Disclaimer: see part 1
Coeur de Lion
by Katie
Chapter 5
Ruthless Hunter
Sam Wildman didn't know whether she should be
relieved or afraid about her new *assignment* she'd been
given. Part of her suspected this to be some kind of
punishment for her sudden explosion in the brig earlier, or
whether this had been planned by the Hirogen anyway. She
still didn't know which Holodeck she'd been assigned to, but
deep within her she was hoping that she had the chance to
meet her daughter Naomi.
Joe had been so sweet with her earlier. She didn't want
to leave him. To her, the engineer was what Tom Paris was
for B'Elanna Torres, and the Commander to the Captain—at
least did a great many of the crew think so. These couples
gave each other the peace they needed and completed them in
one or another way. If looked upon this in a oldfashioned and
very romantic way—which Sam certainly was in matters of
the heart—she thought of them as soul mates. Her husband
Greskrendtregk had been such a person, but he was so far
away, both in distance and heart. Sam had belonged to those
people who had received a message from home by means of
the array. However, she hadn't been happy about this at all,
because Greskrendtregk had written her that he had moved on
with his life. He had certainly been happy when he'd heard
about their daughter Naomi, but like so many others of the
crew's relatives had he deemed his wife dead. After a period
of mourning he had gotten to know another woman with
whom he fell deeply in love.
Sam had taken this as a license to do what ever she
wanted. She knew that both of them were always going to
love each other, even if there were other lovers in their lives.
After a while she caught herself of having fallen in love with
Joe Carey a long time ago. At first it had shocked her, but the
more she thought about it, the better did she feel. Now she
didn't want to leave him. The only thing to soothe her was the
fact that he too had been reassigned. He had to take over
Ensign Harry Kim's place at holodeck maintenance. Perhaps
there was some way to checkmate the Hirogen.
Her thoughts wandered back to Naomi. Perhaps she
could protect her in some way. She knew that the crew on the
holodecks were being controlled by a Hirogen device and
given other identities, so she didn't know whether she would
recognize Naomi and vice versa. Sam had always been a
woman to believe in the good in people. She couldn't believe
that the Hirogen were cruel enough to hunt down and kill
little defenseless children. But then they killed innocent people
just because they were addicted to thrill it was giving them, so
what could make them stay away from little children?
When she arrived in Sickbay, she met Harry Kim who
was taking his new assignment far less calmly than her. Of
course was the probability of being killed in one of the
holodecks pretty high, but if they didn't find a way to free
themselves they were going to die anyway. So Sam wondered
why Harry was so upset, if it weren't for him having
something up his sleeve. He was hiding it well enough for the
Hirogen, but he couldn't betray her. Having enjoyed special
psychological training and knowing Harry a little bit, Sam
knew that the young Asian was very nervous. Hope flashed,
and Sam didn't feel so small any longer. The ensign's
nervousness didn't stem from fear of what expected him, but
of fear that a plan of his wasn't going to work out. He was
just behaving like a man who was having good cards and was
afraid of another one finishing the game before it was his turn.
"Would you please calm down, Ensign!" the Doctor
barked at the young man. He too had sensed his nervousness.
*It's all right for a hologram to talk, Harry thought.
The Hirogen had drawn the joker at the eleventh hour, and
thus had shattered their only chance to save the ship and her
crew. And what was the hologram doing? He'd put up his best
poker face. At least he'd managed to write that subroutine in
Seven's cubicle, maybe that would help them at least a wee
bit. So despite himself Harry took a deep breath and tried to
calm down.
"Now, that's much better," the Doctor commented in
his best and most annoying I'm-treating-little-children-manner.
"If the Hirogen can play foul, so can we, can't we, Ensign?"
Harry nodded somewhat unsure. He didn't quite
understand what the Doctor was getting at. Had he already
changed their plan?
"I haven't managed to hack my way to the subroutine
in Seven of Nine's cubicle yet, but I'll keep working on it
whenever the Hirogen don't look. However that may be,
according to our plan I've managed to infect some of the
neural interfaces with the Borg nanoprobes. It'll take them
about one hour to destroy or limit their function until you'll be
able to put the security protocols back online," the Doctor
explained.
"We've just got to put the security protocols back
online?" Harry repeated in disbelief.
"Yes. I'll have Lieutenant Carey continue your efforts,
Ensign. For now, it's more important that you get the security
protocols back online, and this can be accomplished more
easily from inside the holodecks," the Doctor explained.
Harry and Sam nodded in agreement. The ensign
should have thought of this himself. They didn't know how
long it was going to take them to infect all of them with the
nanoprobes, so it was more important to first make sure that
their crew mates weren't injured or killed any longer.
The Doctor continued. "I'll give you an authorization
code the Hirogen can't break through once it's engaged. Then
I'll see to it that I reprogram the nanoprobes. Lieutenant
Carey and the two of you are to make sure that the replicated
food and drink are infected with them."
"What about your special plan?" Harry pressed. He
deemed it high time that the Doctor told him about it. He was
curious as to what the hologram had up his sleeve.
"Ah, I'm not going to tell you about it, as I've already
told you. Too much is at stake here."
"What about the tools we'll need?" Sam chimed in.
Until now she'd only listened to the conversation. The plan
they were having was good, and it filled her with pride that
Joe was going to have part in it. This was nonsense of course,
because anyone was ready to contribute in any way they
could. Maybe the feeling was more one of relief than one of
pride, maybe it was rather trust in Joe's abilities as an
engineer.
