DISCLAIMER: Star Trek is not mine, the people I own in this particular version are, however, and should you attempt to sue me I shall spork your eyes out. For I gain no profit from this small venture into freelance writing.

Read and review, by the captain's orders.

CAPTAIN'S TABLE

"Report. Have our guests beamed over yet?" Picard asked. It had already taken them about fifteen minutes since their conversation.

"No, sir. We are recieving a transmission from the Azrael."

"Open a channel," Picard ordered.

A young man with very striking violet-blue eyes was visible, as opposed to Commander Belar.

"This is Sub-Commander Tapel of the Azrael, I feel we owe you an apology for our tardiness."

"No apologies necessary, Sub-Commander, were ready for you at any time," Picard, the eternally graceful host, replied.

"Ah. Commander Belar will not be joining us tonight, as she has fallen..." he looked aside for one point, "...ill. She will be able to meet with you tomorrow. Not sleeping enough, collapsing from lack of that, you know," the young man's pale and somehow cat-like visage softened at that remark. "I'll be over in a few moments; I have no need of an aide. Azrael out."

The young sub-commander signed off with a quick smile.

"He seems to have good intentions, sir," Troi offered helpfully.

"All the same, I don't trust him. There's something about him," he admitted. "He seems kind, but one must learn to trust their instincts as well as their advisors, Counselor. Come along, we hjave a meeting to attend," he offered, rising to his feet as Deanna Troi did the same.

"Number One, you have the bridge," he acknowledged, and Riker took the command chair as the turbolift doors closed.

"Sub-Commander Tapel, it's an honour to meet you," Picard greeted him with a handshake and a warm attitude.

"No, the honour is all mine," the hybrid remarked in reply. "Commander Troi, an honour to meet you as well. May it not be in battle the next time," he finished.

How interesting. 'In battle'? Quite a point he made, Deanna thought. Trying to read this enigma of a man, she found he was blocking her. As she tried and pushed a bit harder, he glanced over in his direction, his eyes becoming a bit more slitted and less open. He's sensitive to my probes. A telepath as well, perhaps.

"Captain, I need to talk to you," she said quietly.

"Just a moment, Mr. Tapel," Picard said, almost apologetically.

Lowering her voice, having no idea that the sub-commander would hear anything they said anyway, "He's a telepath. Guard yourself."

Picard was about to respond when, from across the room,

"You know, it's quite obvious to me what you're saying... Yes, I am a telepath. And I doubt that you would be able to guard yourself from me. Doubtless, you're trying. But you, Commander Troi, seem a bit apprehensive, worried, and at the same time laid-back becuase you're thinking I'll follow the unspoken rule of privacy that most Betazoids follow...not breaking into others' minds. You, Captain, are wonder what I am to be able to look like a bit of a Caitian – good guess – read minds, and still keep myself in a high position. All in good time, sir... all in good time. But I don't believe that's why we're here?" With that, he ushered Picard and Troi out before him with a slight flourish.

Sighing, he thought, and thus the day's work begins...

Hope absently wondered where the day would lead. Tapis-Jayvin was sleeping, almost a young child now. Completely innocent, totally helpless. The lean Orion moved cautiously from underneath the covers, thankfully still fully clothed. Shaking her head, she realized that if this kept up, one day they would be bound together for their entire lives. Tapis had an insatitable appetite for affection, but if you wanted to put it in terms of Jayvin's consent, one might as well call it rape, or at least a violation. There were medications to control her, but Jayvin refused to allow her secret to be told. If it was, she would be under constant suspicion.

Picking up her friend's Klingon dagger, she gently grasped it, feeling the grip on the handle. Lifting it above Jayvin's slender neck, she wondered absently who might miss her. She was just a child of circumstance. But at the same time, she loved her. As a friend, nothing more, nothing less. She would never want to kill her; she was the most trusted member of the crew. Nobody would think badly of her. Or dare to. So why would they?

