Chapter Two
Captain William Drake, who had no more understanding of the dark and terrible threat that his friend presented than the next man, was nevertheless at that moment praying to whatever high power cared to listen that she would behave herself on this voyage. Lieutenant Wolf had waved him aside before they had entered the conference room, and had mentioned to him Kravft's whispered words. They gave him cause to worry. He knew a little about Alix's days as an 'independent adventurer' – as she called it; variously privateer or pirate were the terms others preferred – and knew that 'the Destroyer' was the nickname she had earned for herself; although how was a mystery to him. She'd obviously had some kind of an encounter with Kravft in the past, and it had left its mark on the Klingon. Wolf had spoken of the fear that she had heard in Kravft's voice, had smelt on him. Drake knew the general's reputation, was familiar with his military record, and he could not imagine what would spook a man like that.
He put Alix to the back of his mind and took his position at the head of the conference table. There then followed a few minutes of jostling while everyone took their places. By custom, important guests took a position on the captain's right, the senior-most amongst them closest to the captain, while the ship's officers sat down the left side of the table. However, it quickly became apparent that the inverse was the case on Klingon ships, with General Kravft moving straight for Commander McDonald's seat when the captain asked them to sit.
After clearing up this little misunderstanding, another arose as to the order of seniority – whether a Klingon soldier held greater prominence than a Federation diplomat. It took some time, but in the end it was agreed that Kravft should sit at the captain's right hand, with Mr. Harrow beside him, and Commander Grownel next in line.
During this time, Drake discretely drummed his fingers on the shiny black table top, his mind drifting inexorably back to Alix. He had been greatly preoccupied with her of late, ever since the beginning of this hurried and unexpected commission.
It wasn't anything that Alix herself had done that kept bringing her into his thoughts, nor was it any kind of unwanted attraction – he knew perfectly her feelings towards men; and at any rate there was someone else special in his life – but rather a handful of words that he had overheard, completely by accident, while he had been waiting to speak to Vice-Admiral Granger on Earth.
"The problem with Drake," Granger had said to another admiral, "is his dogged protection of that damned woman. Made all sorts of fuss when he brought her into the service in the first place, and she hasn't distinguished herself since then. Oh no! If he'd got rid of her years ago, a man of his abilities and influence, he'd be a rear-admiral by now. Stupid, bloody waste!"
There was no doubt in his mind who that 'damned woman' might be. He did not for one moment doubt that making Alix a part of Starfleet had been the right decision – without it, his ship might have been lost on numerous occasions – but a nagging question had presented itself to him on that day, and he'd been thinking about it ever since. Was Granger right? Had he scuppered his chances of promotion, his very career, by standing so steadfastly beside a woman whom the admiralty considered untrustworthy and troublesome?
It was a question that he was determined not to answer, because in the depths of his heart he already knew what the answer must be, and he knew how it would affect his treasured friendship if he were to acknowledge it. Alix was one of the most important people in his life, but Starfleet was his life.
It was a hard thing not to think about.
"I believe we can begin now, Captain," said Harrow, the man's voice distracting the captain from his private musings. He looked up and was partly surprised to find the party gathered neatly around the table, sitting quietly and attentively – he had begun to doubt that such a thing was at all possible.
"Please, proceed."
Harrow folded his hands and began. "Very well. As you know, General Kravft and I have been negotiating proposals to open up the Neutral Zone to merchant traffic – something that would be economically beneficial to both our people."
"Of course."
"We've made some real headway; however, there are still a few issues that have to be…ironed out. I won't bore you with the details – it's really more my concern than it is yours. The simple fact of the matter is that we need more time to work at it. Now, General Kravft is commander of the Klingon border stations, and any agreement has to be made through him. Unfortunately for diplomatic efforts, the general must return to Klingon space immediately. He is a member of the High Council, as well as a military man, and a matter has developed at home that requires his urgent attention." Harrow looked to Kravft for support in this matter. The Klingon nodded once, but otherwise he was reactionless. The diplomat continued: "We therefore need to move the site of the conference from Starbase Seventy to a location in Klingon space…I…I'm embarrassed to say that I forget the name of the place."
