Kirk watched the action happen from his office window, leaning against the glass and fogging it with his breath as the shadows danced with the afternoon sun. He knew Alyssa's schedule by easily looking it up and found himself raptured of her presence. The repeated action of walking around the building was calming. While she was beautiful in the casual uniform she wore so confidentially, the wind from the bay whipping her hair across the sunburnt face, she eventually slowed down after a few laps. The mask fell off briefly and was put back on with a smile.

After three rounds, McCoy caught up with her and quickly inserted a syringe to her side. Hiding it, he greeted her warmly and chatted for a few minutes before parting with a jaunty wave. When Alyssa took a couple of steps forward and then collapsed, McCoy was there on the scene to call for help and to pull her inside. The scene was played out to precision.

Perfect.

Sickbay was a level down. Kirk exited his office, passing a bewildered Riley (who called out about signing something else), and taking the lift down. Reaching his destination and ignoring the usual salutes he gained as a high-ranking officer, he had to press through a crowd of people rubber-necking to see the commotion. He ordered them to stand down and to mind their own business. Once the pathway was cleared (the merits of being an admiral), Kirk rushed into the department and searched for McCoy.

He easily found the doctor sitting by Alyssa's bed chuckling quietly. He beelined right over, taking the opposite seat and speaking in hushed tones to McCoy about how she was doing and when she could be released. McCoy nodded here and there, pretending to be concerned and telling Kirk about her dire prognosis, and shut a curtain around them for privacy. They continued to converse in the same manner until the room was deserted and they could talk more freely.

By then, Alyssa had woken up and already deducted what had happened to her. "You sneaks," she croaked. "I knew something was afoot. Instigators, the both of you."

"I could knock you out again," McCoy warned.

"I don't find that necessary," Kirk said coolly. He looked at Alyssa severely. "I would also recommend that you keep quieter."

"Yes, Sir," she replied petulantly.

"See what I have to deal with?" McCoy was highly amused.

"I've understood for quite some time, Doctor." Kirk wanted to get down to business and did not appreciate the distractions. He turned to the security officer. "Alyssa, what brought you here? You told me little last night."

Alyssa grabbed the proffered glass of water from McCoy and swallowed some to clear her throat. She handed it back to him, her hands shaking. "To San Francisco itself or to head his super secured silliness?"

Kirk bristled, not liking the conference called inappropriate names. "Both."

"I was ordered to."

"By who?"

"Starfleet. Who else?"

"Yes, I understand that. Who specifically?"

"That is unknown. The message came from Admiral Nogura though."

"Why him? He's not in charge of you anymore."

"You can ask him. He was under orders to have me moved here. Someone had a brainy idea to promote me to head of all security in Starfleet."

"You didn't question him?"

"Me, question an admiral like Nogura? Please, Jim. I did. I begged him to give me space. He wanted me right into the action as soon as I stepped back onto Earth." The way Alyssa frowned reminded Kirk of the night before. "I was initially granted leave and told to report to San Francisco when I was cleared for duty. Less than three days later, the Old Man himself visited. He was aware of my state of affairs and admitted that he had to disregard it by higher powers than he."

McCoy exchanged a worried look with Kirk. "I don't like this already," the doctor muttered.

"How long were you given to move?" Kirk asked her.

"Less than a week," Alyssa confirmed. She rubbed her sore head. "I had just started getting used to a domestic life again. Ali, Magda and I settled into a routine. Originally, after my leave, I was going to be part of a security team at one of the construction bases for the new series of starships Starfleet was building."

"Have you ever dealt with the Thyrians before?"

"I've vaguely recalled them being mentioned over the years. They're familiar though."

"What was that shipyard building? Was it linked to the Thyrians?"

Alyssa snorted. "You're kidding me, right? Jim, you would know more than I do about the new class of starships."

"They don't just construct ships there. There's more action on those bases than at Starfleet Command at the beginning of the work week. The motion seems too close to the final arrangements here."

"I see your point. I never connected the two. What I saw there did not seem likely to be linked to the Thyrians though."

"It all begs the questions of how and why you're here."

McCoy butted into the interrogation. "You're telling me."

Alyssa took the glass from McCoy and chanced another sip of water. She shook her head. "If I had the answer, you two, I'd tell you. I am as much in the dark as you are."

Kirk tried another angle. "Do have any information about the Thyrians?"

"Nothing…unusual…if that's what you're asking," she answered cautiously. Taking a deep breath, she added quickly, "I have a feeling. Maybe this is nothing, but I think they're up to something."

