Chapter 18

Somewhere in deep space...

Samla chewed on some kind of dehydrated food stick while she watched the Assassin across the table, continuing to fiddle with a homemade explosive device.

"I'm not sensing any appreciation for the information I gave you. Not everyone would have known where Caine's ships were headed next."

The black visor glinted under the lights in the ship's small rec area but remained focused on the work at hand. "I'm very appreciative."

"So appreciative that you have set us on a course to directly intercept Caine. What happened to that protection you promised me? We're headed straight for certain death."

"Don't worry, you are well protected on this ship. Of course, if you would like to leave now, the airlock is that way."

"Hmmph. This food is disgusting, by the way."

"So you've mentioned."

"Do you ever eat or sleep?"

"When I need to."

"Ah! Not a robot after all? Finally, an admission that you are alive!"

"I wouldn't go that far."

Samla frowned and threw the partially eaten food onto the table.

"I haven't seen you do anything for days but fly the ship and build more weapons. I was expecting more action when I joined up with you."

The Assassin put the strange-looking bomb down on the table and seemed to look right through her. "Be careful what you wish for," came the robotic reply. "Orion, if you want revenge on Caine, you'll soon get your chance."

"What about you? What drives this...this insane killing spree of yours?"

The Assassin got up slowly from the table. "Justice."

USS Hood

Riker sat with his head bowed, his leg dangling over the edge of the desk. To the person who didn't know Will Riker, they might have assumed that he was lost in thought staring down at his boot. But to his wife, the person who knew him better than anyone else, he was processing something very important. Presently he looked up at Deanna and her seating companion. First Officer Alisha Augustine brushed her short bangs out of her eyes, and Deanna could tell intuitively that the young woman was considering whether she should speak first or allow the Captain to start. They had just finished a briefing with Starfleet Command concerning their confirmed discovery that Daniel Rey, aka Marco had been killed in some kind of violent attack. Whatever was left of Marco's body had now been officially identified by sickbay. They had listened to the recorded conversation between Head of Starfleet Medical, Dr. Selar, and Marco, just before his death. Now, just a few questions were on everyone's mind. Had it really been Caine who had killed Marco, and what did it mean for everyone else, if Caine was in fact out of prison?

Finally, Will spoke. "Part of me wants to know how long Command has known that this so-called maximum security prison has been missing, but I know that we don't have the time to look into just who dropped the ball on this."

"No sir," agreed Augustine. "That would be precious time wasted not hunting down Caine."

"Is 'hunt' just another word for the investigation Command has authorized us to conduct concerning Christopher Caine's whereabouts?" Deanna laced her hands over one knee and glanced at the young brown-skinned woman. Well put together, and highly ambitious, Commander Augustine was not always an easy read, by any means, but so far in the last two years had shown unswerving professionalism and loyalty to Federation principles.

Augustine eyed her. "I suppose so, Counselor. Perhaps not the most artful choice of words on my part-"

"Your instincts are right, Alisha," said Riker. "Caine is a very...disturbed and dangerous person. He also holds grudges that seem to always end in someone dying. If he's out of prison, he absolutely needs to be hunted down."

Deann sighed inwardly. Well...I stand corrected.

Riker nodded at his first officer. "What have you got for me?"

"Well, my hasty research has uncovered something notable in the declassified Intel file transmitted to me yesterday. It seems that someone else is very interested in hunting Caine or at least is doing a wonderful job of disrupting his operations."

"What kind of operations are we talking about?"

"According to the files, Caine has been running mining operations all over the Alpha Quadrant, and is now moving into the Beta Quadrant, according to Klingon sources. He's traveling with a large armada of at least fifty ships. Mostly Orion makes."

"Damn. What is he mining?"

"No one knows for sure, but the chip we found floating with the debris of Marco's ship contains data on about thirty-five different planets. At least some of them appear in the Intel records as planets mined by Caine."

Riker was skeptical. "So that's all there is on the chip?"

"The chip is advanced technology and not Human made. And I actually don't even think it belonged to Marco...at least, not for long. First of all, it would have been incompatible with any of the technology on Marco's ship, which was an Orion cruiser. Mcknight put her best tech team on it, but still had a hard enough time decoding anything. And again, because it isn't compatible with any Federation tech that we know of, it's doubtful that we gathered more than a fraction of what was on that chip."

"So we know whatever the chip's owner wants us to know," said Deanna.

Riker nodded. "Any clues as to who that might be?"

"No, sir," said Augustine.

