Disclaimer: If wishes were fishes...

From behind a stack of rotting crates piled up against one wall of the marketplace, Reed lay and watched.

It had been surprisingly easy to enter the building unnoticed. The Orions were far more concerned about keeping people in than out, and there were several unguarded doors behind the auction platforms. Reed had slipped carefully in and hidden himself behind the nearest concealment he could find. It was not a bad hiding place when he lay flat on his stomach. For the moment, he was forced to deal with the severe discomfort of having his burned side in contact with the concrete floor. The floor was probably swarming with countless bacteria, but infection would kill him less quickly than an Orion with a disruptor pistol.

The auctions appeared to be over for the day. Trade went on, but negotiations were conducted down among the lines of cages rather than on platforms. Reed looked around for the Denobulans and at length found them in a different cage than they had been in that morning. He was equal parts relieved and disappointed to see them – relieved that they had not been sold, but disappointed at their new location. The previous cage had not been far from the wall of the marketplace, but now they were almost in the center of the large building. With the place busy as it was for the entirety of the day and night, he would have no opportunity to reach them unobserved, and even if he did he would certainly not be able to use the disruptor to cut through the bars of the cage without anyone seeing. He needed a distraction of some kind.

The Romulan woman had not been moved. She was sitting upright and still, waiting for her fate. Her cage was marginally closer to the wall than the Denobulans'.

Reed studied the situation. He felt it would be best to wait until dusk at the very earliest, when the buyers of the day would be leaving but the activities of the night would not yet be in full swing to bring fresh crowds swarming amongst the cages. On the one hand, it would be easier to go unnoticed among a crowd; on the other hand, he was wearing the garments of a slave, had clearly just been in a fight, and would be attempting to break out several prisoners. Better for the place not to be too packed. The cover of darkness would also help once they made it outside – if they made it that far.

Breaking the Denobulans out was the most immediate problem, but it was far from the only one. After they were outside, where could they go? Reed wished he'd been able to gain a better idea of the layout of the surrounding roads. However, venturing back out would increase his risk of being spotted. In addition, there was always the possibility of Fenzin and Ayaila being sold while Reed was gone. He would have no idea where they were. If he stayed here to watch he would at least be able to follow if they were sold.

He would be able to follow one of them, he reminded himself. There was little question in his mind of which of the Denobulans he would stay with.

He required a distraction. Reed considered his disruptor pistol thoughtfully. If a shot or two was fired into the crowd from an unknown location, sufficient chaos might result to allow him a few minutes of cover. That had its own dangers, however. If his shots went wide he might kill one of the prisoners. Someone might notice the source of the shots. The disruptor might not have enough charge left to cut through heavy metal bars.

As he lay behind the decomposing crates, Reed became aware of several unforeseen difficulties. Now that he was lying still and was, for the moment, comparatively safe, he realized that he was absolutely exhausted. He did not know how he had gone without sleep, but it had to be well over twenty-four hours. He kept having to blink his eyes forcefully open as they drifted shut. He couldn't allow himself the luxury of rest.

Besides simple weariness, he was beginning to feel weak with hunger. He had not eaten since disembarking the Orion ship a day and a half previously, and he was feeling it. His mouth was parched. Unfortunately, any attempt to meet his physical needs would require him to move away from his hiding place.

He would survive. He had gone hungry and thirsty and without sleep for longer than this – probably. Without distinct memory of anything before S'Trep had woken him on the Romulan ship, Reed could not be sure. But the sensation of gnawing hunger and total exhaustion was not unfamiliar. He could put up with it.

The sickly-sweet scent of rotting wood around him was soporific. Reed dozed and woke with a start perhaps a dozen times, each time swearing not to allow himself to let down his guard again. It was no use. Despite his hunger and the throbbing pain in his side, the fatigue was overpowering.

He could not afford not to be alert. He had one available recourse to keep himself awake. Reed clenched his teeth to brace himself against the impending pain and scraped the heel of his hand firmly across his disruptor wound.

That woke him quite effectively.

"No. Absolutely not." For the first time that he could remember, Tucker was entirely in agreement with Covan, and he didn't even mind. "Cap'n, yer not goin' down there."

"It is too dangerous, Captain," Covan insisted. Archer's jaw set stubbornly and Tucker felt that Covan's words had been poorly chosen.

