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Book Twenty-One: Nuclear Winter (1/4)
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Blanchard paced, his hands clasped behind his back. It was late and they were no closer to making headway than they were this morning. He was filled with impotent rage. After all, it had all fallen to him. He was the one out here trying to find the missing members of his party, the President who might not even be alive and the others and he had to take things back to what they were before.
Somehow.
Receiving the hand in the box had been shocking. He wasn't a military man. He was a politician. He ordered people to go and fight the battles that he deemed important but he wasn't among those that went. That wasn't his style. It was easier than he had thought ordering people into war and he had been very good at making things happen.
Now here in this far away place he was struggling against farmers and peasants, people who had nothing and died for everything. It was hard to take. He didn't believe that he felt that class mattered but in the end, it did. The lower classes, the masses who paid for war and expected him to lead them demanded that this debacle, the Maquis treasonous insurrection be put to sleep. He was here captive of the will of the masses trying to do that.
Of course, he was failing.
He had confronted something that he seldom really saw in the rarified heights through which he moved so expertly. Here in the eyes of his foe, the first he had ever seen this close up, he confronted the enemy of logic: passion. It had hit him with the big Maquis who had defied him from the moment he had been brought before him. Even hanging the man didn't seem to slow him down.
He had gone to the father, the man Kolopak, a hero of the Resistance he supposed. He had tried to interrogate him convinced that he would see the futility of resistance. Of course, he was wrong. It had hit him how wrong he had been when he saw how intransigent the dark-eyed grieving man had been. He didn't break the traitor. He merely succeeded in helping him trench in.
Mistake one.
He sighed and turned picking up his glass of wine. Outside the window of his suite he could see the lights of the city stretching out before him. Everywhere people were living their lives, uncomplicated lives of minor importance. Here, like some Shakespearean tragedian he was caught in a web of his own making. He had lost the communications line to Kolopak. Nayib, the big and supposedly dead Maquis was out of it for a while. That left only minor Maquis, the Vulcan T'Lau who would probably commit suicide or some such other obscure Vulcan ritual rather than talk ...
Of course, that did leave him the Bajoran.
Tabor something or other. It was obvious that he and the big Maquis had a relationship. The Bajoran might be twisted into giving him information. He had to have it. Star Fleet was on their own now a surprise coalition of dissenters in the High Council giving them their support. It was maddening he sighed, pausing by the window. He would have to rebuild his base and ensure that he had the votes to make things happen should he have some success here.
Success ...
He would have to make things happen and soon. Who knew how the Star Fleet group was doing. They wouldn't be talking to him anytime soon. Not Admiral Paris. He considered the Admiral, a man of stone who had more personal tenacity about upholding Star Fleet than most small countries had about maintaining their physical borders. He would have no deep talks with that man any time soon.
It would have to happen soon, his breakthrough moment. He would have to get the upper hand and get his people back. They would have to bring the Maquis to their knees. Right now they had lost that. The Maquis had broken out their people from Roswell. They had gotten away from his net and they were hitting targets almost at will due to their ability to cloak themselves. It was a pain in the ass he thought draining his glass. He would have to shake a leg. Tomorrow, the Bajoran. With that he turned and walked to the bedroom to sleep.
*****At the Maquis HQ, on the Maquis home world...
Chakotay thought a moment and frowned. It was really, really late, almost morning and Tom wasn't answering. He pressed a button. "Crazy Horse."
"Nils, this is Chakotay. Could you scan my cabin and tell me who is there?"
"Sure."
There was a pause and then the voice returned.
"No one is there, Captain. I can't detect Tom on the ship, if that's who you're searching for."
"Thanks," Chakotay said, cutting the link. He thought for a moment and then touched his comm badge. "Chakotay to Paris." There was a pause but no acknowledgement. Bey noted his brother's frown and turned, walking over. "What's up?"
"Tom. He isn't home and he doesn't answer my hail."
Bey looked at him and then considered the possibilities. "Let's go look for him, shall we?" he said, squeezing his brother's arm.
Chakotay nodded and the two men turned walking to the door. "I want people out looking for Tom Paris, Geneva," Bey said
glancing at his aide. "He hasn't checked in at home."
The human nodded turning and pressing a button. In seconds, a number of Maquis were roused and out on the streets searching. By the time that Bey and Chakotay reached the Blue Feather Bar one fourth of the places most Maquis would go to were covered.
**********Nearby...
Oola sat by the window watching as people began to rouse themselves for another day. It was sunny and warm already, the promise of another wonderful day. Of course it wasn't wonderful. It was the definition of awful. Her time here was going down the tubes and she wondered how far she could get if she just got on a ship and ran like hell. Not very far, she was sure. They had implanted a device on her that would tell them she was running. It was designed to debilitate and even kill her if she tried to leave from here.
They would come for her soon she felt. It was inevitable. She was their link to the Federation and the Federation's link to the Maquis. She was the footbridge over which both sides trod in their relentless pursuit of each other. All she was in the big picture was a working girl. Boy. Person. A slight smile crossed her face and she sighed delicately. She considered her situation and decided that something more was needed than femininity and sensuality. She shifted moving from her female to her male mind. As she settled, her personality coalesced and the streak that she kept hidden, the one that put her before all things emerged. It was a part of her male persona and she knew that she needed it now.
No matter what she had to do she would do it. She would do it with her cold-blooded male mind. As she sat, she startled. The knock at the door broke her reverie and she sighed turning her head slightly. "Come in."
The door opened and a slim small young man entered, pausing as he stared at her with adoration. She smiled back amused and relieved that it wasn't someone else. "Hello, darling. Do come in."
He nodded, gratified by her welcome. "Thank you, Oola. I missed you."
She smiled and turned her lovely robe clad body bathed in the warm glow of the early morning sun. "I missed you too, Samuel. I'm glad that you could come."
**********On the streets...
They walked through every bar they could searching every hotel and every flophouse in the town. Tom was not to be found and as they searched, they were informed that Julian Bashir had not returned to his rooms either. His friend Miles O'Brien was out looking too, his anxiety nearly equal to Chakotay's. People had seen them together eating dinner at the Blue Feather. They had left and no one could remember where but they weren't seen again. Bey had put a scan order out on all shipping that moved in and out of the port. No one could find them. He stood on a street corner, his stomach aching with anxiety and worry when he heard a voice calling to him. Turning, he noted a Maquis security man hurrying up to where he stood with his brother.
