The First Sacred Duty

by Seacook

An attacked alien vessel sends out a distress signal; when the Enterprise crew tries to help they are mistaken for the attackers. "From his place in the Weapons Room Thelik listened to them while staring numbly at the image of the crippled scout ship on the screen before him, finally at the end of his tether..."

10. Chapter 10

Author's note: When used in reference to the beverage, "skahlah" is pronounced pretty much as spelled, with emphasis on the first syllable; SKAH-lah. Also used as an enthusiastic toast when drinking, similar to "skoll", "salud", "kanpai", or "cheers"—in those instances emphasis is on the last syllable, and the vowel sound in the first syllable is usually left out (especially after the first few rounds); "sk'LAH!".

As to what skahlah is, in terms of potency I think of it as Klingon Blood Wine meets Andorian Brandy meets Everclear (an extremely potent, flavorless grain alcohol suitable, I have heard, for making highly flammable jello shots. Or for cleaning engine parts and stripping varnish from furniture. For those old enough to remember carburetors, I have also heard of it being used in place of automotive starter fluid. Weaker Everclear is 150 proof, stronger is 190 proof...imbibe at your own risk.)

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He'd have given almost anything to take a shower. Phlox's assurances that the cast was waterproof had tempted him sorely, but the reality was that his right hand would be all but useless in the shower. Hell, it seemed all but useless outside the shower.

Instead, while waiting to hear back from Ensign Sato, he'd settled for giving himself a quick scrubbing with a wet washcloth then set about washing his hair. The dry shampoo Phlox had provided had proved easy enough to use—spray on liberally, scrub thoroughly, towel off, then use a comb or brush as usual—and had helped remove most of the stiffness and stench. At least in that endeavor his injured hand had been slightly useful. Asking much more of it, though, would have been futile.

Now seated nervously at his desk he rubbed his good hand tiredly over his face before running his fingers nervously through his hair, dreading the impending conversation with the Berringtons. In the interests of propriety he'd forced himself into a uniform so that he would look presentable when he spoke with David's grandparents. Now his left hand pestered nervously at the front of his collar. Maybe he'd be lucky and Hoshi wouldn't be able to make the connections—then he could promptly return to Sickbay and see if their large, furry guest had kept his promise to behave himself.

Staring at the viewscreen on his desk Malcolm tried to gather his thoughts. The last time her face had been on that screen, when she was concerned about David's mental well-being, Colleen McIntyre-Berrington had looked all but ready to kill him. He could only imagine what she'd want to do to him when she found out he'd almost gotten her grandson killed; Malcolm felt sure that his first encounter with a G'l Benai warrior would pale in comparison to what awaited him now. On the plus side, Phlox had allowed him to return to his quarters to contact Saunders' family, so whatever verbal carnage David's grandmother unleashed would at least be done in private. Her words echoed through his mind: "if anything happens ta him out there I'll be holdin' you to account fer it."

He almost jumped out of the chair when Hoshi commed him to tell him that she'd established contact with the Berringtons. "Thank you, Ensign," he acknowledged, his voice still husky from his earlier screaming bouts. "Put them through, please." He took a deep breath to steel himself, exhaling slowly just before Admiral Edward Berrington and his wife appeared on the screen, both wearing nightclothes and robes, standing in front of a large couch. Under better circumstances Malcolm might have been able to enjoy the turnabout of his having roused Mrs. McIntire-Berrington in the middle of the night.

Colleen, clinging to her husband's arm, looked far more pale and frail than she had during their last conversation, and the Admiral's eyes showed that he, too, strongly suspected what was to come. "Good evening, young man," the tall, slender, silver-haired gentleman greeted him with an officer's formality, jaw firm and words clipped as he spoke. Seeing the strain on Malcolm's face he relaxed slightly and tried to lighten the atmosphere. "You're Stuart and Mary Reed's boy Malcolm, aren't you…Lieutenant now, isn't it?"

"Yes to both, Admiral Berrington, sir," Malcolm acknowledged uncomfortably as he straightened in his chair.

That brought a faint but sincere smile to the man's lips. "At ease, son. I've not been an admiral for quite some time. 'Edward' will suffice, 'Mr. Berrington' or 'sir' if you insist upon being more formal."

He couldn't see himself being on a first-name basis with the retired officer—there was probably a better chance of him calling his own parents 'Mary' and 'Stuart'—so he silently settled upon calling the former admiral 'sir'. Malcolm's attention shifted to Colleen, who was obviously struggling to keep her composure. She looked about to shatter. "I apologize for the lateness of the hour," he began, "but there's been…an incident involving your grandson." Mrs. Berrington's breath caught as she tightened her grip on her husband's arm, and Malcolm hurried to put them at ease. "First you should know that David is recuperating, and the doctor expects he'll make a full recovery." It was encouraging to see relief flooding over the elderly couple. "I know you would have been notified soon, either by Captain Archer or Starfleet, but I felt I should be the one to let you know what had happened as well as what your grandson did. He saved my life.

"We were responding to a distress call and boarded what we thought to be an abandoned vessel. I had David come over because it was necessary to rappel down one of their turbolift shafts and he's our best climber. While searching the ship we encountered a survivor. Unfortunately he mistook us for the people who had attacked them, and he was somewhat less than pleased by our presence. He came at us, and…David was…" Malcolm faltered for an instant. "I was injured in the encounter and the alien was heading toward me to finish the job. David intervened. He was trying to keep our assailant away from me when the alien attacked him. His injuries were…severe." He fell silent, awaiting the explosion from David's grandmother. It never came.

Edward guided her as Colleen sank numbly onto the couch then settled in beside her, holding her tightly against his slender frame as she moaned softly and clung to him. "It's going to be all right, luv," he softly assured her as she buried her head in his shoulder, stroking her hair. "He's a strong lad…almost as strong as his grandmother." He turned worried eyes back to Malcolm while gently rubbing his wife's back. "When we realized who was calling…well…I was in the service…I know that a late-night call to the family from a ranking officer seldom bodes well, so we rather expected that something had gone awry. Had to make one or two of those calls myself in my time. Never an easy task." He looked to Colleen then back to Reed. "You did say he's on the mend?"

"Yes sir. When I left Sickbay he was still unconscious, but our ship's doctor is taking excellent care of him. He seems pleased with David's recovery thusfar and though it will take a bit of time, Dr. Phlox feels his condition will continue to improve."

