Chapter Seven: Confrontations

Disclaimer: Let's play 'Let's Pretend." Let's pretend that I own Star Trek. And then we'll pretend that I also own Yu Yu Hakusho and have just discovered how to draw more than stick figures. And while we're at it, let's also pretend that Earth is really Mars and there's no such thing as cell phones. Sure…

Author's Note: Thank you, people who are actually reading this. I bow to you all, whoever you all are. I can't believe I'm writing this story. Second, I know this took me a while, I suppose; note that I never abandon a story. Never. I finish what I start. It may take me a while, because of school (oh boy, I'm back at school now) or computer problems (I hate my keyboard, but it seems to be fixed now), but I don't ditch stories. Oh, yes, and a big thank you to Kokoro Sabishii. Thanks for the loan of the Yu Yu Hakusho movie…I needed it for their voice patterns. I will eventually give it back; please tolerate my monopoly for the time being. Anyway…

ON WITH THE SHOW!

That mystical force, that Riker had once claimed watched over fools, little girls, and ships called Enterprise, had deserted them again. Or perhaps it had merely made a deal with Coyote the Trickster (or conceivably Q) and was on vacation for the time being.

Whatever the cause, a nice easy trip to Lima Sierra while playing charter bus was clearly out of the question. Although the technical failures had been explained as the work of one, presumably lone, saboteur, the voyage had clearly, according to the Ten-Forward gossips, been jinxed from the start.

And now, to make things even worse, it was raining.

Not literally, of course. But a rash of ion storms had made for a bumpy ride, long shifts, grumpy crewmembers, and, as a result of all that, more mistakes. This meant more time correcting them.

The storms lasted two days before they could escape at low warp.

"Number One, status report," Picard said wearily as the ion storms boiled away behind them.

Riker reeled off a computer-written summary of dozens of tedious reports from all over the ship. At the end, his superior sighed heavily.

"Anything that needs attending to now?"

His first officer checked the console again. "Unfortunately, yes."

"Can it wait ten minutes?" Picard was not normally a procrastinator, but the last few days had been hectic.

"Dr. Crusher and Mr. Worf both want to know when you'll be interrogating our saboteur," he replied.

"Hasn't he woken yet?" the captain asked with mild surprise, having been, of course, fully briefed.

"No sir."

"Very well then, I'll speak to her. You have the bridge, Number One, I'll be in my ready room."

Picard rose and swept off the command center into his own personal sanctum. Upon hearing the doors whoosh closed behind him, he strode over to his private replicator.

"Tea, Earl Grey—hot." he ordered the replicator sharply.

After a few ominous seconds, in which the unit warbled and flashed hesitantly, a steaming mug of tea materialized in the dispenser area. Picard picked it up gratefully and cradled it in between his hands. Savoring the warmth and smell of his favorite drink, he turned to stare out the window that at last showed open space instead of the turbulent yellow gases of the storms, and at his lionfish, Livingston, which swam unconcernedly through its tank. Once his cup was empty, he tapped his commbadge, feeling quite revitalized.

"Picard to Doctor Crusher," he hailed.

"Captain, good afternoon," she greeted him, sounding far happier than he would have ever expected. "How are things up there?"

"Better," he replied honestly. "Are you busy in sickbay right now? Commander Riker tells me I've forgotten about the ghost." Somehow the term had crept into everyone's vocabulary.

"Yes, you have. But don't worry, everyone else down here almost has too."

"Still no change?"

"No, nothing." In the background, the faint sound of a computer terminal being plied filtered through the intercom connection, and Picard guessed that she was checking the readings. "He hasn't regained consciousness, nor does he show any sign of ever doing so. I have a theory that it's self-induced, like Vulcans use for dealing with pain. The sensors have been getting some pretty strange readings, but they're perfectly stable."

"So somehow he senses that he's threatened, and is using the coma as a defense?" Picard mused, trying to follow the theory to its conclusion.