"Bey, I checked the tapes and Oola was with the Fed spies last night. The funny thing is she made an effort to have no conversations so that she wouldn't be recorded."
"Why?" Bey asked mulling over that bit of news.
"Maybe she knows what happened to Paris?" the man replied.
"Take me to where she lives," Chakotay said his face grim with anger.
They turned and hurried away moving along the sidewalks like a Roman phalanx. They reached her building and climbed the stairs, moving down the corridor toward her door. Pausing, Chakotay glanced at Bey and then he turned and kicked the door in. It gave sagging to one side and he stepped in, phaser in hand.
Oola jerked around, looking at them with surprise. She was alone and the three men that stepped in quickly established that fact for themselves. She paused as they searched her place going through the rooms one by one. Chakotay turned and walked to where she stood an expression of grim uncompromising determination on his face. She noted Bey, the man who had first brought her into the Maquis fold and swallowed hard. "What brings all of you to my apartment?"
Where's Paris?" Chakotay asked barely constrained rage in his voice.
Oola sighed. "I told them they were crazy but they have orders. He's nearby. They have them."
"The Federation spies?" Bey asked.
She nodded. "They took him last night. They have new orders. They have to end this whole business before Star Fleet gets the upper hand."
"Where is he?" Chakotay repeated.
"At the warehouse where I usually go to meet them."
Chakotay nodded and turned, walking to the door. Bey nodded to a security man and he stayed as the others left. Oola sighed and turned back to the window. She was caught in the middle as usual. It would be good to leave this place. Eventually.
**********At a warehouse on the other side of town...
Tom Paris lay on a pile of burlap sacks his head throbbing. He had been beaten over a period of two hours, men taking turns demanding answers to their questions and pounding on both him and Julian when he didn't tell. Bashir has been the first target of Tom's intransigence. They had worked him over very well. He had lain in a pool of his own blood wheezing through a shattered chest. Tom had bitten his tongue, revealing nothing and finally they had turned on him. He had endured as he always had as Julian had and when their tormentors had tired, they were tossed into the small storage room, the door closing on them leaving them in pitch darkness. He groaned as he turned over, his midsection a bloody pulp he knew from prior experience. Julian was nearby some place in the darkness, his wheezing a location device for Tom. As he considered their fading options, a noise caught his attention and he heard muffled shouts and the sound of a phaser. Then it was silent again.
He lay still, straining to hear what was happening and then he heard footsteps running toward him. He swallowed hard struggling to sit up when the door opened and light pierced the blackness. He blinked and looked up, seeing the outlines of people peering in.
"Tom!"
He relaxed, his relief at the sound of Chakotay's voice almost overwhelming. Laying back, his aches and pains overwhelming him, Tom closed his eyes. Hands carefully touched him as he was lifted out of the darkness. The sound and feel of transporter dematerialization surrounded him and in seconds he was in Sick Bay on Crazy Horse. The Holodoc, surprised and stunned at the sight of the two of them bustled to repair their hurts as technicians assisted him. Bey stood beside Chakotay, his hand resting on Chakotay's back. "He's going to be all right. Both of them I would bet."
Chakotay nodded. "Probably."
"We have to see what this is about. Do you want to be in on the interrogation of the spies?"
Chakotay turned to his brother, his dark gaze filled with fury.
"If I was I might kill them, Bey."
Bey nodded and patted Chakotay's shoulder. "Stay here. Let me know what the Doc says. All right?"
Chakotay nodded sighing deeply. Bey turned and walked to the door pausing long enough to get an update from the tech that was working at a station near the surgery. Relieved by what he was told, he turned and walked out the door. Chakotay watched him go, comforted by his solidity and his presence. Turning, he walked closer to where Tom lay on a diagnostic bed. As he did, the door opened and Miles O'Brien hurried in moving to stand next to the silent Maquis. "What happened?"
"Someone grabbed them," Chakotay said his voice clipped with anger. "They tried to sweat them for information."
"Julian? He's just a ship's doctor! What the hell is that all about?"
"Wrong place at the right time," Chakotay replied.
**********Enterprise...
Tom Riker smiled and nodded, turning to walk out the door. Admiral Paris had just finished their last briefing before they would leave Khitomer and head back into space for their meeting with the Maquis negotiators. He walked back to his cabin, entered, stripped and stepped into the shower. It had been long days and lots of talking, working through minutiae and checking all angles against the middle. He was used to that, his prowess as a negotiator for his companies well known in the Federation and allied political entities.
They had an agenda, goals, and commitments that must be kept and alternatives to their own needs that would prevent and forestall breakdowns. Contingencies were planned for, Admiral Paris being nothing if not a thorough man and he knew they had a goodshot at making progress. The ceasefire which took place once the cloaked ships crossed into their own territory was still holding by all accounts and for the first time in years he began to feel optimistic.
Turning off the water, he stepped out and toweled off. Wrapping one around his waist, he turned to the desk that occupied a corner of his cabin. Sitting down, he opened his mail searching for the encrypted messages that were piggybacked onto regular transmissions. He noted one and opened it, passing it through the debugger that would allow him to read undetected. It was from Bey and included the business of Tom and Julian being taken by Federation spies. He was asking if they were political spies or Star Fleet and Tom encrypted a message saying that they were severed off with Blanchard when they split negotiations. He shook his head, sending the message on the back of routine ship-to-ship cables, still the only way to communicate long distance until the array was back on line. Sitting back he considered what they would do if things worked out and it all ended in some way that everyone could live with.
What would he do with himself? Would he stay here or go home and enjoy the high life knowing he was integral in bringing it about? He considered the career he could have in Star Fleet. He considered his obstacles, Troi and Will being paramount among them. He smiled, shaking his head once more. Time enough later for such considerations he thought as he stood and stretched. As it was, he was late for dinner with his lady. He turned and walked into the bedroom to dress.
**********At a camp far away...
Kathryn Janeway sat on a wooden crate staring through the razor wire at the town beyond. She had a meeting with Bey and Chakotay for this afternoon but something had happened to delay it. They hadn't said what it was and she sat impatiently, waiting for a chance to declare her intentions to be on their side.
Sitting in the desert waiting for the camp breakout to begin she had taken stock of the past decade. It had been a life-changing experience purging lesser desires from ones that burned like flames in her psyche. The Delta had made her harder, honed her edges and even though she tried to keep to Star Fleet and
Federation principles there were times when it was impossible to be as honorable as she wished she could be. It was something that kept her in the 'Fleet, something about the orderliness and tradition that made it feel right for her. She could have done a million other things but she chose to honor her father by being in Star Fleet and using her talents to find out new and undiscovered things about the universe.
