Katlin shifted from one foot to the other. The entire reconvened senior staff was seated at the conference table, leaving her to stand at the back, hands clasped behind her back, waiting. Picard frowned as they watched the video for the third time. No one spoke.

Picard broke the silence. "Commander Worf?"

Worf's upper lip curled, and he drew a short snort of breath. "The Angel is a Klingon… horror story. It's rumored that the Angel haunts Klingon warships, and," Worf sneered, "grants wishes."

"So Klingons are afraid of... wishes coming true?" Geordi asked.

"Klingons are not afraid of anything!" Worf turned his snarling gaze to Geordi. "But yes, a wish granted is the height of dishonor."

"I believe we Earthlings have a similar superstition," Picard said. "Be careful what you wish for."

Worf cleared his throat, a tactic he'd learned from Riker. "It is possible that the Klingon delegation believes the crash was the result of 'the Angel.' It would explain why they insisted on Lieutenant Pierce."

There was an uncomfortable silence. Katlin glanced around, trying unsuccessfully to catch a senior officer's eyes.

Worf glanced at Picard, who gave a small assenting nod.

"The Klingon delegation accessed our personnel records through a subspace relay attack. We detected the infiltration immediately but thought it unwise to provoke the delegation by objecting to the breach. Instead, we monitored their activities. They accessed the personal and medical records for the crew and determined... or rather, assumed... that," Worf paused, then plowed forward uncomfortably. "It is said that the Angel can be appeased with a sacrifice." Worf's gaze turned up and away. "Of a maiden," he added, under his breath.

"Sir?" Katlin asked, unsure she'd heard the security officer correctly.

Riker glared at the conference table, blowing out a long, silent breath through gritted teeth.

"An outdated view of unmarried women," Picard said quietly.

Katlin felt a blush racing up her neck. "I'm not the only unmarried woman on the ship," she pointed out. She swallowed.

"No," Picard agreed. "From what we can tell, the Klingon delegation selected a number of acceptable ... candidates. We were suspicious from the start when the Klingon crew insisted on particular crew members. It may be that one of the delegation tried to warn you, Lieutenant Pierce, that you were an intended as a sacrifice."

"The Angel is pure superstition," Worf insisted. "A child's tale, a boogeyman."

"Nevertheless, something is responsible for the crash of this starship, and the delegation has been less than forthcoming. The mythical "Angel" could be a cover for a covert, or even illegal, operation."

"I want her off the team," Riker spat.

Katlin stared. Riker didn't meet her eyes, glaring at the Captain instead.

"We knew from the start there was an ulterior motive-"

"So we just throw her in the volcano, then?"

"Commander Riker," Picard said. "We knew there was subterfuge in the Klingon's request, which is exactly why we acquiesced to Lieutenant Pierce's inclusion over any of the other names put forward. We are hard pressed as it is to even mount a rescue and reconnoissance, given the Klingon's reluctance. The decision is final. Mr. Worf, please take your away team for outfitting. Dismissed."

As they left, Katlin fell into place behind Worf, shoulder to shoulder with Riker. "You want to tell me what that was about?" she muttered at the first officer.

"You know damn well what this is about. Your ego."

"Excuse me, my ego? I didn't ask for this mission."

"And you didn't turn it down either, did you, Pierce?"

"No. Because I'm a fine officer and everyone else knows that, except apparently for you."

"Pierce, haven't we been here before? On Lohrmorrain?"

"That's not fair."

Riker glared at her. "Pierce, you died on that mission."

Katlin stared back, unable to mount a defense.

"You were dead because we violated the Prime Directive. And you seem hell bent on doing it again."

"This has nothing to do with the Prime Directive."

"No, you're right, it has everything to do with thinking that despite a parade of red flags, the best plan is to ignore them all and plunge in blind."

"Funny how Captain Picard thinks that's the best plan as well." Katlin hissed. "Are you going to be able to work with me on this mission, or not?"

They passed an alcove, and Riker steered her in, allowing the rest of the officers to pass.

"Pierce," he said quietly, "In case you weren't reading between the lines back there, the Klingons are demanding a virgin sacrifice."

"Yes, I caught that much," Pierce said, feeling the blush race up her neck again.

"Whether you… the only thing that matters is the intended sacrifice. We could be walking into a trap. Or sabotage. And it's your neck on the line."

"Yes. Yes it is. I didn't join Starfleet to stay tucked away safe in my cabin. And if it's not my life on the line, it's someone else's."

I'd rather it was, Riker thought. He gathered himself.

"Fine. But remember I'm your senior officer down there. I expect you to follow orders."

Katlin mustered her most neutral tone. "Sir, yes sir."

"Hm." He searched her eyes for a moment.

Katlin dropped the reverence. "Riker, I promise."

"Alright. Let's go."

Riker was having the nightmare again. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe, and she was screaming. "Riker, unlock this door!" He could hear Katlin pounding on the wood paneling. "Riker!" He closed his eyes, praying she would leave. They would kill her. "Riker!" They were going to kill her. "William!"

