A/N: I'm still amazed that this fic has gotten over 100 reviews! Seriously, I thought it was going to take… Well, more than three chapters to reach that many! I'm so happy you all are enjoying this!

Also, I will be explaining why Alice's career is so important to her in a later chapter. I'm building up to that seeing as that will be a fundamental conversation between her and Khan.

Oh, by the way, I could use some help with something, though its rather unrelated to this fic...

If you're familiar with the BBC series "Sherlock", I'm thinking about writing a Sherlock/OC fanfic but would like to have some opinions on the matter before I dedicate myself on writing another complicated character (Sherlock makes Khan seem perfectly sane!). If you're interested in hearing the two ideas I have in mind and would like to offer your input, PM me or leave a review and I'll PM you.

Khan had grown so used to Alice coming and going from his little cell over the past handful of weeks that five minutes prior to eight-in-the-morning he'd made sure to set out a glass of water for her on the coffee table. It was not out of the kindness of his heart, but rather to keep her from digging through the two cabinets for a glass like she owned the place, something that still irked him to no end. She still did whatever she wished in his residence, but by setting the glass out – as pathetic as it was – he got some scant amount of control back.

But unlike all the other days she came to have their morning session, she was late.

Alice was typically punctual, often arriving a few minutes early, but it was already eight-thirteen in the morning and she'd yet to make a single appearance. It wasn't normal, and Khan did not like the break from routine. He had work to do, just as she did, and he didn't want to waste time standing around.

Diverting his attention to the PADD he'd set on the counter in the pathetic kitchen, he picked it up and leaned back against the counter to study it.

The USS Vengeance was still in the early stages of development in which Khan was still working out the kinks and cyphering through how things would work, but Marcus was pleased with what little Khan had shown and described to him that it was already being built in secret behind Jupiter. The admiral's immeasurable desire to see Starfleet militarized would be his downfall just as it would be Khan's salvation.

Because Marcus was so focused on seeing the ship be built he paid little attention to the highly specific details that were going into the torpedoes Khan was also working on. All Marcus was aware of was that the torpedoes would be undetectable by Klingon forces and thus its design needed to be incredibly specific, but that the main focus was obviously on the ship. By shifting the focus to the Vengeance, Khan could work on the torpedoes with little scrutiny, making it easier for him to work on getting his family to safety.

Unfortunately, creating the torpedoes would be more difficult than his work on the ship. As odd as it was, designing a monstrosity of a ship was by far simpler than creating fully functional torpedoes that could safely house his sleeping crew even though he could work on the torpedoes himself, could see for himself exactly what was going on. If he didn't design the weapons just right then he would get his whole crew killed, and if he misinterpreted the size of the capsules housing the others he would be hard-pressed to succeed in getting them out of this prison they'd all found themselves in. After all, how could he get them out if the capsules would not fit in the torpedoes or if they raddled around dangerously?

But then he still had to have the Vengeance complete so that he and his followers would have a place to retreat to because he certainly did not plan to allow Marcus to keep a hold on his creation. Perhaps once they were all free they could find a world to colonize, a place to start over where they wouldn't be condemned for doing what they were created to do.

There were so many things he needed to get done and the sooner he started the real work the better he and his crew would be.

For starters, he needed the specifications of the cryotube so as to make the torpedoes as precise as possible, and then he needed a way to actually get his crew into the weapons. With how the security officers constantly watched him like a hawk, putting them in the torpedoes would be a challenge all on its own. Once he figured that out, he needed to devise a plan of attack on Marcus himself – he couldn't let that bastard remain breathing for the crime of holding his family hostage in stasis and forcing him to do his dirty work. What he needed was a place off site where he could work out his revenge on the man because he couldn't muddle his thoughts with various forms of murder and revenge when he had to get his people to safety first.

As always, family came first. Family was the one constant in his life since birth that would never change.

However, to do it all, to save them, he was going to need assistance on the inside, someone who could venture around without drawing unnecessary attention. The security officers came to mind – they were private security and thus they would work for whoever offered a better deal and such. But those men and women couldn't be trusted when anyone who offered something better could make them switch sides, not to mention they all seemed genuinely loyal to Marcus, reminding him on occasion not to wrong the admiral. The engineers, researchers, and whatnot certainly would not help him when it was clear they put their work above all else and did not like him in the slightest. There was, however, that auburn haired woman – a weapon's specialist named Rebecca Donavon – who while genuinely intimidated and wary of him was also seemingly infatuated, perhaps drawn to dangerous men. She was the farthest thing from help that there was – he couldn't have some skittish young woman looking for approval and some sort of relationship following him around.