"How bad is it really?" Colleen interrupted meekly as she raised her head. She fixed pale, beseeching blue eyes on Malcolm. "What kinda injuries are we talkin' about here? I've seen my grandson after he's been in a row, an' it was never serious enough to warrant a call t' the next a' kin. What did this alien person…do to him?"

Oh god. He blanched as images of the incident flashed through his mind. "Mrs. Berrington…ma'am…I, umm, I'm not sure…" Even his hesitation didn't rouse the woman to anger: she simply sat quietly, eyes pleading expectantly for an answer. Malcolm finally forged ahead. " I must confess that I'm a bit fuzzy on some of the details, but David suffered several injuries in the initial attack—cracked ribs, broken nose, a mild concussion, I think a few other things. Further into the fray he tried to keep our attacker away from me and, um…the alien we encountered is humanoid, but with decidedly feline features, and he…well…he bit Mr. Saunders."

That stirred a response from Mrs. Berrington, though not an angry one. "So yer sayin' my grandson got himself bit by some sorta intergalactic cat?" she asked in disbelief. Edward draped a protective arm around her.

"A bit more than a cat, ma'am," Malcolm explained gently. "His people are a good deal larger and stronger than humans. When he went after David he…he went for the throat. Fortunately his aim was off, and though the damage was severe Mr. Saunders survived. It'll likely to be a little while before he's able to talk again—"

"Oh Edward," Colleen moaned, clutching her husband's arm. "His voice. His beautiful voice. I don't think I could bear never hearin' his voice again, never hearin' him sing again." She turned her gaze back to Malcolm. "He's always had a lovely singin' voice...he's supposed ta sing at his sister's wedding. Molly's waitin' fer his next leave so he kin be here."

Malcolm hastened to offer hope. "The doctor didn't say that his voice had been permanently damaged, ma'am. The injuries appear to be more to the left side of the throat rather than straight on…I can check with Dr. Phlox about any damage to his vocal cords and we will certainly keep you posted as to your grandson's progress."

They both nodded gratefully, at a loss for words. Bolstered by Malcolm's reassurances Colleen finally broke the silence. "What about you?" she asked tenderly. "Are ya all right?"

"Beg pardon?" the stunned lieutenant asked in reply.

A tiny smile lit Colleen's face and her voice became that of the woman under the desk at that long-ago party. "I wanna know if yer all right—ya said you'd been hurt, too."

"Oh…oh, yes. Yes, thank you. I'm doing fairly well, thanks to your grandson. Just a little sore, and a bit tired at the moment."

"Mum…Dad?" A woman's pleasant, puzzled voice tinted with Edward's accent came from somewhere in the Berrington's home, growing louder as she approached. "Is everything all right? Who in the world are you talking to at this hour?" Malcolm started as she walked up behind the couch and into his line of sight; aside from the slender build she'd inherited from her father she was a taller version of the Colleen he had met in childhood.

Mr. Berrington stood quickly and went to her side. "Maureen…this is—"

"Star Fleet," she finished in a frightened whisper, eyes gone wide with fear. "Oh my dear god…Star Fleet. David."

Edward maneuvered her around the couch and settled her next to Colleen. "He's alive, Maureen. He's been injured…but he's recuperating." Slipping behind the couch he rubbed her shoulder reassuringly. "Lt. Reed, his commanding officer, contacted us to let us know what happened. I thought you were asleep or I would have fetched you when I found out who was calling. I know you and Molly were both tired from the long trip here."

"I was asleep," she replied faintly, eyes never leaving Malcolm, "but I heard your voices, and I know it's out of the ordinary for you to be up so late chatting on the commlink. You're Lt. Reed?"

"Yes ma'am. I apologize for not contacting you directly, but David's records only gave your parents as a contact." Left unsaid was the fact that David's records also specifically barred contacting his father.

Maureen nodded absently. "Molly and I do quite a bit of traveling and sometimes we're a bit difficult to track down, so we agreed when David left that Mum and Dad would be our go-betweens. We're here now because we wanted to be together for Molly's birthday later this week." She stared nervously at Reed. "What…what's happened to my son?"

Colleen wrapped a comforting arm around her daughter's shoulder. "Mr. Reed was just telling us that they encountered some sorta alien cat-fella who was feelin' a bit aggressive toward them," she said softly. "David tried ta keep him away from the lieutenant an' got hurt, but the ship's doctor is gonna get him mended in no time...isn't that right, young man?" She looked at Malcolm, silently begging for confirmation.

Reed did his best to oblige. "Doctor Phlox is the finest there is. If he says David will make a full recover then I have no doubt that Mr. Saunders will do precisely that."

Closing her eyes and nodding, Maureen took a deep steadying breath and exhaled slowly, then looked again at the lieutenant. He saw a glint of steel in her eyes that hadn't been there before. "May I ask what became of this...'alien cat-fella'?"

"He's in Sickbay, ma'am. I explained to your parents earlier that we'd boarded his ship in response to a distress call...he mistook us for the ones that attacked his ship, so he attacked us. He was the only one left on board, and he was injured, so he was brought aboard Enterprise to receive medical attention."

"Aboard Enterprise," she repeated slowly, rising from the couch, "for medical attention. The man, the...the creature that attacked my David is now in Sickbay with him? Whose fecking brilliant idea was that?!" Her eyes shone with fire and brimstone; Maureen was, it seemed, every bit her mother's daughter. "Why wasn't the bloody thing killed, or better yet left to die where you found it?!"

"Mother!" A shocked voice came from behind the Berringtons. Molly, looking for all the world like a younger, female version of her grandfather, stepped forward and stood behind her grandparents, aghast at her mother's suggestions. "How could you even think such a thing?"

"Because that thing tried to kill my son!" Maureen shot back as she spun to face her daughter. "They were trying to help and that thing tried to kill them for their trouble! What would you suggest, inviting the bloody monster for afternoon tea?"

"That mightn't be a bad start. Hello, Lt. Reed," she finally addressed the screen directly. "I'm David's sister, Molly. He's told me so much about you in his letters I almost feel that I know you. If I might ask a few questions? A person can only glean so much information from eavesdropping, after all."

"Of course, ma'am," Malcolm nodded, grateful for the reprieve from Maureen's wrath.

"Good...now, I know you're in charge of ship's security, and you've said that this alien is presently in Sickbay, correct?"

"Yes ma'am," Reed nodded.

"And are you presently in Sickbay as well?"

