Having walked the ship from bow to stern and from port to starboard, having completed tomorrow's paperwork, having run out of invented tasks, Pike reluctantly withdrew to his quarters, resigned to the long night ahead. Correction, he told himself, interminable ten nights ahead. He poured a drink and sank into a chair.

She is relentless, headstrong, pigheaded … what's another word for stubborn? Whatever it is, that too.

In his mind's eye, Pike could see Phil smirking as the doctor responded dryly, "Sounds like someone else I know."

And insubordinate! She knew I would veto this plan. Instead she wheedled Spock into it. With that soft dulcet voice making it sound like a playful stroll through a park with her nieces rather than a treacherous journey mostly in the heart of enemy territory. By pleading silently with those pretty, soulful eyes.

OK, Spock wouldn't have been affected by those mesmerizing eyes, gazing up and slightly to the side at him but still …

It was impetuous, reckless, and fool hardy. How dare she leap head-first into danger … without a care for her own wellbeing …

Head Phil tsked and muttered something about Chris being hoisted on his own petard.

"Damn doctors," Pike responded out loud. "And for the record, my concern would be equal for any member of my crew in this dangerous situation."

"No one doubts that," head Phil answered in a serious and heartfelt tone of voice, the one he used when reassuring a patient. "Every loss is personal for you."

Satisfied his point was made, Pike sat aside his untouched glass. He leaned his head against the top of the chair and closed his eyes. Listening to the steady hum of the ship orbiting at station ratcheted down the anxiety and Pike's thoughts drifted back to the second Varian mission.

Six Months Ago

"With fancy claptrap and my unfailingly brilliant and beloved personality, I have persuaded General Ablick to give us one more chance. Don't screw it up this time. Not that you," Ambassador Shran emphasized the word, "did last time. I blame that debacle on Sarek and his blasted, biased, single-minded reliance on logic. And his orneriness." Shran harumphed. Pike imagined Shran's antennae were stiff and crooked with determination. "This time my orneriness rules."

Shran added, "The second summit has a stringent condition the Varians will not compromise on. A different interpreter, and we are limited to one, who will attend private tutoring sessions at their government complex."

"No." Pike resolutely refused. "They can come to Enterprise. I will not send a civilian into the midst of potentially a hostile regime."

"No choice. And no accompanying security guards. I did manage one concession; the interpreter may return to the ship at night. Keep in mind how important this base is."

Frustrated but experienced enough to know which battles to fight, Pike asked, "Is your recommendation still the same? I don't remember the name …"

Merry laughter interrupted him. "Oh, Captain, I am too old and have tried all the tricks at least three times! So I cannot be deflected by your supposed casual forgetfulness. I know that you remember her quite well including," Shran drew out the last word, "her name."

Sighing and rolling his eyes, Pike gave in, "Do you still believe Aalin Matthews is the best resource for this mission?"

"Yes. But there is a slight, ever so small, wrinkle. One that I am certain a commander … and man … of your caliber can effortlessly iron out."

Uh-huh, what mountain do I have to move? Pike thought before urging, "Go on."

"Truly, it's hardly even worth mentioning."

Colorful and cunning were understated descriptors for Shran, who had served on the Federation Council longer than any of his colleagues. "Get on with it." Pike said with a hint of steel in his voice.

"She's no longer with the State Department. Nor any government agency. You could say, I suppose, Aalin is rather … unhappy with the Federation at this moment in time. A minor obstacle for a man of your charm and with the power to draft any civilian deemed vital for a mission critical to Federation security. I recommend starting with the dimples …" Shran's voice drifted.

Part of him didn't want to hear the end of that sentence, but Pike, after hesitating and with reluctance, forged ahead, "Yes?"

"She can get mighty riled at times, especially when feeling protective. A more coercive approach may limit the prospects of achieving your desire to, how do you humans put it, get into her pants?"

Pike looked up at the ceiling of his ready room and implored any deity listening for patience. "Do you know where she is?"

"The Gileseian refugee camps." Shran responded quietly. There was sorrow in his voice.

Damn. Pike exhaled audibly.

"Oh and Christopher, one final piece of advice. Your crew are grownups. They get that Dad wants to get laid every once in a while. Don't blow your limited window. Because she will eventually surmount the power of those dimples and realize …" Shran added in a wicked and gleeful tone.

Pike severed the connection with an emphatic slap.

ooooo

Number One whistled softly after she and her Captain materialized in the center of the largest Gileseian refugee camp, a swamp of mud, leaky shelters, blindingly hot sun, stinging insects, and little room to navigate around the dejected, starving crowds. She whispered to Pike, "I'd read the conditions were abysmal but …" She hesitated uncharacteristically before demanding, "How did it get this bad?"

Pike's jaw tightened, "By avoiding that very question. And purposefully forgetting."