"Malcolm is my officer," the Captain insisted. Tucker wondered in what context that was meant – did it imply protective feelings towards Reed, or a possessive claim over his person? The last five weeks had demonstrated, if nothing else, that Reed was not as much Archer's officer as anyone had thought.

"We're not gonna let you go," he said testily. "There's a price on yer head down there! Besides, someone's got to stay with the ship an' it might as well be you."

"And it might as well be someone else," Archer snapped. "I'm not staying behind for your peace of mind."

"Captain," T'Pol said quietly, "I cannot allow you to go on this away mission."

Archer turned a look of shocked betrayal on her. "T'Pol!"

"It is Starfleet protocol," T'Pol said with equanimity, "that in hostage situations involving a member of a starship's senior staff, the Captain will not participate in rescue attempts."

That sounded like absolute bullshit to Tucker. If there was such a regulation, he had never heard of it. Perhaps T'Pol had written it herself in the last few minutes. Vulcans don't lie, my ass. Moreover, Reed was certainly no longer a member of the Enterprise's senior staff, nor of her crew at all. However, Tucker was perfectly ready to jump on any reason for Archer to stay on the Enterprise during this particular away mission.

T'Pol, the engineer knew, was still highly suspicious of the Romulan's story. But although there were no records of a slave market in the vicinity that S'Trep believed, T'Pol had admitted that Orion establishments were poorly recorded and tended to shift locations quite frequently. She had thoroughly emphasized the fact that there was no particular reason to believe that the Romulan was speaking truthfully, but Archer had overruled her. Now, he seemed less ready to do so.

"T'Pol, you know very well that I've gone on hostage rescue missions before. And Malcolm isn't a senior officer on this ship anymore. We don't even know if he's down there, because we can't scan the damn planet! This is a reconnaissance mission."

Much to the frustration of all involved in the rescue efforts, the planet was equipped with sensor shielding. According to T'Pol, this was not an uncommon tactic of the Orions. Unfortunately, it meant that from orbit, they had no idea what was waiting below. They'd have to take a shuttle down and hope that S'Trep was to be trusted. Communications with the Enterprise would also be limited. From the shuttle itself they would have contact, but the signal from handheld devices was too weak to make it through the sensor shielding. Transporters wouldn't be an option either. Tucker didn't much like the idea of going down to an unknown place on a rescue mission with a great deal of their technology rendered useless, and he certainly didn't intend to let the Captain down there. T'Pol was in full agreement.

"I will go myself, Captain," the Vulcan said. "But I must insist that you remain on the Enterprise." A note of steel in her voice suggested that she would enforce her policy one way or another, regardless of the Captain's personal opinion. Archer glared fruitlessly at her for several seconds before subsiding.

"T'Pol, I don't think it's wise for you to go either," Covan pointed out. "Surely the Orions know that Vulcans are their sworn enemies? We'll only arouse their suspicions further if we have a Vulcan with us. Commander Tucker and I should lead the mission."

"Very well." Archer conceded at last. "Trip, you'll command the away mission. Covan, pick four people for a security team."

That was an arrangement Trip could live with.

A slight commotion by the door drew Reed's attention. It seemed that one of the guards objected to a particular customer entering and was trying to dissuade them from doing so. The customer, it seemed, was particularly persuasive, because after a short time the guard backed down and moved out of the way.

It was not one person but a party, which in itself was unusual. As far as Reed had observed, buyers typically came and went singly or in pairs. When occasionally customers came in a group it was nearly always a single buyer trailing a few of his own slaves or bodyguards behind him.

None of this group was subservient to the others: that much was immediately clear. There were six of them. Five of them were humans, dressed in a strange single-piece blue uniform with long sleeves and legs. Red stripes outlined the shoulders of the uniform. The last was an Andorian in the same uniform.

Reed watched them with great curiosity. Perhaps it was merely that five of them were of his own species, but he felt a strange affinity for the group. They did not seem to be customers. Two of the younger men kept glancing around with barely-concealed horror in their expressions and the Andorian's antennae were laid back against his skull, a sure sign of distress. The others demonstrated more control, but it was clear to Reed that they had not, upon entering, been prepared for the sights and sounds that met them. No, these were certainly not buyers.

Reed was struck with the powerful impression that these people would help him if only he had an opportunity to talk with them and explain the situation. He felt a strange urge to break his cover and make straight for them, trusting them to offer protection against the inevitable fury of the Orions. He frowned in consternation. That was simply absurd. He had only seen them for perhaps two minutes total, and at a distance. He had absolutely no way to judge who or what these people were. For all he knew they could be no different from the Orions.

