Chapter 3
"What is this place?!?" Marius West whispered to no one in particular. He gazed out the viewport of the shuttle in undisguised awe, as they moved toward the dark and silent structure. Without a doubt, it was the biggest free-floating drydock facility that he had ever seen. It dwarfed even the shipyards where the giant Galaxy class vessels were built.
"Well," Thomas Grave replied, over the comm link, "nobody's exactly sure. The smugglers found it a hundred years ago or so, and have been using it ever since. The interesting thing about this place is, it's more or less considered safe ground.' Everyone comes here to repair and rest, and there's no fighting. Hell, why should there be? The place is so damn big I don't believe it's ever fully been mapped."
"And your... friends agreed to let us dock here and finish the refit?" the Captain asked, jumping in on the conversation.
"Actually, this is more convenient. I was having a bit of a problem getting them to bring the equipment into a Starfleet depot. Nobody'll have a problem delivering here; this is holy ground." The black marketeer grinned.
"Very good Ensign." Lestan laughed. "Now, I guess we're going to have to dock manually, correct?"
"Uh, not if it's like the last time I was here. Just wait."
Lieutenant Tzardoz sat quietly in the command chair, listening to the conversation. He turned and looked to Selon.
"Anything on sensors?"
"A myriad of things. What in particular would you like to hear about?"
"Any other ships?" the Gorn asked, sharply.
"Several, but they all seem to be cloaked in some way. I can read that they are there, but not pinpoint their location." the Vulcan woman frowned.
"That's another feature of Fliegende Hollander Station, she wraps you up and keeps you warm." Grave interjected.
"The Flying Dutchman Station?" Lestan laughed.
"Yeah, complete with a mysterious Captain that directs all operations."
"You mean someone inhabits the station?" West asked sharply.
"That might be a good way to put it. Then again, maybe not. You'll see what I mean in a minute." Grave chuckled.
At that moment, the three ships rocked, as if a hand had gently reached out and grasped them.
"A tractor beam has locked onto us. We are being pulled into a berth." Selon announced, monitoring her console.
"Greetings, weary Travelers. Welcome to Fliegende Hollander Station." a voice boomed over the bridge speakers.
"There are very few rules here, but the few that we have are absolute. No fighting, no stealing while you are here, and no revealing the existence of this outpost to the outside world. Now, I see by your ID beacon that you are a Federation ship. The USS Iliad, I believe?"
Everyone on the bridge looked at each other at the same instant.
"No. We are the USS Star Tiger, an Excelsior class vessel."
"Hmmmmm." the voice puzzled, "Then why are you flying another ship's ID beacon?"
"We didn't know we were!" Lestan growled in irritation. Apparently Starfleet had been able to slip one or more things by him before they made their escape. "Lieutenant, disable that beacon and reprogram it with the correct ID."
"Ah well, whatever." the voice continued cheerily, "We haven't seen an Excelsior class vessel here in some time."
"That's because this tub's sixty years out of date." Grave snorted, his hands flying across the navigation console, setting the ship's docking ports open and extending auto-feed lines to hook into the bay's power systems.
"Ship is docked," Selon said.
"And locked." Grave finished.
"Have a pleasant stay!" the voice added, and was gone.
"Lets bring the shuttles in, Marius." the Captain said, anxious to be back on the bridge of his ship.
"Acknowledged." the older man grunted, detaching his craft from the Star Tiger's warp nacelle. Gracefully, the two smaller ships whirled about, few down, under and into the ship's shuttle bay.
"Well," Lestan asked, as he stepped out, next to the Commander, "what do you think?"
West smiled darkly and shook his head.
"I reserve judgment til we know more about the situation. I think we should put a security crew on bug detail."
"Bug detail?"
"Just in case some wonderful person at Fleet Headquarters had the foresight to attach a homing beacon to us somewhere."
"Ah. Go right ahead." the blond man nodded.
"Good. I'll meet you on the bridge later." the other man said, turning to rush out the door.
"Marius, is something wrong?"
"Hmmm?" the gray haired commander paused, "No, not really. I just have to use the facilities VERY badly. Bye!"