"Aren't we all?" McCoy pointed out. "Somehow, someone or something is always causing trouble."

"Doctor." Kirk shot McCoy a warning glance before turning back to Alyssa. "How so?"

"The two-day break is an indicator." She moved her right hand and scratched her upper left arm, which was covered in an alarming number of blisters and spots of varying colors, from pink to black. The sleeve dropped to cover them. "I've done some snooping myself. They are secluding themselves in their quarters and are refusing all services that the Federation offered. Instead, they send their own people outside for necessitates and to explore the area. Nothing from the kitchens or the supply rooms suffice. Some of these so-called servants have been caught in restricted areas."

"It's a tad suspicious on all sides." Kirk did not like it either. "Keep an eye out on them. Report back to me if you find anything."

The monitor above their heads beeped in a troublingly manner. "She isn't going anywhere tonight," McCoy confirmed, thankful for the good timing. "Seems like we didn't take any medication, did we, Alyssa?"

"What medication?" The security officer feigned innocence.

Kirk laughed spontaneously. "You rest, Alyssa. I'll see you tomorrow."

Slipping through an opening in the curtain, Kirk made his exit. Behind him, he heard McCoy lecture Alyssa about how dangerous it was for her not to take her pills. Putting on a mask of his own, Kirk took the lift upstairs to his office. On the way, he was bombarded with questions about Alyssa from several people. He dismissed them all, stating that she is well and will be back to her duties the next day. As soon as he managed to pass them and enter his office, he barricaded himself inside. Riley was behind him.

"Admiral, ready for those reports?" he asked casually. He had some devices in hand that held documents.

Kirk waved his away. "Later, Riley. You can send them to my apartment. I have a little research to do."

"Yes, Sir. Do you need me to bring anything from the Federation library?"

"I actually will appreciate any tapes an discs you bring me, Commander."

"What are you interested in, Sir?"

"Anything on the Thyrians. Speeches from professors, reports from other ships, a random manuscript…anything you can grab. I would like to be enlightened about our guests."

"Sir, that material might be restricted."

"If it is, some back and let me know. I'll handle it with the librarians."

Riley acknowledged and left, allowing Kirk room to ponder. He sat at his desk, unsure if he should continue studying this matter. The situation left a foul taste in his mouth though, especially when he added Starfleet into the equation. Would they be sabotaging this meeting? What about the construction in Louisiana? Are they using Alyssa? And if so, for what means? If not them, what are the Thyrians up to? Why are they here?

It made him wonder a lot of things, most of all involving the woman he loved. How long does she have? How truly ill is she? Was Nogura so heartless as to not fight for the man beaten to the bottom? And how they Starfleet get her involved in such a responsible position that could not be handled?

~00~

It was awkward to be walking like an anonymous person. When Kirk became a captain and then an admiral, he was always escorted everywhere and had no privacy until he entered his quarters. To be used to that and then have only three others (Alyssa and his personal guards) stand beside him was disconcerting. He kept expecting a small mob coming up to him and begging for some help or maybe point out their troubles. He half-expected McCoy to be nagging at him about the changes in Sickbay too.

Sighing, the admiral continued his trek. His surroundings in the darkness had been mysterious and quite exotic. It was a huge difference from the last visit. He recalled Synprilox as it used to be – unpredictable, wild and even chaotic – and found it quite hushed. It was best to keep on his toes, especially with so small of a party. With so much ahead of him, it wasn't possible to relax.

It was only for five months, Lori promised. Kirk reevaluated and tried the idea of being on vacation. Indeed, it was nothing compared to the endless piles of documents for him to sign or the inability to regain on a ship and leave terra firma. He was actually on another world and talking with people. Granted, vigorous meetings and inspections might be the only activity he had, but he would not stationary all the time, cushioned in a climate-controlled office with officers who lied better than lived.

As far as Kirk was aware, he will actually be crawling through the mines, walking through the factories and spending time with people other than the chancellor. Usually, his free time was spent listening to petitions, doing someone a favor or entertaining Lori with his exploits and experiences in diplomacy while being a captain. It was a break from the boredom on Earth and still another aspect of his promotion that he disliked. He hoped that Alyssa would provide some sort of entertainment when he was not pretending to agree with politicians and ordinary citizens.