Still, they did not have the look of slavers.

Reed adjusted himself carefully to get a better angle from which to view the strange party as they moved slowly among the cages. He hardly noticed the refreshed pain in his side as he moved. It had begun to bleed a bit from his repeated prodding to keep himself awake, but the cauterization from the disruptor bolt's heat had largely held. He squinted through the cracks in the dry, rotting wood.

The party was moving slowly and keeping close together. They looked around as they walked as if they were searching for something. A few of them held some kind of small handheld scanning device. Occasionally Reed lost sight of them between the cages. They were attracting a lot of attention, he saw with a thrill of anticipation. The market was gradually falling quiet. Ripples of hush in the buzz of business spread out from the epicenter of the disturbance. Many of the customers were migrating into a quickly-growing mass behind the strange little group. The buyers of the market had sensed the same thing Reed had: that these people were of a different stock. They were not slavers. They were from a society above slavery. They were a dangerous disruption to the filthy machinations of the market. They were a threat. The buyers were preparing to defend their own way of life.

Tucker sensed the tension in the air as soon as he stepped into the building.

That was not unexpected, given the reception they'd had from the Orion guard. The man had questioned them about their business and tried to refuse them entry, immediately suspicious. Perhaps they looked too respectable for such an establishment. He was glad that T'Pol had not accompanied the mission. Probably they would have been refused entry outright if there was a Vulcan with them.

He was not surprised by the disturbance they caused, but he had little time to dwell on it.

The building was, or had once been, a warehouse, about a quarter of a mile in length and half that in width. The walls were built mostly of wood, with concrete pillars here and there to support the ceiling, which was corrugated metal over wooden rafters. The floor was bare concrete. Against the far walls were several empty wooden platforms.

The main part of the floor was covered in row after row of barred metal cages, and inside the cages were the prisoners.

Tucker had known that this was a slave market. The knowledge had in no way prepared him for this sight. The prisoners were caged like animals, two or three in each cage and in some cases more. Many of them were naked. Most of them were bruised or bleeding. A number lay on the floor unmoving, and Tucker wondered if they were dead. At the commotion by the door, a few of the prisoners had looked up cautiously, but the majority seemed to barely notice their surroundings.

Much as Tucker wanted to find Reed, he did not want to find him here.

"Come on," he said softly to the others, and started carefully forward into the throng of staring buyers.

Reed could have laughed with relief and hope. He had spent hours studying what kind of a distraction he could create, and without his involvement at all a better distraction had come than he could ever have devised. When this situation erupted into violence – and by Reed's estimation it was more of a "when" than an "if" – he would have all the cover he needed.

The blond man in the lead had a troubled expression as he glanced around. Either he detected the menacing undercurrents of the gathering crowd, or, like his companions, he was disturbed by the sights around him. Reed thought it was foolish of anyone to be so surprised by the atrocity of the Orions and their customers.

As he looked around, the man's blue eyes flicked over the pile of rotting crates and for just a split second his gaze snagged on Reed's. Reed felt the breath go out of him. He knew that face, surely he had seen this man somewhere? In that fraction of time everything about this group seemed amazingly familiar: their uniforms, their manner, their faces…then the man's gaze moved on and Reed was left stunned by the intensity of the impression. The blond man had not noticed anything strange about the pile of crates.

Reed tried to provoke recognition again by looking at each face in turn, but the strange sensation did not return. He bit his lip in frustration before scolding himself for his wandering attention. It mattered not at all who these people were beyond the question of whether they would provide him with the opportunity he needed.

One of the Orion auctioneers approached the group. He towered over all of them, his disruptor pistol prominent on his hip. The blond man spoke briefly to him. Reed could not make out what they said, but whatever it was had several of the slavers fingering their weapons. The Orion grew visibly angry. The blond man did not back down.

Reed could not say who made the first threatening move: one moment the atmosphere was tense but controlled, and the next moment both sides were bristling with weapons in each other's faces. Very slowly Reed brought his knees up beneath him, preparing to sprint from his hiding spot.

"Alright, take it easy!" the blond man was shouting. "We're gettin' outta here. No need for all this!" The little group started backing slowly out, weapons raised, through the crowd around them.