He did not desire her help or the help of any of the other longtime personnel.

In Section 31, there was only one person with whom Khan thought could help him.

Dr. Alice Walsh was not in the secret facility by choice, but rather by force, that much was obvious but how she dodged his questions as to why she was there and her reaction to his speculation on whether or not Marcus was dangling something in front of her to keep her in line. She was a career woman and her career was everything to her – no one would assume a controversial method of treatment and make it work all but one time if they were not serious about their occupation – but there was the possibility of a shift in loyalty in the near future.

Starfleet was virtually throwing her under the bus for committing such a tragic mistake that saw to the death of a patient. It was terrible, yes, and worthy of a suspension of some kind, maybe a demotion, but the reports he'd hacked into suggested that she was to be thrown out of Starfleet altogether, and now Marcus was forcing her to work in Section 31 and the case involving the dead lieutenant was put on hold pending further investigation.

Starfleet, it seemed, was turning its back on a woman dedicated to the uniform because they did not want to be associated with a woman who talked a man into killing himself when she had the best intentions. That was bound to make her relationship with Starfleet a bit prickly, and Khan could use that to his advantage if he played his cards carefully, though the thought of eventually asking Alice for help left a foul taste in his mouth.

She was a talented, bright, attractive, and intriguing woman who was a challenge he never thought he'd find, but she infuriated him to no end. No woman in his past was like her, and she both alluring and tempting, the game of wills she'd initiated one he nearly enjoyed playing, and that made her a thorn in his side. When he tried to get things done or had things on his mind that needed to be sorted out, there she was, questioning him about his past, motives, life, and whatever else crossed her mind, and so help him if she didn't get to him quite often. She enjoyed challenging him and looked to piss him off when she had to know it was bad for her health. Most would call her insane for doing so. More than once they came within inches of each other, both daring the other to back down first. He wanted to back down so he could get back to work, but he never did, too proud to do so. She would be quite intimidate by his proximity, scared even, but she never backed down either. Neither backed down willingly, but were forced to by the question of some scientist or guard, or the real need to get back to work.

To let Alice in on his plans and work with her was not something Khan looked forward to.

Like it or not, Alice might be the only person he could convince to aid him in time. If he could alter her view of Starfleet into something ugly, make her see the terrible truth that she was nothing more than a pawn to them, he could win her over to his side – so long as she didn't realize that she was little more than a pawn to him as well.

Checking the time, he sighed when he saw that six minutes had passed.

What was it that had caused her to be late?

And then, relieving him of his frustration, the door beep and then hissed opened, revealing the woman who was more than a little late.

Looking towards her, Khan was a bit taken aback by her appearance.

Alice was dressed in her formal grey uniform, not a single wrinkle or crease marring her jacket and short skirt. Her hat was tucked safely under her arm and her long blond hair was up in a tight bun low on her head, making her look so incredibly professional when combined with her neat makeup.

She wore it quite well, the very image Starfleet sought to portray with her near perfect posture.

It was the most put together he'd ever seen her, and he knew that she had not dressed up for him alone.

"I assume you will not be spending your day shadowing me," he observed, minimizing the information on his PADD.

Setting her hat on the coffee table, picking up the water he'd set out for her, she confirmed his assumption with a nod. "Admiral Marcus has decided that I am to have a formal meeting with him and Commander Dalton once a month regarding my progress with you. Apparently, he requires more than my weekly report."

The tone was laced with irritation that she didn't bother masking, and that suggested that she would rather be heading anywhere but there, as did her heavy sigh as she sat down in the chair she seemed to have claimed as her own upon their first meeting.

Truthfully, he couldn't exactly blame her for not looking forward to a meeting with the admiral. Whenever he learned that he would be meeting with him or was randomly approached by the man, Khan internally cringed, detesting the man's very presence because he was the gunman holding his people hostage. When he learned that Marcus would be leaving for San Francisco for some time tomorrow he was more than a little relieved that he wouldn't have to deal with him face to face for at least a while, even though he'd have the sniveling weasel known as Commander Dalton to deal with instead.

No, on this matter, Khan sympathized with the doctor on meeting with Marcus.

"And what will you say of me in this meeting?" he asked casually, setting the PADD down in its usual spot on the counter.

"That you're rude and egotistic," she said matter-of-factly with little hesitation, glancing up at him as she sipped her water.