"In'jara'wa," provided Grownel, when it became apparent that his general intended to say nothing.
Drake had never heard the word before in his life, and he had no idea if it was a ship, a space station, a planet or what. From the baffled looks on the faces of McDonald and Wolf, it seemed that neither of them knew either. Not particularly surprising that Wolf wouldn't know – she was not a very knowledgeable person. McDonald had called up some information on a PADD, which she read through quickly, drew a blank on, and shrugged helplessly.
The captain reached for the comm. "Drake to Nain."
"Alix here. What can I do for you, Skipper?"
"Ever heard of an In'jara'wa?" He pronounced the name with particular care, but even so he found himself tripping over the strange, foreign sound.
Alix didn't disappoint him – she rarely did. "In'jara'wa? Sure. Klingon outpost on their side of the border. Not a very big one, but it's in a quiet region."
"How far?"
"Say…three weeks at warp six. Something like that."
Bless you, Alix, thought Drake. He had no idea how she came to be so well versed on the subject of obscure Klingon bases, and at this particular moment he didn't much care. "Set a course and engage at warp six straight away."
"Aye, aye."
"We'll be underway momentarily. I trust that three weeks is not too much time, General?"
"I had expected longer," admitted Kravft, speaking at last. "Three weeks will give me time to prepare for my appearance in the council chambers."
"Then that's settled. Is there anything else?" No one offered any sort of response, and Drake took that to be a negative. "Then I believe we're done here. Commander, the bridge is yours; get us underway. Gentlemen, if you would care to follow me, I'll give you a brief tour of the vessel."
"I would like that very much," said Harrow, who had never seen the inside of a starship before.
They rose to leave, but as they headed towards the door the rumble of Kravft's voice caused Drake to stop. "Captain. A word with you."
"Very well. Mr. Harrow, Mr. Grownel, Lieutenant Wolf will show you the points of interest on this deck." The doors closed behind them, and Drake turned patiently towards the mountainous Klingon. "Yes, General? What can I do for you?"
He hesitated for a long moment, obviously unsure of how to say what he wanted to say. It was a matter that called for some delicacy, even a Klingon knew that; but delicacy was not his speciality. "I am curious to know how you came to be acquainted with the Destroyer."
"You mean Alix?" A nod. "I have known her since the day she was born. She's my friend. And you? How do you know her?"
"We met each other once. In battle."
It was all that he would say on the matter.
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The Destroyer was in the depths of the ship, leaning her succulent form against the cabin bulkhead and watching attentively as her human counterpart stripped out of her clothing and wriggled into a Starfleet duty uniform. A low whistle of appreciation carried from her pale lips in the moment between the discarding of one set of clothes, and the putting on of the other. Alix glanced over her shoulder at her audience, smiled saucily and blew her a kiss. The Destroyer considered that to be a bit of a tease, since the human was at that point getting dressed, and so any kind of serious fun was out of the question. Later, she promised herself, knowing that Alix would have no objections.
If people had been able to see Alix Nain and the Destroyer standing side by side they would have been quite amazed by the similarities between them. Indeed, the creatures were virtual twins, and if it weren't for one or two features of the Destroyer that singled her out as being something other than human, they would have been indistinguishable. They were both five-foot-four, both in excellent physical condition, and both possessing the same elegant curves and swells, perfectly proportioned; both women had oval shaped skulls, red-black hair, so much like the colour of blood and fire, and matching eyes; they both wore their hair swept away from the forehead into porcupine-like quills. To the casual eye, they were identical.
A more careful observer, or at least one with sharper vision, would notice the differences. While Alix's skin was a healthy tan, the Destroyer's was sickly blue-white, like that of a corpse; the Destroyer possessed elongated incisors, which always made Alix think of vampires whenever she saw them; her red eyes literally flamed, lit up from within, as though a fire burned behind her pupils, and a crackling nimbus of red energy surrounded her entire person. Her stance and expression was very different to Alix's: tight with raw, ever-present fury. Her smile was far rarer than Alix's, and when it came it was a twisted look of sadistic enjoyment. Her chief pleasures were violent in nature, and while Alix herself found great joy in combat – especially bloody combat – it never caused in her the same kind of orgasmic glee that it did in her alien doppelganger.