The customers parted to let Tucker and his companions through. Crewman Alex and Covan had pulled out hand scanners. Tucker tried to look around at the prisoners without letting himself think about what he was seeing. He was looking for one face, and one face only.

"I haven't got much range," Covan murmured to Tucker. "There's a dampening field of some kind in here."

Shit. "Got it." This wouldn't be fast. They would need time to search. Unfortunately, time was the one thing they didn't have. Tucker glanced around the edges of the building to locate any other available exits. He didn't like how far the nearest doors were.

An enormous green-skinned Orion man came forward to block their way. He was very obviously armed with a disruptor on one side of his belt and a knife on the other.

"Are you buying or selling?"

Sato's calibration of the portable universal translators, using the Vulcan database's information on the Orion language, seemed to function flawlessly. "Neither," Tucker said warily, knowing that was the wrong answer but reluctant to commit to "buying" when he did not know if Reed was here. He wanted to buy every wretched prisoner in the entire complex, but that was impossible. "We're looking for someone. A human."

The Orion crossed his arms over his chest. "We don't deal in humans. We don't deal with them, either."

"I'd like to take a look around, if you don't mind."

The Orion glared down at him. Tucker sensed motion in the crowd around him. Several of the slavers had dropped their hands to their weapons.

"This isn't a real estate showing," the Orion rumbled. "If you're not buying or selling, you're not staying."

"We'll leave as soon as we've searched," Tucker said firmly.

"You'll leave now."

Someone breathed too loudly, or twitched, or looked the wrong way at someone else, and in half a second a circle of weapons surrounded them. Tucker felt Covan and the rest of the team draw their phase pistols in response.

"Let's go," Covan said quietly. "We can't force this."

Tucker seethed inwardly, but he understood the Andorian's point. They could not search for Reed while fighting dozens of armed aliens. Much as he wanted to try, it was too much risk.

"Alright, take it easy," he said to the Orion, raising his voice to force the attention of the surrounding crowd onto him. "We're gettin' outta here. No need for all this!"

They got about three metres before someone fired.

The marketplace exploded into a cacophony of screaming and weapons fire. Reed sprang up and made to dart out from his hiding spot. Dehydrated, hungry, and stiff from lying still for so long, it took him several steps to get his balance. He ran as fast as his injured side would allow into the rows of slave cages. Most of the slaves were cowering on the ground in fear of stray shots from the energy weapons. Few of them even noticed Reed passing as he took the fastest open path to the Denobulans' cage. Ayaila was flat on her stomach with Fenzin beside her. The older Denobulan had placed himself between his niece and the ongoing fight, covering her as much as he could.

Reed knelt by the cage and pressed the muzzle of his disruptor against one of the bars. The first shot sent tremors through the cage and weakened the metal, which nonetheless resisted Reed's efforts to snap it off. He fired again and the bar gave way at his next heave. He lifted the muzzle of the disruptor a few feet and fired at the bar again, higher up. This time a single shot was enough for him to bend the bar out of the way.

"Fire!" a voice screamed above the sounds of shouting and weapons fire. "Fire!" Reed looked up to see the pile of crates he had hid behind going up in flames. He knew immediately what had happened. A stray disruptor blast must have struck the pile. The wood, dry and rotting with age, was perfect tinder.

The wall against which the crates leaned was wooden. The fire licked hungrily at the side of the building. The prisoners nearest the blaze were panicking, tearing futilely at the bars of their cages. Their fear was infectious to both the other prisoners and to the slavers.

"Malcolm!" Reed glanced down to see Fenzin staring up at him in blank astonishment. "Malcolm, what are you doing here?"

"Shut up," Reed growled. He fired into the next bar twice, ignoring Fenzin's violent flinch. A third shot allowed him to twist it aside. One more should be enough room to get them out; certainly for Ayaila, probably for Fenzin too. Smoke stung Reed's eyes. He could feel the heat from across the room. Someone stumbled over him unexpectedly and Reed cried out in agony as he fell heavily onto his injured side. He hauled himself upright, prepared to fight, but whoever it was had already fled. Reed broke through the final bar and reached into the cage.

"Fenzin, give her to me –"

"Malcolm, you're injured!" Fenzin exclaimed in shocked concern. "What happened? Are you okay?"

"Shut up, come on!" Reed shouted at him. "You're going to die if you don't! Give me Ayaila!"