He said nothing, only waited for the real answer. He'd come to realize that when she spoke too quickly following his questions, accompanied by a quickly look to him for his reaction, that she was testing him. They were learning more and more about each other each and every day.

After a moment's pause, she set her water aside and scanned over the notes on her PADD. "I plan to tell him that while you expect things to be done your way, you do work rather well with others, and that this is likely what aided you in becoming the so-called greatest tyrant of the 20th century. If there are any redeeming qualities about you, that is among them, but your devotion to your deceased crew is at the top of the list."

He tensed at the mention of his people. "They're dead," he lied convincingly, looking her in the eye. "My dedication to them is over."

"Maybe, but it was once stronger than any other bond, wasn't it?" she questioned. "With that in mind, clearly you have the capacity to care about others and the ability to become a member of this society if you can work with others to some degree. However," she sighed and sat back to look on him as he took a seat opposite of her. "You're vocal about your belief that you are better than everyone and aren't afraid to put someone down harshly, nor are you opposed to killing those you believe to be less than superior and against you. Plainly put, if it's not your way, it's the highway, and that highway leads to the individual or group being killed."

"Something you could have learned from looking into my history."

"I wasn't finished," she stated, crossing her ankles. "While it is painfully obvious that you are in fact a psychopath, I do believe that given time and the right motivation we wouldn't have to worry about you trying to reclaim your crown, so to speak."

He cocked his head fractionally, openly curious about how she'd drawn that conclusion. "And what, Dr. Walsh, makes you believe that?"

"Whenever I challenge your methods of ruling, you always tell me that what you did was in the best interest of not only your people, but of everyone, both the superior and the lesser beings. Why you care, you haven't told me, but I think that something happened to make you care."

He worked not to ground his teeth, not comfortable with how close she was to was coming to the reality of why he was the man he was.

"Maybe you witnessed some tragedy, maybe the death of a confidant who wasn't like you," she continued, noticing the slight change in his demeanor. "You're methods were flawed and whether you believe it or not it resulted in what was essentially the enslavement of thousands of humans, but unlike other Augmented tyrants you sought to keep everyone safe in your own way." Tapping her blunt fingernails against the back of her PADD, she paused, giving her words a moment to sink in. "Want to tell me what exactly happened to make you care, Khan?"

The composure and indifference Khan sought to project so skillfully clashed with the current of emotions raging from within.

He recalled all too clearly the memories of the handful of years following his and his fellows' escape from the underground facility in India, recalled vividly the violence and crime he'd witnessed while trying to get by in dirty streets whilst his brothers and sisters scattered to find a life elsewhere, though a few didn't stray too far from him. He'd witness murder, robbery, and cruelty at its core from both the natives of India as well as foreigners. The instructors within the underground facility had taught him and the others everything there was to know about everything in the world, but nothing could compare to seeing the chaos the world was in for himself, and such acts of cruelty opened his eyes to why he was truly created.

Violence knew no bounds, and if there was to be peace, the world required a firm hand.

Years after his escape while he was in his early twenties, Khan was approached by Gary Seven, a strange man with stranger technology. Seven knew what Khan was and knew of the Chrysalis Program, and desired Khan's help in "saving the world from itself". It seemed that Khan's desire to end violence and war was finally within reach. Unfortunately, the two men had an entirely different idea of how the world should be handled.

Seven sought to stop things like nuclear attacks, assassinations, and other forms of violence from behind the scenes, to even allow governments to sort things out for themselves in hopes that they'd make the right choice. Seven's mission, in his words, was to ensure that man did not destroy themselves with nuclear warfare, but not to interfere. As far as Seven was concerned, they could not openly intervene with the rulings and ideals of various countries, something Khan viewed as a weakness.

And thus he broke away from his mentor a few years later and began to gather his fellow Augments, and by 1992, now in his early thirties, he had seized control of nearly forty nations and held his reign for four years.

Unlike Seven, Khan went on the offensive against violence and cruelty. Only with one rule to follow, his rule, could there be peace. There would be no murder, no violence, only peace permitted his subjects followed his rule, though some did turn away to try to rule on their own.

It was not one act that caused him to care, it was many acts committed by many cruel people.

Noticing that Alice was waiting for an answer, he debated on whether or not he should reply or not. The truth was not something he desired to tell her, but silence would only irritate her, and her reaction to being irritated would be to annoy him in return.

Something had to be said on his part, but what?

"Look to your history books," Khan instructed coolly. "Look to the wars and the turmoil of the late 20th century, and tell me why I sought to bring everyone under one rule."