"I'm in my quarters, but I'll be heading back before too long. The doctor only cleared me for a brief stint out of his line of sight." He stole the briefest glance at Mr. Berrington; the admiral, it seemed, had decided to leave the conversation in his granddaughter's capable hands.

"The lieutenant was injured, too," Colleen explained, garnering a thoughtful nod from her granddaughter.

"So, you must have left several guards in Sickbay to watch the alien in your absence, correct?" she asked as she came around the couch and sat her mother down, her interrogator's gaze never leaving the screen as she perched on the arm of the sofa.

Malcolm fidgeted slightly in his seat. This young woman not only looked like her grandfather, she carried herself with the same formal bearing of an admiral. "Actually...no ma'am."

"How many guards, then?"

"None."

Crossing her arms Molly pondered that a moment. "No guards, and the alien is in Sickbay rather than the Brig. Well, that can mean only one of two things. Either you are a far more careless, incompetent security chief than my brother has lead me to believe...or you do not currently deem this alien to be an immediate threat to those around him. Now, since my brother would never gloss over the blatant ineptitude of fellow security personnel—not even a superior officer—I must assume that you are neither careless nor incompetent. So, you don't think this fellow's going to start running about trying to kill people while he's there?"

"I believe it's highly doubtful, ma'am. Once he realized that we weren't the ones who'd attacked his people he genuinely regretted what he'd done. He's issued a formal apology to us, and that apology has been accepted."

Molly sighed thoughtfully, relaxing the tiniest bit before speaking again. "I think you should know that there is a very big part of me that would very much enjoy having five minutes alone with the person that hurt my brother. It would, I'm sure, be most satisfying to at the very least slap him senseless. And if I thought doing so would speed my brother's recovery I'd certainly give it a go. But doing so wouldn't help you, it wouldn't help us," she shot a glance at her mother before adding, "and it won't help David. I heard you say the chap you found was injured, and you said his ship had been attacked, so I would think that at the very least he was angry and perhaps even disoriented when you found him?"

"Most definitely angry, yes, and grieving the loss of friends and family. Their attackers were apparently humans so when he found us traipsing about their ship he was quite unamused. As I said, though, he has apologized for his actions."

Maureen's eyes crackled with anger. "And that makes it all better, does it?" she snapped bitterly. "He almost kills my boy, and all he has to do is say 'Oops, sorry about that' and that's the end of it?"

"Mother," Molly whispered in a warning tone.

"Madam," Malcolm ventured politely but firmly, "we don't know quite as much about these people as I would like, but I can tell you that his apology entailed a bit more than a simple 'oops'. From what he's told us, when one of them commits a crime they're supposed to give themselves over to the wronged party for punishment. As far as he's concerned that's what he did—committed a crime against us, and a most grievous one at that. In order to prove his remorse and restore his honor he offered his life to me. Literally. He knelt in front of me and requested that I execute him. That was enough proof of sincerity for me.

"I certainly don't intend to give him free run of the ship, and I can't say I entirely trust him just yet—there's still too much that we don't know about his people's way of doing things for that—but he has promised to conduct himself honorably while here, and I do believe he intends to do precisely that. It's the captain's intention to get this man reunited with his people as soon as possible, so with any luck we'll have that done in short order and be on our way." He paused, concerned about whether he'd given too much information. Maybe one of the side effects of the alien drug was a severe case of running off at the mouth...

Colleen perked up at that. "Well...can'tcha just put him back on his ship and send him on his way?"

"I'm afraid it's not quite that simple. Their ship is presently unlivable. Plus, the captain is concerned about the prospect of future hostilities with these people. The attack on their ship was for all intents and purposes an act of war as far as they're concerned, so any other humans they encounter will be considered fair game. Captain Archer is hoping that by helping this man we'll be able to avert any further bloodshed or future retaliation against any other humans they encounter."

"Sounds like a reasonable plan," Edward stated, "provided these aliens are reasonable as well." Falling back on his training, he straightened to attention. "Since it's possible that much of this information has not yet found itself to Starfleet Command, and probably isn't yet meant for the general public, would it be safe to assume that the details of this alien encounter should be held in confidence for the time being?"

"That would be very much appreciated, sir," Reed nodded, breathing a silent sigh of relief at the admiral's insight.

Edward returned the nod. "Of course." Looking down at the women in front of him, he slipped back into civilian mode as much as possible. "Ladies, since there's naught to be done from here, I suppose the only thing to do is return to bed and trust that we will be kept abreast of David's recovery." The three Berrington women sat immobile, prompting Edward to bend toward them. "You all know as well as I that David won't want us moping about. You two," he perched protective hands on Molly and Maureen, "have had a long day, plus you, Molly, have a fiancée arriving tomorrow morning, and I know the lot of you were planning a shopping excursion after lunch. If you ladies don't get some rest you'll be in no shape to do much of anything, now, will you?"

The two younger women rose grudgingly but Colleen stayed seated, staring absently at the viewscreen. "You three go on ahead...I'll be along shortly. I need to speak with Mr. Reed about a coupla things."

"Colleen," Edward said softly as he bent over her, "I thought we discussed this already." He glanced at Reed as if simultaneously begging his indulgence and forgiveness, and Malcolm saw it in his eyes: the admiral's wife had been true to her word and had told her husband about her call to the ship, and apparently hadn't left anything out.

Meeting Edward's gaze she reached up and lovingly patted her husband's face. "You worry too much, dear. I just have a few questions for the lad, and a small favor to ask, that's all." Seeing doubt on the man's face she smiled gently. "I promise I'll be good," she whispered before waving a dismissive hand to shoo him and the others away. "Run along now," she addressed them all. Seeing the girls hesitate she chuckled. "You heard me—off ta bed with ya. Edward's right, we've had a busy day and we've got another one on the way. I'll turn in after I have a little word with the lieutenant."

Malcolm's stomach flipped as he watched them leave the room, and he braced himself for the elder Berrington woman's wrath. She'd apparently held herself in check while the family was present, but now that they were gone and she'd had a chance to recoup he would be at her mercy. 'Here it comes...'

Settling back on the couch, Colleen silently studied him a long moment then sighed. "You look as old and tired as I am," she observed quietly. "Are ya sure yer alright?"

"Umm," he hesitated uncertainly. "Are you?" he blurted, catching himself too late. "I mean..."