Of course, not everyone else had operated from such lofty and high ideals. Some people did this life for the pay. Chakotay had her ideals, her drive and desire to know. It was what had taken him from a home as traditional as you could find. He had turned away from powerful forces to seek his muse if you will. Now he was someone she didn't know. He had turned from her as he had turned from Star Fleet and she knew that reaching him with her sincerity would be hard sledding. However, she had to do it. She had to show them that she could do the job too.
Sighing, she watched a hawk fly over, lazy circles in a blue summer sky. It reminded her of home, of the cornfields and white fences of her youth. Sitting on the box in a Maquis prison Kathryn Janeway felt very, very alone.
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Book Twenty-One: Nuclear Winter (2/4)
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He sat up, his stomach burning from the pain of his ordeal. Nearby, sleeping under sedation Julian Bashir lay. Tom looked at him and sighed, shaking his head. "Hurts doesn't it."
He looked up, meeting Chakotay's warm gaze. He nodded and slipped his arms around Chakotay's shoulders as the older man embraced him. They held each other and then Chakotay helped Tom down from the diagnostics bed. He stood a moment, his stomach churning and then he nodded the two of them moving toward the door.
"Mr. Paris, where are you going?"
The EMH stood in the doorway indignation and surprise on his face.
"I'm going home, Doc. I hate hospitals."
"Well," the doc said glaring from Chakotay to Tom and back again. "What else is new?"
Tom grinned and patted the doc's arm. He moved forward listening with only half an ear to the doc's comments to Chakotay on Tom's aftercare. They walked to the corridor, heading for the lift and entered, Tom leaning against the wall.
"Deck four," Chakotay said his worried eyes never leaving his lover. "Are you going to be all right?"
"Yeah," Tom answered, straightening up. He looked at Chakotay, at the older man's worried expression and reached out his hand touching Chakotay's cheek gently. "I'm going to be fine. The Doc said so."
Chakotay nodded sighing. "I hate it when you're hurt."
"I do too," Tom said a slight grin on his face.
"They were after what? Information on the Council? Our movements?"
"Everything and anything. They want to kill us. I got the impression that the Federation side is under the gun for time. I have a feeling that my dad peeling off wasn't a good thing for their goals and ideals."
"Good," Chakotay said stepping back for Tom to pass him.
They walked down the corridor and entered their cabin, Tom moving stiffly to the bedroom beyond. He lay down on the bed huddled around a pillow that he clenched to his midsection and Chakotay joined him, spooning behind him his arms wrapped around the younger man protectively. "You feel good."
"I wish I did," Tom said a ghost of a chuckle in his voice.
"Sleep."
"I will. You too."
"I will," Chakotay replied the weight of his fatigue spreading out over his body like a tidal wave of sludge. "Are you all right?"
"Yeah. I'm sore, Chakotay but I'm all right."
"Good."
It was silent for a moment and then Chakotay sighed. "I love you."
Tom threaded his fingers through Chakotay's. "I know. I love you too."
"Good," Chakotay whispered as sleep claimed him. He closed his eyes and drifted away Tom securely in his arms. Tom laid very still the older man's body enveloping his own. It felt warm and soothing and before he knew it, he was asleep as well.
**********At the interrogation...
Bey sat and watched as the two best interrogators the Maquis had labored over the three spies. They had been found out early on in their game, their own skills no match for the deepand abiding sense of knowing that the Maquis had for detecting outsiders. From that moment on, they were fed disinformation for their superiors. They sat in their chairs harsh lights over their heads and shrugged off the questions of their tormentors.
Bey sat in front of them his darkened presence a menacing reminder of their precarious situation. They knew who he was, what he was, what he could do and even though they tried to hide it, they were afraid. He let them stew as they sweated under the lights well aware that the next stage in the game was his to call. They had hours of conversations recorded with Oola, enough
information to bring about their deaths. They didn't know that and when he ordered a short snippet of conversation played for them he watched their disbelief with grim satisfaction. "You do know that we can kill you now. You're spies in the enemy camp."
They looked at him, this figure in the shadows and their
fear was evident. "You can't do that. We have agreements on the treatment of prisoners," one of them said sweat forming on his brow.
"Treatment of prisoners," Bey echoed his voice filled with sarcasm. "Tell me, what agreement were you holding to with Tom Paris and Julian Bashir?"
They were silent for a moment.
"What are you going to do with us?" another of them asked.
"Kill us?"
"It's our prerogative. We can under the articles of war."
They were silent a moment.
"Don't. Please," the one man said drawing sharp looks from his partners. "Look, we just ... we're just payroll men. We work for the Federation."
"Shut up, Daniel!" one of the others said sharply.
"*You* shut up, Rob! I'm not dying for the Federation, not like this. This is bullshit and you know it." He turned and looked at Bey. "We're just workers. We're not the ones you want. Don't kill us and we can help you."
Bey sighed. "What can you tell us?"
"Oola works for us, you know that. We channel information to the Federation. They split off from Star Fleet. Blanchard is running his own show now, more so than before. He wants any information on how to get past your cloaked ships and how to make his way here. He wants to kill you."
Bey nodded. "What else?"
"He has your people on Khitomer. He has them in the Medical facility. They were hurt and he's holding them as bargaining chips. Word has it he's sweating them for information."
"Shit," Bey said rising and moving toward the window. "I want to know everything you know about the set up at Khitomer. I want to know where our people are and what's happening to them." Bey turned and looked at them. "Of course, if you lie to us I will personally cut your throats. Is my meaning clear?"
All three men looked at him, noting his icecold gaze. They
nodded. Bey motioned his men over and they whispered together for a while. Then he turned and walked out heading for the Crazy Horse and the comfort of his brother's company.
**********Chakotay's cabin...
They sat in the darkness, beer bottles in hand, feet propped on the coffee table before them. Tom slept in the room next to them, the two men talking softly together. Beyvahl sighed as a sense of fatigue that was over present reasserted itself over him. He rubbed his eyes. "I feel two hundred years old."
"You don't look a day over eighty," Chakotay countered glancing at his older brother. Gray streaked his dark hair and lines graced the corners of his eyes. He looked weary. "We have to get our people out of Khitomer. They're leaverage over us that we can't afford to have. If Papa and the others are hurt, I don't trust Blanchard to help them. If we can get them out of Khitomer before the comm array is back up we can probably do it without a shooting battle all the way back."
