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Star Trek: Pioneer Rating: R (For language, sexual references, and Sci-Fi violence) Problems arose the next morning for Cabrillo. The star he had selected for the hiding place, or “The Cove” as Koon had dubbed it, was shaping up finely in terms of the points he wanted to study in a star except one. Chemical spectroscopy of the orbital disk of the star was alarmingly short of water ice. He’d told the Captain there was a strong possibility of an M-class planet orbiting the star, and every thing he knew about this kind of star told him that this one would be no different. But no water? Even the driest systems (Vulcan and Cardassia for instance) had visible ice spectroscopy in their outer asteroid belts and gas giants. How could such a promising candidate defy this basic rule of stars? Without water, life on a humanoid level and life on a scale needed to support them was, to put it bluntly: impossible. Life was resilient, but humanoid life required the most exacting features from its star and surrounding planets. Give or take some of the proportions of each, humanoid life required a rocky planet with an atmosphere of sufficient density to easily fuel chemical biology. There had to be large gas giants in the outer solar system to act as gravity wells and absorb or deflect detritus left over from planet formation. Also a star of a fairly narrow range of radiant energy was needed, and this one seemed ideal. Water had to be present to act as a chemical catalyst for almost every basic biological process in the body. Water had to be there! It must be there! Water had to be in an atmosphere to exchange heat from the cold ground and the hot sun. Otherwise the atmosphere thickened, boiled off the volatile chemicals in the rocks under intense heat and pressure, and the surface of the planet became soft and thin. Venus was covered in volcanoes because the atmosphere was so hot and pressurized that the native rock had a very narrow temperature range before it liquefied or vaporized. On a planet like that, weather was dominated my metallic snow and sulfur dust storms. Humanoid life would be reduced to ash in short order. During planet formation, ice acted as a strange glue. As a planetoid grew, pressure caused the heavier elements to sink to the center of gravity and heat up. Ice performed two crucial functions during this stage. As it melted, it acted as a lubricant for the sinking material, and contracted when it heated up to allow the rocks around it to expand. Without ice, planets were always smaller since they easily fragmented at a very early stage. There has to be water! There must be water! Cabrillo thought with increasing frustration. On his telescope, he could already begin to make out the lager planets around the star, and what he saw was both encouraging and baffling. Over the coarse of the morning, he discovered three large gas giants and four ice giants. The ice giant label could only be used in the honorary sense in this case because while he detected methane, ammonia, and nitrogen, there wasn’t a hint of water ice to be found. The fascinating readings from first ice giant showed an impossible proportion of argon and krypton in the atmosphere at temperatures that would keep those gasses in a stable liquid form on the dayside and ice on the night side, went largely ignored as the young scientist scrambled to find the familiar signature of hydrogen and oxygen. Where is it, dammit? He all but raged at all five of his telescopes. During the afternoon, as Pioneer approached and the images became clearer, Cabrillo saw the faint traces of the outer belt and found no water. He did find more inert gasses in solid form out there, but while this was exotic, he ignored them. He skipped dinner and worked methodically at his telescopes. Where were the comets? Where were the asteroids of half ice and half rock? The outermost ice giant should have water by the cubic tetrameter, but it was bone dry! By the time he caught his first glimpse of the inner planets, he had been at his station for two full watches and was a red-eyed, nervous wreck. Not a damn drop! How can that be? The hand that slipped over his shoulder so startled him, Cabrillo screamed. He whirled around and pointed his confused, bloodshot eyes at Lieutenant Locke. The familiar face took several moments to comprehend as his frustrated mind skipped a gear and all but flew apart in confusion. “Sorry, Lieutenant,” Locke said, “I was wondering where you’ve been all day. The Captain was wondering about the star.” Slowly his mind grasped the words. Like a man getting up after a bad fall during a marathon, he gathered his thoughts and tried to express the words. “Ah, um…” he began but his throat was so dry from disuse during the day he had to grab his drink before he could continue. “Water’s missing,” he finally managed. Locke blinked. “It’s in your hand Cabrillo,” she said sounding unimpressed and slightly dazed. Cabrillo