Disclaimer: see part 1
Cœur de Lion
By Katie
Chapter 8
Fighting Grendel
=/\=
On his way back to his tent where his friends were
already awaiting him, Harold couldn't stop wondering why
the King had invited him for the celebrations that were to
take place this evening. One of the King's falconers, he was
one of the men closest to His Majesty, but there were
certainly more important people in the entourage who
deserved this honor. But the young knight wasn't one who
looked a gift horse in the mouth, and so he had accepted the
invitation. It would have been extremely unwise to decline a
powerful man, especially if he bore the name of Richard
Cœur-de-Lion.
But being a powerful man didn't mean that Richard
could simply walk into the city of Acre and declare it
conquered, especially after all the troubles the Crusaders had
already faced. First of all, Emperor Frederick Barabrossa had
drowned taking a bath in the river Saleph, leaving his son
Frederick of Swabia in charge of the Franconian army.
Richard and Philip II Augustus were to meet the Franconians
in Acre, but since their new leader had died as well, there
were only a few knights left, so that the French and English
armies could hardly be called *reinforcements*. To top it all,
Queen Sybil of Jerusalem had died, leaving the throne vacant.
The Crusaders' luck had turned though, when Richard had
caught 1,500 Saracens who had been sent as reinforcement to
Acre. Richard and Philip laid Acre under siege, but often one
didn't know who was besieger and who was besieged. After
both Kings had recovered from a serious disease that had
killed quite a few of the knights, the Christian warriors
managed to conquer the Saracen city, even with Saladin's
troops attacking them—especially their rearguard—with
Greek fire and burning some of the French catapults.
Despite all these troubles, they had a reason for
celebrations, which were going to start this night. The
Sultan's mediators had agreed to start talks with the Knights
of St. John of Jerusalem, and initial talks had proved very
positive for the Crusaders in terms of setting free captives,
money, and the returning of the Cross. Richard was already
planning to move into the castle of the Templars, a little
prematurely, as some of his entourage thought.
But that didn't matter tonight. There would be lots of
drink and food, and Gaucelm Faidit, the most celebrated
troubadour of their time, had promised to tell them a story.
Women would be there as well, of course. This was what was
troubling Harold so much. Lady Séverine was a desirable
woman, and the fact that she was a widow and lived in a
nunnery as a beguine didn't protect her from the desire of the
knights. She was demure and unassuming and crimsoned at
the men's ribald behavior towards her, but this didn't mean
that she would turn any of them down. Somewhere deep
within him Harold hoped that she would accept his invitation
to accompany him to the celebrations with the King. Not only
would he know her save with him, but he also hoped that
maybe the Lady recognized his affection for her and might
even return it.
But this was wishful thinking. He would be happy
enough if she accepted his invention.
When he arrived at his camp, Lady Séverine had just
finished her tending to Sir Roger's wound and was about to
return to the women's part of the camp. Having kneeled in the
sand next to the knight, she got up at Harold's sight maybe
just a little too fast. Her knees were wobbly and her head
swam, so she was glad that the Voyager of Cymru caught her
in his arms. For the blink of an eye the bright sunlight
disappeared and was replaced by darkness.
Still somewhat dizzy, Seven regained her composure.
When she opened her eyes, she looked directly into the eyes
of Harry Kim. Even before she could analyze the situation,
she remembered the Emergency Medical Hologram of having
informed her on what was going on. His plans were
obviously working. It would certainly be only a matter of
seconds before the neural interface implanted in the Ensign
would be fully assimilated by the nanoprobes as well.
"Lady Séverine! Are you all right?" Harry Kim's alter
ego asked in concern.
Although not overly familiar with the situation, Seven
decided to play the game according to the rules. Their ship
and crew were at stake after all. If it hadn't been for them,
Seven would have never agreed to this. She didn't see the
point in her crewmates' engagement in holographic
entertainment. "I am fine, Sir, thank you. Maybe I just got up
a little too fast." She gave him the most reasonable
explanation.
The young man didn't react. He just kept staring at
her. Sir Roger, who had watched the scene, found confusion
in his friend's eyes, then suddenly surprise which quickly
changed into realization. Then the strange display of feelings
disappeared from the Welshman's face as if nothing had ever
happened.
"Sir, are you all right?" Lady Séverine asked in
concern.
Harold hesitated for the blink of an eye, then he
smiled self-consciously and nodded. "Yes, thank you. Maybe
I should drink something and rest in the shade."
"Are you sure there's nothing more to it, old friend?"
