Disclaimer: See chapter one

White Horses & Red Herrings!

The young woman stood on the rocky shore above the high tide mark watching the waves as they pounded the rocks around her, the wind whipping the waves into wild running white foam and spray; her blonde locks also whipped by the same tempestuous wind that blew in off the Pacific Ocean flew around her head as the sun darted fitfully between the racing storm clouds and played with her, the sea spray and the waves in much the same manner as the wind. The tempest around her stood in stark contrasts to her statue-like figure on the shoreline.

"I see the White Horses are running today," noted a new voice behind her.

"There are no horses here!" she promptly pointed out not looking round at her companion.

"It's a figure of speech to describe the waves. They are the horses," he informed her. The pair continued to stand in contemplative silence together watching the waves/white horses pound the rocky shoreline.

The female quietly reflected that she could have answered the males' erroneous observation with the known facts of the scene around them, but in the past few months since leaving Voyager and especially since being confined to this secure compound with her fellow so-called security risks, that some things should just let be, thus she watched the waves, wind and sunlight with fresh eyes and a new understanding, allowing her usual scientific logic to take a backseat as it were. In some respects the current wild scene reflected her mood and inner turmoil at the events that had led to her being here in the first place.

"Do humans always ascribe animate characteristics to inanimate objects?" she asked making her male companion grin.

"Sometimes," he agreed, standing a little behind her, thus letting her take the full force of the wind blowing in off the sea, the spray creating small brief rainbows in the fleeting sunshine, as it scurried behind the racing wind tossed clouds.

"Any joy on the research front?" he asked carefully, his voice quiet so that only she heard him.

"None!" she said almost flinging her frustration at him as the wind whipped the word over her shoulder. "Did you expect there to be?" she asked, finally turning to face him, letting the wind blow her hair about her face, temporarily obscuring her vision.

"I was hopeful," he admitted shrugging his shoulders in defeat.

"Mister; I cannot give you what is not there to find," she informed him coldly.

"It has to be there! It can't have just vanished into thin air!"

"Well it appears that it has," she affirmed. 'Much like Chakotay has too,' she thought silently feeling tears threaten at that thought; she strode forward hastily passing close to her visitor her shoulder connecting with his briefly and returned to the main compound buildings, where her current sparse quarters were housed.

Her thoughts were still as tempestuous as the sea she'd formerly been observing. She wondered about her current plight, the lack of freedom of movement and the whereabouts of Chakotay and even why he had not contacted her directly. Only the brief inquiry from Torres about her relationship to the commander on Voyager was all she had to go on. It was only the Doctor informing them all about the attacks on Chakotay that any of them knew something was going on with some from Starfleet's top brass and it was not long after his disappearance that she and her two companions had been incarcerated in this place.

She was given a security check and scan as she entered the building and was then left alone, something that hadn't been implemented on her way out. Icheb and the Doctor greeted her return to the main communal area in their usual silent manner and at her soft smile they relaxed and carried on with their assigned mundane tasks. Now all they could do was wait for someone to act.

=/\=

Robin Hood watched her go the wind and sea salted sprays buffeting him as he stood there a moment and then left for the main exit of this strange compound. The ever present security guards escorted him out making him feel as if he were intruding on a secret project of some kind. These guards were not your regular Starfleet security, but fully black clad specialised trained squaddies almost harking back to the MACO's of the very first Enterprise making Hood feel uncomfortable even threatened in their menacing presence. He only breathed easy once he was back in the normal suburbs of San Francisco's broad welcoming streets.

He made his way to the well known coffee house 'The Night Owl' near the main Academy buildings, and sat down at the table where a familiar occupant already sat. The two males greeted each other cordially and silently awaited the arrival of their coffees.

"Well gentlemen!" spoke the well known tones of one Admiral Janeway, bringing with her the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, sitting down and putting a mug of frothy coffee in front of the newcomer, whilst the other topped up his cup from the new coffee pot. "So what did she say?" she asked calmly of the FNN reporter. She and her aide had been trying for the last few days after the 'Family' picnic to gain entry to the secure compound, without much success which irked her, especially as no-one in Admiralty could give her a sound reason as to why the three had become a security risk or whom had given the order to put them there. Admiral Hayes was as much in the dark about it too, although it was his office that had issued the order for the three to be allowed out on secured release for the picnic.

She listened as Hood gave his account of what had transpired with Seven, what she had said and his responses word for word.

"Nothing else?" asked Elliot surprised.

"No nothing," he agreed puzzled by the small smile appearing on the high ranking woman's face.