This curious beast waited until Alix had pulled on and neatly fastened her uniform jacket, before speaking. Her voice, as with most other things about her, was quite like Alix's own, except that Alix had never been known to purr, and words floated from her tongue, rather than burned. "A remarkable piece of restraint from you today."
Alix checked her appearance in the bathroom mirror, and after running a comb through her hair to get the spikes back into shape she was happy with it. She moved her attention to the Destroyer, and smiled at the ghostly form of her alter ego. "With Hope? Yeah, I was proud of myself, too. I'd promised to behave, but still…"
She should have guessed that she was on entirely the wrong line, and when the Destroyer's lips curved into a grim parody of her own smile she did indeed do so. By then, it was a little late to be relevant, though. "Not Hope. Ling. In your place I wouldn't have done nearly so well."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning I would have torn his limbs from their sockets and beaten him to death with them."
Alix could have, and should have, guessed that without needing to be told. A lot of things could be said about her other self – some of them good, most of them bad – but that she was tolerant or forgiving were not amongst them. It was remarkably easy to offend or annoy her, and the result of such a mistake was nearly always excessively bloody. Alix alone could insult or tease the Destroyer and escape with her limbs intact, for the alien couldn't very well damage her host. Most people were not so lucky.
"What did Ling do to cause you offence?"
"You should know, Alix, that I hardly need a reason. He was there, he was breathing – it's enough. In this case, though, I do have a better reason. He had no respect for the ship, and he behaved as though he were the most important person in the universe. Egos like his I enjoy bursting all over the deck." She laughed wickedly, her eyes shining with grisly humour.
"Murder is impossible to get away with on a starship, Kana."
"Not so. I could make it look like an accident. Alternatively, the corpse could simply…vanish!" She flashed her fangs, and laughed again, full of sinister good humour.
"You're in great spirits today."A shrug. "This commission has the potential to be interesting, Alix. A voyage into Klingon space and two of the muscle-brained brutes on our ship! No doubt they will do or say something stupid before long, and we will have the chance to skewer them!"
"I somehow doubt that killing the Klingon envoy is going to do wonders for our peace negotiations."
"Peace," the Destroyer snorted, saying the word as though it left a foul taste in her mouth. "Why do your people want peace with those fools? They're weak, and without your aid they will die in the next fifty-years. Sooner, if you wish."
There was a great deal that Alix might have said to this. She couldn't be described as a pacifistic person, and she had seen too much death in her life to let it affect her anymore (a lifetime with the Destroyer guaranteed that she would be exposed to some very morbid things) but even so she found the casual way in which her friend discussed the extinction of an entire race monstrous. There was no point in venting her feelings, though, as Kana Nain was a fairly diabolical being, and all that anything she said would do was give her greater pleasure.
The beep of the comm and the sound of Drake's voice interrupted the silent conversation taking place between the two Nains, and Alix at least was grateful for it. She skipped to her communicator and flipped it open. "Alix here. What can I do for you, Skipper?"
"Ever heard of an In'jara'wa?"
"We have indeed, haven't we, Alix?""In'jara'wa? Sure. Klingon outpost on their side of the border. Not a very big one, but it's in a quiet region."
"How far?"
Off the top of her head, Alix wasn't exactly certain. Fortunately for her, her insubstantial friend was useful for more than giving her nightmares, and she whispered the relevant figures into her host's ear, which were relayed without pause to the captain.
"Set a course and engage at warp six straight away."
"Aye, aye."
"In'jara'wa. I wonder if they still remember us there?"
"Let's hope not."
Kana Nain grinned from ear to ear, and Alix was pretty sure that her other self was hoping for no such thing.