Roger asked him with a twinkle in his eyes. His friend
couldn't possibly think he hadn't recognized what was going
on between the Lady and him. Roger smiled. He'd always
deemed Harold far too young as to participate in an enterprise
like a crusade. But who knew? Maybe the Welshman had to
do this to restore his family's honor, maybe he'd vowed to
follow the crusaders. If the two of them had found each other
the crusade had at least had some good in it for them.
"Friend," Roger said when he recognized Harold
crimson, "don't even bother about an injured man's silly
words."
"Did I?" Harold asked, his voice breaking with self-
consciousness.
Instead of an answer, Roger and the others just
laughed. Harry felt himself being tugged at his sleeve. It was
Seven, gesturing to follow him into the tent.
After they had closed the tarpaulin behind them, they
found themselves staring at each other in the dim light of the
tent. The air was uncomfortably close and hot. Harry was
glad that at night the temperature in here would drop.
Otherwise he couldn't imagine finding sleep in here.
Although the tent looked spacious from the outside, it
actually was crammed with two knights' equipment, their
beds and what else they needed. He went to his chest on
which there was a jug and several mugs. He poured them
some water and offered Seven one of the mugs.
"At least the Doctor's plan is working," he commented
after he'd downed the cool liquid in one long gulp.
"Yes, but I never doubted that," Seven stated matter-
of-factly. "Now we have to see that our part of the plan work
as well. Have you any suggestions as to our further
proceedings? I take it that from your tour through the camp
you know where to begin."
"King Richard—or rather the Hirogen captain—
invited me to the celebration of the peace treaty. I'll take you
with me, just to make sure those drunkards out there won't
harm you. The Hirogen are no fools. I take it that Kaar had
his tent projected at exactly the place where the main
holographic controls are. I'm hoping we can get there some
time tonight," he quickly explained.
"We will require tools. Where do we get them?"
Seven wanted to know. Just then her eyes went wide. Harry
looked at her in concern, he almost expected her neural
interface to fail. But Seven held up a hand and quieted him
before he could say an single word. "I am receiving a
transmission from the Doctor on a bugproof channel," she
explained.
Harry's face brightened. Sure, the Doctor was using
the same bugproof channel he'd used when Alzen and his
people had used the crew for their methods of scientific
research. Somehow he had the strange feeling as if their
imprisonment on their own ship was going to come to an end
soon.
"Seven, can you hear me?" the Doctor's voice asked
inside the former Borg's head. He waited for Seven to
confirm, then he went on. "Listen, the controls for the
security protocols are hidden in the cedar chest in King
Richard's smaller tent. The chest opens to the front, you'll
find the tools there. Is there any chance for you to get there
without causing too much suspicion?"
Harry heard only what Seven told the Doc, but from
her answer he took it that he'd just told her where to find the
controls and tools. "Yes, Doctor. There will be a celebration
in about two hours. Then we will be able to get there."
"Very well, Seven. I've already communicated with
Ensign Wildman. She can turn on the protocols at any time.
I'll let the three of you know when to get them back online.
Doctor out."
Seven quickly briefed Harry on what the Emergency
Medical Hologram had just told her. Just like Harry had
supposed, had the Doctor implanted a communications
device under the skin behind her ear so that he was able to
talk with Sam whenever possible without danger of being
discovered by anybody. The only problem was that Sam or
Seven had to find a quiet place where they would not be
detected.
"So, I guess the only thing we can do now is wait for
the right time," Harry smiled nervously.
"I would say so, yes," Seven replied.
=/\=
Since the *Cœur de Lion* was still closed, Catherine
could go there dressed in her bathrobe only. Paul cast her a
startled glance and Jean smiled at her, but she did as if she
hadn't noticed this. She knew very well that Paul didn't
approve of her affair with the American, but now wasn't the
right time to discuss this. They'd still things to get settled
before the party tonight. She'd talk to him as soon as possible
though, for the African was very dear and close to her. But
this would have to wait.
"Catherine," Jean greeted her cheerfully.
"Well? I see you're already back from wherever you
went to look for a replacement of Séverine," she stated,
taking a glass from the shelf behind the counter. Paul handed
her a bottle with a golden brown liquid so she could pour
herself some of the liquor. To his great surprise, she threw
her package of cigarettes and matches away once she'd
scrutinized the things. What was that American doing to her
that she'd give up smoking all of a sudden? Instead of
lighting a cigarette, she downed the liquor in one gulp. Paul
raised one of his eyebrows.
"Oh, very well," Jean said, giving at the knees in his
contentment with himself.
"And?"