Lestan Darkraven laughed for a full five minutes before he could calm himself enough to move out the door.
Jane Franken was in her lab, examining yet another cell sample donated by Lestan. Currently, she was working on experiment number ten thousand, two hundred and forty three. With the same result, as the previous ones. She could alter but slightly the nature of the cells. On some fundamental level, possibly at sub-atomic, the flesh had been
changed. Her years of study had given her only the slimmest glimpses into vampiric structure. She was half afraid that what she was dealing with, could not actually be qualified by medical science. Maybe there was something beyond pure rational thought, something that she would never be able to identify. But there was still so much to learn. She bent over the electron-microscope. Perhaps a different spectrum. Then a higher magnification. Behind her, the office door buzzed for attention.
"It's open! Come in or get the hell outta here." she growled loudly.
The door swooshed open and shut behind her, and a heavy footstep stopped several paces away.
"I am here for my physical, Doctor, as you have ordered." Rumbled Tzardoz.
The middle aged, human woman turned to appraise the giant reptile.
"You know, Greenie," she said, walking up and patting him on his bony, lizard-like cheek, "I wish all my patients were as easy to buffalo as you."
"Buffalo? What does a..."
"Never mind. A figure of speech. Drop your drawers and climb up on the scanner. We'll get this done as quickly as possible."
Calmly, the Gorn undressed, dropping his uniform neatly on the office chair, and sat quietly on the table. Like a very few other species, the Gorn had no cultural taboo about nudity. They could take clothes or leave them; it was a matter of functionality for them and nothing else. Truth to tell, it was very unlikely that they had a fashion sense' at all.
"Lie back and relax." Franken ordered, walking by and shoving the huge lizard-being down onto the diagnostic bed. She waved a hand held scanner over him, and then swung the table top mechanism from its hooks, til it hovered over him. There was a quiet hum and a soft glow, which played over his muscular body. Behind him, on a wall screen, a detailed map of his physiology was projected.
"Okay. Looks like our motor neural transmitters are firing on all cylinders." she fiddled with the instrument a bit and zeroed in more closely on the genetic manipulation she had done. "Mmmmmmhmmmm. Beautiful work, if I do say so myself."
"I would be glad to give you public credit, Doctor..."
"THAT'S okay, Greenie. I don't feel like spending any more time in the klink for helping people. Starfleet Command has already made it clear that they frown on unauthorized genetic manipulation. So, I'll keep it quiet, if you don't mind."
"As you will, Doctor."
"Thanks. Preciate that."
There was silence for a few moments as Jane Franken finished taking her readings. Then, she whacked the large alien on the stomach.
"Well, the prelims look good. Get up and get dressed. You can go. If I find anything bad upon further examination, I'll call you and let you know."
"Very well, Doctor. Thank you."
"Yer welcome, now get outta here."
The Gorn quickly and efficiently slipped into his uniform and scooted out the door. He nearly bumped into Lia Stronn coming in.
"Pardon, Commander." The Gorn said, squeezing past the voluptuous Deltan officer.
"Certainly, Lieutenant." she purred, brushing his chest with her hand. The tall lizard flushed an even deeper shade of green, nodded and hurried off down the corridor. The bald counselor laughed quietly and entered Sickbay.
"Doctor Franken," she called, standing near the door, "I'm here
for my physical."
The older woman's head peered out from around her office doorway. She started when she saw the Deltan standing there.
"Uh oh." she mumbled to herself, leaving the office, "better break out the penicillin."
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Kiko Todesku backflipped her way across the holodeck, and planted a foot very firmly into the groin of a Romulan guard. The artificial figure groaned audibly and fell writhing to the floor. She spun and slammed the butt of her hand up into the nose of the guard's companion. This one cursed and staggered back, but did not fall. Grimly, she surged toward him before he could draw his phaser and grabbed him by both of his ears. He screamed in pain as she wrenched his head down to meet her knee. The second guard lay unconscious, but had gotten out that cry of pain. The door they had been guarding flew open, and a squad of Romulan assassins poured out. She groaned, and took a running leap back in the direction from which she had come. Hearing the whine of phasers, the small oriental woman began to vary the pattern of her backflips and switched to running. She dove around a corner, and pulled a concussion grenade from her belt. She waited til the sounds of the running assassins were almost on top of her before she threw the little device around the corner. There was total silence for a second, then someone screamed...