A final check of her neat appearance in the mirror, and Alix made her way out of her quarters to the nearest turbolift, her ghostly companion walking silently at her side. There were few other people in the ship's hallways, most people either being at their duty stations or relaxing in their quarters, but Alix still passed one or two crewmen on their way between departments, one of whom walked straight through Kana's immaterial form. The spirit turned sharply and glowered murderously at the young man, who continued on his path, totally oblivious.
"Watch where you're going, fool!"
"He can't hear you."
"Give me control for five minutes and I will force him to listen!"
"Nah."
"Two, then."
Alix laughed at the bartering and called a turbolift. The ride from her quarters on deck five up to the bridge on deck one was a rapid one, and one that she enjoyed in as close to solitude as she ever came: Kana was silent, leaning petulantly against the bulkhead, all trace of her previous good mood utterly vanished. She'd make it up to the Destroyer later, she silently promised. Once they were off duty she would let Kana have a little fun.
The turbolift doors puffed open onto the bridge of the Starship Endeavour, and Alix stepped out into the room where she had spent most of her post-teenage life. The hum of working machinery, the lit console panels, the positions of the uniformed men and women and even the smells of the bridge were so familiar to her that she was hardly consciously aware of any of them. There was a pattern to the place, constant and unchanging, and the only time that she really noticed anything was when something was out of place – different.
A vague feeling that things were wrong troubled her as she stepped down to the lower level of the bridge, where the joint helm and navigation desk and the captain's chair was located. She ignored the feeling, knowing where it came from. She had yet to get used to the new faces that filled familiar seats. Whenever she looked over at tactical she still expected to see the dark-skinned face of Carl Rodriguez sitting there, smiling back at her with that wonderfully warm expression of his. Instead, she saw the big, bald, blue head of Lieutenant Brok looking at her with moody hostility. She blew him a kiss and turned to her work.
The new crew were all well and good, and Alix – who was notoriously hard to please in these matters – was reluctantly forced to admit that they had some idea what they were doing; but they weren't right. They weren't the people who were meant to be on the ship. It wasn't that she held anything personally against them – she had already made some good friends amongst the new intake – it was just that she'd rather trade the whole lot of them in for even half of the original crew back. She had had years to get to know them, had liked them all, and they had been more tolerant of her strangeness than their replacements. Alix always liked people who gave her a chance to prove herself, and thoroughly loathed those who didn't.
Hence her sour relationship with Commander McDonald. She hadn't intended for it; in fact, she had meant to give the new first officer as easy a time of things as possible; but McDonald had not extended her the same courtesy. The commander had heard about Alix – had heard the words 'dangerous' and 'pirate' attached to her name – and she had come aboard with her mind already made up that the helmsman was bad news.
After getting off on the wrong foot with Alix to begin with, McDonald had then made the hideous mistake of thinking that she could order the younger woman around, abuse her powers as first officer, and the helmsman wouldn't dare do anything about it because McDonald had a more sophisticated rank badge on her shoulder. In that respect she could not have been more wrong. Alix had absolutely no respect for pins or medals. She didn't follow someone because they had a high rank, but rather because they had done something to earn her respect and her loyalty. Drake had done plenty; McDonald had done nothing. Their relationship, never a good one, had deteriorated with incredible rapidity; within a few days of Endeavour leaving Earth neither woman could stand the presence of the other aboard.
It was ironic that Alix should be giving so much thought to Commander McDonald, for a moment later the turbolift doors whisked open again and the woman herself strode out onto the bridge as if she owned the place. She checked that everyone was at their place and working conscientiously, stifled a displeased look when she noticed the presence of Nain at the helm, and stepped down to take the centre chair. "Are we ready to get underway?"
"Course is laid in, Commander," said Alix, leaning across the big desk and making a final adjustment. Ensign Manning, the navigation officer, glanced nervously at her and kept his fingers clear. Alix was the best flight control officer on the ship, and it was widely known that she trusted no one else but herself to do the job properly. Whether or not he resented her low opinion of him was hard to tell – he was petrified of the red-eyed woman, and did his best to keep his feelings of her to himself.
"Then engage, Mr. Nain," instructed McDonald impatiently; as though she didn't know what Alix was doing standing on ceremony for. Of course, it was common practice in the service to wait for the order before engaging the engines. Most of the time Alix did not bother with this, but with a diplomatic group on board she thought it would be best to do things properly and earn the ship a good name.
