The captain told me about you. And you're the only thing the crew talks about. I'm surprised you haven't been mobbed already."
Henry grinned. "I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage. You know my name, but I don't know yours."
"I'm Guinan," she said. "I run the bar and offer advice when it's needed."
"So I'm betting you know a lot about the crew by now," Henry said, leaning casually on the bar.
She raised an eyebrow. "Anyone in particular that you're interested in?"
He gave her an oh-so-innocent look. "Maybe."
Guinan didn't say anything, only raised the other eyebrow.
"Fine," he relented. "Maybe I am a little interested in Counselor Troi and Doctor Crusher." He smiled. "They caught my eye."
"Then I guess you should go over and talk to them," Guinan suggested. "They're right over there at that table."
As Henry pushed away from the bar and headed toward the pair, Guinan watched him with a mixture of worry and amusement. "I certainly hope that Counselor Troi and Doctor Crusher will be able to handle him. That boy's a player."
Troi and Crusher greeted Henry enthusiastically, and within moments, the three of them had started an animated conversation. Henry seemed perfectly capable of flirting with them both, even though he was considerably younger than either. As Guinan watched, Deanna giggled and tossed her hair back like a teenager. Beverly was more dignified, but her look of fascination was still apparent.
Guinan pursed her lips a little as Henry gazed over Beverly's head, directly at her, and flashed her a triumphant grin.
"Cute, but definitely not my type," she muttered, and went back to serving drinks. "Somehow he doesn't strike me as a one-woman sort of guy."
Several hours later, Henry trotted back to his quarters, his stomach growling. The scent of blood in Ten Forward had become intoxicating, and despite centuries of self-control, he was afraid that one more moment with Deanna and Beverly (it hadn't taken long to get to a first-name basis) would drive him half-mad with Hunger.
A crew member passed him in the corridor, and Henry was almost flattened by the burst of blood scent that assailed his nostrils. It smelled good. The Hunger roared for release and rattled the bars of its cage. Halfway down the hallway in pursuit, Henry brought himself to a trembling stop.
Why am I so Hungry? I drank the replicated blood earlier, and I haven't lost any.
He hesitated for several minutes, holding his breath as long as he dared. Then he all but sprinted to his quarters, careful to stay at a mildly human pace. Locking the door securely behind him, Henry flickered to the replicator. His head was spinning and his stomach was making enough noise to wake the dead. Figuratively speaking. His teeth were clenched together with such force that he was afraid that they'd crack under the pressure.
The glass appeared, filled to the brim with blood. He gulped it thirstily, then refilled it twice more. The Hunger barely faded. Henry kept drinking until his face was flushed with the blood and his senses were singing, but his stomach still growled and the Hunger still clamored for more.
Finally, Henry let the glass fall. He half-expected it to shatter on the floor, but it didn't. The little blood still left in it dripped on the carpet. He stared at it, sickened. One thought went through his head over and over:
The replicated blood doesn't work!