Mrs. Berrington chuckled softly. "I suppose so, all points considered...though Edward no doubt thinks I'm castratin' ya over subspace—again." She smiled wistfully at the young man. "Got a few more letters from David...sounds like you made things right after all. I'm glad. He really adores workin' for ya, y'know." Her smile faded as she straightened her back. "Right, then, on to business. I don't want this taken the wrong way, mind ya—I don't regret for an instant standin' up fer David—but I suppose it's possible I went a tad overboard the last time we spoke, and for that I do apologize. Shouldn'ta let my emotions get away from me like that, I know, and lord knows I try to keep my temper in check, but sometimes it's damned hard to keep a tight rein on it. Especially where my David is concerned. You no doubt noticed that Maureen has inherited a wee bit of my temperament, god have mercy on us all. But there's somethin' you should probably know...there's a reason we get all fired up and protective of the boy.

"Y'see," she continued softly, "David had two older brothers, James Patrick and Michael Ian...they were lovely boys." Colleen paused, gathering herself. "They died in accidents, both of 'em. James was drivin' some sorta antique motorbike-thingie in a race and had a wreck, an' a few years after that Michael was off climbin' with David an' some friends...they saw him fall, but they were powerless to help. All they could do was watch him die. 'Twas bad enough for Maureen losin' one boy, but ta lose two...no parent should outlive their children, though it does happen far too often. I don't know how she endured it...I know I barely held on myself. I'm not sure she could survive losin' another child, and I'm certain I couldn't bear losing another grandchild. I know Maureen's husband didn't bear up very well under the strain...I suspect that's why he got to be as miserable as he was. Not that he was the warm an' cuddly sort ta begin with, mind ya, but he got so much worse after Michael..." She paused to regain her composure. "I figure Molly we can keep an eye on, keep her as safe as fate will allow, but with David, well, we hafta trust his wellbeing to others now, don't we?"

"Yes, ma'am," Malcolm nodded, "though I'm sure it's not easy."

"Indeed not." They silently regarded one another for a minute before Colleen spoke again. "I do have a tiny favor to ask. Nothin' too difficult, or at least I hope it isn't."

"Of course...anything I can do to help."

"It's just that, not long ago, we sent a little something to David. Just some photo and video files for him to download...we've been goin' through the family albums and found a few that we thought he'd enjoy while he's away. Plus a few more recent ones, ta help keep him up ta date on things here. Th' thing is, I don't know if he's gotten them yet...perhaps you could find out if they arrived, see that he gets them?"

Malcolm nodded. "No problem at all. I'd be happy to check into it for you."

"There's no hurry—if you'll pardon my sayin' you look like you need to get a good night's sleep before ya do much of anythin' else. If yer gonna be keepin' my grandson outta trouble out there you need to be takin' care of yerself so's you'll be in top form. And speakin' of sleep," she continued as she stood, "I'd best be gettin' some, too. B'sides," she smiled, "Edward's no doubt standin' just outside the room in case he needs ta rescue ya from me, an' he should be gettin' ta bed, too." She grew somber, her soulful eyes shining. "Thank you for callin' ta tell us what happened...and please do take care of yerself. I'm worried aboutcha."

"Nothing to worry about, ma'am," Malcolm smiled softly at her, "though I do appreciate the concern. Mostly I'm just tired, and a bit sore...and Dr. Phlox regards mother-henning as an art form, so he's been taking excellent care of us. Speaking of the good doctor, in order to return to my quarters I had to promise him I'd return when I'd finished up here...and he's the sort who will come looking for me."

"Ahh...sounds like my kinda fella," she grinned. "Best not keep him waiting, then, I suppose. Good night to you, lad. Could you...give David our love?"

"I will. Good night." He sat staring as the screen went black, weighing the woman he'd met in his childhood against the one he'd encountered a few weeks back as well as the one he'd just finished speaking with. Mr. Saunders certainly had an interesting grandmother. Not to mention his mother and sister...no want of formidable women in that family tree, that much was certain. And yet the Admiral didn't seem the least cowed by them. Perhaps it was a matter of his having learned when to stand up to them and when to stand out of their way. Someday, perhaps, he'd work up courage enough to ask the man.

At last willing himself to stand he cast a look around his quarters. Eyes falling on his bunk he sighed, then tapped the intercom button on his console. "Reed to Sickbay."

"Phlox here. Is everything alright, Lieutenant?"

"Yes...fine. Just checking to see if everything is all right there."

"Couldn't be better. Mr. Thelik is studiously working on his armor, David's off the ventilator, his endotrachial tube is out and he is resting comfortably, and I'm catching up on a few reports. Were you able to contact Mr. Saunders' family?"

"I've just finished speaking with them...they'd like to be kept up to date on his progress and they have a couple questions about his injuries that I'd like to go over with you when I get back there."

"Of course." There was a brief pause before Phlox continued. "Was there anything else you needed to take care of before returning here?"

Malcolm hesitated. "Technically, no, but...I do have a question. Bit of a favor, actually."

"What might that be?" the doctor asked, genuinely puzzled.

"Well, it's just that..." he paused, hating to admit how completely drained he felt. "I know I'm supposed to come back there, but would it be a problem if I stretched out in my quarters for a little while? Just ten minutes or so? I'd just like to get off my feet for a bit, and it would be nice to do it in my own bed." He wasn't quite willing to admit that he didn't think he had energy enough to make it back to Sickbay. "I'll contact Security and send someone down to help keep an eye on our friend until I get back there."

The pause was far shorter than Reed expected. "I already have people on stand-by in case our guest becomes unruly, so you don't have to contact anyone. As far as you resting in your quarters, that's entirely acceptable, though you don't have to restrict yourself to ten minutes. Rest there for as long as you like...just please contact me if you begin feeling at all out of sorts. And if you have no objection I can occasionally use the internal sensors to check on you from time to time. You can head back here when you finish there, hmm?"

"That's splendid, doctor. Thank you." Cutting the connection he paused only a moment before setting his alarm to go off in an hour—that was as much luxury as he was willing to allow himself, though he felt as though he could sleep the clock around—and rousing enough energy to strip down to his skivvies. Standing next to the bunk he eagerly pulled back the covers and burrowed in with a satisfied sigh.