His legs ached deeply when they reached Alyssa's home, situated in the Starfleet section. She lived in a nice house, which was unusual even for a Starfleet officer. A small, gated front yard sprouted a variety of flowers that camouflaged most of the building. There was also a backyard, where a tree sprouted high with red and gold leaves. On the left, there was a vehicle with wheels. On the right, there was a higher fence line and some security cameras and whirled in every direction.

Alyssa unlocked the initial gate and then the door via a series of punched-in numbers. The first room was dimmed. Their company was a single woman sleeping in a chair. Kirk found her vaguely familiar and dismissed it. He followed the security officer instead. As he did, the corridors lit up as they passed through. She led Kirk and his two bodyguards upstairs and showed them to their quarters.

On the way up, she pointed out to the men where they could some necessitates on the second floor and where to find the kitchen. She promised in the morning to continue the tour. Then, she guided Kirk's tagalongs to their shared room and discussed shifts with them. A whispered conversation ensued, most of it Kirk could not hear. He picked up bits and pieces, most of it concerning the structure of the house and where they could secure weapons and passageways and transports. He waited until Alyssa dismissed them before she got his attention.

Down the end of the hallway, Alyssa opened a separate bedroom for Kirk. "I am down a few doors," she concluded. "If you need anything, please don't hesitate to call me."

Kirk nodded his thanks and entered. His entry inside his sanctuary for five months brightened into a gentle illumination. It was unusually comfortable and homey. There was a bed and nightstand. Against one of the walls was a dresser. Another stood a table with a visual communicator for all sorts of calls. A chair before it was cushioned with some padding.

He decided it call it a night. As he sat on the bed, he flexed his muscles, relaxing. Outside his window, multicolored flames from a million fires reflected around the life support bubble, creating a new sun before sinking into oblivion and enveloping them in darkness. That alone might have deterred the notion of sleep, but not for the admiral. He was utterly spent from his travels. He was still unused to be so celebrated that his very presence was toasted. He longed for the days where he could simply sit in a Recreational Room and play a simple game of chess with Spock.

Shaking away that longing, Kirk undressed himself. He changed into civilian clothing and curling under the crisp blankets. He called for the overhead lights to turn off. But when he closed his eyes, all he could see were the scenes from five years ago. He thought he forgot them, but these memories suddenly came back to him in clarity. He recalled being ushered into the Grace Guardian and finding himself on the side of some highway in the middle of Maine. Then, the days were calculated carefully. Their pretense had to be kept. When Kurt Hemmingway was killed, they had to do everything to survive and get back.

After maybe an hour of dreaming this, Kirk got up. He rubbed his eyes and stood up, bumbling in the shadows until he managed to reach the door and call for luminosities. He figured that maybe sitting outside would help get him back on track, unpresentable clothing forgivable. It seemed peaceful out in those gardens. There might be some of it left for him to absorb.

He retraced his steps back to the bottom floor. Just as he reached the landing, he heard some noise. Inching closer to the source as he rounded a few corners, he peeked and found the kitchen. There, Alyssa sat on one of the bar stools that circled an island. She was in a nightgown and bare feet. With tears running down her face, she stared intently out the window while listening to music.

I see the sun comin' up at the funeral at dawn,
The long, broken arm of human law.
Now it always seemed such a waste,
She always had a pretty face.
So, I wondered how she hung around this place.

Hey, come on try a little, nothing is forever.
There's got to be something better than in the middle.
But me and Cinderella, we put it all together,
We can drive it home with one headlight…

Kirk slipped away before Alyssa noticed him. It was best to leave her alone, he mused. It was a long day and she was surely tired. However, the stern, strict officer in Kirk criticized her. The way she easily allowed herself the luxury of laziness and listening to some unknown music was disturbing. She was a security officer for Starfleet, for God's sake. She should be alert at all times, especially with an important officer staying in her home.

It would have been within his rights to reprimand her and accept no explanation. It took every bit of strength in him not to turn back and startle her. Kirk thought it futile in the very least. The woman was obviously in distress and hiding it very well. He felt ashamed of himself. He knew her circumstances. Alyssa had been shattered and the shards of her life hardly put back together.

This seemed to be the beginning, when the admiral realized that he was slowing transforming into a man he despised. Kirk chided himself, hoping that there was something sensible reasoning left in him. As he headed towards the front door, he thought too. There was a sense of chivalry within him for the young woman and her problems, more so than when he first met her at the palace. He was determined to find out how and why she was so troubled and resolve it.

Lyrics are from the Wallflowers' song "One Headlight".