"Right. I can bring him out of it with drugs, but…"

"We don't need him awake until we needed more information. I apologize for the delay, but with the storms threatening the whole ship-"

"The ship took priority, I know," the doctor replied, cutting him off in her turn.

"I'm coming down now," he informed her. "I'd bring Lieutenant Worf, but I need him at the weapons just in case. We received a report from Command that there's been an increase in vanishing ships in this area in the last few months; supposedly the work of a fanatic religious group with the firepower to back up their rules. Lieutenant Faber will be accompanying me."

"Understood, I'll be ready for you in five minutes or less," Crusher responded. "Sickbay out."

Captain Picard tapped his commbadge again, a redundant habit as the channel had already been closed, but one adopted by many as it gave a sense of closure to the conversation. Depositing his empty tea mug in the replicator, where it shimmered out of being unobtrusively, he summoned Lt. Faber to sickbay through the intercom, and departed in that direction himself, with a nod and a signal to remain seated to Will Riker as he passed through.

When he emerged from the turbolift on Deck Twelve, one of the first things he saw was Ashley Faber waiting impatiently (but trying not to show it) by the doors to Sickbay, but far enough away for them not to slide open automatically. She nodded respectfully, and he returned the greeting.

"Lieutenant Faber, I don't believe I've congratulated you yet," he said pleasantly.

"Sir? I don't understand."

"From what Mr. La Forge and Commander Riker tell me, you're pretty good with a phaser. The way they told it, you were the heroine of the hour."

She smiled reservedly. "Thank you, Captain."

They entered Sickbay, Faber a little behind her captain, as was appropriate. He glanced around the room, to see that Dr. Crusher was off to one side, with her back to them, talking to one of her nurses. Her blue-green eyes flickered towards them as they entered, but continued her conversation as if nothing had happened.

"Hello, Captain," a soft voice greeted them. "Hello, Ashley."

"Hello, Counselor," he replied reservedly as Deanna joined them. Faber briefly dropped the pose of big bad security guard to give the Betazoid a shy smile.

"Right with you, Captain," Beverly called, wrapping up her discussion. She handed a medical tricorder from a passing cart to her assistant, and he took it and vanished into another room. She dusted her hands briskly as she weaved between the beds and carts of Sickbay.

"Ready?" Deanna asked her.

"Just about," the doctor replied, lifting a pre-loaded hypospray from the cart nearest her office. Adding a handful of other varied cylinders to the pocket of her long blue lab coat, she slipped the hypospray into her pocket as well and nodded to her companions.

"All right. Let's get this mess cleared up," she said briskly, as they moved the short few steps to the forcefield that composed the door to the makeshift brig. Her fingers darted across the wall-mounted computer PADD, and the energy field sizzled away.

Lieutenant Faber drew her weapon as they stepped across the threshold and the forcefield reestablished itself. Dr. Crusher pulled the loaded hypospray from her pocket and nodded to the captain, who nodded back. With a deep breath, she placed the device at the small figure's throat and pressed the button. It hissed slightly, and she stepped back.

Perhaps three seconds passed before he stirred, fingers barely twitching. The ridiculous readings on the monitors changed abruptly, wailing for attention before the red-haired doctor slapped them, muting the noise quite efficiently.

"Can you hear me?" Deanna asked.

"A foolish question." His voice was flat and completely without emphasis or accent, although perfectly clear.

The Betazoid stretched out her empathic senses, curious. Her mental probe hit a solid wall that crackeled with hostile energy. With a gasp, she was rocketed back into her own mind.

One red eye opened and regarded her in a very unfriendly fashion.

Don't try that again. Next time I'll hurt you.

"Yes, yes," she breathed, head throbbing. "No more mind probes." That had hurt. If that was his idea of 'next time it will hurt,' she did not want to be on the receiving end of the 'next time.'

"Deanna?" Beverly asked anxiously, reaching out to her friend.

"Careful, Captain; he's a powerful telepath," she warned him, regaining her self-control.