"Aye," she muttered, accelerating the ship up to warp six. Usually, the jump into warp and the pleasant vista of stars sliding by outside was a tonic for her nerves, but right now her irritation was so intense that they did nothing for her. McDonald was intentionally trying to get under her skin, that much was obvious, but what really annoyed her was that it was working!
She glanced back over her shoulder at the first officer, and felt a stab of loathing. There weren't many people whom she would gladly leave to Kana's tender mercies, but in her current mood, McDonald made the list.
"You look tense," observed the Destroyer, her hands on Alix's shoulders, gently massaging her tight muscles. Of course, Kana's hands were just as much a figment of Alix's imagination as the rest of her body, but that trifling detail had no effect on the good work they were doing. "Oh, that's nice."
Kana applied a little extra pressure, worked out one last knot of tension from Alix's muscles, before dropping her arms down to her sides and sprawling out across the console, lying on her right side so that she could look easily at Alix without having to tilt her head. It was a good thing that her body was partly transparent, and that anyway Alix knew instinctively where every button was on her panel, otherwise there could potentially have been a disaster.
A hot hand stroked her cheek. "What's the matter?"
"McDonald. She's really getting under my skin."
Burning red eyes peered over Alix's shoulder and took in the sight of Commander McDonald studying a report brought to her by an engineering crewman. "Want me to remove her skin?"
"Don't tempt me."
"I'm the little red guy sitting on your shoulder." Fangs gleamed; Alix had once described her as being 'demonic', and that was an image of herself that the Destroyer loved greatly. "It's my business to tempt you."
"What about the little angel? Doesn't she get a say?"
"No. Dead, and buried in an unmarked grave."
The comment made her laugh, and if anything was guaranteed to bring unfavourable attention from McDonald it was inappropriate mirth on the bridge. "What's funny, Lieutenant?"
"Oh, just thinking of something that Brok said the other day."
"What?" Exclaimed Brok, fearing that he was about to be made the butt of another of Alix's little jokes, and looking frantically for a way to avoid it. "I haven't said anything funny to you."
"Hmm. You're right. You and funny…what was I thinking?"
Brok scowled; a few of the braver hands chuckled a little, some of the rest wore smiles on their faces; Alix threw the Bolian a purely affectionate grin to let him know that she was just kidding. His scowl deepened, but she saw the answering smile that was in his eyes.
The big Bolian tactical officer was Alix's best enemy – her own description for him; Kana was rather more attached to 'irritating fool', but then that was what she called a lot of people. Brok fell neatly down on the side of the people who quite dearly loved Alix Nain. He was, however, generally a reserved man, and he hated a great display of affection. For this reason he maintained a pretence, a very creditable pretence, of utterly loathing the young woman's guts. No opportunity to mock her, however slight, passed him by, and if Alix ever did anything to embarrass herself Brok would be there to laugh hard and long. His act was a good one, and many of the ship's company were uncertain of how he really felt about the odd helmsman – McDonald was more pleasant with him than she otherwise might have been, believing that they saw eye-to-eye on this matter, if nothing else – but as far as it went with Alix, he might have been wearing a great big badge that read 'I love you'; she had not been fooled by his hostility for a nanosecond.
For her part, Alix enjoyed winding up the Bolian just as much as he did her. It was a game that they played, and one that kept things between them interesting.
"Belay that," McDonald instructed, before Brok could think of any reply to Nain's tease. "Attend to your duties."
Kana slid off the helm console and passed silently through Alix Nain, stalking across the bridge to where McDonald was sat. She wrapped her body around the command chair, peeled back her lips to reveal her fangs, and dug them into McDonald's neck. Alix winced, for an instant remembering only that her dark friend would quite happily drink the lifeblood from a person, forgetting that at this precise moment she was completely incapable of doing so.
McDonald crossed her legs and tapped a finger impatiently on the armrest of her chair; completely oblivious to the diabolical being that was having fantasies about murdering her.