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Angrily tossing the tools onto the cart alongside his armor and flexing his aching, cramping fingers, Thelik snarled loudly then cast a worried look at Crew-man sleeping in the far bed. Grateful that he hadn't awakened him—and relieved that En-tier-přice First Tactical hadn't been present to witness his outburst—he returned his attention to the armor before him. Rising from the edge of the bed and absently massaging the cramps from his hands he studied his progress, allowing himself the slightest nod of satisfaction—despite how miserable he felt, repairs were going quickly and smoothly. The tools provided had proved adequate for the job, but they were so small they felt like a child's playthings in his hands. That the muscle tremors and cramps had manifested while he was working hadn't been at all helpful, but so far the symptoms had not proven overly detrimental. He knew that was likely to change…soon.

Thinking was becoming difficult. His head hurt, his joints and muscles ached, and he was so thirsty he felt as though he could drink a river dry. And despite his fur and natural tolerance for lower temperatures, he felt cold. He wished he had something more than underpants to wear. Not that clothing would have helped, since the chill he felt was caused not by the temperature in the room but by the stimulant.

It was not unexpected—training had included ample warnings about stimulant use and descriptions of the aftereffects—but it usually felt more like mild flu symptoms. Then again, that only applied to the proper use of battle stimulant. Technically he had abused the drug, administering an extra amount before the first dose had been fully purged from his system. Taken so soon after the first, the additional stimulant had amplified the aftereffects so he felt instead like he'd just woken after single-handedly downing an entire case of skahlah. Easy to see why addiction was a possibility; if he had the hypospray handy he might be tempted to use it again to make the awful feelings stop.

He'd seen it before: the cycle, once started, was always difficult to break. Sometimes it proved impossible. Indeed, he'd helped with a few cases—being Deshkai'i, he was larger and stronger than his compatriots, so invariably he was the first one called upon to help with the distasteful task of restraining stim addicts as withdrawal symptoms intensified. It usually took several others working with him to successfully hold them. Even his own battle brother had once gone through the vicious cycle; during one of their days-long battles against the Klingon invaders Troshk had been one of several warriors to overdo their use of the stimulant. Thelik had been the one to hold Troshk in the bed as the smaller man had convulsed, fought, hallucinated, and shrieked through the night, even begging during a brief moment of lucidity to be killed so the pain would stop. 'Release me from this, Thelik. You are my friend, my battle brother—release me, please!' He'd been enraged by Thelik's refusal and made a valiant, nearly successful effort to kill the larger man; Thelik had at last been able to subdue his friend and choke him into unconsciousness. Thankfully, Troshk had been one of the ones who endured and fully recovered—a few had perished and at least one that he knew of had been left with permanent damage to his rational mind.

Staring at his shaking hands he again sat on the bed and tried to blink away the memory of his friend's pleading, struggling to mentally push back against the discomfort. He was G'l Benai, he was a warrior, he was Deshkai'i, born of the ice province. He was stronger that the stimulant. He had to be, for if the withdrawal overpowered him here, now…no. He clenched his aching fists. Not acceptable. Not an option. He forced himself to instead remember the corpses on his captain's ship, remember the faces of the living as they had evacuated. They would expect him to be strong for them, they needed him to be strong, so that was what he had to do. The smiling face of his wife came to mind, steeling his resolve, pushing him to the conscious decision to maintain control and endure. There would be no rationalized extra doses 'just to ease things', as it had begun for Troshk. For Troshk, for his captain and the survivors, for his fallen family…he must endure.

Closing his eyes he drew in a deep breath, holding it a moment before slowly exhaling shakily and unclenching his fists. A few more slow, relaxing breaths combined with the cautious flexing of his fingers and his hands were again steady and cooperative. Reaching for the tools again, Thelik hissed as fresh cramps seized his fingers. "Kenjit!" he swore softly.

"Is there a problem?"

Thelik started at the doctor's voice, troubled that he had been so distracted that he'd not heard the Denobulan enter. After a few seconds he relaxed enough to consider his answer, slowly standing and giving a slight bow to show proper respect to the alien doctor. It went against his nature to admit any sort of weakness to a non-G'l Benai, or even to one of his own, but a full-out lie was also against his people's ways. Subtle deception or misdirection was certainly acceptable under the right conditions but even if it was desireable, such an approach would likely prove ineffective in this case; this Denobulan healer was far too astute.

"Perhaps," he at last admitted, trying to massage away the cramps travelling up his arms. There was a long silence as the doctor studied him. "Probably," he admitted with a sigh. It was then that he noticed the woman lingering nervously behind the Denobulan. En-tier-přice First Communications seemed far less sure of herself this time, he noticed, but it would be rude to make mention of her uncertainty. Besides, it might anger her if he did so, and he didn't want to risk her making good on her earlier promises. Women, after all, were dangerous when roused to anger. He decided to simply bow politely when she made eye contact. Settling back onto the edge of the bed he looked back at the doctor. "Yes," he finally confessed. "There is a problem."

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Phlox paced slowly across Sickbay contemplating their mutual predicament. He paused to study the G'l Benai warrior now seated on the center of the bed, knees drawn up under his chin and arms wrapped around his legs as if trying to physically hold in the pain. The only change in Thelik's position was that he would occasionally lower his head and rest his forehead upon his knees, small stifled moans and growls of pain seeping out of him as muscle tremors coursed through him, but for right now he was staring silent and unblinking at the far wall of the room. Resuming his pacing the Denobulan spared a moment to glance at Hoshi, seated in a chair next to the exam table; she would stare at the alien until she deemed her attention to be unseemly then would shift her gaze to the floor for a bit before again fixing her eyes on the warrior. Thelik showed no sign of noticing her observation of him.

The doctor had expected her to leave after Thelik revealed his dilemma—after all, she'd come mainly to speak with the G'l Benai in hopes of improving her grasp of their language. Given the soldier's present physical and mental state it was unlikely he'd want to chat with anyone, let alone teach his language to them. Phlox had told her as much, strongly suggesting that she should perhaps come back later. He'd even tried to subtly hint that it might be unsafe for her to remain. Instead of leaving, though, the ensign decided to stay. "In case you need any help," she'd told him. Though he didn't admit it to her, Phlox was more than a little grateful for the offer given his experience with a stimulant-addled Lt. Reed; had the G'l Benai been the one clutching his throat there was no question that the Denobulan's windpipe would have been crushed in an instant. Of course, how Ensign Sato thought she'd be able to single-handedly hold the warrior at bay should he go berserk remained a mystery.