"What about the ceasefire?" Chakotay asked.
Bey was silent for a moment. "I want to keep it. We won't claim responsibility for any retrieval that we effect. We'll deny it."
"We'll lie."
"Yes."
"They won't believe it."
"Paris would take the shot that it wasn't worth suspending negotiations over."
"We chose to give up what if we broke the ceasefire?"
"An easy ride to an amnesty agreement."
It was silent for a moment.
"We would be risking a lot, Bey," Chakotay agreed. "However the morale value of getting Papa back, of getting the others out right under Blanchard's nose would be good. It would make him look stupider than usual."
Bey nodded. "It might also give him the upper hand among the emerging split in the General Assembly."
"Or widen it. It might show what an incompetent bastard he is. Especially if the media got wind of it."
"True," Bey agreed. "Janeway wants to join us."
"What do you think?"
"I need your opinion, Chakotay."
"She brought Tom back. That's in her favor. She's a tough smart woman. That's also a good thing. I just don't know her well anymore."
"She wants to do something to prove her loyalty to us. Not to us per se maybe but to being on the side of her crew and ship."
"Such as?" Chakotay asked.
"I broached the idea of her taking a crew to Khitomer and getting out people out."
It was silent for a moment and then Chakotay turned his head to look at his brother. Bey's profile was illuminated with light from the window, a halo effect outlining his handsome face. "You trust that she can?"
"I was hoping you'd tell me that she was. Trustworthy that is," Bey said frowning slightly as he glanced at his brother.
"I would have to talk to her, Bey," Chakotay said. "I would have to see where she stood on things. It's all different now and I know she's enraged that we have her ship. Correction. That *I* have her ship."
"Do it soon. The sooner the better, Chakotay. If Blanchard is doing anything to our people, I don't trust him not to make it lethal."
Chakotay nodded. "Tonight. I'll go over and see her tonight." They sat together, the light of the window their only companion as in the next room Tom Paris slept silently.
**********Later that same night...
"I didn't expect to see you again."
He nodded, noting her pale face and tense tight posture. "I didn't expect it either."
"What brings you down to my neck of the woods?"
"Bey tells me that you want to be a part of our operation. I find that very strange. If there was anyone around that would be true to the Federation and her principles to their last breath I would think it was you."
She shrugged. "I am. The Federation I serve is lying in the ashes of war, Commander. I want to help dig it out and restore it to what it's supposed to be, not what it is now."
He nodded and sat the moon overhead throwing its silver rays to the earth below. They glowed in the soft light, the effervescence of heaven bathing them. He looked up at the shimmering sky and sighed. "How did this ever happen to us?"
She relaxed her body, images of years of friendship flooding her mind. "I don't know. It wouldn't have mattered. Nothing matters really. They were set for us and we would have all ended up in prison if you hadn't have reacted to the Vedek."
"Maybe. The Federation is a strange place now, Kathryn," Chakotay said his voice soft and regretful. "Did you know that my citizenship was revoked?"
"No. I hadn't," she said sighing. "What now, Chakotay?"
"Bey says you want to join us. He has a plan. He wants you to go to Khitomer and get our people out of the Brig and Hospital there. He's heard that Blanchard is mistreating them."
She was silent a moment. "Small order."
"We've done worse. I do recall a time when we entered the lair of the Borg Queen."
A rare smile flashed across her face and she looked at him, studying him for a moment. "We were good together weren't we?"
"We were," he replied a slight smile on his face.
"Let's be good together again," she said staring up at the moon above. "Let's do something impossible again, just like before."
"Tell me who you will need."
She considered things for a moment. "I would like Seven, Harry and Tuvok."
He considered her request and nodded. "You are aware that all three of them are wanted by the Federation for treason and crimes against humanity?"
"I can imagine," she said, nodding. "However, if things go well no one will know they were there."
He nodded. Rising, he turned to her. "Come on. We have things to work out."
She rose and turning followed him to the gate where they went through security together. Watching them from the window of his barracks, Wesley Crusher sighed with regret. He was coming up on the anniversary of his first year of captivity. It had been a long twelve months behind him and the future looked just as bleak. With a sigh of weariness he turned and walked back to his bunk to sleep.
**********Star Fleet Medical Center, Khitomer...
"Careful."
He sat silently, dizzy but feeling stronger as hands tugged with great care at the bandages around his face. He was not totally clear on what had happened, the nice woman who came regularly to speak to him keeping their conversations to things such as his personal data and his past. He would find out when he was ready that the brain damage caused by two phasers and one disrupter had not been completely healed. Some of his memories would be gone forever and some would take time to remember.
"There."
He could feel the cool air on his tender skin as they peeled off the last bandage. A pretty woman came close and with the gentlest touch probed with her fingers at the area that had been wrapped. She didn't say anything, preferring to see with her fingers what was what. He just sat quietly as several people waited for her verdict. "It's healed as best it can considering that we had to battle infections so long."
She stood back eyeing him critically. There was a broad angry swatch of red that ran from his temple to his chin, coursing down the curve of his cheek to the gentle contour of his jaw. His hair had grown back in thick, black and luxuriant, but the scars on his cheek, jaw, neck and down into his shoulder were red and angry. "How much can we do with plastic surgery?" his doctor asked.
"We can't do a thing without the proper drugs. This young man has toxicity problems that only the Bajorans might be able to solve. I wouldn't even begin to touch this until we have some more information."
They stared at him and he stared back uncomfortable with the conversation they were having. He reached up and touched the slightly numbed side of his face under question. It felt strange, the lack of sensation being only part of the difference. It also felt hot and ridged. He rose and turned to the skin specialist looking at her with confusion. She stepped forward, taking his hand from his face. Pushing him gently back into his seat, she smiled. "You were hurt. We are making you as well as we can. However, we have more to do. There are some scars, Tabor. We're going to see about helping you with them. We just don't want you to be upset. Okay?"
He looked at her trying to grasp what she was saying to him. "What's wrong with me?" he asked looking from one person to another, his anxiety rising with each second.
"Get him a mirror."
The doctor turned and picked one up from a nearby cart. Turning, he paused and then handed it to Tabor. They held their breath as he held it up to his face. For a moment, he didn't say a word and then without warning the mirror slipped from his hand and fell to the floor smashing to pieces. He sat stunned, his mind filled with angry red scars as tears slipped from his eyes, his heart as shattered as the mirror on the floor.