"I don't react favorably to you attacking my officers," he said sternly to the figure seated cross-legged on the biobed. When had he sat up? Picard couldn't remember.

They stared at each other.

"Really."

"Yes. I don't react favorably to stowaways and saboteurs, either," the captain continued. "Who are you and what are you doing on board my ship?"

"I don't answer to you."

"Who do you answer to?"

"No one."

The conversation was considered closed on one side. Picard frowned somewhat as their prisoner snapped his eyes closed again, and, to all intents and purposes, ignored them completely. He looked over at his counselor and she shook her head.

"Captain, I don't believe you'll get anywhere just interrogating him like this. I daren't try another probe, but some things you don't need telepathy to know."

The captain scowled outright. "Very well, we'll try something else. Doctor, what are the laws regarding truth drugs in a case like this?"

"Shaky, Captain, in most cases, but there are many precedents, including uses of the Vulcan mindmeld."

"True. Is that an option now?"

"I was under the impression that you humans do not consider your subordinates disposable." There was a faint crackle under the word 'humans' that indicated the Universal Translators in their commbadges had replaced his original word with the Federation Standard.

"Captain, he's not bluffing," the Betazoid said quickly. "I've never encountered a telepath so strong."

"Too bad we're too far from Betazed," Doctor Crusher said with a conspiratorial smile. "We could turn Lwaxana loose on him."

Captain Picard visibly winced. "Without that choice," the word luckily went unsaid, "we're left with force. Doctor, do you have a chemical amounting to a truth serum?"

"Yes sir," she said, replacing the cylinder in her hypospray. "I believe I do."

"Use it," he ordered curtly.

Their captive opened his eyes again and proceeded to stare her down. Faber, seeing a potential threat, brandished her phaser more openly.

Beverly evaded the crimson stare and reached out to drug him before he tried to get away. Not that he could go far…

"Stop."

The voice was not at all familiar to any of the Starfleet officers. They turned, startled, to the door in the far wall, which had been opened.

Standing just inside was the form of a child that Crusher and Troi recognized.

"Sean?" Deanna and Beverly chorused almost in baffled unison.

The blond put his head on one side, an almost Data-like movement, staring at them. "I can't let you do that."

"I don't understand!" Deanna exclaimed. "I thought-"

"I was mute and simple-minded?"

"Well, yes," she admitted. Recalling the sensation she'd received when last she'd used her empathy on him, she reached out again. Once again, she slid over glass walls, walls that she now realized were clever shields.

"Sean is. But really, I suppose, Sean doesn't exist."

His form blurred, faded, changed. In the blond child's place stood a taller young man with long red hair that grew past his shoulders, standing completely at his ease with his hands in the pockets of his blue and gold tunic. Beneath it, he wore white. "He's someone I made up." His voice had changed from a higher child's register to a much older, calm voice.

"And who are you?" Picard demanded.

"Hello, Captain," the newcomer replied. "I apologize. I thought we could slip by you and yours, but it appears we underestimated you. Please believe me when I say that we mean you no harm. My name is Kurama; this is Hiei." One hand emerged from the pocket to flicker briefly in the other's direction.

"There are two of you?" Ashley Faber demanded, trying to aim her weapon at both at once; a difficult task as they were standing at opposite ends of the room.

"Actually, there's one of me and one of him." If he was trying to be annoying with his literal answers, he was going to manage it in a few minutes.

"Yes, I see that. How many others are going to appear out of nowhere on my ship, and must I repeat myself again? What are you doing here?"

Kurama fixed his eyes on the captain alone, and Picard had a strong feeling that whatever was coming next, if not an outright lie, was at least evasion of the truth. "We're after Fenell too. He's a threat to us."

The captain's instinct about being lied to was fading steadily. Either he was the worst liar Picard had ever met…or the best. But before he could ask more questions, or order them both arrested, both strangers twitched, as if tensing for battle. A split second later, Riker's voice came across the intercom.

