Turning that plan into reality turned out to be a right pain. The biggest problem: how was Khan to get the cryotubes from storage into the torpedoes without someone noticing? It wasn't as if he could just roll them down the corridors.

And people were noticing his preoccupation. Not just Connor, who was getting exhausted trying to keep up with him; Carol kept giving him odd looks and twice asked him outright what was wrong. The second time happened in the mess early in the morning. It was really awkward...

"John, you're spacing out again. Are you sure you're alright?"

"Oh... Fine. Just thinking torpedoes."

"I think you got the hardest project of the lot of us. You sure you wouldn't like me or Al to take a look? Sometimes a fresh mind can see something useful."

"No. I'm ok. It's just taking time."

Carol smiled at him, but there was a brittle edge to it. "You're working way too hard. Seriously, do you ever sleep?"

"Not often enough," muttered Connor.

"Sleep little always," said Khan. It was even true. Augments often found they needed less sleep than Normals.

"I hate to remind you, but you suffered a severe brain injury not that long ago. You need to sleep." Her eyes sought Connor's, glaring as if to say You're supposed to look after him, why can't you make him sleep?

Khan glared back. He was quite capable of looking after himself! Though she was right that he would probably benefit from more sleep. But with his people in danger he didn't have much choice.

"She's right, you know," said Connor. "You're wearing me to a nubbin and I'm healthy. The Admiral won't expect you to work yourself to death."

Oh wouldn't he? thought Khan bitterly. So long as Admiral Marcus got what he wanted he very much doubted Marcus would care if he died. In fact, he'd probably be pleased.

"Is that the problem?" asked Carol. "Look, my father may be demanding but he's not crazy and he knows you're still recovering. I'll talk to him for you."

Khan's eyes widened. Oh no! Bringing this to the Admiral's attention was the last thing he needed.

"No. Try to get more sleep," said Khan. "You right. I working too hard."

"It's no problem," said Carol.

"Thanks," Khan paused, then shrugged, deciding that having it reported that he was overworking to the Admiral probably wasn't such a terrible thing and too much protest would start to look suspicious all by itself.

Carol shook her head. John was too proud and stubborn for his own good. Why couldn't he just smile and accept help when offered? Men. But she was definitely going to be bothering her father about this. It wasn't just about how he was overworking.

There was something about John and Connor that didn't add up. It was almost as if John felt himself a prisoner and didn't dare trust anyone. Connor's behaviour didn't quite fit the role she thought he was supposed to be playing, either. Was there more going on than she'd been told? Dad did love his secrets, but she had a bad feeling about this one.

It took her a couple of days to actually get hold of her father, as he was heavily embroiled in assorted meetings in London and San Francisco.

She finally managed to catch him in his office before she started work. "Carol!" he said smiling. "What a nice surprise to hear from you. You should call more often."

"You are a little hard to get hold of, you know," she answered.

"Comes with the job."

Carol nodded. She knew that. She always had, considering that it had often meant she and her mother didn't see him for months at a time when she was growing up. Welcome to Starfleet.

They exchanged small talk and news of what she'd been up to for a couple of minutes, when Carol brought up what she really wanted to talk about. "I'm a bit worried about John."

"Which John?" asked her father, frowning.

"Agent John Harrison, attached to our group. He's overworking and he won't stop."

"Isn't that something Dr. Schostakovitch should be dealing with?"

"He's doing it because he's scared of disappointing you, so I don't think Maria would be much help. He's not healed and I know Connor's worried he'll make himself ill. Can't you tell him not to hurt himself and to back off a bit?"

"Did Harrison tell you that?"

"No, but he didn't deny it when I accused him outright. He didn't want me telling you at first. I think he's scared of looking weak, which is stupid. Most people hurt this badly wouldn't be trying to work at all, let alone on something like this."

Her father sighed, wearing a rather put-upon expression. "Carol, I really wish you wouldn't go adopting every wounded creature you find. He's not a tribble or stray kitten."

"I know that, Dad! And I was eight." Carol said, crossing her arms and frowning back at him.

"Harrison," said her father, "is bloody dangerous, and I'd prefer it if you didn't get too close to him."

Carol pursed her lips. So Connor was as much jailor as protector. Just what was going on here? "Apart from the pairing of advanced combat abilities and PTSD, dangerous how?"

"PT.. Isn't that a dangerous enough combination?"

"He hasn't done anything untoward the entire time he's been here except overwork himself and run Connor ragged following him around. He didn't even leave the base when we were in London."

"I should hope not, he isn't civilian-safe."

"Is he a prisoner then? Because you're treating him like one, rather than as someone injured in Starfleet's service. I swear he's afraid of you!"

"Look... sweetheart, sometimes the world isn't a pretty place. If you want to be in Section 31, you're going to have to get used to it. We've got war heading our way and I need to use every asset we've got to make sure we win. And sometimes we don't have time to treat them as nicely as we'd like. Do you really think Harrison would rather be stuck recuperating in some mental hospital? He'd go out of his mind with boredom and we'd be down a fine weapons designer."

"I'm not arguing with him being here, I just think its counterproductive to push him so hard he breaks. And don't call me sweetheart."

"What's he doing that's got you so worried?"

"Working constantly and not sleeping or taking any time off. He never smiles any more, either and he's been downright moody lately."

"Go bother medical or Dr. Schostakovitch. He's not your responsibility. If you must know, the man's always been able to operate with very little sleep and his being very focussed is normal."

Carol sighed. She clearly wasn't going to get any more information just now. If she wanted to know anything more she'd have to do some digging on her own. "Ok Dad." They spoke for a few more minutes and then ended the call.

Carol sat down and brushed her hair back from her face, thinking. The sensible thing would be to do as her father suggested and leave the situation to him. There was clearly something classified going on here that she wasn't cleared to know about. Not exactly unexpected in Section 31! If she poked her nose into everything that seemed odd around here she'd never get any work done and would probably end up in jail for espionage.

But her father had a habit of putting his plans in front of people's needs. Often that was exactly what the head of Starfleet needed to do. She would never have joined Section 31 if she hadn't agreed with his overall aims.

But it was also what had driven her parents apart. People got hurt in his plans, often including people who were merely in the way. She'd rather John didn't get broken as a side-effect of one of her father's plans. The man had lost enough already. She would definitely keep an eye on the situation - but for now it was time to go do the work she was paid for.

Admiral Marcus cursed after the call was over. Of all the people for his daughter to take a liking to, it had to be him. Briefly, he considered moving her to another project, but moving either her or Khan would slow the work considerably.

He hadn't wanted to bring Carol into Section 31 in the first place, but her skills really were needed there. Unfortunately the girl's heart wasn't so suited. She'd have been better off in some other part of Starfleet.

He'd warn Khan that he wasn't to lay a finger on Carol. Uneasily he recalled that one of the Augments' weapons had always been their charisma.