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Book Twenty-One: Nuclear Winter (3/4)
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"It's good to see you again, Captain."
Kathryn nodded and smiled, amusement at Seven's surprise clear on her face. "I'm sure you never expected to see me again."
"No. I didn't," Seven replied her matter-of-fact no nonsense delivery comical in spite of her seriousness. Kathryn shook her head, turning to the others. Harry and Tuvok stood quietly waiting for her to tell them what she had in mind for the rescue at Khitomer.
"We have an interesting problem, gentlemen. We can assume that those that are in good health are in the brig at the main security facility and the others that aren't, they are in the hospital."
Tuvok nodded. "Both of those facilities are noted for their security. It will be very difficult to enter them undetected."
"I know. That's why we have to use modified Borg technology. I am interested in transporting in and releasing those in the Brig at one time. If we use Borg shielding we can withstand any shots that the security guards fire, especially if they are on a rotating modulation. Also, we can use the devices that Seven's parents used to move from place to place ..."
"The dampening devices," Seven proffered.
"Yes," Kathryn replied. "The Federation has decided that cloaking technology isn't ... how can I put it? Sporting and above board, so they're behind the loop on what we can do. Our technology from the Delta is ahead of the curve and will allow us to enter and move from place to place unhindered."
"The trick is getting inside," Harry said, relaxing in his chair.
"We need to throw them a monkey wrench," Kathryn said, mulling over the data on her padd.
"Monkey wrench?" Tuvok asked an eye brow raised in curiosity.
She smiled. "A twist that they weren't expecting. We need to befuddle their security devices, perhaps over the whole complex. It would allow them to chase ghosts while we beamed in. If we can break their frequency, drop their nets and make them chase ghosts rather than us it will give us time to do what we have to do."
"I'll work on their frequencies."
"We'll have to guess on that," Kathryn said frowning.
"Not necessarily. We have an inside man," Harry said moving to a console. He began to compose a message to the encryption center addressed to Reg Barclay. He would encrypt Harry's request and send it to Tom Riker. It would be his job then to find out the schematics and the frequencies of the security system in the 'Fleet facility on Khitomer.
Kathryn watched him. "Why am I not surprised?"
Tuvok shrugged. "We prefer thorough."
"Indeed," she replied dryly. Turning, she tapped a computer console and a schematic of Khitomer appeared. "This was part of the Sorrel Bay database so we have to take it with a grain of salt."
"That would be wise," Tuvok agreed.
She grinned slightly. "We need to coordinate not only how to get onto the planet but to work our way into the facilities quickly and get out quickly."
Tuvok nodded and the four of them sat down working out the logistics of a hit and run that would be as anonymous as they could make it be. They would have to do it without leaving any actual evidence that the Maquis were involved. That would be the tricky part of the whole operation.
**********Crazy Horse...
Chakotay sat down his cup, his eyes rising from the padd in his hand to the lanky figure sprawled on the couch nearby. Tom was reading a book, relaxing after dinner as Chakotay caught up on his requisition orders. They had dined, companionably moving through their day together. He had come home after visiting Kathryn, noting that Tom's pallor had improved from his ordeal.
"How do you feel?" he asked noting blue eyes rising to meet his own.
"Good," Tom said putting his padd aside. He sighed and rubbed his eyes. "What is the word on the spies?"
"Bey hasn't called yet. I'll let you know when he does."
"I haven't asked about you and Kathryn."
"No, I noticed that," Chakotay said gathering his work together. He shoved them into a corner of his desk and put his feet up. Relaxing, he stared at Tom, his eyes looking the younger man over carefully.
"What do you think? About her?"
Chakotay pondered the question a moment and shrugged. "I think she's on our side. I think she's on a crusade to bring back the Federation that she believes in rather than support the one that we have."
"She's always been a true believer," Tom said noting Chakotay's scrutiny.
"She has even when it wasn't good for the order," Chakotay agreed rising and moving to the couch. He paused and looked down at Tom, at the dark circles around his eyes. Tom looked up at him noting his intensity and then he sat up, slipping his arms around Chakotay's waist.
"You feel good. Solid. Sort of like the center of the universe," Tom said quietly. He rubbed his cheek against Chakotay's belly. "Soft and hard at the same time."
Chakotay grinned and stroked Tom's soft hair. "You feel good too."
Tom relaxed and looked up, staring at Chakotay with a peculiar look on his face.
"What?" Chakotay asked, concerned.
"I don't know. I just feel strange."
"Are you ill?" Chakotay asked concern rising in his voice.
"No," Tom replied. "It's not that. I just feel anxious."
Chakotay relaxed. "I can't imagine why, Tom. You were in a loony bin, you escaped, your father had a change of heart, you met your family after ten years, you got beaten to a pulp, your wife turned away from you, the Federation is working to kill us, Star Fleet is working to end the war and is technically on our side of the divide, maybe. What could ever be the cause for anxiety?"
Tom smiled and shook his head. "When you put it that way ..."
"I do," Chakotay said stroking Tom's cheeks with his fingers.
"What about you, Chakotay? How do you feel about all this?"
"I'm almost afraid to think," he said sighing. "I'm afraid to hope."
"Your father and brother ... I love Nayib. He's a good man."
Chakotay swallowed hard. "I love him too and Tabor. I'm afraid for them, Tom. I feel so much fear for them. I don't know if they're alive or dead."
"They're alive, Chakotay. I believe in that. You have to as well."
Chakotay swallowed hard and nodded. "I try to." He moved to sit down resting his elbows on his knees. "I don't know what I would do if my father didn't come home after all of this. I have never felt so badly as when I was told that he was dead. I cried and cried and then I got mad. I tried to put the rage aside when we were lost in the Delta. I thought I had succeeded but I hadn't. I've been angry for years, Tom and it's made me feel ... almost hollow. This thing, this Vedek thing has brought it all back."
"That's not really your fault," Tom said soothingly. He leaned into Chakotay slipping his arm around his shoulders. The older man leaned back, resting his forehead against Tom's cheek. "That part is out of your control."
"Is it?" Chakotay asked looking into Tom's eyes, his own dark with emotion. "Is it all part of someone else's control? I want to go everywhere and blow up everything. I want to make them pay, Tom. Then a part of me remembers that we used to be countrymen, that they have families that miss them too."
Tom kissed Chakotay's lips gently. "You're tired and manipulated and hurt and angry. You feel the way you do and until this is over it's going to stay that way. Use it to help yourself. Use it to lead us."