"I'll make sure you find them, don't worry," the
hologram assured her.
Just then the doors to Sickbay whooshed open and in
came the Hirogen medic Ysakc. He went straight to the main
surgery area where the Federations' doctor and the
newcomers were standing and chatting. The guard that had
been posted next to door hadn't paid much attention to the
ongoing in the sickbay, but that changed immediately. Sam
couldn't help but smile. Even the best gamblers made
mistakes. If it hadn't been for the guard's lethargy or
overconfidence they could have never talked about their
rescue plan. Her morale had been boosted immeasurably by
their talk, but she wasn't going to let her façade shop them.
Just like with the others, her Starfleet training snapped into
gear as soon as she noticed Ysakc enter.
"Why is this taking so long?" the Hirogen barked.
The Doctor put on his most arrogant demeanor as he
replied. "Because I'm not going to risk my crewmates' lives
because of sloppy work. You should know about the
Hippocratic oath by now." He held the steady gaze of the
Hirogen with a cold expression on his face.
"Hurry up now!" the Hirogen hissed and stepped back
so the hologram cold perform his duty. Harry let out a soft
sigh of relief.
=/\=
"Bon jour, chéri!" Catherine craned her neck so Frank
didn't have to bend down too far to kiss her good morning.
They couldn't really talk about *morning* any longer, for
Séverine had just left for Goulot's place to get the high
frequency oscillator. Catherine was very anxious for her to
return, not only because of their new toy.
Brigitte had given Séverine the letter for her boyfriend.
Perhaps she would get an answer someday, it didn't matter if
it was positive or negative. Of course did Catherine hope that
it would be a positive one. Brigitte really deserved it.
Catherine was almost having a bad conscience in regard to
her, for last night she'd found the love of her life. She wanted
others to be happy as well, Brigitte being on top of her list.
The young woman had sacrificed her body for the sake of
their town, and she was suffering a great deal from this, more
than any of them—she herself included—had estimated.
Catherine knew that all of them were in great debt of her, and
the worst thing about this was that they were never going to
be able to pay her back.
"Good morning, love," Frank said after he'd kissed
her. Her lips tasted sweet and bitter at the same time;
croissants and coffee went together well. But this wasn't
concerning Frank very much. It was rather that he wanted to
enjoy their togetherness as much as possible and forget about
what was to come after all of this.
"Séverine has already left for Goulot's. I think she'll be
back in two hours," she told him and motioned him to take a
seat in the cool shade of the awning. Just then, Brigitte
returned from the kitchen, a cup of coffee in hands.
She felt somewhat awkward in the presence of the
American. With him being around she felt closer to Bobby.
This was nonsense of course, because Bobby and Miller didn't
even know each other, nor did they have anything in common
save their nationality. Her awkwardness may also have been
because of his being the doppelgänger of Maurice. She had
been very close to Maurice. They'd never been lovers, though,
because to her he had been like a brother she'd never had.
Brigitte knew that Maman Leroux had rather she'd have
married Maurice instead of Catherine. But she'd known from
the beginning that this was impossible. It had been as
impossible as it was to look for something like this
relationship in Frank Miller now. The war would be over
soon, at least they hoped so, and he was going to return to the
States just like Bobby had eight years ago. Eight long years ...
And now this man had slept with Catherine. To her
great relief she realized that they'd fallen in love, too. She
didn't want Catherine to be hurt, she deserved a little bit of
happiness. However, she couldn't help wondering whether the
relationship between them was going to end like hers and
Bobby's.
"Good morning," she nodded at him, and sat down at
their table. Frank greeted her, and then turned back at
Catherine.
"Is it that far to Goulot's?"
"No, but Séverine always stays longer at her father's,"
Catherine told him.
"I see." Frank smiled.
"May I ask you something?" Brigitte chimed in. Frank
made a gesture for her to go ahead. "How come you speak
French so well? Bobby ... a friend from America ... he never
managed to speak French so well as you," she asked.
Catherine noticed her hesitance when she'd mentioned Bobby,
but Frank obviously didn't.
"My mother was a Frenchwoman. She took good care
that my sisters and I learn French," Frank explained with a
mischievous smile that carved deep dimples into his tanned
face.
"She's made a very good job of it," Brigitte said.
Frank nodded still smiling. "She used to call me
François, so I felt very much a t home when you called me
this yesterday."
Brigitte almost blushed when he said this. She wasn't
sure any longer whether she'd been right in her thoughts about
him earlier. Maybe she could have a relationship with him that
was similar to the one she'd shared with Maurice. If it hadn't
been for the tattoo on his forehead and his unfamiliarity with
everything around him—and his being an American of
course—she could have thought that Maurice had finally
come back. No matter what that sailor had written in his letter
to Catherine.
"What I wanted to tell you earlier was that my special
friend the Hauptmann came to see me yesterday night. He
wanted to join the welcome-back-party for you. I managed to
turn him down when I closed the *Coeur de Lion*, but," she
sipped her hot coffee carefully, "he expects us to throw a
party tonight."
Catherine snorted in disgust. What had gotten into that
self-important flash Harry of a Nazi? She leaned back in her
chair and didn't say anything.
"At least," Frank eventually said, "does this offer me a
chance to meet ... Brückner, it is?" Brigitte having nodded in
agreement, Frank went on. "So I'll get to know him on a
casual occasion. I already know his file, and what information
our intelligence has gathered on him, but there's nothing like
getting to know someone personally, n'est-ce pas?"
