Hey Everyone,

So I did a bad thing: I switched POV mid-chapter. I couldn't help it. Technically a no-no but it kept the story moving. AND…we get inside Gray's head! (Bring the hand sanitizer; it isn't a vacation destination.)

~Cooper

CHAPTER 24

Gray sucked at his teeth then rubbed them with his tongue. He felt full and satisfied after eating the RMM: Ready-Made Meal. The prepackaged food stuffs were Star Fleet's answer to missions where food synthesizers weren't accessible. Despite all of Star Fleet's technological advancements, including the top secret ship he was sitting in, they still couldn't make an RMM taste better. Not that it mattered much to Gray. Food had tasted like ash in his mouth for so long that he hardly noticed the bland taste or rubbery texture.

Now though, he thought everything tasted sweet. Was it the flavor of success now that he was so close to having his revenge? Perhaps . . .

Gray's thin lips tightened into a mockery of a smile as he leaned forward and tapped the black control panel. Several blue holographic projections appeared across the surface. He rotated one projection with a flick of his hand and saw 360 degrees of the Enterprise's shuttle bay. He laughed at the small group of crewmembers ogling the sleek lines of his ship, The Starslayer. Imbeciles, he thought, and touched another projection that allowed him to tap into the larger ship's intercoms to check the surveillance software for any alerts. There were none.

No, he didn't think there would be; Kirk was too smart for that. Intercom tapping was a widely accepted rumor ever since another agent failed to hide his return signal feed. Whatever truly happened to Agent 272, not even Gray knew.

He leaned forward and tapped in a sequence of symbols and the center projection promptly displayed the bridge of the Enterprise. The security feed wasn't all encompassing—private quarters, for instance, were unavailable—but it did allow him to view any public area within the ship. He watched the communications officer—Uhura, his memory quickly supplied the name—tapping in apparent frustration at her panel. She twisted a knob, shook her head, and then bent over to a figure lying on the floor next to her booted feet. Chief Montgomery Scott pulled his upper torso out of the open panel, made a clockwise gesture with his hand, and then crawled back inside.

Gray chuckled—this was better than watching any comedy on the vidplayer. He didn't even bother with the sound; he already knew they were trying to boost the relay signal to reach Star Fleet. But unless they got the message through the magnetic storm soon—he glanced at the chronometer on the display, 9:00 PM—they would not receive Star Fleet's reply until after his ship was fully charged, and he and the freak were gone.

His eyes drifted over the empty captain's chair to look at the Vulcan at the science station. His hands were moving quickly across the panel as he undoubtedly searched for alternate ways to boost the signal.

Gray could just make out the side of the Vulcan's grim face.

"You realize it, don't you?" he said to the image. "The deadline is much closer than anyone realizes. And there's nothing you can do to stop me." Gray felt an almost-warm feeling where his heart used to be, before it had been ripped from his chest and crushed between genetically altered fingers.

"Soon, soon, soon," Gray crooned as he flicked through the surveillance feeds from various decks, searching for any sign of Kirk. It had been so obvious that he cared for the augment. If he'd cared half-so much for—

Gray cut the thought off. He couldn't afford to be distracted now; he needed to stay focused if he wanted the guilty to suffer. If he somehow failed to remove the augment, he still had enough explosives on board The StarSlayer to blow the Enterprise to smithereens. But that would bring only death, not suffering. He wanted—no, needed—them to understand what true loss felt like. And they will, he thought serenely. Hadn't the universe been working in his favor so far? He'd been chosen among all of Section 31's agents to test The StarSlayer's advanced warp capabilities, and out of all the possible coordinates, he had chosen a quadrant where he'd picked up the Enterprise's last communiqué.

Still, he had hesitated. Not because he was about to throw forty years of loyal service away—he had stopped caring about that over a year ago—but because he had to know for sure that the plan would work.

And then the magnetic storm had rolled onto his screen, blocking the Enterprise's ability to communicate with Star Fleet, and Gray had understood what the universe was telling him:

The time for revenge was at hand.

The center projection returned to the bridge, and Gray narrowed his eyes at the Vulcan sitting at the science station. He didn't trust the commander. He was a half-breed, which was almost as bad as an augment. Gray frowned. Wasn't the Vulcan supposed to be reassembling the cryo-unit? He flicked to the Science Labs, and although there were several blue shirts standing around the unit, they weren't doing much. The unit looked assembled and ready for use.