"May I present!" he announced, pointing at the
opening door that lead to the restroom. Out came a young
woman with shoulder-length blond hair that needed washing,
dressed in an old men's pullover and baggy trousers. "This is
Signorina Sabina from Italy!"
taking a sip from the already empty glass was all
Catherine could do to avoid her jaw from dropping. Where on
Earth had Jean found that woman? He couldn't possibly be
serious. What the *Cœur de Lion* needed was a singer, not a
tramp.
Jean had recognized her surprise at once, so before
she could even think of something decent to say, he went on:
"She may not look like a nightingale now, but just let her take
a bath and give her some of Séverine's clothes and you'll see
..."
This time it was Catherine who cut him short. "That's
all very well, but we need a singer, not a doll! No offense,
Mademoiselle." She said with an apologizing glance at her.
"Why don't you wait until you hear her sing?" the chef
muttered in disappointment about her reaction. He'd managed
the near impossible—namely finding a singer in this small
occupied town—and all he was rewarded with was this? And
what should the Signorina think of him?
"Go ahead then, au nom de Dieu," Catherine waved at
the blond woman in annoyance.
"Ehm ... cantare, Signorina, sing?" Jean translated for
the Italian woman.
=/\=
Bobby had never in his life felt as nervous as he was
doing now. Sitting on his bed with a bowl with some
unidentifiable stew in it, he studied his comrade's bed as if
there'd never been something as interesting as a plain gray
scratchy blanket. In two hours he'd have to report to Miller
and get ready for their mission in the Nazi Headquarters in
Sainte Claire. The action would without doubt provoke heavy
fighting, and hopefully they'd win the fighting without too
many casualties.
The prospect of getting wounded or even killed had
never before been as present and as clear in his mind as it was
now. When he'd joined the armed forces he'd done it because
of his thirst of adventure and his longing for Brigitte. Then
he'd never wasted a thought on the possibility that he might
never live to meet her again. Now her realized that he'd
suppressed this thought.
He wasn't being a coward now, he'd fulfill this
mission. It just made him realize that before he could do so,
he'd have to do something else first. He put the bowl on the
ground next to his feet—he wasn't going to eat more tonight
anyway. The few spoons he'd managed to gulp had left an
unpleasant taste on his tongue. This was the first time in his
life that his tongue rather than his stomach had decided that
he was full. What the hell had that cookhouse wallah been
thinking when he'd made this disgusting concoction? Maybe
he'd get something to eat at the *Cœur de Lion* later.
From his left breast pocket he produced a bundle of
black cloth that was tied with a plain gray string of wool.
Inside the bundle he knew to be his fiancée's-to-be ring, a
simple silver band with a tiny diamond embedded in it. On
the inside of the ring he'd had the goldsmith of his hometown
engrave the words "In Love Bobby". He took the ring out of
it's pouch every now and then, as if it made it easier for him
to think of his beloved, which was nonsense of course, since
she hadn't left his thoughts once ever since his train had
pulled out of Sainte Claire eight years ago. It had never come
to his mind that she might have found another man and had
even married him until he'd found her letter. He almost hadn't
dared to open it, for fear he'd read that the only thing really
meaning something in his life had been lost for him forever.
Instead Brigitte had told him that she was longing as
much for him as he for her, but of course she didn't know that
he was feeling this way. She was having the same doubts
about this as him, only she didn't know that he still loved her.
So she'd chosen her words very carefully. A smile stole on
his lips as he imagined Brigitte brooding over the letter,
looking for the right words. She'd never been one to be very
diplomatic, so he could very well imagine her eyebrows
drawn together in concentration, her beautiful full lips
pressed tightly together, and her knuckles white from holding
the pen too tensely.
This day had been one of the most happy he'd had in a
long time. He could have hugged the entire world at this.
Now the time seemed to pass as slowly as a snail, he could
hardly wait to get to town, fulfill his mission with the leader
of the Résistance, and then look for Brigitte.
If only time had mercy with him.
=/\=
Jean's Signorina Sabina from Italy turned out to be a
good singer. She wasn't as good as Séverine had been—they
had gotten spoiled by her. However, Catherine was more than
happy to give her an engagement. Especially after she'd sent
her to Séverine's apartment together with Brigitte to take a
hot bath and get something to dress. Time was pressing now,
the party would begin soon.