"Captain, you're needed on the bridge, immediately." The stress in his voice was pronounced. The captain barely hesitated.

"I'm on my way. What's the problem?"

"A flotilla of ships has taken up potentially hostile position off our port bow. They demand to speak to you at once."

"Understood, Picard out."

All other concerns had been put on hold, but the sight of two pairs of bright eyes, one pair crimson, the other bright green, brought back his current problem.

"Lieutenant, stay here. Keep these two here until this is resolved, though I should just throw you in the brig." This last was addressed at Kurama and Hiei.

"Aye, sir," she said instantly, all but snapping to attention.

"Counselor, please join me," Picard said as he deactivated the forcefield door. The Betazoid followed him.

The instant they had left sickbay, Kurama, blithely ignoring the phaser aimed at him, turned and stepped through the still-open second door. Behind him, Hiei made a snatch at seemingly empty air on the bulkhead, and a black sword that Faber recognized shimmered into view. Before she could do much more than swing her weapon back at him, he vanished to appear beside the red-head, who absently closed the reinforced door behind them. In less than three seconds, both had vanished.

With a cry of shock, Beverly leapt to the door and frantically tapped in the triple sequence of opening codes. It bleeped at her obediently after a short pause, but by the time they got it open, neither was anywhere to be seen, not unexpectedly.

Faber swore fluently, jamming her phaser back into its holster with unnecessary vigor. Dr. Crusher couldn't help but agree, but when the lieutenant lifted her hand to tap her commbadge and alert the rest of Security, the doctor stopped her.

"No, don't. I don't know why, but I believe them. Something rang true about that."

Picard strode onto the bridge without showing any of his internal frustration. Managing to put it to one side for the time being, he stepped down to his command chair, which Riker surrendered to him automatically. His attention was instantly drawn to the figure on the viewscreen, which was staring at him with giant, yet potentially hostile, eyes.

The person on the other end of the commlink would have seemed ridiculous if he hadn't had a substantial fleet at his back. With huge baby blue eyes that dominated his entire face and pale robes that reflected said eyes, he seemed more like a lost high priest of some obscure pastoral religion than a starfaring traveler in command of an armada. The image of saintly benevolence was only further encouraged by his constant clasping and re-clasping of his hands in front of him, grasping a string of beads that blinked and whistled quietly.

"Greetings," Picard began. "I am Captain Picard of the Starship Enterprise, a Federation starship. Who might I be addressing?"

"Yes, we know who you are, Enterprise, Captain. We are the Lhyarri people, and this ship that I speak from is the Seek. I am Seek-Shepherd. You must forgive our show of hostility, but these are dangerous times. We have not come to threaten you, though you have already violated many of our laws. Instead, we offer forgiveness in exchange for a suitable penance. You will aid us."

Picard took a mental deep breath. Religious fanatics were not high on his list of priorities right now, and although the Enterprise could probably out-gun the Lhyarri flotilla, even outnumbered as she was, it was best to avoid a fight. "We are on an urgent mission to help alleviate these dangers you mention, Seek-Shepherd." Presumably, it was a title and not a name. "Will you let us pass in peace?"

Seek-Shepherd scowled benevolently. "The seers of my people have seen from afar the presence of a great evil in this sector. You carry the evil at your bosom even now. It has corrupted you to where you have violated our laws to this great degree. Surrender it to us that we may exorcize it, and you may go in peace and serenity."

The captain had never been very religious, and he was having a difficult time stripping Seek-Shepherd's words down to where they made sense to him. "Seek-Shepherd, I don't understand. What is it you believe we are carrying?"

The answer came abruptly as a turbolift door whisked softly closed at the back of the bridge. "Inari-sama," a voice that was becoming unwelcomely familiar breathed softly, a tinge of annoyance very clear. "How did they track us all the way out here?"