"I know Earth's history – people were free, and you turned to villainy and enslaved and murdered hundreds when you could have done so much good with the way you'd been created – you had the potential to be a hero among men. Instead, you essentially started the Eugenics War."

"A hero among men," he repeated, amused as the hint of a smirk tugged at his lips. "In such a time as the one I came from, the only way to stop villainy was to become a villain yourself – a better villain."

She stared at him, expression torn between disgust, frustration, and curiosity. "You openly call yourself a villain, and yet you wanted to protect these people you tormented. Sounds to me like you were trying to be their salvation, when in reality you were everyone's damnation."

He sighed, tired of going in circles with her. "I have no qualms with who I am, Walsh, nor do I regret the things that I have done because I did it for the greater good of my people and the humans. Was there violence in the region that I ruled?"

She said nothing, only pursed her lips.

"Precisely." Shaking his head fractionally, he added wearily, "You may not approve of my methods, but they worked."

She glanced away, thinking, searching her brain for a new question perhaps. "Did they? Look at what happened – you're people are dead and you're here, alone."

His eyes narrowed, studying her as she studied him. "You are here alone as well because your own methods were seen as flawed by others."

"You saying we're alike?" she asked, smirking behind her irritation. "That we are both flawed individuals stuck underground?"

"We are hardly alike," he scoffed. "I am merely saying that you should hold your tongue when speaking of myself as less than you because if you are right about me, then you are in league with me seeing as Starfleet has turned their backs on you just as those who created me turned their backs on me and my people."

She straightened, tensing noticeably. "Starfleet hasn't turned its back on me."

"Hasn't it?" Now was the perfect time to begin planting the seeds of doubt within her mind, and he continued, "When you did what they wished and did your job well, they were proud to have you wear the uniform. They even sent patients your way, such as Lieutenant O'Connor."

"How'd you know they sent him to me?" she demanded, a curious edge to her voice.

"I read it in the file you had on O'Connor," he replied. "The firewalls protecting private information are just as pitiful now as they were in the past, and because of that I know that your hand in the lieutenant's death has earned you a black mark. You've stained your uniform, and Starfleet doesn't want that stain to be seen, thus they plan to be rid of you… unless you cooperate with Admiral Marcus and try to rehabilitate me. That is why you're here, correct? Is your career being held hostage by Marcus so as to get you to do what he wants?"

Silence followed and he knew that she was considering his words, that they'd hit a nerve. It was as far as he would push on the matter for now if only to give her something to think about and allow for the doubt to take hold.

Licking her lips and shifting in her seat, she looked around his quarters and frowned, but not from what he'd said, by what she was seeing. He owned nothing for her to look at, so what caught her attention was a mystery.

She didn't leave him in the dark for long. "When are you going to give the place a personal touch?"

He blinked. "Pardon?"

"I know you aren't permitted to venture to the surface, but people come and go with food and drinks for you so that you're well stocked," she explained. Shrugging, she asked, "Why not ask them to get something to make this place less… cold and more comfortable?"

For a moment he only stared at her, and then he just shook his head and chuckled dryly. "And what would make you believe Marcus, Doyle, and anyone else would care about my comfort?" Extending his arms to the cramped quarters, he added, "I have a bed that's little more than a cot in plain view of where you are sitting, and the only piece of privacy I get is in the poor excuse of a bathroom where I've yet to find a camera or listening device, all of which are scatter everywhere else in my quarters." Amusement towards her question fading as his own words reminded him of what little freedom he had thanks to Marcus, he sighed, "I assure you that any request for worldly possessions would fall and deaf ears. Besides, I doubt this new time has anything to offer that would best what I took pleasure in before."

"What did you enjoy way back when, Khan?" she asked with genuine curiosity. "Music? Radio shows? Books?"

He didn't intend to answer her, had no reason to reveal anything personal about himself, but he replied anyways, "Music. I enjoyed listening to music. Judging by the music Dr. Donavon listens to as she works I doubt any form of music would entertain me."

She nodded more to herself, processing that bit of information before filing it away in her mind. But she didn't jot it down on her PADD, something that struck him as odd. Why ask if she didn't intend to make a note of it?

"Well, since you have no interest in modern music, you shouldn't feel like you are missing out on anything as I am going clubbing later tonight," she announced, drinking her water.

"Clubbing?" he repeated, not expecting her to say that, let alone be the kind of woman to go to clubs.