Brigitte had of course brought Noëmie with her, she
couldn't possibly leave the little girl alone back in her
apartment, not in that state of shock she was in. When
Catherine had seen what the little girl looked like, her heart
had skipped a beat. The girl's face was still ashen, and her
beautiful eyes had lost their lively sparkling. Brigitte had left
her in her favorite spot near the fireplace, a bench for two that
had been built between the fireplace and the bar. There she
remained sitting, staring at the dark wooden tiles as she'd
done hours before, clutching her rag-doll tightly to her small
body. Catherine knew it was pointless to lure her out of her
shell with a piece of candy, the shock had been to hard on
her. So she only caressed the girl's pale cheek and wished she
could do more. Both as a woman and a leader of the
Résistance she loathed this kind of powerlessness.
"Catherine?"
The Madame turned at Brigitte's voice, her left hand
remaining on Noëmie's bare arm. Just in time so she didn't
notice the sparkles that suddenly lighted the girl's dull eyes.
To an observer it would have seemed as though somebody
had switched on a mechanical doll, only that this doll's mind
rather than its limbs woke from its protecting slumber,. Her
eyes stared at the same direction as the woman who was
holding her gently by her arm.
Next to the frightening woman from Engineering—
whose belly was suddenly very fat—was standing her
mother! She looked funny with all that curls in her beautiful
hair, and the colors in her face, but she sure looked very
beautiful, too, in her long black dress. Her mother was there,
and everything was going to be all right now.
Naomi was clever enough to recognize her strange
surroundings as a holographic projection, she loved being in
the Holodeck. Her mother took her there often to teach her all
kinds of interesting—and sometimes boring—things. A smile
flashed across her face, and she let out a soft giggle.
Whatever scenario this was, it had to be fun.
This must have been the wrong thing to do, for the
three adults looked at her very puzzled. The woman holding
her arm turned back at her. It was the Captain! Naomi's smile
faded as quickly as it had come into her face. If the Captain
was holding her by the arm, she sure must be in trouble. The
trouble was she didn't know what she'd done now, but it must
have been something very naughty if the Captain held her—
particularly when she was dressed in a very thin bathrobe
only.
"Noëmie!" the Captain said in surprise. Why did she
call her that? Her name was Naomi, not that what she'd called
her. To her great shock, the fat engineer was at her side as
quickly as she could, and she, too, called her by that strange
name.
"Are you all right, ma petite?" she asked her.
Naomi looked at her with the same puzzlement. Of
course was she all right. Then it dawned on her. They were
playing a game of some sort, the adults loved to do that on
the holodecks. They'd create some ancient rooms and act as if
they belonged there, ignoring who they really were as long as
their holodeck-credits weren't up. Naomi had rather they
stopped this now, she was tired, but she didn't want to be a
spoilsport either.
"Yes," she said because of this. So she wasn't in so
much trouble after all. The only thing that was still strange
was that Momma was running this simulation together with
the captain and *that* woman. She'd never done this before.
Before she could even think another straight thought,
the captain had pulled her into her arms and was hugging her
tightly. She'd never done this before! She looked at her
mother—who nodded to her as an encouragement to hug the
captain back!
And then the engineer-woman stroked her hair. This
was too much for confused little Naomi.
"Momma!"
=/\=
"You!"
Joe Carey almost drove the 24th century equivalent of
a screwdriver into the palm of his left hand as he started at
the roaring voice behind him. He turned around, and from his
crouching position in front of an open access panel of the
replicator the Hirogen towering over him seemed almost
twice as tall as usual.
"Sir?" Carey hated it to address the Hirogen by this
title. But he couldn't think of anything better, and besides it
spared him further problems. He couldn't be much of an
assistance to the Doctor if he landed in his sickbay to get
patched up. There had been times when it was hard for him to
control his Irish temper, but just like Lieutenant Torres he'd
learned to pull himself together. The Academy had helped
him at it, whereas the same way had failed with the half-
Klingon engineer.
"Get up," the Hirogen said, maKing an upward
movement with the muzzle of his rifle. Those things probably
looked heavier than they were—or they were and the Hirogen
had strong muscles in their armored arms—, but there was no
doubt about their lethality. So Joe obeyed.
"What are you doing there?" he demanded.
"The voice control of this replicator was off-line. I've
fixed it now. May I close the access panel?" Joe answered
matter-of-factly, without a trace of hesitance in his voice. The
voice control had really been broken, and for obvious reasons
he'd been glad for it.
The Hirogen's small reptile eyes narrowed for a few
seconds, one could easily see what thoughts were discussing
his reaction behind his armadillo brow. He carefully studied
the Federation's even face. Although the Hirogen didn't know
much about human body language, it appeared to him that
this red-haired man didn't have a hidden agenda. He'd obeyed
the orders given to him so far. "You may."