On the viewscreen, Seek-Shepherd's huge blue eyes grew to the size of dinner plates, and he stumbled backwards, away from the viewscreen on his end. He frantically waved the flashing beads around between him and the two new arrivals on the bridge.

"Captain!" he shrieked, "You must protect yourself and your people!"

Picard turned completely around, leaving Seek-Shepherd gibbering in the background, and shot the red-haired teen and his smaller shadow a death glare that pinned ensigns to the bulkheads. Unfortunately, they didn't seem to be affected. "Get off my bridge," he near-snarled.

"Of course," Kurama agreed, and perversely ignored what he'd just said, flickering one hand at the viewscreen and the hysterical Seek-Shepherd negligently. "Captain, would you like them run off?"

"Run off?" Riker said. "Captain? Who are these people? Wait a second! I recognize you!"

"I'm so happy for you," Hiei droned, sounding anything but. Dismissing the commander, he looked straight up at the screen, locking eyes with Seek-Shepherd. "Enough," he ordered harshly, and the captain of Seek's mouth snapped shut with an audible click. "Better. Now go away. You annoy us."

"Nabuhari," the red-head chimed in, "You have a very short time until we come over there."

"No! Begone, demons of the void! Come not near my people!"

"Not a problem, as long as you stay away from us," he continued. "Now go. You do annoy us."

Seek-Shepherd—Nabuhari?—continued to gibber and wave his beads around for a brief moment, until Hiei raised one hand. If this was a threat of some supernatural retribution, it worked. The alien priest (which indeed he was) cut himself off with a cry of 'we will not tolerate this!' before his voice moved up the register into an undignified squeak, and he closed the channel. Moments later, the entire Lhyarri fleet boiled into motion like a kicked anthill, and vanished at warp speed in several multicolored flashes.

Riker summed everything up when he said, "I think I speak for everyone when I say: Who the hell are you, and what is going on?"

Author's Note: While talking to my brother not long ago, I realized just how much trouble I have talking about any anime or manga series without using associated Japanese words. Those of you familiar with YYH and various related terms can skip this; TNG people should probably take note because I will be using these words somewhat frequently, although I'll try not to overuse them. It's just the English sounds so corny if overused. If I think of others later on, I'll try to add a note at the bottom on the translation. I don't have every detail fixed, and my stories tend to have a life of their own. Especially this one, as proved by this chapter. Right, words I will definitely use:

 While talking to my brother not long ago, I realized just how much trouble I have talking about any anime or manga series without using associated Japanese words. Those of you familiar with YYH and various related terms can skip this; TNG people should probably take note because I be using these words somewhat frequently, although I'll try not to overuse them. It's just the English sounds so if overused. If I think of others later on, I'll try to add a note at the bottom on the translation. I don't have every detail fixed, and my stories tend to have a life of their own. this one, as proved by this chapter. Right, words I will definitely use:

Kitsune: fox, fox-demon. Alternately, youko, although if capitalized it means someone. I don't think he'll be in this, but you never know.

Koorime: Would it sound pathetic if I said I wasn't exactly sure? Ice-demon, ice-spirit…something like that, anyway.

Jaganshi: a…title, I guess. Literal translation; Master of the Evil Eye (Jagan, evil eye), more explanation on that later.

Youkai: demon.

Makai, Ningenkai, Reikai: the names for the three 'worlds' commonly referred to in Yu Yu Hakusho. Translations: Demon World, Human World, Spirit World, respectively.

Ningen: as is probably obvious from above entry, Japanese for 'human'.

Inari-sama: In one of my favorite YYH stories (Kitsune's Brother, great story, link in my favorites, ignore the romance warning because you can't tell, go read it), Kurama swears by and makes a few references to "Inari-sama", whom I presume is a demon god or goddess. I liked the sound of it, so I'll be using it here.

I can't think of any more right now that I'm sure I'll be using. See you next chapter, which will depend on how long my keyboard keeps working or the next time I can be up past midnight on Mom's computer…which is throwing a fit over all these terms. Poor spell check.