"That's true," Catherine had to admit. Then she
suppressed a yawn and smiled sheepishly at Frank. "So let's
throw a party none of them has ever enjoyed before!"
=/\=
He was on his way to a Monsieur Goulot where he
was to meet a member of the local Résistance to exchange the
urgently needed high frequency oscillator for the latest reports
of the intelligence they'd gathered on the course of events in
Sainte Claire.
It had been obvious that High Command chose him
above all to do the exchange. Having spent the summer of '36
in the town of Sainte Claire, he knew the area like none of the
others, and he could speak French. This was thanks to
Brigitte, a girl he'd gotten to know and to love. Because of his
love for her he'd canceled the rest of his journey through
Europe and had stayed here in the small lovely town. Their
good-bye had been very painful. He hadn't realized how
deeply he really was in love with the Frenchwoman until the
outbreak of the war.
Until five years ago, they'd never been out of touch by
writing letters to each other. These last five years had been the
longest ones in his life. He had asked her several times to
come to live with him in the States, but she had always turned
him down. Then for one reason or another she'd stopped
writing to him. It had hurt him very much and he'd wondered
if it had been his fault. Maybe he'd pressed into her too much,
despite his understanding she wanted to stay in occupied
France.
When President Roosevelt had decided to enter the
war, Bobby had joined the Allied Forces. Why he didn't know
any more, perhaps he'd been bored, perhaps he had hoped to
find Brigitte and finally win her heart. It never even occurred
to him that she might have moved on with her life.
As soon as Captain Miller had been given permission
to infiltrate German occupation in the town of Sainte Claire,
he had been given orders to assist him as much as possible.
Now he was sitting outside the charcoal burner's small
house and had a drink with Monsieur Goulot while waiting for
his contact to come. The oscillator had been wrapped
carefully in rags and was ready to be hidden under a load of
charcoal which their contact was to take to the headquarters
of the Maquis. He didn't have any clue as to how this entire
business was working. The less people knew about this, the
better.
So he wondered whether he was going to see Brigitte.
Sainte Claire wasn't far, and the thought of being so close and
yet so far from her made him uneasy. This and the fact that
the contact was late made him nervous. "What time did you
say he was supposed to be here?" He eventually asked.
"She," Goulot merely said. The American next to him
looked puzzled. "She, it's a girl we're waiting for, she's my
little girl," Goulot explained smiling.
"Oh."
Goulot laughed. "Calm down, my friend. Maybe there
was some trouble with the gang in town. Séverine might have
had to delay coming out here to make sure they don't get after
her." He padded the sandy haired man's thigh in a reassuring
manner. The American had to agree. Why was he getting so
damn nervous all of a sudden?
"I'm starving. What about a bite to eat and some more
of this excellent vin?" Goulot suggested and got up.
"That's a good idea, Père Goulot," his guest agreed.
Anything that could distract him was welcome. And maybe he
could ask the charcoal burner about what was going on in
Sainte Claire. "This is really a good wine."
"1940 Château Picard. C'est bon, eh?" Goulot poured
him some more of the ruby red liquid. As he was standing
with his back turned at the way that led to the town, he
couldn't see what Bobby saw.
A fair haired girl came running from the woods that
fast that she almost fell. The curls of her hair were bouncing
to the rhythm of her steps, and her face was flushed with
effort. She was carrying a rag doll with her whose limp limbs
were slapping her as if to urge her on.
"Look, I think your little girl's coming," he pointed at
the little girl and got up. When Goulot turned around, he
laughed.
"This isn't my little girl, this is Noëmie. She's a contact
as well. Actually, I though my daughter Séverine was going to
come. That's strange."
=/\=
Harold the Voyager from Cymru shifted his position
for the umpteenth time this morning. It had been only a few
days ago that the crusader campaigns had captured the city of
Acre under the command of Kings Richard Coeur de Lion and
Philipp II Augustus of France. The city of Jerusalem was
under siege, too. The situation of the Saracens was
precarious, and in the opinion of King Richard's advisors—
and his Majesty's opinion—it was only a matter of time until
Sultan Saladin had to give in and offer peace talks. Saladin
had captured Jerusalem four years ago and had beaten the
Christians. Now—with the blessing of the Pope--it was their
duty to take revenge for this, and after so many things had
gone wrong in this Third Crusade, it seemed as though their
hardships and the death of many good men was to be crowned
with success.
Harold, Roger and several of their friends were sitting
under the protecting awning in front of their tents and were
waiting for the long-awaited message from the Sultan. It was
only midmorning, but the sun was already scorching hot. They
watched their squires tend to their warhorses, sipping watered
down wine and picking at their breakfast without appetite.
Roger was nursing a wound in his right thigh he'd suffered
from an enemy's arrow. He wasn't the only one of them who
was already drunk. It was the only way to drown the pain.
Flies bothered them, the hygienic conditions in the
camp were getting worse with each day passing, and food was
running low as well. They hadn't found much foodstuffs in
Acre, for they'd besieged the town before capturing it. They
wanted to get home as soon as possible. Sure, the triumph
was theirs, and the glory of the Christendom as well, but there
was nothing like home after years of warfare.
"When will that damn bastard of a messenger come?"
Roger mumbled.