To be continued ...
Cœur de Lion
By Katie
Chapter 8
Fighting Grendel
=/\=
On his way back to his tent where his friends were
already awaiting him, Harold couldn't stop wondering why
the King had invited him for the celebrations that were to
take place this evening. One of the King's falconers, he was
one of the men closest to His Majesty, but there were
certainly more important people in the entourage who
deserved this honor. But the young knight wasn't one who
looked a gift horse in the mouth, and so he had accepted the
invitation. It would have been extremely unwise to decline a
powerful man, especially if he bore the name of Richard
Cœur-de-Lion.
But being a powerful man didn't mean that Richard
could simply walk into the city of Acre and declare it
conquered, especially after all the troubles the Crusaders had
already faced. First of all, Emperor Frederick Barabrossa had
drowned taking a bath in the river Saleph, leaving his son
Frederick of Swabia in charge of the Franconian army.
Richard and Philip II Augustus were to meet the Franconians
in Acre, but since their new leader had died as well, there
were only a few knights left, so that the French and English
armies could hardly be called *reinforcements*. To top it all,
Queen Sybil of Jerusalem had died, leaving the throne vacant.
The Crusaders' luck had turned though, when Richard had
caught 1,500 Saracens who had been sent as reinforcement to
Acre. Richard and Philip laid Acre under siege, but often one
didn't know who was besieger and who was besieged. After
both Kings had recovered from a serious disease that had
killed quite a few of the knights, the Christian warriors
managed to conquer the Saracen city, even with Saladin's
troops attacking them—especially their rearguard—with
Greek fire and burning some of the French catapults.
Despite all these troubles, they had a reason for
celebrations, which were going to start this night. The
Sultan's mediators had agreed to start talks with the Knights
of St. John of Jerusalem, and initial talks had proved very
positive for the Crusaders in terms of setting free captives,
money, and the returning of the Cross. Richard was already
planning to move into the castle of the Templars, a little
prematurely, as some of his entourage thought.
But that didn't matter tonight. There would be lots of
drink and food, and Gaucelm Faidit, the most celebrated
troubadour of their time, had promised to tell them a story.
Women would be there as well, of course. This was what was
troubling Harold so much. Lady Séverine was a desirable
woman, and the fact that she was a widow and lived in a
nunnery as a beguine didn't protect her from the desire of the
knights. She was demure and unassuming and crimsoned at
the men's ribald behavior towards her, but this didn't mean
that she would turn any of them down. Somewhere deep
within him Harold hoped that she would accept his invitation
to accompany him to the celebrations with the King. Not only
would he know her save with him, but he also hoped that
maybe the Lady recognized his affection for her and might
even return it.
But this was wishful thinking. He would be happy
enough if she accepted his invention.
When he arrived at his camp, Lady Séverine had just
finished her tending to Sir Roger's wound and was about to
return to the women's part of the camp. Having kneeled in the
sand next to the knight, she got up at Harold's sight maybe
just a little too fast. Her knees were wobbly and her head
swam, so she was glad that the Voyager of Cymru caught her
in his arms. For the blink of an eye the bright sunlight
disappeared and was replaced by darkness.
Still somewhat dizzy, Seven regained her composure.
When she opened her eyes, she looked directly into the eyes
of Harry Kim. Even before she could analyze the situation,
she remembered the Emergency Medical Hologram of having
informed her on what was going on. His plans were
obviously working. It would certainly be only a matter of
seconds before the neural interface implanted in the Ensign
would be fully assimilated by the nanoprobes as well.
"Lady Séverine! Are you all right?" Harry Kim's alter
ego asked in concern.
Although not overly familiar with the situation, Seven
decided to play the game according to the rules. Their ship
and crew were at stake after all. If it hadn't been for them,
Seven would have never agreed to this. She didn't see the
point in her crewmates' engagement in holographic
entertainment. "I am fine, Sir, thank you. Maybe I just got up
a little too fast." She gave him the most reasonable
explanation.
The young man didn't react. He just kept staring at
her. Sir Roger, who had watched the scene, found confusion
in his friend's eyes, then suddenly surprise which quickly
changed into realization. Then the strange display of feelings
disappeared from the Welshman's face as if nothing had ever
happened.
"Sir, are you all right?" Lady Séverine asked in
concern.
Harold hesitated for the blink of an eye, then he
smiled self-consciously and nodded. "Yes, thank you. Maybe
I should drink something and rest in the shade."
"Are you sure there's nothing more to it, old friend?"