Chakotay nodded. He sighed deeply. "I almost hated B'Elanna when you married her. I was so alone, Tom. You can't know how alone I was."
Tom stroked Chakotay's face with his hand. He leaned in and kissed the older man's lips gently. Chakotay kissed him back leaning back against the couch. Tom moved with him, feeling Chakotay's arm encircle his waist. The older man shifted pulling Tom into his body. They kissed softly, the sound of their kisses the only distraction in the room.
"You're a good person, Chakotay. You always manage to be the man you have to be when things go wrong. I love that in you. I love how you can be as big as the moment demands."
Chakotay sighed. "I get tired sometimes. Worried."
"I know," Tom said sighing gently as he touched Chakotay's cheek. "We all do. Don't feel badly. You carry a lot of the burden on your own back. Let me help you."
"You do," Chakotay said softly nuzzling Tom's lips. "You have no idea how important you are to me. Just having you here sitting with me ... it's everything, Tom."
Tom smiled softly. "Who would have thought so on the Bridge that first day in the Delta."
Chakotay smiled, his dimples dazzling. "I didn't know whether to shoot you or kiss you."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," Chakotay said pulling Tom closer. He leaned in and kissed the younger man his hand moving slowly down his chest to Tom's legs. He slid his hand between them caressing Tom's crotch, the soft sounds of pleasure that escaped around their kisses music to his ears. "I want you."
Tom sighed and nodded pressing Chakotay's hand against his groin.
"You're hurt," Chakotay proffered.
"You won't hurt me," Tom said gripping Chakotay's hand with his thighs as the older man rubbed him. Tom sighed and closed his eyes. "More."
Chakotay slowly stood and pulled Tom to his feet, the two of them standing chest to chest their eyes locked intensely. "I love you. You're mine," Chakotay said his lips close to Tom's.
The younger man nodded rubbing his lips against Chakotay's softly. Chakotay's tongue flickered, touching them, their warm moistness as sweet as nectar to his starving soul. He gripped Tom's waist with his hands, holding him closer as he nuzzled Tom's long soft neck. The younger man sighed softly, the sound of it pooling in Chakotay's groin.
"You're good at that," Tom whispered his hands running slowly up and down Chakotay's arms. "Very good."
"I'm better at other things," Chakotay whispered pulling Tom closer.
"Show me," Tom whispered, the erotic atmosphere as still and electric in the quiet room.
Chakotay nodded slipping his arm around Tom's waist. They walked to the bedroom pausing before the bed. Chakotay stared at Tom, at his smoky blue eyes and the rising flush of red on his neck. The man was beautiful, the stuff of his longing and dreams. He was here at long last standing with him in the privacy of their quarters and he knew at that moment that there would never be another for him.
No one would ever touch his heart the way this one did. No one would ever reach as deeply into his soul. When they were together, he felt good, as whole as he had ever felt. It was hard to articulate he thought reaching toward the buttons that separated him from the soft down of Tom's chest. He unfastened them, the younger man standing stilled like a colt lassoed for the first time. Blue eyes filled with emotion, chest heaving with rising desire, he let Chakotay remove his shirt, let him run his hands over the soft skin of his chest all the while standing silently in anticipation.
Chakotay stroked Tom's chest, lingering on the pink nipples that peeked out of the golden hair that rose from soft skin. Freckles dusted his shoulders and Chakotay leaned down, softly kissing up the length of a broad shoulder to the curve of Tom's neck.
"That feels so good," Tom said rubbing his cheek against the soft dark richness of Chakotay's hair. "More. Everywhere."
Chakotay smiled and looked at Tom, his eyes filled with pleasure. "You don't ask for much."
"Enough," Tom said slipping his arms around Chakotay's neck. "I ask for just enough," he said before his lips covered Chakotay's.
Chakotay kissed him back his hands roaming the warm skin of Tom's back. Tom leaned into him giving in to the rising demands of his own body and Chakotay knew they would be locked in each other for the evening. On their bed they would push back the anxieties, the worries and the cares that dogged them the rest of the time. Here, together, they would have only each other for a little while. With a sigh of contentment, Chakotay moved toward the bed and together they lay down, arms and legs wrapped around each other as they sought some peace in the middle of their private wars.
**********Later that night ...
He clicked off the computer and turned, walking through the dark cabin to the bedroom beyond. Tom lay on the bed sprawled naked in his usual manner, his arms thrown out on both sides of his body. He was pooled in light from the shipyard outside and Chakotay could see the bruises that still shadowed his abdomen. They had given him a good working over and each time he spied them he could feel his blood boil. He stood beside the bed, his eyes lingering over the pale form of his lover. They had made love, taking their time together and when they were finally satiated, slipped into sleep wrapped in each other's bodies.
He sighed and considered the situation as it stood. He had not really talked to B'Elanna since telling her that he was in love with Tom. He had wanted it clear between them, the friendship and company of the younger woman an important part of his personal contentment. He wanted Tom divorced. He wanted them together. What would come out of it, the permanence he craved or not would be worked out between the two of them. He just wanted that part of Tom's life severed. Considering it, it felt almost petty but that part of their separation, the futility of believing that Tom was lost to him forever had to be removed for his peace of mind.
He would talk about it tomorrow he thought as he shrugged out of his robe. Tossing it on a chair, he slid back into bed pulling the mumbling figure of his lover into his arms. Tom settled, sighing softly and Chakotay smiled. There was something so boyish about Tom. He enjoyed those few moments when it would surface. He loved to watch the excitement play across Tom's handsome face when something great was going to happen.
He sighed himself, the young man riding up and down on the rise and fall of his chest. He stroked Tom's back, the warm skin cooled and pale once more. Images of slick smoothness and soft noises by his ear filled his mind and he closed his eyes to concentrate on them. Heat and sweat, muscles straining and moving together, he could smell and taste the pleasure of their joining even now.
Tom was given to pleasure, he was *made* for pleasure ... he was a hedonist's wet dream. Chakotay smiled, the shift of Tom's body in sleep accommodated with his own slight moving motion. Tom was a restless sleeper, a man who possessed his space even when unconscious. He slept all over Chakotay, spooning and sprawling and always touching. He was a man in motion even in repose. Chakotay had accommodated him, reveling in the myriad moments in bed when a hand or leg reminded him that he wasn't alone. He would sometimes be jarred by it, awakened from sleep by the unaccustomed touch and then he would relax, moving closer to his partner, seeking in contact the warmth of his presence.