"RETREAT!"
Then, the grenade detonated. She peered around the corner to see unconscious Romulans lying everywhere. Demurrly, she stood, and picked her way through the prone bodies, back down the corridor to the door. With a smile she palmed the door open, and was hit by a phaser blast. She flew backward and fell, numbed, but not unconscious. She eyed the doorway in shock, as an unplanned part of her program stepped out. Lieutenant Selon. The Vulcan woman looked embarrassed.
"Pardon, Ensign, but I did not realize that you would be beyond this doorway, when I entered your simulation. Please, let me help you up." Selon walked over and helped the rapidly recovering ops officer to her feet.
"Uh, that's okay Lieutenant. I was probably getting a bit too cocky for my own good anyway. I can't believe that defeating Romulans would be so easy in real life."
"But the holodeck is designed to provide as lifelike experience as
possible."
"Yes, but real Romulans wouldn't be so stupid as to chase a person down a hall and around a corner. They'd scan first to see that I was laying in wait for them."
"True." the science office nodded, "But still, it is good training. Oh, by the way, I believe the victims of your grenade are starting to awaken."
Kiko turned to see several assassins shaking their heads and rising.
"Computer, end program." she sighed, turning away from her creations.
"Please, don't let me disturb your recreation." Selon said, a slight smile playing across her mouth.
"Oh, you haven't. I've just had enough for today, I think. Time to rest, and then back to the bridge."
"So," Selon asked, as the two of them exited the Holodeck, "what do you think of our Captain?"
The smaller woman shrugged.
"Hard to tell. A strange one though, no doubt about that. I think he's an insomniac."
The Vulcan nodded.
"I have also noticed his lack of need for sleep. Actually, I have been keeping a log of his activities on board this ship. He has not been in his cabin for more than thirty minutes at any given time."
"You mean he hasn't slept in over two weeks?"
"That is what my data seems to indicate. Yet he has been nothing, if not alert. One does not expect that of a habitual insomniac."
"Stranger and stranger."
"What is, Ladies?"
The two women turned to find their commander standing behind them, hands clasped behind his back and a twinkle in his eye.
"Um, nothing, Sir!" Kiko squeaked, suddenly seeming to shrink to an even smaller size. Selon looked at her in amusement.
"We were discussing the Captain, Commander West." she said. Kiko threw her an evil look.
"Oh? What about our resident mystery man?" the former Admiral asked, leaning easily against the wall.
"Well, just that he is quite a mystery."
"Not if you know where to look for information, Ladies. Care to trade stories over a drink in The Lone Star?" the elder man asked, offering each woman an arm.
Selon, rather than being annoyed as was the usual case in such occurrences between herself and her commanding officers, found that she was more than slightly intrigued to see exactly what information the Commander had gotten on Lestan Darkraven. She accepted the arm. Kiko, seeing that her companion was apparently comfortable, threw in her lot with the little group. Then, they were off.
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Galen O'Mara hummed to himself, as he directed his crew in the removal of the old matter-antimatter reaction chamber. There was an established, standard procedure in the technical manuals for such an operation, which involved safety controls and energy damping baffles and all manner of extraneous equipment. Of course, Galen had long ago
figured out the shortcuts, and was now in the position to put them to the test. A job that Starfleet said was impossible to begin with (the integration of a Romulan Forced Singularity White Dwarf core, with an ancient Federation design of TransWarp drive), which should have taken weeks, was taking just over a week and a half. The majority of the time was going to be in the fine tuning of the power transfers and running simulation programs for energy consumption curves. Just because he liked to find quicker ways of solving impossible problems, didn't mean he didn't do the work. There were some things that even he wouldn't skip over. The Romulan power core was smaller, and heavier that the old antimatter unit that they were removing, and he was already working out plans in his head for what equipment he intended to cram into the empty spaces. With the Captain funding everything out of his own pocket, O'Mara felt there was no limit to what he could
possibly coax the old girl into doing. The options were endless. He could even see breaking speed records in the Excelsior class ship. Papers would be written about him and his revolutionary techniques. He shook himself. No time for dreaming. He had to keep his mind on the job at hand.