A tall thin man walked up to them and held out his hand. The dark circles under his eyes told a story of exhaustion, yet he radiated purpose and fortitude. "Captain Pike? Brad. I'm the administrator here. Ah, well, I never expected the flagship to visit us. How can I be of assistance?" He looked hopeful, almost excited. "Did the Federation change its policy?"

Shaking the administrator's hand, Pike answered, regret obvious in his tone of voice, "I'm sorry no." He cringed inwardly watching that hope drain from Brad in an audible sigh. "We are looking for someone, she works with the Red Cross. Aalin Matthews."

Brad straightened his shoulders and managed a faint smile. Gesturing to their left, he said "She's at the school, I'll escort you." They walked a few yards. "Captain, I realize what I am about to ask … well it's a lot … but your reputation is … if it weren't our hospital … I don't want to cause you trouble …"

Pike stopped and turned to face this administrator who had quickly impressed the Starfleet officers with his compassion and dogged determination. He nodded permission.

"The generator failed last week. We're operating via candlelight and lanterns. We get supplies from non-aligned worlds due to Ambassador Shran's influence and defiant non-government organizations, but for this, I've run out of options," Brad pleaded.

"Number One?" Pike said.

Una hastily wiped her eyes and pulled her attention away from a young pregnant mother splitting a meager amount of food between her two children. "Captain?"

"Send an engineering team down, tell them I want the hospital up to Dr. Boyce's standards by morning. Brad would you give my second in command a tour? I am certain I can find the school on my own."

"Of course. It's one mile to the west. Just follow this path."

"Commander see to the most urgent problems. Send down anything we can spare." Pike stopped for a moment, glanced around the camp, and added, "And anything we can't. Call ahead to Starbase 8 and arrange for a complete resupply. Tell them we will be there in a week and I expect a two-day turnaround. It is unfortunate that radiation leak contaminated our stores and backups."

Una lips curled in a grateful and knowing smile. "Yes sir."

Pike called to the duo as they headed in the opposite direction. "Number One we can't violate the technology ban but do be creative."

Finding the school was simple, Pike followed the sounds of laughter and singing, marveling that either were possible in the surrounding misery. In the middle of a hut, no, that term connotates an actual building, he thought. In the middle of a dirt floor, sheltered by leaves and vines stretched over a few posts stuck into the ground, Aalin sat surrounded by children of varying ages. The children were singing a tune that sounded familiar to him, shouting out particular words. Crossing his arms, he stayed in the shadows and watched.

"This old man, he plays ONE," Aalin pointed to her thumb, "He plays knick knack on my THUMB with a knick knack paddy wack give the dog a bone this old man comes rolling home."

She held up two fingers. "This old man, he plays TWO," Aalin pointed to her sandal, "He plays knick knack on my SHOE with a knick knack paddy wack give the dog a bone this old man comes rolling home."

A girl approached him, one of the refuges who was no more than a teenager, "May I help?"

Pike gestured towards the children by tilting his head.

"She's teaching them Federation standard. They are still allowing limited immigrations from the camps." The young woman added with a frown and in a biting tone and with a strained voice, "If you already speak the language that is, a clever way of saying you support resettlement without actually doing it." She then continued in a more conversational tone having purged the anger, "Children take to new languages faster than adults and practice at home which helps their parents."

"You sound fluent."

"Ms. Matthews has been tutoring me at night."

The counting continued from three to ten and Pike's thoughts drifted from the children to the teacher. The neat bun from the briefing was now a messy ponytail, the tailored dress a loose sleeveless blouse and shorts. The makeup had been abandoned. She's even lovelier.

Shaking his head and sternly reminding himself he was here on a vital mission, and besides that, this is not an appropriate time or place, Pike cleared his throat to get Aalin's attention.

The singing stopped, for which he was sorry, this camp needed these few brief moments of joy.

"Everyone, this is Captain Pike." Aalin announced after she stood.

In response the children said in unison, "Enterprise."

Blushing, she explained, "I told them a few tales of your more renowned adventures." The blush deepened as she hastily added, "You and your crew I mean."

"Can we speak privately?"

She smiled. "Yes, in exchange for a favor."

Anything if you reserve that smile for me. "And I am expected to make this bargain without knowing what I am agreeing to?" He asked charmingly, blue eyes sparkling.

Her eyes narrowed and crinkled in amusement. "Yeah." The children were now giggling.

Pike placed a hand over his heart. "I am at your service."

"Tell us a story about one of your missions. I will translate. Hearing an exciting, interesting story in our language will expose them to new words and help increase their vocabulary. They will remember more if it's fun."

"Then I will tell as many as they want to hear."

Sitting cross-legged beside Aalin on the floor of the school, the Captain of Enterprise told story after story after story, into the wee hours of the morning to an ever-increasing audience, stopping now and then to answer a question from one of the children or when Aalin explained the meaning of a word. Pike didn't remember when his hand reached for hers, only that their hands stayed clasped until the last child left.