Roger asked him with a twinkle in his eyes. His friend
couldn't possibly think he hadn't recognized what was going
on between the Lady and him. Roger smiled. He'd always
deemed Harold far too young as to participate in an enterprise
like a crusade. But who knew? Maybe the Welshman had to
do this to restore his family's honor, maybe he'd vowed to
follow the crusaders. If the two of them had found each other
the crusade had at least had some good in it for them.
"Friend," Roger said when he recognized Harold
crimson, "don't even bother about an injured man's silly
words."
"Did I?" Harold asked, his voice breaking with self-
consciousness.
Instead of an answer, Roger and the others just
laughed. Harry felt himself being tugged at his sleeve. It was
Seven, gesturing to follow him into the tent.
After they had closed the tarpaulin behind them, they
found themselves staring at each other in the dim light of the
tent. The air was uncomfortably close and hot. Harry was
glad that at night the temperature in here would drop.
Otherwise he couldn't imagine finding sleep in here.
Although the tent looked spacious from the outside, it
actually was crammed with two knights' equipment, their
beds and what else they needed. He went to his chest on
which there was a jug and several mugs. He poured them
some water and offered Seven one of the mugs.
"At least the Doctor's plan is working," he commented
after he'd downed the cool liquid in one long gulp.
"Yes, but I never doubted that," Seven stated matter-
of-factly. "Now we have to see that our part of the plan work
as well. Have you any suggestions as to our further
proceedings? I take it that from your tour through the camp
you know where to begin."
"King Richard—or rather the Hirogen captain—
invited me to the celebration of the peace treaty. I'll take you
with me, just to make sure those drunkards out there won't
harm you. The Hirogen are no fools. I take it that Kaar had
his tent projected at exactly the place where the main
holographic controls are. I'm hoping we can get there some
time tonight," he quickly explained.
"We will require tools. Where do we get them?"
Seven wanted to know. Just then her eyes went wide. Harry
looked at her in concern, he almost expected her neural
interface to fail. But Seven held up a hand and quieted him
before he could say an single word. "I am receiving a
transmission from the Doctor on a bugproof channel," she
explained.
Harry's face brightened. Sure, the Doctor was using
the same bugproof channel he'd used when Alzen and his
people had used the crew for their methods of scientific
research. Somehow he had the strange feeling as if their
imprisonment on their own ship was going to come to an end
soon.
"Seven, can you hear me?" the Doctor's voice asked
inside the former Borg's head. He waited for Seven to
confirm, then he went on. "Listen, the controls for the
security protocols are hidden in the cedar chest in King
Richard's smaller tent. The chest opens to the front, you'll
find the tools there. Is there any chance for you to get there
without causing too much suspicion?"
Harry heard only what Seven told the Doc, but from
her answer he took it that he'd just told her where to find the
controls and tools. "Yes, Doctor. There will be a celebration
in about two hours. Then we will be able to get there."
"Very well, Seven. I've already communicated with
Ensign Wildman. She can turn on the protocols at any time.
I'll let the three of you know when to get them back online.
Doctor out."
Seven quickly briefed Harry on what the Emergency
Medical Hologram had just told her. Just like Harry had
supposed, had the Doctor implanted a communications
device under the skin behind her ear so that he was able to
talk with Sam whenever possible without danger of being
discovered by anybody. The only problem was that Sam or
Seven had to find a quiet place where they would not be
detected.
"So, I guess the only thing we can do now is wait for
the right time," Harry smiled nervously.
"I would say so, yes," Seven replied.
=/\=
Since the *Cœur de Lion* was still closed, Catherine
could go there dressed in her bathrobe only. Paul cast her a
startled glance and Jean smiled at her, but she did as if she
hadn't noticed this. She knew very well that Paul didn't
approve of her affair with the American, but now wasn't the
right time to discuss this. They'd still things to get settled
before the party tonight. She'd talk to him as soon as possible
though, for the African was very dear and close to her. But
this would have to wait.
"Catherine," Jean greeted her cheerfully.
"Well? I see you're already back from wherever you
went to look for a replacement of Séverine," she stated,
taking a glass from the shelf behind the counter. Paul handed
her a bottle with a golden brown liquid so she could pour
herself some of the liquor. To his great surprise, she threw
her package of cigarettes and matches away once she'd
scrutinized the things. What was that American doing to her
that she'd give up smoking all of a sudden? Instead of
lighting a cigarette, she downed the liquor in one gulp. Paul
raised one of his eyebrows.
"Oh, very well," Jean said, giving at the knees in his
contentment with himself.
"And?"