Placing the dagger back down, she was gripped by a paralyzing shudder of not fear, but control.

Don't you dare touch her, Hope....

Enaren's voice resounded in her head, angered, yes, concerned, no. He knew better than most what she went through for her commander.

"Sub-Commander, if you could sit, please," Picard said, offering a seat across the table.

"Thank you, Captain, but I rather prefer..." he stopped, feeling Hope's psyche suddenly whip into darkness and chaos across space. He quickly adapted and flashed a scene from her mind to his. Hope...Don't you dare touch her, Hope.

Immediately he snapped back to reality.

"Sub-commander?"

"Oh, it's nothing. Just keeping a few...unruly...people on the Azrael in line. I often command the ship during away missions, so that the Commander can get some rest." When Picard looked amazed, he continued, "but that's not why we're here. We've come to negotiate the safe transport of a man from the surface of Virgo III to our ship. We could care less about the Maquis. You can take them, if you really want. We just want one man, and we're on our way," he remarked pleasantly. "And if Commander Troi would care to look into my intentions, I'm completely sincere."

Troi verified that incredibly quickly.

"A question, Sub-Commander, please?" she asked, quite curious. "What is your lineage, to allow you this ability to read minds?"

Sighing, Enaren began a quick rundown.

"I'm mostly Betazoid, or so I think. I have a twenty-thousand percent increase in telepathic cortex power due to genetic modification. In other words, I can take down or heal people from inside their minds. I neer forget the pattern of a mind once I've entered it once. For instance, Commander, if you will allow?"

Nodding carefully, she agreed.

"See, for instance, you have a slight headache now. Correct?" At Troi's nod, he entered her mind again, breaking through the barrier. "And now it's gone. You see? I can use this power to either heal or kill. As for your Captain's assumption that I was part Caitian, he is correct on that count as well. I'm roughly fourteen fiftieths Caitian, hence my eyes. Yes, Captain, very good. As for my other lineage? It would take too long... Look at the Section 12 experiment coding 112.943."

"Back to our discussion beforehand, if you don't mind, Sub-Commander," Picard said, efficient as always, "Negotiating?"

"One moment, Captain," Enaren said as his combadge beeped once, then twice. He understood, and nodded slowluy, understanding what it meant and being overcome by sadness.

The code had been created at the start of the Azrael's reign.

One beep, beam back.

Two, beam back for destruction.

Three, you're on your own and can't come back.

But there it was. It was done, and they had their man.

Swallowing hard, he commanded a captain's attitude.

"What I'm going to tell you now will save your lives, listen to me now."

Surprised at the exchange and change of mood in the conversation, Picard nodded a bit nervously.

"As soon as I beam back, raise shields. Jayvin only wished to distract you. She has always told me I'm too compassionate, but to kill a thousand people in cold blood... it's wrong. I'm saving your lives; don't make me regret it because next time...next time I won't be so kind." With an icy stare he tapped his combadge. "Tapel to Azrael. Beam me out."

"Shields up, now!" Picard yelled into his combadge. On the run, he made it into the bridge from his ready room just in time for the first impact of phasers.

"What's going on, sir?" Riker asked, quite angry at the negotiator.

"The sub-commander of that ship just saved our lives. Don't look so angry, Number One," he said in a somewhat orderly fashion. "Back away from this sector, warp seven. Engage."

Under full fire, the Enterprise veered away from Virgo III, ready to return at another time.

Somewhere near Virgo III, Jayvin Belar, commanding the Azrael, whispered to the viewscreen,

"We'll meet again, Picard... We'll meet again."

Sorry for the break in updates, I've been having relatively annoying computer issues.

Anyway, please keep reading and reviewing. It's very appreciated.

More coming soon, and we'll introduce the Borg!

There are a sh-tload of a lot of TNG parallels coming up, as well as a few Voyager ones. Please don't get too mad..it's not plagarism, it's reworking.

Heh.

-Anij Jinn

(-)