"Oh, she said a lot more than you heard," she admitted softly, yet she did not verbally elaborate, knowing there were unwelcome ears and eyes watching and listening to their every move and words. "Drink up gentlemen; we have work to do," she admonished them brightly, puzzling them still further, yet they did as asked and followed her out of the coffee house.

=/\=

Paris sat quietly watching from his own seat within the Night Owl, as Janeway and her two male companions left the building; a few seconds later a shadow detached itself from an alleyway opposite and followed at a discreet distance. Tom smiled to himself as he finished his coffee and opened his 20th century styled communicator connecting to a prearranged number.

"They've taken the bait!" he said into it softly.

#Understood# came the texted response.

Tom Paris left the cafe himself a little while later, knowing he too would pick up a shadow-tail. He felt like he was in one of his 20th century styled spy espionage movies with claims and counter-claims, mirrors, false leads, suspects, victims and red herrings, fun to some extent, yet he knew this was a game being played with dangerous intent. Whilst he walked he called to mind what B'Elanna had told him about her meeting with their missing friend – Chakotay – at Scarborough. The fact that the male hadn't faced her said a lot as he had one of the most famous recognisable facial features known to Starfleet, so they knew the only way he could disappear so completely was to hid behind a new face; but it was his words – "What you don't know you can't lie about," that had made a deep impression on this ace pilot that he hadn't looked at the notepad that the crew had written on at the Family Picnic. He'd just informed his mother to give to her husband whatever alien item she found inside the bag once she'd taken Miral home. His mother had been puzzled by this cryptic message, but had later informed him, when he and B'Elanna had got in that night, that the alien item was with his father.

He'd always known that 'The Big Guy' was very protective towards B'Elanna and he – Tom Paris appreciated that, even though the two of them hadn't gotten along very well at the start, including when they'd first met in the Maquis. 'How things change!' he thought as he stepped out towards the Pathfinder building, his shadow following doggedly behind and not being very discreet about it, as if they wanted him to know they were there – whoever they were – yet the shadow's antics made him grin inwardly.

"How can I help you?" the receptionist asked as he stepped up to the main entrance desk. It was the tone rather than the words that set alarm bells ringing in his ears like RED ALERT klaxons on board ship. He didn't respond immediately he just opened his communicator and looked at it as if it was a PADD.

"I'm expected," he said mildly keeping his own tone as neutral as possible.

"Who is expecting whom?" questioned the male behind the desk, his attire looking as if it had been hastily been pulled over his own clothing. Tom Paris just clamped his mouth shut and glared, hoping it was a good imitation of Janeway's death glare, but he doubted it; the man's next words confirmed it.

"Sir, I cannot help you if you do not inform me of whom I should contact and inform them of your presence."

'You know perfectly well who I am and who is expecting me,' Tom thought grimly and not for the first time wondering what was going on within Starfleet. His communicator vibrated in his hand, thus he gave it a quick glance.

#We R coming# was the brief message.

"Sir?" the male questioned. Paris shook his head and quietly moved to the seating area, puzzled by the man's attitude and why the area was so devoid of the usual hustle and bustle of people coming and going, as he sat down.

#Something wrong here be careful# he texted back

#Understood Flyboy#

Two black clad squaddies arrived and spoke quietly to the receptionist whilst eying Paris as he sat passively waiting. His shadow-tail, he noted out of the corner of his eye through the receptions external windows, was looking both angry and afraid of the Blacks, whilst he waited outside and appeared to be talking to someone in a very animated way.

"He's not said anything then?" one of the Blacks asked.

"Apart from a general enquiry, No," the receptionist said sounding exasperated. The Black muttered a curse that wouldn't have sounded odd coming from the mouth of a fully-blooded Klingon, even his wife, but from this person it was almost an insult, that put Paris on alert and brought his full attention back inside.

A few tense moments passed as each set of persons weight the other up and then two things happened at once; a large group of first year cadets with a tour guide came in the main entrance oblivious to the tensions within and second Torres and Ayala came in through the inner doors as if they'd had to force them open. Thus the innocent group came between Tom and the Blacks thus he was able to leave with his wife and friend into the relative safety of the main building and his father's office.

"We're going to have to get to the bottom of all this subterfuge and soon!" his father said on being informed of what had transpired in the reception area of his domain. Fleet Admiral Necheyev was in total agreement with that sentiment.

=/\=

NB: Many thanks for those who have reviewed and following this story. The next chapter will have another ship involved I think! Keep watching this space.