"Commander O'Mara, we don't have a power coupling that'll fit this connection." an Ensign said, holding up the ends of two very different cables.
"Well then, we do it the old fashioned way." the dreamer sighed, walking over to where the kid stood. Deftly, he took out a laser cutter and sliced off the ends of both cables. Then he proceeded to hand weld each wire back together, joining the Romulan and Federation technologies into one. When it was finished, he reached into one of several deep pockets he had sewn on his uniform, and pulled out a roll of black tape. Efficiently, he wrapped several times around the joint juncture and cut the tape. Then, he handed the joined cables back to the Ensign.
"Got the general idea?"
"Yes Sir."
"Good. Go to it."
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"Any word, Commander?" Armin Sesok asked, as a very haggardlooking Barclay entered his office. The man sat heavily in a chair and shook his head.
"No Sir. It's as if they just vanished. No reports, no further sightings. Maybe Captain Gavrilov was right. Maybe they just blew up when they tried to leave the system."
The Admiral smiled.
"No... I don't think so. Darkraven and West are individually, very resourceful men. Together, they can probably accomplish miracles, I would imagine. No, I think that they're going to turn up again quite soon." as he finished speaking, a light blinked insistently on his desk. He smack it in some small annoyance.
"Yes?"
"Admiral, I have a priority one, incoming call for you. Encoded, and sent subspace blip."
"Put it through." the admiral motioned to Barclay to get up and move to where he could see the screen, but not be seen. On the little terminal, a picture flickered, sputtered and came finally into clarity. It was Lestan Darkraven sitting on the bridge of
the Star Tiger.
"Greetings, Admiral Sesok. Just dropping you a line to let you know we're alright and that we're still looking forward to our mission." the young man smiled ironically.
He knows, the older man thought.
"Captain, just where the hell are you?" he asked sternly, motioning for Barclay to trace the transmission.
"Oh, we're at a private facility, finishing our repairs. We'll be one hundred percent operational by the end of this week. I'll call you back at that time for our final instructions."
"One minute, Captain Darkraven. I'm going to have to insist you tell me exactly where you are. That's Starfleet property you're running around the quadrant in and I'm obliged to answer for it if it's lost."
The picture began to fuzz and flip as the Admiral finished his order, and through the interference, the two men could just hear the speaker's voice;
"What's that Admiral? Please repeat. I couldn't hear you. It's this antique communications system."
"You heard me Darkraven! Now..." the older man was interrupted by a burst of static and the screen going dark.
"Sorry Sir," his aid's voice came over the comm link, "we seem to have lost them."
Sesok sat back and smiled.
"Sure we did. The bugger cut me off."
"Admiral, it certainly seemed that the transmission broke up..."
"Trust me, Commander. I've pulled that same stunt before, in my youth. Just slowly throw the signal off frequency, til it gets lost. Nothing to it. I don't suppose you managed to get a fix on where they were transmitting from?"
"Uh, sorry Sir. They bounced the signal off some very isolated satellites. I'm afraid they could have been anywhere inside a dozen different systems." the Commander said, regretfully.
"No matter. We'll be hearing from them again. I'm sure." The Admiral smiled. Suddenly, this distasteful affair was starting to look a little more even sided.
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The Lone Star Bar, was a converted cargo bay that the Captain had designated as a recreation area for the crew. Since the Excelsior class vessels had not come with a place designated to fill such a social activity as drinking and carousing, Lestan thought it prudent, under the circumstance, to invent one rather quickly. Not yet completely finished, the Lone Star was nevertheless in full swing. A band played off to one side of the room, and Starfleet personnel who were off duty doubled as waiters and bartenders. This night, the place was hopping. It was wall to wall people, and all were interested about the place they were docked in, and what their eventual mission would be. It cause no small ripple in the crowd, when the doors swished open and Marius West entered, escorting two very attractive women. They swept through the crowd and commandeered a table at the back of the room, that was secluded and offered a good view of the rest of the bar. Quickly and quietly, the three slid in around the table. The Commander motioned for a waiter, who immediately came over to take their orders.