"Soon, friend, soon," Harold said for the umpteenth
time. Again he shifted his sitting position. If there wasn't
anything going to happen anytime soon he was sure he'd go
nuts. Lazily they watched people going by, knights and
squires, with or without their horses, wounded were being
carried on stretchers, and every now and then a prisoner was
led through the narrow streets between the colorful tents. The
flags and pennants hung like dripping wet rags from the
flagpoles. Not even the lightest breeze stirred the hot smelly
air. A woman left the busy row of the passers-by and
approached them. There weren't many women in the camp,
and the men were aching from their desire, so it was only
natural that Roger and several of the others cheered and
whistled when the maiden came.
She was a beautiful blonde, with huge ice blue eyes
and seductively full lips. She was very proud, and she was a
mysterious person. Nobody knew the story of the strange
piece of jewelry covering her left eyebrow, nor the semi-star
next to her right ear, or the cobweb of metallic shimmering
bands on the back of her left hand. Some men who had
encountered women from India, the mysterious country in the
East said they'd already seen jewelry like this. None of the
women wearing it, however, had been fair haired or fair
skinned.
Harold was fascinated by her as well, he even desired
her, although he had a wife and children back home in Cymru.
Just like the others, he'd done without the joys of love for
much too long. In addition to that, he had the strange feeling
that protecting this woman was some kind of duty to him. The
others were good friends, but they were brutes when it came
to treating woman.
"My fair Lady Séverine, what brings you to us?" he
asked good-naturedly. From the corners of his eyes he could
see the others' eyes pop out of their sockets.
"I have come to change Sir Roger's dressings," she
said, holding the bowl with water and the flasks with medicine
in way they could see them better.
"Are you sure that's the only thing to be done here?"
Alfred laughed.
Séverine actually blushed and lowered her head. Now
Harold couldn't compose himself any longer. "Watch your
tongue, Alfred, she's my girl!" he hissed at the redhead. Alfred
in turn made a pacifying gesture. "Calm down, my friend, we
know that. Maybe Lady Séverine could ask some of her
friends to join us?"
"Maybe," Séverine softly said. Hesitant, she crouched
next to Sir Roger and started tending to his wound. She had
half finished her work, when loud shouts and a howl of
triumph was to be heard from the plaza in front of the King's
tent. Harold, Roger and the others belonged to the few lucky
people who served the King in a special way, so their tents
weren't far away from their feudal lord's. Harold and Sir
Simon got up quickly to find out what the tumult was about.
Had the messenger from Saladin finally arrived?
Lady Séverine watched her knightly protector go with
mixed feelings. Only moments ago he'd protected her from the
mocking of his friends, and now it seemed as though he'd
forgotten about her. A fine knight he was, she thought
bitterly, feeling awkwardness rising in her throat in form of a
heavy lump. Roger caught her completely off-guard when he
touched her arm. She let out a shriek, with which she regained
Sir Harold's attention. He shot the injured man an angry
glance.
"I just wanted to tell her that she's safe with me,"
Roger shrugged in an apologizing way. "In my condition it
wouldn't be wise to take a woman. Don't you worry, my fair
Lady!"
Séverine looked somewhat uncertain, but when she
saw Harold nod, she knew that both men could be trusted. It
was no secret that Lady Séverine had been widowed during a
feud back in the Duchy of Normandy. Her husband, a vassal
to the Duke of Normandy, had been killed by his cousin.
Having been sent to a nunnery, Séverine decided to
accompany the crusaders as a nurse to escape the narrowness
of the nunnery. A beguine, she had not taken the oath,
though, but nevertheless had she to obey the strict rules, and
had to put up with the Mother Superior.
"I'm sorry, I was just kidding," Sir Roger said after
Harold had left them. He knew her story, and as a knight it
was supposed to be his duty to protect the weak. Séverine
merely nodded and continued her work.
=/\=
Sarpa was still trembling with the excitement and the
satisfaction he'd experienced when he'd hunted his favorite
prey Seven of Nine down. Of course it hadn't been the final
lethal hunt, but at least it had helped him to satisfy his
impatience. For now. As soon as she was his, he was going to
decorate his bulkheads with her bones, he would remove all of
the other trophies he'd gathered so far. He even thought of
taking her beautiful yellow hair as well. Ever since he'd seen
her hair cascading down her shoulders in golden waves, he'd
been eager to get it, make her body all his. No prey had
excited him that much before.
Anger, however, was pumping through his system as
well. Kaar had taken Seven away from him for his own
excitement. Now Sarpa could slap himself for his folly of
showing his favorite prey off to the Alpha. Kaar, too, was a
man of good taste, and Sarpa felt the power over her body
being pulled away from him, just like blood poured from the
hunted-down. It was too late, he'd lost her now. Kaar wanted
to indulge further in his ill studies of their prey. If it hadn't
been for his being the Alpha of their hunting party, he'd have
been killed for this long ago. No Hirogen had dared to behave
himself like this before, and frankly, Sarpa thought that they'd
watched his wantonness long enough. Almost all of the other
members of their party were in the same opinion, and the Beta
knew that he was fully supported by them whatever his plans
concerning the Alpha might be.
As soon as the right time had come, he and his
supporters would first hunt him down, and then, with he
himself as their new leader, they would bring this hunt to an
end. For the time being, though, it was certainly better to
stand low and wait. One thing was sure: Sarpa wasn't going to
let Kaar have the joys of having the Human female with the
fair hair. He would fight for her.