Finally mustering her courage, Hoshi stood and slowly approached the warrior. "I was wondering," she said softly, standing at the foot of the bed, "if there is anything I can do to help you. I mean, I mostly came to try to learn a little more about your language, but you probably don't feel like doing that. Maybe I could...get you a drink of water? Or a blanket, if you need one? Maybe dim the lights?" The silence dragged out long enough to convince her there would be no answer. "Okay then," she said as she stepped back, not quite daring to look away yet. "Well, I'm going to be here for a while, so if you do need anything you can just say so." Just before she turned to walk away she saw his eyes close. He again planted his forehead on his knees, trembling and hissing quietly. Hoshi froze.

The hissing eventually became muffled words. "Water would be pleasant," he replied, head slowly lifting, "but futile." Resting the side of his head on his knees he studied her briefly, eyes half-closed. "My stomach would reject it. Perhaps later. As to the lights," he continued, "it would be best to keep them on so the doctor can monitor me. Darkness would give me an unfair advantage should I lose control of my rational mind."

"So," Hoshi ventured, "all you can do is sit there and wait to feel better? Is that how you'd have to do it back home?"

Thelik exhaled slowly as the tremors subsided. "If I were 'back home'...yes, it would be much the same. I would be kept sequestered with someone watching over me to prevent me from hurting others or myself as I waited for my body to purge the stimulant. That is the only thing that concerns me about being here—if I become violent I can easily gain access to others. There are none of my own people available to restrain me if needed."

Quietly approaching, Phlox joined the discussion. "You told us earlier that your people don't handle captivity well," he said gently, "so using restraints isn't an option. There's too great a risk that it would cause more agitation than the withdrawal. Besides, I suspect they would be about as effective as they proved to be for Lt. Reed. I'm not comfortable locking up Sickbay because people need to have access in case of illness or injuries, and I refuse to send you to the Brig for the same reason I won't use the restraints—if you lose control, being locked in would likely amplify your agitation and increase the risk of you injuring yourself or others. We'll just have to make due with the present arrangements and hope for the best."

"How would your people restrain you?" Hoshi asked, emboldened. "I mean, if you can't be tied up or locked in a room...how do they do it?"

Eyes still half-closed Thelik raised his head to look at her properly. "I would be taken to my quarters, or to a small room...someplace that would prevent others from being disturbed by my withdrawal. One person would remain it the room with me, with one or two others waiting outside the room in case they were needed. If necessary, the one staying with me would lay on top of me on the bed or hold onto me if I were standing. I am slightly larger than most of my fellow warriors," he observed with humor creeping into his voice, "so it would likely take more than one."

"Disturbed by your withdrawal?" Hoshi asked.

"It usually gets very noisy," Thelik stated matter-of-factly. "As it did with En-tier-přice First Tactical...except louder. I am attempting to remain quiet to prevent waking Crew-Man but...it is difficult."

"That's very courteous of you," a voice came from the other occupied bed, "but I'm already awake." Saunders waved at Hoshi with the padd she'd given him then began typing on it. "This works pretty well, except I sound kinda like an automaton. Probably no way to program some inflection into this thing, is there?"

"Try italicizing words you want to emphasize," the linguist suggested. "If that doesn't work I'll tinker with it later."

Phlox bustled over to his other patient, checking readings, IVs, and dressings. "May I ask how long you've been awake, Mr. Saunders?"

"Long enough to know that our friend here is having some problems. And I agree, the Brig is no place to send a sick man. But there is someplace that might suit his needs as well as yours." There was a pause as he typed some more, then he hit the playback button. "Hey, the italics helped. Thanks. Back to the subject at hand...Decon should do nicely. He could do all the howling he needs, the lights could be dimmed to whatever's comfy, and you could monitor him from here. Post a couple guards outside the door in case things get dicey and you'd be all set."

"I could stay with him," Hoshi volunteered. All three men gaped at her before Phlox objected.

"Might I ask how you plan on subduing him if needed?"

Hoshi smiled demurely. "When he had hold of Lt. Reed I told him what I plan to do if he doesn't behave himself...I'm pretty sure he remembers."

"Indeed," Thelik confirmed. "And I am very fond of that part of my anatomy. It would be unwise of me to cause you to keep that promise."

David and Phlox stared first at the G'l Benai then at Hoshi. At last Phlox found his voice. "My dear girl," he whispered, "exactly what did you say to him?"

"Sorry. Trade secret."

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Gradually waking, Malcolm first snuggled deeper under the blankets then slowly stretched, scrubbing his head with his left hand as he gazed bleary-eyed around the room. He'd almost forgotten he was in his own quarters so the lack of a grinning Denobulan standing over him was momentarily disorienting. He gave a grin of his own as it sank in that he was really in his own bunk. 'Be it ever so humble...' Stretched out and filled with satisfaction Malcolm simply laid there enjoying the view of his ceiling, basking a moment in the feeling of not having to do anything or go anywhere. Well, except for having to report to Sickbay, but that didn't count because there was no timetable involved. He didn't often allow himself the luxury of living without a schedule but by Jove, he decided, he'd sure as hell earned it this time.

It took a few minutes for him to realize that the alarm hadn't even gone off yet. It slowly began to nag at him that he shouldn't feel this rested on less than an hour of sleep...unless it was some residual effect of being stunned that he was unaware of. Or perhaps one last side effect of the stimulant, which somehow made more sense to him. After all, he made a point of being intimately familiar with everything a phase pistol could do to both people and objects and this didn't fall into the known effects; knowing next to nothing about what lingering effects might be left over by the alien drug made him certain that Thelik's nasty little hypospray had muddled up his sleep pattern. Feeling this well rested after less than an hour of shut-eye was something he decided he could live with.

Only when he finally crawled out of bed and stole a look at his clock did his heart begin to race; the readout showed that the alarm had apparently gone off almost four hours ago and had eventually given up rousing him. A steam of profanities flew through his mind as he grabbed a sweatsuit from his dresser. How could he have let himself not hear the alarm? He'd left Phlox alone with that furball just so he could be a little comfy? He was a damned slacker, that's what he was. With one pant-leg hastily pulled on he froze—he should contact the doctor first, make sure Sickbay hadn't already been torn asunder. Stabbing his other leg into the pants he reached for the comm button, then hesitated.

