"--a highly sensitive research misson. I am looking into the possibility that there was intelligent life on Earth before the evolution of humans," Sisko said.
Huford blinked slowly.
"Sir?" she asked.
"Yes, yes, I know the idea takes some getting used to," Sisko admitted. "However, for the sake of this mission I have decided it is in the best interest of all involved to act on the assumption that this is true."
Huford nodded slowly.
"I see," she said. "And you think my...interest in archaeology is going to assist you?"
"I'm counting on it," Sisko replied. "The civilization we're looking for is central to Earth myths, identified in many different cultures. Most commonly, they're known as--"
"--the fae," Huford finished for him. Sisko nodded.
"You see where I'm going with this?" he asked.
"I think I do," Huford affirmed.
"Good," Siko nodded. "You'll be working directly with Captain Data, giving him as much information as possible on how to deal with the fae. He'll be in touch with our operatives on Earth."
Huford nodded, and she said, "Yes, sir."
*Scene Break.*
Aisling blinked her eyes open and squinted. At some point she must have fallen asleep, because she was sagging as far as her bonds would allow her. Her eyes itched from sleeping, and Aisling shook her head in an attempt to clear it.
Aisling looked at the room around her, sullenly glaring into the shadows. She strained her eyes, trying again to perceive what lurked in the shadowed corners--to no avail. She sighed in aggrevation and muttered an oath.
Something was wrong. The humans should have hurt her, or interrogated her more thoroughly--or even offered her some sort of deal. Aisling couldn't put her finger on it, but she felt like she was getting close until her stomach growled. Aisling felt her thoughts tumble out of place as hunger twisted her belly.
A harsh creak echoed through the chamber as the door swung open.
Aisling set her face to a soft scowl, and a figure walked into the slice of blinding light.
"Release her," came an order. Aisling didn't recognize the soft-spoken voice; it was distinctly British in tone and carried the weight of assuredness that command brings.
Aisling watched two more figures, highlighted from behind by the light from outside, as they walked toward her.
A man and a woman in Starfleet security gold walked into her puddle of light, and the man stepped to her side and released the bonds that strapped her to the chair.
The man in the doorway stepped forward, and Aisling stared at her apparent savior catiously. The crisp red of Starfleet command suited him, and his eyes conveyed kindness and intelligence.
"Hello," he said to Aisling. His tone was soft and midly convivial, and his voice seemed to stretch to the corners of the room.
"Hello," Aisling replied quietly. Her tone was cordial, polite, and midly disinterested--as though they were passing on any given street on a Sunday.
The man walked slowly, unassumingly toward her, gesturing his security dispatch to give Aisling distance--the pair backed up a few steps and stood at rest.
"My name is Captain Picard," the man told her. Aisling blinked slowly, measuredly; she did not reply.
"I understand that you have not been a willing guest of our planet--your planet," Picard said. "I intend to rectify the mistakes that have been made, in every capacity that I am able. How may I address you?"
Aisling drew her arms in to her torso, slowly, testingly--the first time she had even acknowledged her new freedoms. She rubbed both wrists, and then both her shoulders. Picard held a hand to stop one of the security team from speaking as Aisling continued to take a small physical inventory, rubbing aches and pains away and stretching sore muscles.
Finally, she finished, and Aisling looked directly into Picard's face.
"I like you," she declared. Picard couldn't stop the surprise that washed over his face, but he did stymie it as best he could back to a polite interest.
"I see," he replied. "I am glad to know this," he said carefully.
Deanna Troi, as always, had been instrumental during Picard's briefing. Troi had distilled information sent by Captain Data--who was working with Starfleet's emminent ancient sociologist, Lietenant Huford--into a manifest of do's and don'ts for Captain Picard.
Among them, she had stressed most highly that gratitude and the expression of it were highly insulting to members of certain faerie communities--and there was no way of knowing whether or not the rumored faerie guest would become offended by even a simple admission of gratitude.
Picard smiled graciously in lieu of other platitudes.
Aisling returned his smile, and she stood. Picard again waved back the security team, whose hands had drifted near to their holstered phasers.
"Do you know why I like you, Captain Picard?" Aisling asked.
Picard shook his head.
"No, I do not," he replied. "May I know?"
Aisling chuckled.
"For one, you came prepared. The way you speak, it's too careful," Aisling said. Picard drew a breath to explain, to pontificate, to defend--but Aisling continued, "And you smell like the vines. And like the hills. And like the earth."
This observation sent Picard back into silence.
Aisling stretched more completely now, a series of movements that reached in every direction and systemically targeted most muscles in her body.
"You may call me Siobhan, because you delight me so well. I am Aisling," she finally informed him.
Picard bowed deeply but kept contact with her eyes--an ancient Earth pratice and a stab in the dark as far as diplomacy went.
"You say that I may call you Siobhan--may I understand this to be a name? Or is this a title?" Picard queried.
Aisling smiled broadly and answered with a question of her own.
"Captain Picard--are you here to show me to nicer accomadations?"
"Yes," Picard answered. "I have been sent by Starfleet Command to stop the illegal operations of an unknown organization. My top priority in this mission is your safety and well-being, and to attempt to begin a diplomatic relation with your peoples."
"That sounds grand," Aisling said. "So, you don't happen to have a sandwich, do you?"
XXII END CHAPTER XXII