"May I present!" he announced, pointing at the
opening door that lead to the restroom. Out came a young
woman with shoulder-length blond hair that needed washing,
dressed in an old men's pullover and baggy trousers. "This is
Signorina Sabina from Italy!"
taking a sip from the already empty glass was all
Catherine could do to avoid her jaw from dropping. Where on
Earth had Jean found that woman? He couldn't possibly be
serious. What the *Cœur de Lion* needed was a singer, not a
tramp.
Jean had recognized her surprise at once, so before
she could even think of something decent to say, he went on:
"She may not look like a nightingale now, but just let her take
a bath and give her some of Séverine's clothes and you'll see
..."
This time it was Catherine who cut him short. "That's
all very well, but we need a singer, not a doll! No offense,
Mademoiselle." She said with an apologizing glance at her.
"Why don't you wait until you hear her sing?" the chef
muttered in disappointment about her reaction. He'd managed
the near impossible—namely finding a singer in this small
occupied town—and all he was rewarded with was this? And
what should the Signorina think of him?
"Go ahead then, au nom de Dieu," Catherine waved at
the blond woman in annoyance.
"Ehm ... cantare, Signorina, sing?" Jean translated for
the Italian woman.
=/\=
Bobby had never in his life felt as nervous as he was
doing now. Sitting on his bed with a bowl with some
unidentifiable stew in it, he studied his comrade's bed as if
there'd never been something as interesting as a plain gray
scratchy blanket. In two hours he'd have to report to Miller
and get ready for their mission in the Nazi Headquarters in
Sainte Claire. The action would without doubt provoke heavy
fighting, and hopefully they'd win the fighting without too
many casualties.
The prospect of getting wounded or even killed had
never before been as present and as clear in his mind as it was
now. When he'd joined the armed forces he'd done it because
of his thirst of adventure and his longing for Brigitte. Then
he'd never wasted a thought on the possibility that he might
never live to meet her again. Now her realized that he'd
suppressed this thought.
He wasn't being a coward now, he'd fulfill this
mission. It just made him realize that before he could do so,
he'd have to do something else first. He put the bowl on the
ground next to his feet—he wasn't going to eat more tonight
anyway. The few spoons he'd managed to gulp had left an
unpleasant taste on his tongue. This was the first time in his
life that his tongue rather than his stomach had decided that
he was full. What the hell had that cookhouse wallah been
thinking when he'd made this disgusting concoction? Maybe
he'd get something to eat at the *Cœur de Lion* later.
From his left breast pocket he produced a bundle of
black cloth that was tied with a plain gray string of wool.
Inside the bundle he knew to be his fiancée's-to-be ring, a
simple silver band with a tiny diamond embedded in it. On
the inside of the ring he'd had the goldsmith of his hometown
engrave the words "In Love Bobby". He took the ring out of
it's pouch every now and then, as if it made it easier for him
to think of his beloved, which was nonsense of course, since
she hadn't left his thoughts once ever since his train had
pulled out of Sainte Claire eight years ago. It had never come
to his mind that she might have found another man and had
even married him until he'd found her letter. He almost hadn't
dared to open it, for fear he'd read that the only thing really
meaning something in his life had been lost for him forever.
Instead Brigitte had told him that she was longing as
much for him as he for her, but of course she didn't know that
he was feeling this way. She was having the same doubts
about this as him, only she didn't know that he still loved her.
So she'd chosen her words very carefully. A smile stole on
his lips as he imagined Brigitte brooding over the letter,
looking for the right words. She'd never been one to be very
diplomatic, so he could very well imagine her eyebrows
drawn together in concentration, her beautiful full lips
pressed tightly together, and her knuckles white from holding
the pen too tensely.
This day had been one of the most happy he'd had in a
long time. He could have hugged the entire world at this.
Now the time seemed to pass as slowly as a snail, he could
hardly wait to get to town, fulfill his mission with the leader
of the Résistance, and then look for Brigitte.
If only time had mercy with him.
=/\=
Jean's Signorina Sabina from Italy turned out to be a
good singer. She wasn't as good as Séverine had been—they
had gotten spoiled by her. However, Catherine was more than
happy to give her an engagement. Especially after she'd sent
her to Séverine's apartment together with Brigitte to take a
hot bath and get something to dress. Time was pressing now,
the party would begin soon.