To be continued ...
Coeur de Lion
by Katie
Chapter 5
Ruthless Hunter
Sam Wildman didn't know whether she should be
relieved or afraid about her new *assignment* she'd been
given. Part of her suspected this to be some kind of
punishment for her sudden explosion in the brig earlier, or
whether this had been planned by the Hirogen anyway. She
still didn't know which Holodeck she'd been assigned to, but
deep within her she was hoping that she had the chance to
meet her daughter Naomi.
Joe had been so sweet with her earlier. She didn't want
to leave him. To her, the engineer was what Tom Paris was
for B'Elanna Torres, and the Commander to the Captain—at
least did a great many of the crew think so. These couples
gave each other the peace they needed and completed them in
one or another way. If looked upon this in a oldfashioned and
very romantic way—which Sam certainly was in matters of
the heart—she thought of them as soul mates. Her husband
Greskrendtregk had been such a person, but he was so far
away, both in distance and heart. Sam had belonged to those
people who had received a message from home by means of
the array. However, she hadn't been happy about this at all,
because Greskrendtregk had written her that he had moved on
with his life. He had certainly been happy when he'd heard
about their daughter Naomi, but like so many others of the
crew's relatives had he deemed his wife dead. After a period
of mourning he had gotten to know another woman with
whom he fell deeply in love.
Sam had taken this as a license to do what ever she
wanted. She knew that both of them were always going to
love each other, even if there were other lovers in their lives.
After a while she caught herself of having fallen in love with
Joe Carey a long time ago. At first it had shocked her, but the
more she thought about it, the better did she feel. Now she
didn't want to leave him. The only thing to soothe her was the
fact that he too had been reassigned. He had to take over
Ensign Harry Kim's place at holodeck maintenance. Perhaps
there was some way to checkmate the Hirogen.
Her thoughts wandered back to Naomi. Perhaps she
could protect her in some way. She knew that the crew on the
holodecks were being controlled by a Hirogen device and
given other identities, so she didn't know whether she would
recognize Naomi and vice versa. Sam had always been a
woman to believe in the good in people. She couldn't believe
that the Hirogen were cruel enough to hunt down and kill
little defenseless children. But then they killed innocent people
just because they were addicted to thrill it was giving them, so
what could make them stay away from little children?
When she arrived in Sickbay, she met Harry Kim who
was taking his new assignment far less calmly than her. Of
course was the probability of being killed in one of the
holodecks pretty high, but if they didn't find a way to free
themselves they were going to die anyway. So Sam wondered
why Harry was so upset, if it weren't for him having
something up his sleeve. He was hiding it well enough for the
Hirogen, but he couldn't betray her. Having enjoyed special
psychological training and knowing Harry a little bit, Sam
knew that the young Asian was very nervous. Hope flashed,
and Sam didn't feel so small any longer. The ensign's
nervousness didn't stem from fear of what expected him, but
of fear that a plan of his wasn't going to work out. He was
just behaving like a man who was having good cards and was
afraid of another one finishing the game before it was his turn.
"Would you please calm down, Ensign!" the Doctor
barked at the young man. He too had sensed his nervousness.
*It's all right for a hologram to talk, Harry thought.
The Hirogen had drawn the joker at the eleventh hour, and
thus had shattered their only chance to save the ship and her
crew. And what was the hologram doing? He'd put up his best
poker face. At least he'd managed to write that subroutine in
Seven's cubicle, maybe that would help them at least a wee
bit. So despite himself Harry took a deep breath and tried to
calm down.
"Now, that's much better," the Doctor commented in
his best and most annoying I'm-treating-little-children-manner.
"If the Hirogen can play foul, so can we, can't we, Ensign?"
Harry nodded somewhat unsure. He didn't quite
understand what the Doctor was getting at. Had he already
changed their plan?
"I haven't managed to hack my way to the subroutine
in Seven of Nine's cubicle yet, but I'll keep working on it
whenever the Hirogen don't look. However that may be,
according to our plan I've managed to infect some of the
neural interfaces with the Borg nanoprobes. It'll take them
about one hour to destroy or limit their function until you'll be
able to put the security protocols back online," the Doctor
explained.
"We've just got to put the security protocols back
online?" Harry repeated in disbelief.
"Yes. I'll have Lieutenant Carey continue your efforts,
Ensign. For now, it's more important that you get the security
protocols back online, and this can be accomplished more
easily from inside the holodecks," the Doctor explained.
Harry and Sam nodded in agreement. The ensign
should have thought of this himself. They didn't know how
long it was going to take them to infect all of them with the
nanoprobes, so it was more important to first make sure that
their crew mates weren't injured or killed any longer.
The Doctor continued. "I'll give you an authorization
code the Hirogen can't break through once it's engaged. Then
I'll see to it that I reprogram the nanoprobes. Lieutenant
Carey and the two of you are to make sure that the replicated
food and drink are infected with them."
"What about your special plan?" Harry pressed. He
deemed it high time that the Doctor told him about it. He was
curious as to what the hologram had up his sleeve.
"Ah, I'm not going to tell you about it, as I've already
told you. Too much is at stake here."
"What about the tools we'll need?" Sam chimed in.
Until now she'd only listened to the conversation. The plan
they were having was good, and it filled her with pride that
Joe was going to have part in it. This was nonsense of course,
because anyone was ready to contribute in any way they
could. Maybe the feeling was more one of relief than one of
pride, maybe it was rather trust in Joe's abilities as an
engineer.