'You're overreacting. He'd have called if there was trouble.' Not necessarily—as fast as that G'l Benai could move, there mightn't have been time for Phlox to react to an assault. His mind flew back to his own attack on the Denobulan: there'd been almost no time for Phlox to mound a defense that time, so the doctor's chances against the massive felinoid would certainly be far slimmer. Besides, if he'd slept through the alarm blaring at him, he surely would never have heard a summons through the comm system. Having run out of English expletives—even the ones he'd learned from David's grandmother—he began mentally running through some Klingon and Andorian ones he'd picked up as he jabbed his right hand into the sleeve of his sweatshirt. He gasped as he banged his hand into the desktop. 'Damn, damn, damn! Now see, that's what happens when you do things without thinking,' he chastised himself. Sinking into the chair he cradled his throbbing hand as he found a whole new set of expletives to explore. After a few deep breaths to steady himself he carefully finished pulling on his shirt and reached again for the comm button. "Reed to Sickbay." Each second of silence that followed built fresh panic in him.

"Ah, Mr. Reed," the perky doctor's voice at last chirped back at him. "I trust you had a refreshing nap?"

Malcolm sighed quietly, willing his heart to slow its pace. "Oh yes, thank you...though it went a little longer than I'd planned." He hesitated before asking, "Is everything all right there?"

"Couldn't be better," Phlox replied, though Malcolm thought he caught a tiny hesitation in the doctor's voice. "I've just been visiting with Mr. Saunders. He's been awake for a little while, and he's even felt up to helping with Mr. Thelik."

That made Reed's blood go cold. "Is there a problem with our furry friend?"

"He's just feeling a bit under the weather—an aftereffect of the stimulant, he's told us—and Mr. Saunders is helping me monitor his vital signs and such."

"I see," Malcolm said, guessing from the doctor's tone that the whole story wasn't being provided. "Well, I'll be on my way shortly, so perhaps I can help as well."

"That sounds splendid," Phlox answered, sounding a tad less than enthusiastic at the prospect. "But it has been some time since you've eaten...it might be best for you to go to the Mess Hall and get a meal, first, hmm?"

A faint something in Phlox's voice was setting off all sorts of klaxons in Reed's mind. Whether what he was hearing was real or imagined, Malcolm knew his suspicions wouldn't stop until he got to Sickbay and saw for himself that all was well. He sure as hell wouldn't be able to eat until he'd set his mind at ease. "Maybe I'll do that," he said solely to placate the doctor.

"Excellent. While you're there perhaps you'd be so kind as to pick up a little something for Mr. Saunders? I've already contacted Chef about preparing something that David can eat without too much difficulty, but as long as you're heading that way I'll have Chef bring it to you in the Mess Hall instead, and that will save me having to leave Sickbay, hmm?"

'Damn it all to hell.' "Of course," Reed replied with false brightness. "Not a problem. See you in a little while."

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"She's where?!" Malcolm squeaked.

Phlox sighed. "She is in Decon with Mr. Thelik," he said slowly. "And if you would calm down and let me explain, you'd know why she is there."

"Oh, you already explained," Reed stewed. "She decided to go hold his hand while the rest of that damned stimulant works it way out of his system, all of you blissfully ignoring the possibility that thanks to said stimulant he could bloody well become homicidal!" Bad enough he'd arrived to find that their guest was nowhere to be found, but to learn that the fuzzbucket had been allowed to traipse off to Decon and was now locked in there with Hoshi? If he hadn't already set Saunders' food tray on the exam table before finding out what they'd done he'd have dropped it from shock or—far more likely—heaved it across the room in anger. "And you let her go." Striding toward the door he was taken aback by the doctor slipping in front of him and blocking the exit. "Step aside, Doctor. I have to go get her out of there." He tried for a menacing glare.

Phlox returned the look with a faint smile. "Nooo...you don't," he stated pleasantly. "What you do need to do is calm down, and remember that now that the stimulant has fully worked its way out of your system I am quite able to sedate you if needed."

"You wouldn't dare."

The smile broadened, holding a good-natured menace all its own. "To coin a Human phrase...try me." For emphasis Phlox held up a hypospray that he'd pulled unseen from his pocket. Malcolm blinked and took a step back. Damn, he would, wouldn't he? Phlox's smile grew to epic proportions as a defeated Reed sank into the nearest chair. "That's better," the doctor cooed, patting him on the shoulder and putting the hypospray away. "Now, if you will allow me to review our precautions with you, perhaps that will help put your mind at ease, hmm?" Growing serious, he pulled up a chair and sat in front of the lieutenant. "After discussing the situation with all interested parties, we agreed that the best place for Thelik was Decon—it is a secure location yet allows us to closely monitor his condition. Ensign Sato volunteered to stay with him in case he needed any help. He is locked in at present, at his insistence I might add, but he is aware that the ensign has the code for the lock if needed. That way he doesn't feel trapped, and if the need should arise Hoshi can get out and lock him in. Mr. Saunders and I have been taking turns monitoring Decon via the security cameras and an open comm channel," he continued. "And there are two guards posted directly outside the door should Ms. Sato require assistance. Ensign Rossini and Crewman Atkinson seemed the best candidates for that task, since they're familiar with our patient.

"I probably should have consulted you about this when the situation first arose, but you had only just gotten a chance to get some sleep in your own bed and it seemed not only unfair but unnecessary to call you back here when we had things under control. But now that you are here I would welcome your help monitoring Mr. Thelik. It's past time for Mr. Saunders to take a break." Standing, he approached his remaining patient, who was sitting up in bed focused intently upon a padd in his hands. "Thank you for your help, David. Mr. Reed will be taking over for a while. Time for you to have a bite to eat." Reclaiming the padd and tucking it in his pocket, Phlox moved the utility table next to the bed and retrieved the food tray from the exam table. "I must admit I was intrigued by your choice—I'd never heard of hot cornmeal mush before. It certainly smells interesting."

Motioning to the computer station near the beds, Phlox turned to Malcolm. "You can use this station, Lieutenant." He stood next to the console until Malcolm settled himself into the chair, then spoke softly to the man. "I'm sure you can appreciate the situation. In fact, I regret not thinking of it while you were in such distress—it might have helped alleviate some of your discomfort to have a darker, quieter place to recuperate. Someplace other than the Brig, that is."