"My friend Carol is also in Starfleet and is stationed here in London, but she only just returned after doing some work in San Francisco," she explained. "We're getting together at the club to catch up. I only bring it up because you should know that our evening session will be held two hours earlier to give me proper time to get ready to head out."

Carol – Khan made certain that he would look up any Carol in Alice's history later on. As for her going out, that irked him more than a little. Clubbing was too public, not something he would ever desire to do, but he longed to breathe some fresh air for once, air that hadn't been cycled through vents.

Alice was being forced to do work for Marcus, but she was permitted to come and go when not busy. If he were to be envious about anything, it was the small freedom she had that allowed her to see the sky, something a lot of people took for granted.

She narrowed her eyes slightly, noticing a change in his demeanor yet again, studying him closely, but she said nothing about it and continued on with their session.

Marcus had to admit, he was thoroughly impressed with Alice's capability to work with Khan for so long without going mad from intimidation and fear. She didn't seem to be a meek woman, but from what he'd gathered from his private security Khan had gotten in her face a few times and looked on the boarder of striking her or choking the life out of her before something forced the two apart. That being said, apparently there was a betting pool going on as to how long it would take for Alice to lose it and slap "Harrison" across the face due to his constant rudeness towards her.

They were both at each other's throats, and that was exactly what Marcus had intended. Since bringing Alice into the picture, Khan's hostility had become focused more on her as opposed to Marcus, Doyle, or anyone else working in Section 31. The two despised each other from the sound of it and focused on tormenting the other, but they were both still capable of doing their assigned jobs – he was more concerned about Khan being able to do his job than Alice doing hers.

Turning his grey eyes up from Alice's PADD regarding Khan that she'd handed to him to study as she spoke her piece, he noticed that she looked a tad uneasy, dragging the blunt nail of her index finger over her thumb, seemingly lost in her thoughts and uncomfortable in her surroundings. She had come straight from a session with Khan, leaving him to suspect that the two had gotten into an argument of some kind or something – he'd check the security feed from the cameras in Khan's cell later to see and hear what went on for himself.

"I'm impressed," Marcus said after a few minutes of silence, handing the PADD back to her, which she gratefully accepted. "I wasn't sure you'd be able to learn so much from our guest in only a month, to be perfectly honest with you."

"I have a way with people," she stated, sitting a little straighter but still uneasy as she gripped her PADD.

He smirked. "I don't doubt that."

"Have you run into any trouble with others asking questions about Khan?" asked Doyle, staring at her through judgmental brown eyes.

Marcus sighed.

His young friend still questioned Alice being brought in to work so closely with Khan, not believing it to be a wise idea.

"A few people have asked me about, Harrison," she admitted. "But no one seems to be aware that he's anything but Agent John Harrison. Most believe I'm following him around because he has PTSD. No one is aware that he's Khan, and my answer to their questions is always the same."

"And that is?"

"That I can't discuss my patient without his consent."

Marcus was pleased by her answer, but Doyle wasn't finished yet.

"And do you plan to speak of any of this to Carol?" Doyle asked, eying her sharply, a smirk playing at his thin lips. "You do plan to go out with her this evening, don't you?"

At that, Marcus frowned.

He wasn't aware that Carol and Alice had contacted each other recently, though he really shouldn't be surprised since the two had been friends since their first year in Starfleet. However, Doyle's concern was warranted this time, because from what Carol had told him in the past, before he practically shunned her for looking too closely into the torpedoes being developed a few days earlier, both she and Alice had few secrets from each other.

Shifting in her seat, Alice asked, "How'd you know that Carol and I were planning on going out tonight?"

"I make a regular habit of watching the security feed of your interactions with Khan. I tuned in this morning to see just what you two would discuss, as I do most mornings," he explained, causing her frown to deepen. "You informed him that your evening session would be held a little earlier because you had plans to go to a club with Carol. There were also his comments about you and Starfleet." To Marcus, he clarified, "Khan insinuated that we've turned our back on her due to her mistake with Lieutenant O'Connor, and claimed that you are holding her career hostage so that she'll do what you want."

"Is that what you think, Dr. Walsh?" Marcus asked, hardly concerned anymore with her spending time with his daughter and more concerned about the thoughts Khan might be filling her head with. He would have to remind Khan to keep his mouth shut about certain things for the sake of his crew.

Alice didn't reply right away, instead taking a moment to breathe and gather her thoughts. "What I think… is that you are giving me a chance to make amends by rehabilitating Khan. That's what I think. If I fail, I lose my career – perfectly fair."