shook his head and waved at the data in front of him as he tried to unlock his throat. “No, no,” he wheezed, “the system’s missing all the water.” Locke seemed surprised. “How can you tell?” Cabrillo was about to drop into as full an explanation as she would ever get, but the stern look she gave him as he opened his mouth cut his courage off at the knees. “Um…” he turned back to his instruments in an attempt to gather his thoughts again. Not looking at her seemed to bolster his will enough to explain. “No comets, no spectroscopy, no H2O pushed forward under the glare of the star.” “Hmmm…” Locke mused as she scanned his data. “Show me what I should be seeing.” Cabrillo brought up the same perspective of the Sol system on one of the monitors and highlighted all the water in the spectroscopy. By way of comparison, the Sol system was dotted with specs of ice all around while the Cove system was utterly blank. “How sensitive is your gear?” Locke asked. “We’re quite some distance off, but I should be able to see something by now,” Cabrillo told her. “Could it be buried in the form of ground water so that we couldn’t detect it from space?” she asked. “Not to this level,” he replied. “Something would have shown up by now. Water isn’t distributed in any set proportion about stars.” Locke shook her head, “I was afraid of that. I’ll cover it with Spaulding and see if he can find something.” Cabrillo flinched. Spaulding held a dim view of his young astronomer, and second-guessed his subordinate at every opportunity. While he admired Spaulding as a scientist, he found the man riddled with all-too-human flaws. Spaulding led the scientific team that focused on pure astrometrics and physics while the team under Dr. Totem’s direct control covered the biology, botany, microbiology, and social sciences. Nominally, Totem was in complete control of all the scientists, but the strange, reptilian alien with the unpronounceable name and even more unpronounceable species rarely asserted control. Over the years, Spaulding had grown almost despotic (a thoughtful, kindly, friendly, and good-natured despot but still a despot) in his control of the scientists under him. In his charming way he could discourage, redirect, or even shade the findings of the data presented to the Captain and Starfleet. Cabrillo knew the man was brilliant, but Spaulding’s motives sometimes rang a little off key. Presenting this information to the man might be a quick way to be dismissed and disgraced in front of the whole crew. Cabrillo knew Spaulding hated shouldering blame and would sidestep it at every opportunity quickly and flagrantly. While David was willing to shoulder the blame for this incomprehensible turn of events, he feared Spaulding would make an example of him so stark he’d never have credibility again. Locke noticed the younger man recoil from her suggestion and decided to probe a little into the reason for it. “Something bothers you, Lieutenant?” she asked. Suddenly at a loss for words he struggled to overcome his fear of Locke, or more specifically: the authority Locke represented. After seven years of crushing blows to his pride and no emotional outlet to vent his frustrations, the young man was almost completely broken. He lacked the nerve to face Locke in any way that might upset or contradict her, and this was by her unwitting design. “Uh,” he mumbled, “we should, um…” he trailed off as a knot in his chest and stomach tightened to the point of near excruciating pain. “You better speak up, David,” a new voice said from behind Locke. “She asked you a question.” Cabrillo and Locke shifted their gaze to the newcomer. To their mutual surprise, Kree stepped into the planetarium. Cabrillo had never seen her in here and he gaped at her in complete astonishment. “You have taken a shine to him,” Locke laughed at the Andorian. Kree assumed an imperious tilt to her expression and stood a little straighter in front of Locke. “If I want him,” Kree said with sarcastic intensity, “he will be mine.” She walked over to Cabrillo and traced a blue finger languidly over his brow, down his nose and under his chin where she deftly closed his open mouth. “I know he cannot resist me.” Locke laughed. “You should see yourself, Cabrillo,” she said between her guffaws. She turned to Kree, “Isn’t he adorable?” “Irresistible,” Kree agreed sarcastically then added, “close your mouth, David.” Cabrillo’s mouth shut again with a click. This time Locke hooted with laughter and Kree erupted in giggles. Cabrillo sat blushing in his seat embarrassed, confused, and miserable. He felt like crying. This wasn’t fair! They were making fun of him when he was trying to be serious. He felt younger and dumber than at any time of his life, and all they could do was laugh at him. Did he deserve this? Angrily he barked at them the first thing that came to mind, “But there’s no water at the Cove!” Locke kept laughing, but Kree snapped her head about with a look of alarm. “What?” “Not a trace of