He wondered on Nayib, on the health and safety of Tabor. He worried that something terrible had happened that couldn't be put to rights. Nayib had fallen for the quiet Bajoran as hard as could be, harder than Chakotay had ever noted before. He had been searching for someone a long time. Big, smart and hopelessly optimistic, Nayib had found in the slim Bajoran a partner who complimented his nature. Now he could only wonder if Tabor was alive. He hoped so. He prayed so. He hated the idea of Nayib being hurt again. He dreaded it. It pooled in his stomach and squatted there, gnawing on his peace of mind. He prayed that Kathryn and the others would be successful and they would all be here behind Maquis lines once more. Soon.
Kathryn.
Her image flashed through him again and he thought about the times he had wanted her. He thought about the few times she had let down her guard and the men she had gone to when she did. They were interesting choices, most of them totally unlike himself. She had her own desires and he wasn't a part of them. It had taken a long time not to be annoyed or vexed over it. They had both been wrong from the beginning. 'Command demands selflessness. Command demands that you be aloof.' What a crock of shit he thought. Command meant loneliness, especially if it had been self-imposed as some kind of standard for leadership. One couldn't be distracted by lesser things like love and company and hope and dreams. They were both fools.
Lying here, Tom's body wrapped in his own he felt a sense of contentment he got nowhere else. It was only here in this solitude, the two of them beyond the touch of the cold and cruel outside world that he felt any real and lasting sense of hope for the future. Out there where all the others were, there were too many factors at play. In here alone with Tom, he felt like the master of his universe. With a sigh, he slipped into sleep once more.
=0=
Book Twenty-One: Nuclear Winter (4/4)
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He stood at the conn, checking the panel before him, his hand resting on Tom's shoulder. Standing behind him, dressed in tan nondescript clothing, Kathryn Janeway watched with a hooded expression the order to stand out from port. She had been closeted with Beyvahl and her team, going over the details of the plan to rescue the Maquis that were in Federation custody for the past five hours. It was risky and there could be errors but they were as ready to go as they could be.
She watched as leather-clad people, some from her own journey and crew worked under the command of the man who was captain of her vessel now. It stung, it ached, it hurt more than she had anticipated but she schooled her features to betray nothing. The pale cast of her skin was the only traitor to the emotions that filled her. In the hold of the ship Neelix' freighter waited, marked and camouflaged, ready to take them into the lion's den.
/... My God hath sent his angel, and hath shut the lions' mouths, that they have not hurt me .../
She sighed and turned, looking at the two command chairs. Moving slowly, she walked to Chakotay's and sat down, her eyes forward and her bearing regal. He turned, noting her sitting in his old seat and nodded, moving toward the captain's chair and sitting down.
"You fit that well," she said her voice calmer than she felt.
"Thank you," Chakotay replied noncommittally. He didn't want to argue, the years they had shared had been full and filled with friendship. He didn't know if that were still possible but he didn't want to test it. "We'll let you off at the nebula as per the plan."
"We'll be back in two days or we won't be coming back."
Chakotay nodded. "I have faith in you. We did breach the Borg Queen's inner sanctum."
"We did," she replied, a ghost of pride in her voice.
The lift door opened and Tuvok and Harry stepped off, followed by Seven. They walked to their stations and relieved everyone, taking up familiar places for the two-day journey to the outer edge of the Maquis DMZ. Once there they would launch the freighter and run with her cloaked. Standing nearby, they would wait for her to leave Khitomer, hopefully without anyone chasing them and pick her up again. It would be up to the four of them how it went on the planet. Once there were there they would do what they planned piercing the security net and walking shielded using the dampeners as long as possible as they searched for their people in the Brig and Hospital.
He sighed and relaxed his body, the familiar needle pricks of anxiety filling him for a moment or two. Two days, he thought. Two days and his father might be that much closer to him again.
**********Star Fleet HQ, Khitomer ...
He sat on a chair, his head throbbing. They had talked to him for about two hours asking the same questions over and over again. He hadn't answered them, his confusion and the damage to his memory making him an iffy prospect at best.
Blanchard watched noting the genuine inability of the Bajoran to tell more than marginally useful things. He had learned that Chakotay was a major player. He knew that already. He learned that they had a big base way behind the DMZ some place. The Bajoran was unclear where it was.
Tabor sat anxiously looking from one face to the other, uncertain why he was there and filled with emotional torment over his inability to tell them what they demanded. Tears had fallen running down his marred face and he rubbed them with his hand, his sleeve gripped tightly in his fingers.
The two men interrogating him pressed on aware that their efforts were probably as futile with this one as they were with the older Maquis that sat stone-faced and molten with hatred every time they approached him. "Tell me about Nayib," one asked again.
Tabor looked at him, the frown of pain and confusion on his face almost painful look at. He blinked his eyes thinking through the jumble of broken images and noises that was his memory now as he tried to remember. He could remember dark eyes, a beautiful smile and a soft voice. He remembered big laughter and soft lips. That primordial part of his memory, sex and emotion, joy and sensation tormented him with particles of the life they told him he had lived.
Images came to him in his dreams, the figure of a big man touching and holding him and he struggled to remember why that was so important. They had shown him a picture of Nayib hoping to jar his memory. It had imprinted on his mind, overlaying the blur that had been the man they had said was his lover. It would be there like a reflection in a rainy window and he would worry it over turning and analyzing it, finding the answers just out of reach. Sighing, he hung his head, staring at his lap and his hands that wrung fitfully.
"I don't think we're going to get more," a man said turning toward the Vice President.
Blanchard sighed and rose, walking over and sitting down across from the slight tormented figure of Tabor. He thought a moment and leaned forward resting his hand on Tabor's leg. "Do you want to see him? Do you want to see Nayib?" he asked noting with satisfaction that the Bajoran's dark eyes glanced up quickly. Tabor nodded uncertainly staring from one unfamiliar face to another.
"Good," Blanchard said smiling slightly. He glanced at the two men standing behind him. "Bring the Maquis to the other interrogation room."
They nodded and turned walking out of the room. Tabor watched them go and then looked at Blanchard, fear in his eyes. Blanchard smiled and patted his leg. "We're going to bring your boy friend, Nayib. He will want to see you."
Tabor blinked, a tear slipping from his eyes. He nodded still not clear on how it all fit together but internally pleased that this man they said loved him would be coming. Maybe he could explain what was going on and help him remember who and what he was.