But he would keep to the 6:00 AM deadline. He liked watching them scurrying around like rats on a sinking ship.

Speaking of rats, he thought and tapped into the security feed for the brig. The augment was sitting on a bare platform, it's knees drawn up tightly. If it had been human, Gray would have certainly felt sorry for it. He could tell by the way it was sitting that it was uncomfortable.

But was it afraid? Gray wondered. Could it feel pain and loss like he had? Or had it been designed to be above such emotions? He hoped not. No matter how much he wanted Kirk and his crew to pay for their self-centeredness, it had been an augment's hand that had crushed what he had held most dear.

Perhaps it was time for Gray to visit the brig.

Dormer was exhausted. It was hard to believe that sitting at a desk could be so tiring. Maybe it was because of why he was sitting there, or more accurately, because of who. He had gotten Aggie to talk, albeit briefly. She had asked him if he'd ever seen the flowers in the arboretum, in particular a pink-petaled flower named Alice. Apparently the plant had a personality similar to that of a Terran feline. He said that he hadn't, and she hadn't continued the conversation.

From time to time he heard a muffled sob, and he wished he knew of something to say that would bring her comfort. But Dormer wasn't a man of many words, so he did what he could. Although the duty roster would read that he was standing guard, what he was really doing was much, much more: he was standing vigil. On his world, it was believed that the condemned deserved a protective sentinel, a lone guard, to remain with them at all times as they prepared for their return to the Great Ether.

The girl hadn't been sentenced to death, of course, but Dormer had caught a glimpse of the Gray Man leaving the dark ship, and he had felt a cold wave of premonition wash over him. The man's pale skin looked too much like the drawings of Gunto, his peoples' mythical Keeper of the Dead. It was Gunto's job to mark those meant to die and to ferry them into the Ether on his boat made from the bones of the First Betrayers.

So Dormer had traded shifts with the other guard in order to continue his vigil. He may not be a man of words but he was a man of the Great Ether, and he would see the job done right.

The brig's doors swished open, and the cooler air from the corridor brushed against Dormer's dark skin, making it goosepimple. He turned in his chair, half expecting to see the captain, half expecting to see the doctor.

It was the Gray Man.

Inhaling sharply, Dormer stood. "Sir, this is a Restricted Area. You must leave—"

The Gray Man produced an identity chip and waved it across the log-in pad on the desk. FULL AUTHORIZATION GRANTED flashed across his screen in bright red lettering.

The Gray Man smiled at him, and Dormer felt his blood chill.

"Leave," the Gray Man said softly. "Now."

There was no fighting Gunto, Dormer knew, but this man was not Gunto. He was just a man, albeit a powerful one. The flashing screen reminded Dormer that he had no choice but to follow the order, but it did not direct his actions after he left.

Dormer made sure to time-stamp his absence on the security log before he walked steadily from the room. As soon as the doors slid shut behind him, he bolted for the turbo-lift.

He needed to inform the captain directly of the Gray Man's presence.

Gray leaned over the security desk and switched off the cameras. He wasn't stupid enough to turn off the energy barrier despite the phaser hidden beneath his uniform. Augments, even female ones, were designed with superior strength and fighting skills. She would no doubt kill him given half a chance.

He moved to stand in front of the barrier and saw that the augment had lifted it's head and was staring at him with wide, emerald-colored eyes. He felt a rush of satisfaction as he saw the fear in them.

"Do you know who I am?" he asked.

It nodded.

"Do you know why I am here?"

It looked confused, then said, "To take me away. To Star Fleet headquarters."

Gray smiled tightly. "Something like that."

"Please," it begged, moving to cower in front of the energy barrier. "Please don't take me away from the Enterprise. I want to stay."

"You love it here, don't you?" He asked, suddenly curious. "You've made"—Gray found it difficult to say the word—"friends."

It nodded quickly and Gray caught something else flash across it's face. More than friends, he realized, noting the look of longing before it turned its head away. Hadn't the captain been in the brig during a brief interruption in the security logs? So the rumors of Kirk's inter-species dalliances were true, Gray thought in disgust. If the bastard had been half as interested in protecting his crew than bedding freaks, he wouldn't be here right now and she would still be alive.