ice, vapor, liquid… nothing!” he said. “That’s impossible!” Kree snapped. While her knowledge of astronomy was not as vast as David’s, her experience navigating star ships was very clear on this elementary point. Hydrogen and oxygen were common elements in any system, water could be purged or chemically broken down from planet to planet, but no system in the galaxy was barren of it. She looked at the data David was explaining to Locke as the other woman gradually calmed down. With gradually increasing alarm, she had to agree with him that there was no water. “Impossible!” she hissed. “Is it really that rare?” Locke asked. “I mean, this just changes the class or worlds we will find there, doesn’t it?” Ignoring Locke for the moment, Kree asked Cabrillio, “Have you shown this to Spaulding?” Cabrillo flinched again by way of answering. Kree pounded the back of his chair with a frustrated slap. “Go tell the Captain, David. Do it now! I’ll get Spaulding up to the ready room in a moment.” Kree spun around to face Locke. “Inform Commander Okuma about this. I’m not sure what this means.” Though Locke and Kree were of the same rank, Cabrillo was Locke’s subordinate to command. Locke was about to point this out to Kree when she noticed the serious cast to her expression. “You’re serious?” she asked. “Quite serious, Carrie,” Kree said. “We don’t have much time to figure this out. We might need Forte and Gordon there, but Okuma must decide that.” Convinced at last, Locke bolted from the room. Cabrillo couldn’t seem to master his shaking limbs for the moment. Kree spun around and hauled him to his feet. He was a head and a half taller and a fair bit heavier than the little Andorian, but she pitched him upright with astonishing ease. “Get moving, David!” she ordered. “But I…” he began to protest. He couldn’t go to the Captain without authorization from Locke or Spaulding. They had drummed it into him for years that he was not to poke his head outside his planetarium without their expressed permission. Kree would hear none of it. “Get moving!” she ordered again. When he simply stared at her she softened her expression a bit and said, “I’ll explain what I was doing down here later, David, now go tell the Captain!” A sudden, confused, irrational beam of hope flooded Cabrillo’s heart. Was she here to see him? Did he have the prospect of someone to talk to after all these lonely years? Did she consider him a friend? The mere notion got his exhausted mind to work his stiff limbs up to a full run before he reached to corridor. “None?” Koon asked in disbelief. He’d listened to Cabrillo’s evidence in full detail along with the rest of his senior officers and Dr. Spaulding. Hurst and Spaulding were busy confirming Cabrillo’s data with other sensor packages, but there really wasn’t any doubt at this stage. Spaulding looked downright jubilant at the discovery, while Hurst had visibly paled. Nothing so strange had ever been seen in all of Federation exploration, and Spaulding was eager to see it up close. Hurst on the other hand knew what they needed to do to Pioneer at “The Cove” and he was watching a great many hopes dashed at a stroke. Around the table, the news settled in like a sudden death. Okuma’s ordinarily determined expression, melted into crestfallen shock. Forte stared at Cabrillo with unseeing eyes. Kree and Locke looked around the table in a vain search for hope and confidence. However, the hardest hit of all was Commander Gordon. After a few moments to absorb the news, he clutched at his hair in frustration and then slammed his fists down on the table. “No,” he said in a small voice. It sounded like the cry of a child before the first blow of a beating. “Could the water be underground or shrouded in some way to our sensors?” Koon asked. “Impossible,” a new voice said with stark authority. Koon turned to face the door as Dr. Totem walked in. The reptile ordinarily had a smooth, glistening sheen to his demeanor, but Totem looked rough and jagged. With a bit of surprise, Koon noticed the senior scientist’s scales standing on end. Totem walked up to Cabrillo and reviewed the data. “The astronomer is right. There’s no water in this system.” He turned to Gordon and asked, “How much can you replicate?” Gordon looked up from his spinning thoughts and stared angrily at Totem. His cockney accent thickened as his emotions swelled in his chest, “Now you blokes want me to wat’a the bloody Sahara with a bloody gard’n ‘ose!” “Not at all, Commander,” Totem said calmly. “But in an experimental sense we can…” “Oh, PISS OFF!” Gordon shouted at the scientist. “I’ve got enough on me bloody…” Koon cut him off, “Calm down, Eddie,” he soothed, “Totem’s just a little ahead of the rest of us.” “I’ve a ship to rebuild!” Gordon shouted rising to his feet. “I can’t waste my time on this…” “Sit down, Commander!” Koon barked. Gordon, shaking with rage, clamped his mouth shut and slowly sunk back into his seat. Koon took a deep breath and gathered his thoughts