"I'll make sure you find them, don't worry," the
hologram assured her.
Just then the doors to Sickbay whooshed open and in
came the Hirogen medic Ysakc. He went straight to the main
surgery area where the Federations' doctor and the
newcomers were standing and chatting. The guard that had
been posted next to door hadn't paid much attention to the
ongoing in the sickbay, but that changed immediately. Sam
couldn't help but smile. Even the best gamblers made
mistakes. If it hadn't been for the guard's lethargy or
overconfidence they could have never talked about their
rescue plan. Her morale had been boosted immeasurably by
their talk, but she wasn't going to let her façade shop them.
Just like with the others, her Starfleet training snapped into
gear as soon as she noticed Ysakc enter.
"Why is this taking so long?" the Hirogen barked.
The Doctor put on his most arrogant demeanor as he
replied. "Because I'm not going to risk my crewmates' lives
because of sloppy work. You should know about the
Hippocratic oath by now." He held the steady gaze of the
Hirogen with a cold expression on his face.
"Hurry up now!" the Hirogen hissed and stepped back
so the hologram cold perform his duty. Harry let out a soft
sigh of relief.
=/\=
"Bon jour, chéri!" Catherine craned her neck so Frank
didn't have to bend down too far to kiss her good morning.
They couldn't really talk about *morning* any longer, for
Séverine had just left for Goulot's place to get the high
frequency oscillator. Catherine was very anxious for her to
return, not only because of their new toy.
Brigitte had given Séverine the letter for her boyfriend.
Perhaps she would get an answer someday, it didn't matter if
it was positive or negative. Of course did Catherine hope that
it would be a positive one. Brigitte really deserved it.
Catherine was almost having a bad conscience in regard to
her, for last night she'd found the love of her life. She wanted
others to be happy as well, Brigitte being on top of her list.
The young woman had sacrificed her body for the sake of
their town, and she was suffering a great deal from this, more
than any of them—she herself included—had estimated.
Catherine knew that all of them were in great debt of her, and
the worst thing about this was that they were never going to
be able to pay her back.
"Good morning, love," Frank said after he'd kissed
her. Her lips tasted sweet and bitter at the same time;
croissants and coffee went together well. But this wasn't
concerning Frank very much. It was rather that he wanted to
enjoy their togetherness as much as possible and forget about
what was to come after all of this.
"Séverine has already left for Goulot's. I think she'll be
back in two hours," she told him and motioned him to take a
seat in the cool shade of the awning. Just then, Brigitte
returned from the kitchen, a cup of coffee in hands.
She felt somewhat awkward in the presence of the
American. With him being around she felt closer to Bobby.
This was nonsense of course, because Bobby and Miller didn't
even know each other, nor did they have anything in common
save their nationality. Her awkwardness may also have been
because of his being the doppelgänger of Maurice. She had
been very close to Maurice. They'd never been lovers, though,
because to her he had been like a brother she'd never had.
Brigitte knew that Maman Leroux had rather she'd have
married Maurice instead of Catherine. But she'd known from
the beginning that this was impossible. It had been as
impossible as it was to look for something like this
relationship in Frank Miller now. The war would be over
soon, at least they hoped so, and he was going to return to the
States just like Bobby had eight years ago. Eight long years ...
And now this man had slept with Catherine. To her
great relief she realized that they'd fallen in love, too. She
didn't want Catherine to be hurt, she deserved a little bit of
happiness. However, she couldn't help wondering whether the
relationship between them was going to end like hers and
Bobby's.
"Good morning," she nodded at him, and sat down at
their table. Frank greeted her, and then turned back at
Catherine.
"Is it that far to Goulot's?"
"No, but Séverine always stays longer at her father's,"
Catherine told him.
"I see." Frank smiled.
"May I ask you something?" Brigitte chimed in. Frank
made a gesture for her to go ahead. "How come you speak
French so well? Bobby ... a friend from America ... he never
managed to speak French so well as you," she asked.
Catherine noticed her hesitance when she'd mentioned Bobby,
but Frank obviously didn't.
"My mother was a Frenchwoman. She took good care
that my sisters and I learn French," Frank explained with a
mischievous smile that carved deep dimples into his tanned
face.
"She's made a very good job of it," Brigitte said.
Frank nodded still smiling. "She used to call me
François, so I felt very much a t home when you called me
this yesterday."
Brigitte almost blushed when he said this. She wasn't
sure any longer whether she'd been right in her thoughts about
him earlier. Maybe she could have a relationship with him that
was similar to the one she'd shared with Maurice. If it hadn't
been for the tattoo on his forehead and his unfamiliarity with
everything around him—and his being an American of
course—she could have thought that Maurice had finally
come back. No matter what that sailor had written in his letter
to Catherine.
"What I wanted to tell you earlier was that my special
friend the Hauptmann came to see me yesterday night. He
wanted to join the welcome-back-party for you. I managed to
turn him down when I closed the *Coeur de Lion*, but," she
sipped her hot coffee carefully, "he expects us to throw a
party tonight."
Catherine snorted in disgust. What had gotten into that
self-important flash Harry of a Nazi? She leaned back in her
chair and didn't say anything.
"At least," Frank eventually said, "does this offer me a
chance to meet ... Brückner, it is?" Brigitte having nodded in
agreement, Frank went on. "So I'll get to know him on a
casual occasion. I already know his file, and what information
our intelligence has gathered on him, but there's nothing like
getting to know someone personally, n'est-ce pas?"