"I'll have a scotch, neat." the older man grinned.
"A Shirley Temple!" Kiko said brightly.
"Water." Selon said blandly. The other two looked at her as if they had been slapped. The Vulcan looked back and forth between the two stares and finally sighed.
"Oh, very well. I shall have a shot of tequila. Bring the bottle back, please."
Now the stare was of a totally different nature.
"Well, Commander? I believe you mentioned something about pooling information on our Captain?" The Vulcan woman asked, picking the older man's eyes to lock with.
"Ah. Yes indeed I did." he grinned, leaning back in the seat, and throwing his arms out, across the backs of the bench. "Our Captain is a very interesting individual indeed. I have spent my off duty hours for the last couple of weeks, doing some very intensive investigation of his background. On first glance, he looks normal. But if we dig
just a little bit, we find some very fertile dirt." he stopped as the waiter came back and passed out their drinks.
"And?!" Kiko pressed.
"As far as I can tell, Lestan Darkraven has money squirreled away all over Earth. Every major banking institution has an account that is linked to this man in some way or another. He has wealth beyond imagining."
"Very well. The man is exceedingly rich. What of it?" the Vulcan asked, pausing to slug down her shot of tequila and refill her glass. Marius pause in astonishment to watch.
"Uh, yes. Well, the money. It's old money. I mean very old money. I can trace the name Lestan Darkraven back for almost five centuries. After that, or maybe it's before that? the name changes to something similar. But my point is this. The signatures are the same. I asked for stored copies of bank receipts from the late 20th century, and the signatures match that of our present day man." the Commander sat back triumphantly.
The two women stared at him uncomprehendingly.
"Do you see what I'm driving at, ladies? This man, our Captain, may be well over five centuries old!"
Selon sat back and digested the information. Kiko just stared at the Commander in disbelief.
"That's impossible." the oriental woman said, finally, "I mean, somebody would have caught that long ago, wouldn't they?"
"Possibly not. I mean none of this is obvious, unless you are actually looking for it. It is quite possible that no one ever had a reason to suspect anything of Lestan Darkraven before. He covers his tracks tolerably well. The farther back I went, the more obtuse the trail became. I'm afraid time itself has wiped out a whole host of clues that might have better advised us as to what exactly we're dealing with here."
Selon slugged another shot of tequila and looked at Marius.
"Do we really need to know?"
The Commander looked puzzled.
"Lieutenant, you were as curious about our mysterious Captain as I."
"True. But sometimes, in the course of finding out the truth, you begin to realize that maybe you would be better off without it. This man is moving heaven and Earth to see that this group of misfits and criminals has a chance to succeed and survive. Frankly, at this point I couldn't care if he was the living incarnation of the Christian concept of evil. He's doing something that no one else has done for me. He's giving me a chance." the Vulcan woman stood, and collected the bottle of tequila in one hand. "Thank you Commander, for sharing with us. I would advise however, that you cease your investigation and do not spread what you do know among the rest of the crew. I believe
at this point that it would be counter-productive. Good Evening."
The two people watched the woman wind her way through the dense crowd and out the door, still clutching the bottle of synthenol.
"I wonder what the hell has gotten into her?" Kiko murmured.
West smiled, "That, Ensign, was as pure an example of loyalty to one's commander officer as I have ever seen. And I wager, if you look up Selon's record, you'll find it's the first time she's ever expressed such a sentiment."
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Lestan sat in his room, quietly meditating. He no longer had to sleep during the day, but for the last couple of weeks, he had not been able to sleep at night either. Mentally, he was closing in quickly on exhaustion. By clearing his mind of as much as he could for a few minutes each day, he managed to keep ahead of the fatigue. But he couldn't for much longer. Even an immortal brain needed to sleep sometimes. So deep in meditation was he, that he didn't hear his door chime til the third time. Somebody wanted to see him quite badly.