Blanchard rose and turned, walking to the door. He turned and gestured, signaling Tabor to follow him. He rose hesitantly, moving toward the door. As he approached, Blanchard slipped his arm around Tabor's shoulders guiding him with him. They stepped out, moving down the hallway and into a small corridor between two rooms. They stopped and turned toward a darkened window. Blanchard pressed a panel and the light inside the room came on. Standing in the middle raging with silence was Nayib.
Blanchard turned to Tabor, noting the younger man staring at Nayib carefully. He moved closer to the window his eyes never leaving the volcanic fury of Nayib's face. He sighed raggedly and turned to Blanchard, searching past him for the door with his dark eyes.
"It's right over here," Blanchard said moving aside and pressing a button. The man inside paused, staring at the opening door and Tabor watched him noting the wariness on his face.
Moving slowly past Blanchard Tabor walked to the door and paused, taking a deep shaking breath. Finally, he turned and stepped inside moving enough for the door to close behind him. Nayib was stilled, shocked by Tabor's pallor and his angry scars. He blinked and stepped forward, stopping before the smaller man. Nayib looked at Tabor, his emotions churning inside and then he pulled him into his arms embracing him tightly. The younger man sighed and leaned into him closing his eyes as he did. This man knew him and this man would help him. This he knew.
Blanchard stood by the window watching, noting that his hunch had been true. The Bajoran was the Maquis' lover. They were together. This might help. This might be what he really needed to break out of the rut. With a smile, he pressed another button and a recording device silently began to run.
**********Nearby ...
Kolopak sat in his cell silent and sullen with emotions that ranged from homicidal fury to deep depression. He had been unable to sleep since the execution of his son and he had lost weight. Blanchard had come by twice threatening and cajoling, promising and dismissing in his attempt to get information out of him. He had stared at the man, drilling him with the hatred he felt as he ignored the man who had murdered his son.
Nothing Blanchard could do to him could equal what had happened and there were moments when death beckoned him with open arms. He could feel himself falling toward it and then the face of his wife and children would intervene. They would pull him back from the precipice and he would be back in this cell sitting and waiting for whatever they decided to do next.
It was silent here, deeply isolating and he felt like the only human being left on the earth. He knew that was what they intended. What they hadn't intended was his absolute intractable unwillingness to help them. That they had bought with the lifeblood of his boy. For days, he sat silently and then he sang the death song of his people for his boy making a connection with his spirit in the darkness of his agony. It had pulled him back from the brink and had given him the resolve to keep fighting them.
Blanchard had not come back in a few days and he wasn't sure that he would. However if he did Kolopak resolved himself to silence. He would die before he would betray one scrap of information to the murderers of his boy. He would never betray his principles to them.
Ever.
**********Far away...
Jake Sisko stepped off the ship onto the deck of Deep Space Nine. He had noted the intense activity inside and out as the Federation hustled repairs on this outpost of their power. He had not heard that it was attacked, that information being suppressed and it had surprised him. He hurried along the corridors heading for the command center and his father's presence. Passing security and work crews, he found his way there scanning the knots of people for the familiar face of his father. Ben Sisko turned, stopping with surprise and waved his arm catching Jake's eye. Jake smiled and hurried over, hugging his father tightly.
"Jake! What are you doing here?" Ben asked, his face filled with delight.
"I came to see you," Jake said, glancing around. "What happened?"
Ben considered his question and shrugged. "We were attacked."
Jake looked back at his father regarding him with his dark eyes.
"The Maquis?"
Ben thought a moment and shrugged. "You're here for more than just me aren't you."
Jake smiled helplessly. "I'm here for you and to find out what's happening out here. I need to talk to you, Dad."
Ben regarded him a moment and then turned leading Jake into his office. The door closed and he turned noting his son's intensity. "What brought you here?"
"Miriam Paris," Jake replied noting the look of surprise in his father's face. "Dad, I think we need to talk."
Ben stood silently for a moment. "What did she tell you?"
"She told me that the Federation Vice President is trying to destroy the Maquis."
"And?"
"She said that the honor of the Federation charter was at stake."
Ben considered his words and then sighed deeply. "Sit down, son. Tell me everything you know."
**********At the nebula ...
She had left earlier followed by Harry, Seven and Tuvok. He had nodded to them as they left and by the time they had launched Neelix' freighter they were already cloaked again. They would shadow the little ship, running silently and when she entered the atmosphere of Khitomer accepted by the security grid, then they would turn and pull back to the nebula.
It would be a long wait there, two days the maximum. When it was over, hopefully, they would have their people again. If not then they were supposed to leave. Chakotay considered that part of his orders and knew that he wouldn't. If he had to shoot up the entire planet to get them all out, he would. He sat back relaxing his tense muscles as he settled in. Tom flew them along and by the time they reached the security net everyone was silent with anticipation.
The markers picked up the small freighter and Janeway acknowledged their signal. Moving farther in they gave their identification and for silent moments, two ships waited to hear confirmation. When it came, Chakotay let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and relaxed again. The freighter moved on heading down into the atmosphere of Khitomer.
"Take us out of here, Tom," Chakotay said, watching as the younger man's fingers flew over the console. The view of Khitomer fell away and stars filled the screen as they moved off heading back for the nebula.
In two days, they might have their people. In four, they would be back with Enterprise. Who knew how it would all turn out? He didn't he thought as he mused on their position. He felt confident in their technological superiority and their resolve. However, he was aware of the fickleness of fate and so much depended on a string of things happening exactly as planned that he knew they were balancing on the edge of a razor. It could as easily fall apart as work out.
They would all just have to wait.
**********On Khitomer ...
They sat together huddled on the small couch near the back of the room. Nayib held Tabor tightly, the younger man pressed against him silently. They didn't talk, the overwhelming emotion of being together overpowering. He was glad. He didn't think he could speak if he had to. Tabor was ill, it was very clear how badly he had been hurt and the vice grip of his desire to protect and save his lover more injury clamped on him hard. It was a moment he had dreaded having to decide what he would betray, the force that he gave his blood to, or the only man he knew he would ever love. He sighed and pulled Tabor closer.
"Do I know you?" the younger man whispered.
Nayib closed his eyes, emotion filling his heart. "Yes, you do," Nayib whispered back.
"I don't remember you very much," Tabor whispered burrowing closer to Nayib's warmth.
"It's okay, baby. I'll remember for the both of us," Nayib whispered softly.
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