Malcolm shifted uncomfortably in the chair. The memories of what he'd felt, said, and done were still fresh and vivid; they seared his conscience. "Yes, well...I didn't think of it, either," he admitted guiltily. "If I had you wouldn't have had such a scare." His eyes drifted from the viewscreen and flitted to the doctor's throat. The bruises were still clearly visible. "Maybe I am overreacting," he admitted softly, looking back to the console. "It's just that...you don't know, you have no idea how fast he is." Malcolm looked the Denobulan in the eyes. "When I found him standing over Saunders, I was sure I had the drop on him...I had everything under control," he added sarcastically. "There was no way he was going to get his hands on me again, no way he was going to get his hands on anyone. One second I was standing there with a phase pistol in my hand so damned certain that if he moved, if he so much as twitched a whisker I'd be able to drop him where he stood, and in the blink of an eye the pistol was gone and he had hold of me. I still don't know how he did it, but I know there was zero time for me to react and there wasn't a damned thing I could do to get away from him once he had me.

"You know how quickly I was able to catch hold of you," he pointed out, still ashamed of what he'd done to the doctor. "And as fast as I was, this bloke is a hell of a lot faster than that. If he does go off his nut, there won't be time to get Hoshi out of there."

"I don't think you're overreacting," Phlox said gently. "In hindsight, I realize that you're correct. You are chief of security and I should have notified you...but as I said, I felt that it was wrong to disrupt your rest in light of what you'd recently been through. But what's done is done, so the best thing right now is to concentrate on monitoring Decon in case either of them do need help. If it helps, I'm fairly sure we don't have to worry about Thelik harming the ensign. When he had hold of you earlier she said something to him that apparently left a lasting impression. Quite frankly I believe he is more than a little intimidated by her."

"What did she say to him?"

Phlox shrugged. "My best guess is that she made some sort of threat, but she wouldn't tell us exactly what she'd said. All he said about it was that he was fond of that part of his anatomy. Whatever she said, he seemed quite certain that she would follow through on it." Standing, he smiled at the lieutenant. "Now that you're here, I'm going to go give the captain an update then head the Mess Hall and get a quick bite to eat...and I'll bring back something for you, since Chef told me all you had was a muffin and half a cup of coffee."

Watching the doctor leave, Malcolm gave a frustrated sigh before turning his attention to the screen in front of him. A few hours ago he'd been assuring the Berringtons that the alien wasn't a threat, and yet he'd flown off the handle at the thought of the G'l Benai being trusted to leave Sickbay. He pondered what had gotten into him: his ire at Phlox might be justified, but certainly he'd overreacted...hadn't he? Maybe, maybe not—after all, the doctor hadn't been on the receiving end of the behemoth's wrath.

'But he's been on the receiving end of yours, hasn't he?' More of his irritation at the doctor was washed away by the guilt of the memory.

"He hasn't made a move against her," David offered. Reed's head snapped up—he'd forgotten about the padd that gave Saunders a voice. "Plus, she's got a phase pistol. He insisted she be armed before he'd agree to have her stay with him." There was a pause as he typed some more. "He's still a little boggled by the idea of a stun setting. Turns out their rifles don't have that option, and safe to say their swords sure as hell don't. I checked the setting for her, and suggested that if she needs to use it she'll probably want to use a sustained burst instead of a quick shot."

Reed nodded his approval as he studied the images on the screen more closely and noticed the holster for the first time. "Thelik wanted her armed?"

"He was quite adamant about it," David confirmed. "Said he wouldn't allow her to stay with him otherwise."

"I don't understand why she was even here to begin with."

"She said she wanted to see about expanding her knowledge of G'l Benai language. Thought she could chat with him while he finished repairing his armor, but he started having problems just before she arrived." David considered his next words a moment before hitting the playback button. "Sounds like it might be a bit worse than what you went through."

"You'll forgive me if I find that hard to believe," Reed scoffed. He turned up the volume on the comm settings, concerned that he'd miss some audio clue that the behemoth was about to strike. So far all there was to hear was groaning and an occasional hiss from Thelik, interspersed with whispered encouragement—some in English, some in G'l Benai—from Hoshi.

"If I understand it correctly, he gave himself an extra dose of the stuff before the first one was out of him, so his body is having a harder time getting rid of it. Turns out the damned stuff is addictive if they overuse it...like he did. He's going through withdrawal. Had the shakes real bad by the time they took him to Decon."

Watching the moaning, trembling giant tightly curled up on the floor of the Decon chamber, Malcolm was hit by a wave of sympathy. As much pain as he'd been in, it looked like Thelik was in a good deal more. Recalling all that a single shot of it had done to him, the idea of anyone being addicted to the vile substance chilled him. It couldn't be possible to stay rational in such a state, could it? "You say he hasn't done anything...untoward?"

"He's been a perfect gentleman...with all of us. Not so much as a cross word from him."

Malcolm considered that as he stared at the screen. "What's that in the corner?" he asked, noticing a cart in the far corner of Decon.

"Utility cart. He still had some work to do on his armor, so he took it with him. Said he didn't want to disappoint the captain. Up until a little bit ago he was able to keep tinkering with it off and on, until the seizures and such got too bad. Think he was pretty close to finished, though."

Seizures? Perhaps the brute was worse off than he'd been. "I don't suppose he'd be willing to let anyone else help with it?"

"We already offered, and he very politely refused. Can't really fault him for that, though—after all, we wouldn't let him blindly fiddle about with our equipment, would we? Not to mention that we don't know anything about how his suit works."

"An excellent point." He watched as Thelik slowly uncurled and stretched out full-length on the floor. It had been so much easier when he'd flat-out hated the alien—no conflicting emotions getting in the way, muddling his thinking. Now, though, he had to keep sorting through things, his innate distrust combined with his first-hand knowledge of how brutal this giant could be battling against the image of the more sedate, rational man he'd dealt with a few hours back. It was confusing as hell. Malcolm realized after a moment that the G'l Benai warrior must feel much the same way: the first Humans he'd encountered had murdered his friends and family, and now he found himself thrust in the midst of Humans who were doing their best to prove themselves trustworthy to him. In fact, Malcolm reckoned, their guest had the worst of it. Hard enough to work out that sort of thing, but to have to do it totally alone, while grieving the loss of his family, with none of his own kind to help keep him anchored? And to do so while coming down from a double serving of an addictive drug that made you batty to begin with? It had to be hell for him.

Thelik had struggled to his feet and was standing unsteadily, staring unblinking at Hoshi. He muttered something, but even with the volume up Malcolm couldn't make it out. The giant took an uncertain step toward the ensign, and Malcolm's breath caught as Hoshi slowly rested her hand on the butt of her phase pistol. As she took a cautious step away from the warrior a roaring scream filled the air. Teeth and claws bared, Thelik leaped at her.