"Enter." he called, not moving from his position. The door swished open, and Lia Stronn entered the room. Lestan clamped down on his mind, seeing that it was his ship's counselor. It would not do to have her picking any secret out of his tired brain.
"Hello, Captain. I haven't gotten to talk to you yet on a one to one basis, and I thought now might be an acceptable time?"
"Certainly, Counselor! Have a seat." the tall man smiled warmly and climbed quickly to his feet.
"Thank you, Sir." the voluptuous Deltan woman undulated across the room and sat, curled up on one end of the couch. For a moment, Lestan was lost in wondering about some very inappropriate things. The counselor smiled.
"There's only one way to find out."
The blond man shook himself and moved to a nearby chair.
"I'm sorry. I should have better control of my hormones at this age."
"That's quite alright Sir." the woman smiled impishly, "I'm used to the reactions by now."
"Ah, indeed. Well, what was it that you wanted to discuss with me?"
"Well, everything. There's crew conflicts to talk about, the idiocyncracies of your officers, the mission at hand, that formidable mental shield you just happen to be slapping me around with..."
Lestan laughed gently, lowered and shook his head.
"I'm very sorry, Lia. Normally, I'm not quite so rude."
"That's alright, Captain. Anything I can help you resolve?" the woman purred, fixing him with a stare that would raise the dead.
"Alas, ma cheri, I seriously doubt it." he grinned wryly, "Even the father of your profession, on Earth Sigmund Freud couldn't psychoanalyze me."
"We don't know if we don't try."
"Perhaps. Perhaps not. Now, as to the other points of your discussion...?"
The Counselor looked at her Captain reprovingly.
"Your crew practically worships the ground you walk on. I don't mind telling you, that considering the checkered past of most of these people, their following anybody with this type of devotion is unheard of."
Lestan smiled again.
"Everyone starts for me with a clean slate. I do not care who you were, or what you did before. It is immaterial to me. All these people needed was that chance. Everybody wants the opportunity to start their lives over again. With me, they have. It is no great secret. This is a good crew. I would stack my people up against anything the Fleet has to offer. In fact, we may just end up doing that."
Stronn nodded, playing with a dressing tab on her uniform. The motion did not go unnoticed by Darkraven, but he did studiously ignore it.
"Now, your command crew. I have never seen such a screwed up grouping of misfits in all my years as a counselor..."
"Ah, ah, ah. Careful, Commander. We can't afford to be labeling those crewmen who are going to save so many lives." the man smirked,
"Even though that's not what they were meant to do."
"Sorry, Sir. It's just that this is one of the strangest mixes of people I've ever had to minister to."
Lestan nodded.
"I understand completely. Believe me, I do."
"It seems most of the command crew have been ostracized for behavior outside of the norm. I believe that when the meat of this situation comes around, I'm really going to have my hands full!"
"Indeed. Behavior outside of the norm?"
"Former Admiral West. Violation of the prime directive. An offense usually found punishable by a complete removal of rank and imprisonment in the stockade. The only reason he didn't get that punishment was because of the nature of the crime."
"That, and calling in a lot of favors. Besides, when the planet found out he was being prosecuted for saving their lives, they threw a fit. I imagine Starfleet command found it rather overwhelming to have an entire planet reading them the riot act." the blond man chuckled, rocking back and forth gently in his seat.
"Then, there is Lieutenant Commander O'Mara."
"Hmmmmm. A brilliant engineer."
"So I understand. But also an incurable dreamer."
"Yes. But I like a person with dreams. One like Galen comes along only rarely. He dreams, yes, but he also has the drive and knowledge to make his dreams become reality. No one else in Starfleet would even try to do the things with the Star Tiger that he's doing."
"But will his flights of fantasy work? I am as trained in the field as any Officer must be in this area; I don't mind telling you, that I'm very skeptical about these... modifications."
Lestan shrugged.
"So am I. But this is his area of expertise, and I am not able to make the situation any better in so short a period of time as we have. Therefore, I must leave it up to the person who has at least a chance. Let us all hope that Mr. O'Mara's dreams become reality."