"That's true," Catherine had to admit. Then she
suppressed a yawn and smiled sheepishly at Frank. "So let's
throw a party none of them has ever enjoyed before!"
=/\=
He was on his way to a Monsieur Goulot where he
was to meet a member of the local Résistance to exchange the
urgently needed high frequency oscillator for the latest reports
of the intelligence they'd gathered on the course of events in
Sainte Claire.
It had been obvious that High Command chose him
above all to do the exchange. Having spent the summer of '36
in the town of Sainte Claire, he knew the area like none of the
others, and he could speak French. This was thanks to
Brigitte, a girl he'd gotten to know and to love. Because of his
love for her he'd canceled the rest of his journey through
Europe and had stayed here in the small lovely town. Their
good-bye had been very painful. He hadn't realized how
deeply he really was in love with the Frenchwoman until the
outbreak of the war.
Until five years ago, they'd never been out of touch by
writing letters to each other. These last five years had been the
longest ones in his life. He had asked her several times to
come to live with him in the States, but she had always turned
him down. Then for one reason or another she'd stopped
writing to him. It had hurt him very much and he'd wondered
if it had been his fault. Maybe he'd pressed into her too much,
despite his understanding she wanted to stay in occupied
France.
When President Roosevelt had decided to enter the
war, Bobby had joined the Allied Forces. Why he didn't know
any more, perhaps he'd been bored, perhaps he had hoped to
find Brigitte and finally win her heart. It never even occurred
to him that she might have moved on with her life.
As soon as Captain Miller had been given permission
to infiltrate German occupation in the town of Sainte Claire,
he had been given orders to assist him as much as possible.
Now he was sitting outside the charcoal burner's small
house and had a drink with Monsieur Goulot while waiting for
his contact to come. The oscillator had been wrapped
carefully in rags and was ready to be hidden under a load of
charcoal which their contact was to take to the headquarters
of the Maquis. He didn't have any clue as to how this entire
business was working. The less people knew about this, the
better.
So he wondered whether he was going to see Brigitte.
Sainte Claire wasn't far, and the thought of being so close and
yet so far from her made him uneasy. This and the fact that
the contact was late made him nervous. "What time did you
say he was supposed to be here?" He eventually asked.
"She," Goulot merely said. The American next to him
looked puzzled. "She, it's a girl we're waiting for, she's my
little girl," Goulot explained smiling.
"Oh."
Goulot laughed. "Calm down, my friend. Maybe there
was some trouble with the gang in town. Séverine might have
had to delay coming out here to make sure they don't get after
her." He padded the sandy haired man's thigh in a reassuring
manner. The American had to agree. Why was he getting so
damn nervous all of a sudden?
"I'm starving. What about a bite to eat and some more
of this excellent vin?" Goulot suggested and got up.
"That's a good idea, Père Goulot," his guest agreed.
Anything that could distract him was welcome. And maybe he
could ask the charcoal burner about what was going on in
Sainte Claire. "This is really a good wine."
"1940 Château Picard. C'est bon, eh?" Goulot poured
him some more of the ruby red liquid. As he was standing
with his back turned at the way that led to the town, he
couldn't see what Bobby saw.
A fair haired girl came running from the woods that
fast that she almost fell. The curls of her hair were bouncing
to the rhythm of her steps, and her face was flushed with
effort. She was carrying a rag doll with her whose limp limbs
were slapping her as if to urge her on.
"Look, I think your little girl's coming," he pointed at
the little girl and got up. When Goulot turned around, he
laughed.
"This isn't my little girl, this is Noëmie. She's a contact
as well. Actually, I though my daughter Séverine was going to
come. That's strange."
=/\=
Harold the Voyager from Cymru shifted his position
for the umpteenth time this morning. It had been only a few
days ago that the crusader campaigns had captured the city of
Acre under the command of Kings Richard Coeur de Lion and
Philipp II Augustus of France. The city of Jerusalem was
under siege, too. The situation of the Saracens was
precarious, and in the opinion of King Richard's advisors—
and his Majesty's opinion—it was only a matter of time until
Sultan Saladin had to give in and offer peace talks. Saladin
had captured Jerusalem four years ago and had beaten the
Christians. Now—with the blessing of the Pope--it was their
duty to take revenge for this, and after so many things had
gone wrong in this Third Crusade, it seemed as though their
hardships and the death of many good men was to be crowned
with success.
Harold, Roger and several of their friends were sitting
under the protecting awning in front of their tents and were
waiting for the long-awaited message from the Sultan. It was
only midmorning, but the sun was already scorching hot. They
watched their squires tend to their warhorses, sipping watered
down wine and picking at their breakfast without appetite.
Roger was nursing a wound in his right thigh he'd suffered
from an enemy's arrow. He wasn't the only one of them who
was already drunk. It was the only way to drown the pain.
Flies bothered them, the hygienic conditions in the
camp were getting worse with each day passing, and food was
running low as well. They hadn't found much foodstuffs in
Acre, for they'd besieged the town before capturing it. They
wanted to get home as soon as possible. Sure, the triumph
was theirs, and the glory of the Christendom as well, but there
was nothing like home after years of warfare.
"When will that damn bastard of a messenger come?"
Roger mumbled.