She sounded like she was being completely honest with him, but he couldn't say for sure if she truly believed what she'd told him or was just spitting out what he wanted to hear.

Deciding that for now he would take her word for it, he nodded slowly and replied, "I'm glad you aren't buying into Khan's lies, doctor. I'm sure I don't have to tell you how manipulative he can be."

"I assure you, I'm quite aware of that."

"Good." Rising to his feet, both Dalton and Alice following his lead, he concluded, "If that's all, you are dismissed. I'll expect to read your reports weekly as usual."

"Yes, sir," she replied quickly, turning to make her leave. But she slowly came to a halt, standing stock still for a moment, before sighing and turning to face him. "Sir, may I make a request regarding my treatment of Khan?"

Glancing at her briefly as he took a seat once again to get back to some of his other work, he nodded. "Let's hear it."

"With your permission, Admiral, I was wondering if it would be at all possible to allow Khan to come up to ground level at some point. To get some fresh air and just… get out for a few hours."

That was hardly the request he thought she would make and it was the most insanely absurd thing he'd heard come from her mouth or anyone's mouth for that matter, and Doyle too stared at her in disbelief.

"Why would I allow a known Augmented, psychopathic murderer roam the streets of London?"

"Even supermen get restless, sir," she pointed out. "And being that Khan is our guest, as you put it, shouldn't he be allowed a small bit of freedom by seeing how the world has changed and be allowed to take a break from his work?"

He leaned forward, interlacing his fingers on his desk, and asked, "What's to say he won't just run off and escape? And why should it matter to me if he gets to see the sights or not?"

"Whatever deal you've made with him will keep him from running, I'm sure of it. He wouldn't be doing the work you've assigned to him without some sort of deal, that's just not how he is," she explained smoothly. It was likely that she'd thought about this throughout their entire meeting, which would explain the distant look in her eyes. But now those dark green eyes were staring at him with a look that made him feel as if he were now the one being studied under a microscope. "And as you called him, he's a guest, so shouldn't we treat him as one? Unless I'm to understand that he's actually a prisoner."

Marcus ground his teeth, not liking the conclusions she was drawing up. Maybe Khan was getting to her after all.

"Look," she started again, noticing the look on his face. "You brought me here to study and rehabilitate Khan into a functioning member of society. I need to see how he reacts in public to really help him. You can have plain dressed security officers follow us and I will not let Khan out of my sight."

Marcus said nothing for several seconds, working through her request as she stood there waiting for his answer. If he didn't let Alice have her way, she'd begin to see the truth that Khan was in fact a prisoner and she might even start to question her reasons for being there. It didn't sit well with him, letting Khan out of his cage, but would the man really dare cross him with the lives of his crew on the line?

"I'll tell you what, Dr. Walsh," Marcus began slowly. "Khan has been here roughly a month, hardly enough time for me to trust that he won't run. You have to understand, though, that given his past I have to keep the safety of others in mind, but if there is a significant improvement five months from now – we'll call it the halfway mark – I will consider letting him out for a while. Will that suffice?"

She thought about it and then nodded. "Five months – understood, sir."

"All right, then," he sighed, giving her a curt nod. "You're dismissed."

This time, she did leave, and he was left pondering what had just taken place.

Doyle knowingly came to stand beside his chair. "Do you really intend to follow through and let him out of his cage, sir?"

"No, I don't, but Walsh believes that I will and that is what matters. Five months from now I'll find an excuse to keep him underground. In the mean time," he began, looking towards the door Alice had exited through. "Follow her to the club and remind her that we're in charge."

"Do you want me to just scare her, or would you like me to give her… physical incentive not to cross us?"

"Just scare her for now," he instructed, bringing up the holographic model of the USS Vengeance, studying the warship that he would one day command. "Remind her that without my approval, she'll be nothing more than a disgraced Starfleet officer. I'm sure her parents would roll over in their graves if that were to happen. If she gets too out of line, you have my permission to give her whatever physical incentive you see fit to carry out so long as it doesn't result in her death."

Smirking, Doyle nodded and left Marcus' officer to get to his duties, already looking forward to his task later in the evening.

Doyle was a loyal friend and officer, but the man had an acute like for tormenting people, something Marcus always used to his advantage. If anyone could scare Alice back into line, it was Doyle.

Pushing his concerns about the woman's loyalty, Admiral Marcus, glancing at the photo of his daughter, sighed and began reviewing the details of the Vengeance.

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