He wrenched himself out of his dream, panting. He sat upright, ran his hands over his face. It had been a while since he had had that particular nightmare, he supposed it was due.

"Computer," he said quietly, into the darkness. "Location of Lieutenant Pierce."

"Privacy restrictions prevent-"

"First Officer's override, Riker, William T."

"Lieutenant Pierce is currently in cabin 4483."

A jolt ran through him. That's not her cabin. "Computer, who is assigned to cabin 4483?"

"Cabin 4483 is occupied by Lieutenant Michael Emory."

Riker grunted. The science officer. Hadn't he seen Katlin and Emory together lately? He supposed they were dating. But what was she doing out of her own quarters, this late, the night before an away mission, with that skinny slip of a science officer? Disqualifying herself as a sacrifice?

Riker fell back against the bed. Jealous? the honest part of him asked. Riker closed his eyes. He thought he'd managed to put a lid on those particular desires after his miserable conduct on Yvestalta. Christ, he never would have made a pass at her if he'd known -

His PADD flashed. Incoming message. Internal. Dr. Thesius.

He flipped the PADD facedown on the bedside table, irritated, and irritated at his own irritation. Only days ago the good doctor had been alluring, inviting. Now it felt like swiping at a mosquito. He'd have to tell her he wasn't interested. Tomorrow.

He rolled over to wait for sleep. It never came.

The hallways were silent with the predawn of a Starship. Katlin hefted her away pack more comfortably on her shoulders. The icy deep of the crevasse meant cold weather fatigues, lined with heavy leather and synthetic fur. In the ambient temperature of the ship, Katlin was sweating. She turned a corner towards the transporter room, to find herself face to face with a red-eyed Dr. Thesius.

"Oh, Lieutenant Pierce! You're on the away team, aren't you?"

"Yes, yes I am," Katlin said, trying to sidle around the doctor. "If you'll excuse me, I'm almost late for -"

"Please, can you do me a favor?"

"Uhm."

"Can you give this to Commander Riker?" She dangled a golden chain with a small compass, a necklace. "I've programmed it to always point back to my combadge." She smiled, in a small, tense way. "That way he can always find his way back to me."

"Uhh," Katlin fought to keep her distate from registering on her face. "Yeah, I guess. Why don't you give it to him yourself?"

"I kept ringing his doorbell but he never answered. You don't think he's avoiding me, do you?"

"No, I'm sure not," Katlin took the necklace and put it in her pocket. "I'll see that he gets it."

"Thank you." Doctor Thesius flung her arms around Katlin, and Katlin patted the taller woman's back with a stiff hand.

"Don't mention it."

Doctor Thesius straightened with a sniff. "Be safe, all of you."

"We will. We always are."

Doctor Thesius gave her shoulder a squeeze and continued on her way.

Katlin watched her turn the corner before giving her pack a shake and walking towards the transporter room. By the time she got there, the rest of the away team - Worf, Data, Riker, and two medical officers, Dr. Stevens and Dr. Jason - were ready and waiting.

Katlin sidled up to Riker. He looked stormy, disheveled. Had he slept?

"Err," Katlin said. "I just ran into Dr. Thesius and she wanted -"

Riker kept staring forward. "You have no idea what Dr. Thesius wanted."

"Whoa," Katlin said, startled at the tone.

"And I'll thank you to stay out of my personal life."

Testy, Katlin thought to herself. Fine. No necklace for you. She arranged her voice into something resembling deference. "Sorry, sir."

"Before we beam down," Worf hefted a large black suitcase on to a table, without meeting their eyes. He looked silently at the suitcase.

Was he embarrassed?

After a tense silence, Worf flipped it open. "These," he said, "are replica 9th era Klingon revolvers."

Katlin stared at the antique - well, replica antique - Klingon weaponry. They were remarkably what she would imagine 'old-timey' wild west pistols would look like, with dark wooden handles and burnished barrels decorated with ornate silver filigree.

Worf continued. "Eight rounds." He picked one up, opened the barrel to show it was loaded, and slapped it back into place. "Antique, but deadly." He turned his back but kept the weapon visible, pointing away from the rest of the team. "Safety off, like so." He demonstrated. "Cock the hammer," he paused. "And fire." Without firing, he lowered the gun and flipped the safety back on.

"Why would we need these, Worf?" Riker asked.

Worf kept his back turned. "These fire silver bullets."

"Silver bullets?" Katlin asked.

Worf finally turned to face them. "The Angel isn't real. But cowards can wear a monster's mask, and a monster's vice." He paused. "It would be foolish to ignore the wisdom of our ancestors."

He handed Katlin a revolver. She hefted the weight of it in her hand. Heavier than a phaser. Much more ominous.

"The bullets, Worf?" Riker prompted.

Worf growled. "Silver bullets kill Angels."