"Come on, honey," Fenzin coaxed the frightened girl. "Go with Malcolm. Come on." He pulled her up gently and led her to the opening in the side of the cage. Malcolm grabbed her by the shoulders and dragged her through. Ayaila gasped as her skin scraped against the rough edges of the severed metal, still hot from disruptor fire, but she did not cry.

"Keep her safe," Fenzin pleaded. "Please, you must take care of her."

"Goddammit, you're coming with me." It would be a tight squeeze, but Reed thought he could get Fenzin out. "Come here."

"I don't know," Fenzin faltered. "I don't think I can get out, Malcolm."

The heat was rising. Reed looked up to see the fire licking at the rafters of the ceiling. The smoke was thick; he could no longer see what had become of the fight. The brightness and roar of the fire overpowered any sight or sound of energy weapons.

"This whole place is going up!" Reed screamed at him. "You're going to die!" Behind him, Ayaila had begun to cough from the smoke. Reed was acutely aware of the increasing toxicity of the heavy air.

"I don't know," Fenzin said again, but he came forward to the opening and cautiously slid his shoulders into it. Reed seized him under the arms and heaved. It was indeed a close fit. Fenzin squealed in pain as the jagged metal cut into him. He flopped awkwardly onto the floor and staggered upright, clutching at a deep and bloody cut on his leg. Ayaila attached herself to his arm.

"Come on!" Reed took Fenzin by the wrist and started towards the nearest door away from the fire.

Something compelled him to look back.

The Romulan woman of the previous day stood against the bars of her cage, staring back at him. She was at the very edge of the fire's spreading range, but though the heat must have been tremendous, she did not look afraid.

"Go!" Reed shouted in Fenzin's ear, pointing to the door and hoping that the Denobulan's wayward survival instincts would do the rest. He took off for the Romulan's cage. In the hazy smoke that was by now almost blinding, he stumbled heavily over something soft. It was a body. As Reed pushed himself back up, something sharp pricked his hand. The dead alien's knife slid out of its sheath and he snatched it up.

Heat and smoke tore at Reed's face as he reached the cage. Flames were already licking at the back of it, a scarce ten feet away. He felt for the bars and fired indiscriminately at them. With Vulcan-like strength, the Romulan wrenched the first bar entirely off before Reed had even finished. The moment the second came free, she launched herself powerfully at the opening, twisting her body sideways to give herself as much space as possible. Reed took her hands and dragged her through when the jagged ends of the bars caught on her sides. They ran.

Prisoners cried out for help as Reed and the Romulan passed. Hands brushed at his clothes through the bars of the cages. When they were out of the immediate range of the flames Reed hesitated, torn between making good the escape and trying to free others. It was the Romulan's turn to drag him along by the wrist. Reed followed, trying to shut his mind to the despairing wails behind him.

A high-pitched, childish scream rang out from the smoke ahead. Reed heard Fenzin's voice: he was pleading. As they drew near, Reed saw the hulking form of an Orion standing over the fallen Denobulan man, holding Ayaila by one arm. It was the very same Orion that he had driven away from the Denobulans only the previous night.

Reed felt someone snatch at his hand. The Romulan woman sprang past him and charged straight into the Orion guard, burying her hands into its stomach. The guard dropped Ayaila and staggered. It clutched at its stomach as the Romulan backed away. Reed did not understand until he saw the knife in her hands.

Choking on the smoke, Tucker stumbled out of the marketplace and into cleaner air outside. He looked around wildly for the rest of the security team, but in the panicked crowd it was difficult to make out faces. Crewman Foster stumbled out of the packed mass, followed a moment later by two other members of the security team.

"Where's Covan and Alex?" Tucker shouted over the chaos, but no answer was forthcoming. He turned back toward the burning building. The crowd had begun to thin around the door, with most of the slavers already evacuated to a safe distance.

Through the haze of smoke and sparks against the orange glow, Tucker saw a blue-clad figure stagger out of the door, weighed down by the burden of another body on its back. He sprinted forward into the heat. Covan, his ash-blackened face streaked with blue where sweat had cleaned it, carried Alex across his back in a modified fireman's carry. Tucker helped lift the limp body off the Andorian. He slung one of Alex's arms across his shoulders. Covan took the other.

"What happened?" Tucker had to yell to be heard over the roar of the fire as they ran back toward the other members of the security detail.