Brigitte had of course brought Noëmie with her, she
couldn't possibly leave the little girl alone back in her
apartment, not in that state of shock she was in. When
Catherine had seen what the little girl looked like, her heart
had skipped a beat. The girl's face was still ashen, and her
beautiful eyes had lost their lively sparkling. Brigitte had left
her in her favorite spot near the fireplace, a bench for two that
had been built between the fireplace and the bar. There she
remained sitting, staring at the dark wooden tiles as she'd
done hours before, clutching her rag-doll tightly to her small
body. Catherine knew it was pointless to lure her out of her
shell with a piece of candy, the shock had been to hard on
her. So she only caressed the girl's pale cheek and wished she
could do more. Both as a woman and a leader of the
Résistance she loathed this kind of powerlessness.
"Catherine?"
The Madame turned at Brigitte's voice, her left hand
remaining on Noëmie's bare arm. Just in time so she didn't
notice the sparkles that suddenly lighted the girl's dull eyes.
To an observer it would have seemed as though somebody
had switched on a mechanical doll, only that this doll's mind
rather than its limbs woke from its protecting slumber,. Her
eyes stared at the same direction as the woman who was
holding her gently by her arm.
Next to the frightening woman from Engineering—
whose belly was suddenly very fat—was standing her
mother! She looked funny with all that curls in her beautiful
hair, and the colors in her face, but she sure looked very
beautiful, too, in her long black dress. Her mother was there,
and everything was going to be all right now.
Naomi was clever enough to recognize her strange
surroundings as a holographic projection, she loved being in
the Holodeck. Her mother took her there often to teach her all
kinds of interesting—and sometimes boring—things. A smile
flashed across her face, and she let out a soft giggle.
Whatever scenario this was, it had to be fun.
This must have been the wrong thing to do, for the
three adults looked at her very puzzled. The woman holding
her arm turned back at her. It was the Captain! Naomi's smile
faded as quickly as it had come into her face. If the Captain
was holding her by the arm, she sure must be in trouble. The
trouble was she didn't know what she'd done now, but it must
have been something very naughty if the Captain held her—
particularly when she was dressed in a very thin bathrobe
only.
"Noëmie!" the Captain said in surprise. Why did she
call her that? Her name was Naomi, not that what she'd called
her. To her great shock, the fat engineer was at her side as
quickly as she could, and she, too, called her by that strange
name.
"Are you all right, ma petite?" she asked her.
Naomi looked at her with the same puzzlement. Of
course was she all right. Then it dawned on her. They were
playing a game of some sort, the adults loved to do that on
the holodecks. They'd create some ancient rooms and act as if
they belonged there, ignoring who they really were as long as
their holodeck-credits weren't up. Naomi had rather they
stopped this now, she was tired, but she didn't want to be a
spoilsport either.
"Yes," she said because of this. So she wasn't in so
much trouble after all. The only thing that was still strange
was that Momma was running this simulation together with
the captain and *that* woman. She'd never done this before.
Before she could even think another straight thought,
the captain had pulled her into her arms and was hugging her
tightly. She'd never done this before! She looked at her
mother—who nodded to her as an encouragement to hug the
captain back!
And then the engineer-woman stroked her hair. This
was too much for confused little Naomi.
"Momma!"
=/\=
"You!"
Joe Carey almost drove the 24th century equivalent of
a screwdriver into the palm of his left hand as he started at
the roaring voice behind him. He turned around, and from his
crouching position in front of an open access panel of the
replicator the Hirogen towering over him seemed almost
twice as tall as usual.
"Sir?" Carey hated it to address the Hirogen by this
title. But he couldn't think of anything better, and besides it
spared him further problems. He couldn't be much of an
assistance to the Doctor if he landed in his sickbay to get
patched up. There had been times when it was hard for him to
control his Irish temper, but just like Lieutenant Torres he'd
learned to pull himself together. The Academy had helped
him at it, whereas the same way had failed with the half-
Klingon engineer.
"Get up," the Hirogen said, maKing an upward
movement with the muzzle of his rifle. Those things probably
looked heavier than they were—or they were and the Hirogen
had strong muscles in their armored arms—, but there was no
doubt about their lethality. So Joe obeyed.
"What are you doing there?" he demanded.
"The voice control of this replicator was off-line. I've
fixed it now. May I close the access panel?" Joe answered
matter-of-factly, without a trace of hesitance in his voice. The
voice control had really been broken, and for obvious reasons
he'd been glad for it.
The Hirogen's small reptile eyes narrowed for a few
seconds, one could easily see what thoughts were discussing
his reaction behind his armadillo brow. He carefully studied
the Federation's even face. Although the Hirogen didn't know
much about human body language, it appeared to him that
this red-haired man didn't have a hidden agenda. He'd obeyed
the orders given to him so far. "You may."
To be continued ...