A black feeling squirmed in his chest—his grief had long ago become infected with hatred—and he had to take a moment to sooth it. Patience, he told it silently. The guilty would soon pay for their crimes—was he not a Section 31 agent?

In his line of work, at least the assassination part of it, Gray had grown to appreciate certain aspects of his job. For the first few years, it had been the actual kill. As the light faded from their eyes, or eye in the case of the slave-trading Moolar, so did the threat they posed to Star Fleet. But as time passed, Gray had learned to enjoy the moments just before the kill, when his targets realized that they were about to die for their crimes. Just last month, he'd taken care of the Federation aide who had been selling secrets to the Andorians, and the Lieutenant Commander who had a thing for young ones. He provided a simple, yet elegant solution. A flick of his wrist with a laser scalpel and—poof!—problem solved.

This mission was different, however, because he wasn't going to kill anyone. It was about suffering, and he wanted that to last the rest of their lives. The only flaw was that if everything went according to plan, the augment wouldn't experience the depth of loss and pain that he'd experienced.

That simply wasn't fair.

Gray stepped closer to the energy field. "Don't worry," he said softly. "Because I'm not going to take you back to Star Fleet."

A hopeful look. "You're not?"

"No. I am going to put you back stasis," he continued, his voice eerily calm. "And then I am going to leave you in there. Forever."

It blinked rapidly as though it had trouble understanding his words. "But why?" It's voice was a small wail. "I haven't hurt you. I haven't hurt anyone!"

"Not yet," Gray hissed, leaning forward so that he could feel the energy barrier pulse against his skin. It prickled like needles poking his face, but he ignored it. "But you will. That's what you were designed for—to be a monster."

It recoiled backward as he spat the last word, stumbled, and fell to the floor. It sat there, stunned for a moment. "I am not a monster," it whispered to itself. "I'm not." It glared up at him. "You're the monster!" It said, lifting it's chin in a defiant manner. "And you won't get away with this; I'll tell Captain Kirk."

"And you think he can save you?" Gray asked with a derisive snort. "Wow. I thought augments were supposed to be smart." He stepped back from the energy barrier and shook his head in disgust. "Oh, don't get me wrong," he added quickly. "He's trying to save you; the Vulcan's trying to save you; everyone is trying to save you. But . . . they can't. There simply isn't going to be enough time." He watched in pleasure as the augment realized the truth of his words. "And the only thing you will accomplish by telling them of our little chat"—he shrugged as though to say he was fine either way—"is to kill them all. But then, that would kind of make you a monster, wouldn't it?"

The last bit of color drained from it's skin. "You're insane," it whispered finally.

"Maybe," Gray admitted, feeling lighthearted now that his task was completed. "But nobody's perfect. Not even an augment."

He spun on his heel and headed for the exit. The doors opened and Gray was momentarily taken aback as he stood face-to-face with the captain. Kirk's face was one of barely controlled fury, and Gray wondered suddenly if he had overplayed his hand. Gray reached for the pocket where the phaser was hidden but then he heard the grief-filled sobs coming from the cell behind him and knew that he was safe.

"What the hell are you doing in here?" Kirk demanded, blocking his way. "You have no right—"

"I have every right," Gray interrupted calmly, letting his hand drop. "As you well know. It is my responsibility as a Star Fleet agent to make sure the prisoner is secure. And you have quite the history, Captain, of being unable to control these types of creatures."

Gray didn't wait for Kirk's reply but stepped around him and, completely ignoring the dark-skinned security guard hovering nearby, headed for the turbo-lift.

As the sound of weeping mingled with the sharp click of his boots, Gray couldn't help but smile.

Kirk rushed to the security station to disengage the energy barrier then went inside Cell Three. Dormer walked slowly to the station and entered his identification numbers so that he was logged back on duty. Only four minutes had passed yet something horrible had happened during that time. He could hear the captain murmuring softly, trying to sooth the sounds of grief coming from within the cell. He could also hear the captain asking questions, but the girl was either unable or unwilling to answer.

Dormer once more took up his vigil. He sat at the desk with his eyes closed and prayed to the Great Ether for mercy. And as the weeping continued, Dormer also prayed for something else.

The Gray Man's death.

Yikes. Well, what do you think?

~Coop