"Lieutenant Tzardoz, then."
"What of him? He has no direct blight on his record that I saw. He's arguably seen as one of the finest security officers in the fleet."
"He doesn't interact well with humans."
"Your point? Neither did some of the first Andorians or Klingons, or even Vulcans for that matter. It just takes time."
"And a certain finesse of the system that Tzardoz will not learn himself, nor tolerate in others. He sees duty as the end all and be all."
"Yes, and I see him as the strongest link in my chain of command; my, unshakable rock, if you will."
Stronn adjusted her position on the couch, letting the tab of her tunic fall open to reveal the slopes of her ample breasts. Lestan again noticed, but had no visible reaction.
"Lieutenant Selon."
"Another fine example of an officer."
"Intractable. Hard to deal with. Unwillingness to follow orders."
"Certainly, for more often than not the order was, Meet me in my cabin for dinner!'" the Captain argued.
"Like it hasn't happened to anyone before?"
"Such harassment is a very personal thing, Commander. And if you will, I cannot condemn the woman for defending herself. According to her personal reports, she never did any more than refuse these advances. They invariable always resulted in her quick transfer. She's guilty of nothing more than defending her own integrity."
"Alright, what about Dr. Jane Franken. Or shall we just say Doctor Frankenstein?" the Deltan woman sat up straight, as if closing in for the kill. Lestan looked at her blankly.
"That is classified information, Commander. I don't believe you legally had access to it."
"Whether I did or not should really be besides the point. This woman is a direct descendant of a madman, and was herself imprisoned for trying to resurrect his experiments. I cannot help but ask myself what else she may be doing on this ship. What she is experimenting with? Who upon?"
"I hardly think the good doctor will be experimenting upon anyone without their express permission." Lestan said quietly, getting up from the couch and walking to the alcove where his food processor was.
"Can I get you anything, Counselor?"
"A glass of red wine would be wonderful, Captain."
"While on duty? Tsk, tsk Commander." Lestan chided and turned to the replicator. "A glass of Chateau de Brione, nineteen sixty-five. Room temperature."
"Mmmmm. Excellent choice. I didn't know the pattern was available for it! Usually They keep anything that old off the replicator, so the price will stay unbelievably high."
"They did. I bought a bottle and had the thing scanned. Along with many other very expensive, and fine vintages." Lestan smiled and brought her a delicately carved glass of deep red wine. She smiled and accepted it gracefully.
"What about you? Am I going to drink alone?"
The Captain tensed for a moment and smiled.
"My apologies. I am currently on a cleansing fast, so I cannot partake. Rest assured it gives me no offense if you drink in front of me."
The Deltan shrugged, sipping delicately at the wine.
"So," she asked, placing the glass on an end table near her couch,
"How about you, Captain? What mysterious secrets does the blond human possess?"
A dark look passed over Lestan's face as he sat back down on the couch. He knew that his control was eroding, and that if the inquisitive woman stayed much longer, his secret was going to be out. He feigned a daze.
"Captain? Captain are you well?" she asked, leaning forward to touch him gently on the hand. His flesh of course, seemed icy to the touch. She recoiled as he came to himself again.
"I'm sorry, Counselor. I haven't been sleeping very well lately. I fade out every so often. I guess I just need to lay down for a few hours." he lied, getting to his feet.
"Of course." the woman said, standing. "How rude of me. I'll go and leave you to rest."
"No rudeness at all. Perhaps we could continue this conversation at a later time?" Lestan asked politely, as the Deltan moved to the door. A ghostly smile played about her lips as the room door slid open.
"If you play your cards right..." she purred, as the door slid shut behind her.
Lestan waited, til he figured the woman was out of range, before he loosened his mental shields. He sighed wearily, and headed for the bedroom. He didn't want to have to sleep, but realized the necessity now. He couldn't afford to be giving himself away yet. He sincerely hoped he wouldn't have to give himself away at all. Hypnotizing an entire crew into forgetting that their commanding officer was a blood drinking freak, would be a tall order, even for one as old and learned as he was. Silently, he dropped to the bed, passing instantly into oblivion.