"Shot – I think," Covan gasped. Tucker noticed that he had one arm wrapped awkwardly around the injured human so that his hand was pressed against Alex's chest. Dark fluid oozed between the Andorian's blue fingers.

Between them, Tucker and Covan supported the unconscious human back towards the waiting shuttlepod as two of the security team rushed to help them. Foster ran ahead to the shuttlepod.

They had set down on a wide slab of concrete slightly more than an eighth of a mile from the front entrance of the marketplace. It had seemed a short distance on the inbound journey. Now, it seemed an interminable length. Tucker was acutely aware of the blood bubbling out from under Covan's hand.

Foster had the shuttlepod door open and was waiting with first aid supplies when they reached the pod. Alex was lifted onto the deck of the craft, where Foster and one of the others began slicing his uniform off while the fourth member of the team applied pressure to the wound in Alex's chest. Exhausted, Covan stumbled against the side of the shuttle. His antennae sagged limply to either side. Tucker hauled him upright and helped him into the craft, slamming the door behind them. He pushed the Andorian down into the copilot's seat and began the shuttle's launch sequence.

"I need a copilot!" he called over the shouts of the others in the back as they fought to stop Alex bleeding out. Covan, however, was distracted by something entirely different.

"Commander!" The blue streaks on the Andorian's face looked pale as he held up his hand scanner. It took Tucker long seconds to understand what Covan was trying to tell him.

On the screen of the hand scanner, a biosign registered: one human life sign. Proximity 0.3 miles.

Tucker froze, torn in an impossible quandary. Reed was here, on this planet, not even half a mile away. He felt sure the biosign could be no one but Reed. Meanwhile, in the back of the craft, three men battled for the life of another crewman. Time was precious, and every second that they were not on the Enterprise brought Alex a second closer to death. It was an impossible choice. Tucker turned helplessly toward Covan and found the Andorian waiting on his orders.

"Dammit!" Tucker swore, punching in the last of the launch sequence with shaking hands. "Hail the Enterprise. Tell them we're coming in with wounded."

Somewhere back in that building, Reed was trapped in a cage, waiting to be burned to death. Waiting for the whole damn place to come down around him. Beside him, Tucker could hear Covan calling in to the Enterprise, his voice unsteady with either weariness or shock. Almost blinded with frustration and grief, Tucker wrenched back on the throttle, lifting the shuttle off the ground and turning it upward toward the safety of the ship waiting far above.

Reed lifted Ayaila from the concrete floor and slung her over his back. He couldn't be sure if she was injured or simply dazed, but there was not time to worry about that. He could hardly breathe from the smoke. The Romulan pulled Fenzin to his feet.

They left the mortally injured Orion and fled the burning building. Most of it was already engulfed in flames and as they reached the door the further portion of the roof collapsed, sending a spray of sparks, ash, and scalding air into their backs. Reed almost stumbled, but kept his footing with difficulty.

They did not stop running until the air around them was cool and sweet with the absence of smoke. Half a mile behind them, the slave market was a bright torch against the nearly darkened sky. You could see that from space, Reed thought, and followed the absent idea no further. He led them off the main street and stopped behind a building. Fenzin hurried forward with a cry of dismay to take Ayaila in his arms.

Reed's knees buckled and he fell hard on all fours, gasping for breath around the biting burn of his injured side. The disruptor clattered away from him and although a small part of his mind clamored at him for carelessness and told him to retrieve it, his body rebelled. Now that they were safe he did not know how he had made it this far. With a groan he lowered himself onto the cool pavement with shaking arms. He could go no further.

Through glazed eyes he could see the Romulan bending over Ayaila while Fenzin hovered nearby. After a moment, the Romulan gently raised the girl into a sitting position. Reed saw the Denobulan child reach out for her uncle. He was too tired to smile, but relief washed gently over him. His efforts had not been in vain.

The bright ball of a disruptor bolt hit the Romulan squarely in the back as she straightened. She fell forward with a grunt onto the concrete as Fenzin gasped. All awareness of exhaustion and pain gone, Reed flipped over onto his back just as the metal implant on his neck shot a paralyzing blast of electricity through his body. Every muscle seized. Reed's vision blurred and returned only after a second's blackness.

From the other side of a disruptor pistol pointed directly at Reed's chest, Entek looked down at him with an expression of pure hatred.

A/N: I don't know how anyone can keep reading this story...it's like you think there's still a way for it to end happily.