He shrugged and crossed his arms. "Let's go out on a limb and say it's someone who wants to stop Caine's mining operations. Could it be this mysterious person you've gotten a glimpse of?"

"It's a possibility. The thing is...this individual isn't easily traceable and has been labeled an assassin of sorts, based on the growing body count. While there are only a few available holos of some of the destroyed mining operations, the individual is a skilled killer with apparently extraordinary technical abilities. Aside from the dead bodies of Caine's thugs, he or she leaves essentially no trace, dismantling or destroying Caine's machinery before moving on. Recently though, this person sometimes leaves a calling card of sorts, although never the same type of signal twice."

"Sounds like someone who wants to be noticed, but only to a certain extent. And if they are that relentless, they won't want to be stopped " Riker rubbed his beard thoughtfully. "Caine has so many enemies, I'm not sure it's worth trying to figure out a motive."

"This...so-called assassin is clearly operating well outside of Starfleet rules," said Deanna. "But if their goal is to stop Caine, perhaps we should seek them out."

Riker stood up and rolled his shoulders back in an attempt to stretch out stiff muscles. "It should be a hell of a lot easier to find Caine and his ships than one lone assassin. But let's take a deeper look at the data on this chip and see if we can predict where Caine will show up next. We do that, we may find the assassin as well."

USS Excelsior en Route to aid the USS Jemison

"According to Data's report, over 40 percent of his crew remains in a comatose state," said Beverly, yawning. She tossed a datapad on her desk, and rubbed her eyes, looking up at her colleague. "All I know for certain is that when we reach the Jemison, we're going to have our hands full."

Felix Farmer's smooth skin creased ever so slightly when he smiled down at her from where he stood leaning in her doorway. His smile faded eventually. "You're right of course, Bev. We need to decode whatever is keeping these people unconscious."

"Assuming they are all linked. We won't know until we've reached Data and fully study the affected crewmembers. Most of Data's medical staff is also down for the count." She tapped a stylus on her desk. "Speaking of studies, Alyssa showed up in my office this morning, wanting to discuss her headache study."

"It's more than just a headache study, Beverly. The effects of what happened to us on the Q homeworld may be more significant than we initially thought. If you'd sit down and talk to her, you'd see that she's made progress-"

Beverly glared up at him expectantly. "How long have you known Nurse Ogawa was on board, Felix?"

He blinked. Her use of Alyssa's formal title was not lost on him. "Not until yesterday. Look, I was just as blindsided as you. Jack invited her aboard."

Beverly fell silent. Jack had something up his sleeve, that much was clear. No doubt trying to drive a wedge between her and Felix now that they were all on the Excelsior. Just one big happy family.

"Listen," he began in that soft, but dependable way of his. "I never had a chance to tell you how sorry I am...about-"

Felix was trying to change the subject. Unfortunately, it wasn't anything she was interested in discussing.

She glanced sharply up at him as he trailed off. Any gentleness in her gaze had been replaced with something familiar to both of them, yet much harder. "About Jean-Luc? Well, don't be," she said tightly. "I don't believe for a second that he's dead, Felix."

Felix knew that no amount of sympathy, no matter how sincere, could change her mood now. So, because he wasn't perfect, because of his pride, and because of latent jealousy that had recently resurfaced, he continued down a different dangerous road. "Jack told me that you slept together."

She buried her face in her hands and groaned. I'm going to kill Jack. She finally looked up at him. "What exactly did he say?"

"So, you're not going to deny it," he said flatly.

She shook her head slightly. "No. But I am sorry, Felix."

"Sorry because now you're stuck on this ship with me, and Jack, and Alyssa, and you can't run from these issues anymore, or are you sorry because you hurt me?" He stood there a few more moments, waiting for something he knew she was not prepared to give him, before leaving quietly. And Beverly Howard felt strangely relieved.

Parts Unknown

The face in the mirror exhibited the same blank stare it had for seemingly years. Something inside of him screamed, "Wake up! This is you!" But as he rubbed his palm over the dirty mirror, it did nothing to clear the haze that covered his mind. Who was he, really? Only dim memories of a life once lived, perhaps a life lived more than once...and still, those memories remained elusive. He'd had the run of this place for a long time now. He didn't know if that translated to days, months, or years, but it had been some time since he had seen anyone else that looked like him. He pulled at his matted beard and yanked a hand through the mop of hair on top of his head. It had been a bright silver for a short time, but that had faded to a dull brown recently. It seemed like someone else's body, someone else's thoughts inside this strange shell. Feeling exhausted he limped over to his bed and curled up. When he closed his eyes, he saw only blindingly bright light.