"Where were you this afternoon?"

Katlin sighed as she pulled the headdress from her hair. "I'm tired, Commander," she said, handing the headpiece to a waiting maidservant. They had retired to her suite of private rooms for the night. "And I'd like a bath," she said to another maid, who bowed and scuttled away.

"Ensign Pierce, I asked you a question."

"I was with the Prince, ok? I was thirsty, we had a drink."

"A drink?"

"Not alcohol!" Katlin said. "Just like, I dunno, juice or something."

"You were alone with the Prince?"

"No! There were servants and –"

"Ensign Pierce, we agreed that I would know where you are at ALL times –"

"Nothing happened!" Katlin wailed.

"That doesn't matter!" Riker snapped. "Do you even begin to realize the seriousness of this situation? The impropriety of your actions? This is conduct unbecoming an officer and I think we had better have a serious discussion about your commission."

"What? No! How –" Katlin sputtered. "You can't!"

"If you continue to disobey direct orders –"

Katlin sniffed. "Commander Riker, I had no choice, he's the prince and I-"

"Oh, a prince."

"This isn't my fault!" Katlin stomped her foot and picked up her skirts. "I didn't ask for this. I'm going to have a bath."

"Don't you walk away from me, young lady."

"Queen of all Creation," Katlin called back, sarcastically, and kicked open the doors to the baths.

Despite a warm and fragrant bath and a truly impressive menagerie of soft pillows, Katlin found it hard to sleep that night. She rolled to her other side, punched a pillow, and tried to bury her head. Would she really lose her Starfleet commission over this? After she told the prince she couldn't stay? She flopped back with an exasperated sigh. Oh well, at least tomorrow was the last day. Then things would get back to normal.

A slow creak broke the silence of her thoughts. Katlin lifted herself on to one elbow and peered through the darkness towards her door. It creaked again, a little louder. "Hello?"

There was no answer, but through the soft light of the now open doorway, Katlin could see the outline of a man. "Commander Riker?"

The man didn't answer, but took a step closer.

"Your highness?" Katlin sat up straighter, pulling the bedclothes up to her chin. Another step forward and the light from her bedside lamp illuminated his face. It was dark, wild, unfamiliar. He raised a knife.

Katlin screamed and scrambled backwards. The knife whistled through the air and plunged into the mattress, missing her flailing feet by inches. Katlin screamed again and again, as the assailant lunged and slashed at her. She tried to grab at the knife and felt it slice at her hands, her forearms.

Guards burst into her room and the attacker was grabbed from behind, wrestled to the ground. He was screaming in the native language, in a high-pitched, crazed voice.

Riker appeared in the door, disheveled and wide-eyed. "The hell is-" He took in the screaming assassin, the struggling guards, and Katlin, now standing beside the bed and cradling a bloodied hand. He crossed the room in two great strides and took Katlin's hands in his own. "What happened?" He flipped her wrist over to inspect the long gash on her arm.

"I don't know," Katlin said, her voice shaking. "He just burst in and starting swinging a kn-kni-knife." She shuddered.

The guards dragged the still screaming assassin from the room. A flurry of handmaidens peered apprehensively through the open doorway. One screamed at the sight of Katlin, whose bloodied arm was beginning to drip. "A medic," Riker snapped at one of them. "A doctor. Go." She ran to obey.

"I'm ok," Katlin said, dabbing at the cut with the sleeve of her nightgown. "Just a –"

The prince thrust his way into the room. "Katlin!" He was breathing heavily, as if he had come at a run. "Are you hurt, are you bleeding?" He saw her cradling her arm. "Damn it, girl, what have you done?" He started towards her, but Riker put an arm out to keep him back. The prince checked.

"She needs a doctor," Riker said.

"Of course," the prince said, seeming to recall himself. "Are you badly hurt?"

"Just scratched," Katlin insisted, cradling her arm to herself. The room spun a little. "Can I have a –" she started to ask, before the room went dark.

Katlin woke to the sound of her fireplace crackling. Someone had placed her on the sofa and covered her with a blanket. She sat up, wincing at the pain in her hands. They were bound in clean, white bandages.

"Awake?" Riker asked gently. "Here, let me see." He took her hands and checked the bandages.

Katlin started to sniffle.

"Now, don't do that," Riker said, and Katlin responded by bursting into tears. "Oh, calm down." He sat beside her. "We'll get you out of here tomorrow." Katlin nodded, still sobbing. "Listen, it's ok. Stop crying. Here. Come here." He pulled her into a hug and patted her back stiffly. Katlin buried her face in his shoulder, hiccupping. "Ah, damn," Riker said. "I never should have agreed to let you do this. We'll call it quits tomorrow." He rocked Katlin as she calmed, and slowly drifted back to sleep. The fireplace crackled, a log snapped, and the embers glowed as the flames died. Through the windowpane, a small yellow sun began to rise. Riker sighed. Five minute nap, he told himself, and sunk back into the sofa.