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Selon sat in her quarters, in a meditating position. Her eyes were tightly closed, her breathing, slightly elevated from the norm. Lieutenant Selon of Vulcan was as close to being drunk as she had ever been. Mass consumption of alcohol was not one of her people's traits, but one which she had picked up in her time at the Academy. She found
that she was able to interact with even less of her natural inhibition, if she was intoxicated. Unfortunately, she had made a couple of mistakes while in that condition, thereby earning herself a reputation which had followed her around ever since. Currently, the Vulcan woman was trying to relax herself, having become extremely agitated after her conversation with Commander West. It seemed that their commanding officer was something other than human. Selon, may all the ancient Vulcan gods preserve her, believed she knew who, and what he was.
Once, many years ago, when Selon had been a child, her parents had asked her to take part in a childhood right of passage. Spending three days in the hard desert, making your way toward a goal, or finish line. Some children chose to travel in groups, others struck out on their own. Selon had not made many Vulcan friends by this age, and her human ones were not permitted to accompany her on her voyage. She left on her own, and made her way across the torturous miles of barren land. On the second night of her journey, she had been attacked, by one of the large carnivores which still populated the planet. They were so very few, that her instructor had barely even given a thought to them. They considered the chance of meeting one of the animals to be so remote as to be infinitesimal. Selon's luck was good. Or bad, depending upon your viewpoint. The creature was huge, vaguely catlike, with more than a little touch of reptile thrown in. It's bite, she knew, was incredibly poisonous. She knew she was not fast enough to run away, nor strong enough to fight. Not as an eight year old child. Instead, she sat down in the sand, and began to cry, waiting for the beast to devour her. When it roared, she had believed it to be the end of her short life. But there was the sound of a struggle. She opened her eyes to a sight, which til this time, the trauma had blocked from her mind. A humanoid man battled the great creature. His clothes were rent, blood streaming from wounds no one could possible survive. But he tossed the creature back, as if it were a kit, and leapt at its throat. The great beast wailed, as the man sunk his teeth into the creature's neck, and suddenly, fell silent. It sank to the ground and lay still, til the man finally pull his mouth away from the great, scaly neck, and staggered back. He turned to Selon, and looked at the child, sitting there mute. She felt herself probed by a telepathic mind of immeasurable power. His blond hair was streaked with his own, and the creature's blood. He limped slightly, as he drew near her. Even in the darkness, she could see the incredible glow his eyes seemed to give off. He seemed as a god. Selon noted, that even as she looked at him, the wounds on his body were closing themselves. His limp was lessening as he approached. Gently, he reached down and picked her up. He cradled her in his arms, which felt to the Vulcan child, like ice, though she herself had never seen the phenomenon. He spoke Vulcan badly, with an accent she didn't recognize.
"Child, what are you doing out on the hard desert at night?!" he asked, softly.
"Rite of passage." she mumbled, as his hypnotic gaze bored into her.
"Ah. Then you are headed across..."
"Yes. I am already behind."
The man/thing smiled (for she had already decided, that whatever the being was, it was only masquerading as a living thing), and looked to the sky.
"Well, little one, perhaps I can help. You sleep. When you awaken, you will be much closer to your destination."
"But I'm supposed to have no help! I will have failed the test!" Her voice rose to a wail.
"Hmmmm." he said gravely, "Well, I guess I will have to alter your memory so you don't remember me then. Then, you will not have been helped."
"That doesn't sound right." the girl had mumbled, starting to fall again into sleep.
"No, it doesn't, now does it?" the thing grinned and leapt into the sky. After that, the images were vague and fuzzy. Still, when she awoke the next morning, she did not remember the night before, only a high speed crossing of the desert, and eluding a great danger. She finished considerably ahead of the other children who had rejected her from their traveling groups. Now, as a woman of twenty-eight, she could finally put a name to the face that had helped her twenty years before. Without a doubt, it had been Lestan Darkraven. He had looked as young then, as he did now. She did not know, or understand what the man was, but she knew that she owed him a life. It was a debt, once remembered, that she would not forget.