"Soon, friend, soon," Harold said for the umpteenth
time. Again he shifted his sitting position. If there wasn't
anything going to happen anytime soon he was sure he'd go
nuts. Lazily they watched people going by, knights and
squires, with or without their horses, wounded were being
carried on stretchers, and every now and then a prisoner was
led through the narrow streets between the colorful tents. The
flags and pennants hung like dripping wet rags from the
flagpoles. Not even the lightest breeze stirred the hot smelly
air. A woman left the busy row of the passers-by and
approached them. There weren't many women in the camp,
and the men were aching from their desire, so it was only
natural that Roger and several of the others cheered and
whistled when the maiden came.
She was a beautiful blonde, with huge ice blue eyes
and seductively full lips. She was very proud, and she was a
mysterious person. Nobody knew the story of the strange
piece of jewelry covering her left eyebrow, nor the semi-star
next to her right ear, or the cobweb of metallic shimmering
bands on the back of her left hand. Some men who had
encountered women from India, the mysterious country in the
East said they'd already seen jewelry like this. None of the
women wearing it, however, had been fair haired or fair
skinned.
Harold was fascinated by her as well, he even desired
her, although he had a wife and children back home in Cymru.
Just like the others, he'd done without the joys of love for
much too long. In addition to that, he had the strange feeling
that protecting this woman was some kind of duty to him. The
others were good friends, but they were brutes when it came
to treating woman.
"My fair Lady Séverine, what brings you to us?" he
asked good-naturedly. From the corners of his eyes he could
see the others' eyes pop out of their sockets.
"I have come to change Sir Roger's dressings," she
said, holding the bowl with water and the flasks with medicine
in way they could see them better.
"Are you sure that's the only thing to be done here?"
Alfred laughed.
Séverine actually blushed and lowered her head. Now
Harold couldn't compose himself any longer. "Watch your
tongue, Alfred, she's my girl!" he hissed at the redhead. Alfred
in turn made a pacifying gesture. "Calm down, my friend, we
know that. Maybe Lady Séverine could ask some of her
friends to join us?"
"Maybe," Séverine softly said. Hesitant, she crouched
next to Sir Roger and started tending to his wound. She had
half finished her work, when loud shouts and a howl of
triumph was to be heard from the plaza in front of the King's
tent. Harold, Roger and the others belonged to the few lucky
people who served the King in a special way, so their tents
weren't far away from their feudal lord's. Harold and Sir
Simon got up quickly to find out what the tumult was about.
Had the messenger from Saladin finally arrived?
Lady Séverine watched her knightly protector go with
mixed feelings. Only moments ago he'd protected her from the
mocking of his friends, and now it seemed as though he'd
forgotten about her. A fine knight he was, she thought
bitterly, feeling awkwardness rising in her throat in form of a
heavy lump. Roger caught her completely off-guard when he
touched her arm. She let out a shriek, with which she regained
Sir Harold's attention. He shot the injured man an angry
glance.
"I just wanted to tell her that she's safe with me,"
Roger shrugged in an apologizing way. "In my condition it
wouldn't be wise to take a woman. Don't you worry, my fair
Lady!"
Séverine looked somewhat uncertain, but when she
saw Harold nod, she knew that both men could be trusted. It
was no secret that Lady Séverine had been widowed during a
feud back in the Duchy of Normandy. Her husband, a vassal
to the Duke of Normandy, had been killed by his cousin.
Having been sent to a nunnery, Séverine decided to
accompany the crusaders as a nurse to escape the narrowness
of the nunnery. A beguine, she had not taken the oath,
though, but nevertheless had she to obey the strict rules, and
had to put up with the Mother Superior.
"I'm sorry, I was just kidding," Sir Roger said after
Harold had left them. He knew her story, and as a knight it
was supposed to be his duty to protect the weak. Séverine
merely nodded and continued her work.
=/\=
Sarpa was still trembling with the excitement and the
satisfaction he'd experienced when he'd hunted his favorite
prey Seven of Nine down. Of course it hadn't been the final
lethal hunt, but at least it had helped him to satisfy his
impatience. For now. As soon as she was his, he was going to
decorate his bulkheads with her bones, he would remove all of
the other trophies he'd gathered so far. He even thought of
taking her beautiful yellow hair as well. Ever since he'd seen
her hair cascading down her shoulders in golden waves, he'd
been eager to get it, make her body all his. No prey had
excited him that much before.
Anger, however, was pumping through his system as
well. Kaar had taken Seven away from him for his own
excitement. Now Sarpa could slap himself for his folly of
showing his favorite prey off to the Alpha. Kaar, too, was a
man of good taste, and Sarpa felt the power over her body
being pulled away from him, just like blood poured from the
hunted-down. It was too late, he'd lost her now. Kaar wanted
to indulge further in his ill studies of their prey. If it hadn't
been for his being the Alpha of their hunting party, he'd have
been killed for this long ago. No Hirogen had dared to behave
himself like this before, and frankly, Sarpa thought that they'd
watched his wantonness long enough. Almost all of the other
members of their party were in the same opinion, and the Beta
knew that he was fully supported by them whatever his plans
concerning the Alpha might be.
As soon as the right time had come, he and his
supporters would first hunt him down, and then, with he
himself as their new leader, they would bring this hunt to an
end. For the time being, though, it was certainly better to
stand low and wait. One thing was sure: Sarpa wasn't going to
let Kaar have the joys of having the Human female with the
fair hair. He would fight for her.
To be continued ...