before he continued. “For those of you who don’t know, we will have to put the crew off the ship in some manner or another while we are working on her.” Heads all around the table snapped to face him as he announced this. “Eddie and I have covered the timetables, and this is by far the best way.” “Bloody right it is,” Gordon grumbled. “What this means in practical terms is: we need a habitable world to stay on for a number of months,” Koon continued. “Months?” Cabrillo gasped. “You think a broken beast like this ole’ gal can be tricked out in a weekend, kid?” Gordon snarled. “We’ve got enough work to keep a crew five times this size busy for half a year ahead of us.” “Another thing the Commander isn’t saying is that the warp core is failing,” Koon announced calmly. Stillness fell over the room. For one heartbeat, and then another, nobody so much as drew breath. Eyes stared fixedly at Koon all the way around the table. Kree and Forte had suspected as much, but everybody else besides Koon and Gordon felt the full shock of the matter. After a long silence, Gordon growled, “It’s the wrong time to tell them that, Captain.” “Failing?” Spaulding blurted. “How can a warp core fail?” “Quite easily I assure you, sir,” Gordon announced matter-of-factly. “It is only a matter of time.” “How long do we have?” Totem asked. “Three weeks,” Gordon said. “After that I’ll have to shut it down or dump it.” “But we need that!” Locke protested. “How true,” Gordon said slowly. “Can we fix it?” Okuma asked, “We’re not going to be stranded out here are we?” “Commander Gordon and I are working on the preliminaries of that problem,” Koon said calmly. “For now I want this to remain in engineering.” “That can’t last,” Okuma said flatly. “The rest of the crew will have to be enlisted to sort this out and soon.” Koon shifted his gaze to Gordon effectively turning the meeting over to him. “We are in the design stages of a ship-wide refit,” Gordon explained. “Most of what we intend to do should be mapped out by tonight or tomorrow. We’ll need crew input from the other departments in short order when we begin dissemination.” “You could have warned me!” Okuma snapped. “I’ll have to shuffle the crew around for…” “We don’t have to move anybody until we’re ready,” Gordon cut her off. “Cove is a few days away. I intended to cover this with you when I knew more.” “You’re keeping me out of the loop!” Okuma shouted. “I didn’t have much more to add to what we discussed last night!” Gordon said hotly. “Sam, Eddie,” Koon said sternly, “If you want to bicker I’ll send everyone else out, but I don’t think it’ll move things along.” “But I…” Okuma protested. Koon cut her off, “I’ll tolerate disagreement but not pointless shouting matches, Commander.” His voice had gained that unfamiliar steel again. “Commander Gordon has things to do and he can’t be wasting his time telling us about it fifty times an hour.” He turned to Gordon and added, “And don’t get the impression you’re doing this alone, Eddie. I’m in no mood for you to start griping about your issues. I need solutions not complaints.” Gordon tensed to deliver a rebuke, but sunk back into his chair with a tired heave. “Sorry, Captain, one too many cups of coffee I guess.” He turned to Okuma and added, “I’ll have a full report on your desk soon.” “Send me the plans and someone who can tell me what we’ll need to complete them,” Okuma said. “I’ll go over it with you myself,” Gordon offered. Koon shook his head, “Get some rest, Commander. That’s an order.” Gordon nodded. “I’ll send Lieutenant Blackburn to cover things with you,” he said to Okuma. Koon gave a curt nod and turned back to Cabrillo. “Are there habitable planets around this star?” Hurst answered, “I detect a nitrogen-oxygen atmosphere on the fourth planet.” Cabrillo shook his head. “Not exactly the ideal place to live,” he said ruefully. Hurst was surprised, “What’s wrong with it?” “The gravity of the planet is one and a half times that of normal,” Cabrillo explained. “Also: that far away from the sun means we’ll have to endure hurricane force winds on the surface every day.” Hurst checked his data and made a clucking noise, “You’re sure? I don’t see it in the readings.” “It’s simple physics. The size of the planet dictates a specific gravity, and the intensity of the sunlight in proportion to the density of the atmosphere provide a coefficient for surface sheer,” Cabrillo said. “I can see both in my telescopes and run the figures. The long range sensors will only tell you what they can qualify with observable data.” “I see,” Hurst said thoughtfully. “Can you make out the second and third planet in any detail yet?” “By tomorrow morning, yes,” Cabrillo answered. “They are currently behind the star. Our line of sight will be open by then.” “Do they look promising?” Gordon asked. Cabrillo gave a mighty sigh. “In terms of their calculated size: yes. The second planet is about a fourth the size of Earth and the third planet is within a couple hundred kilometers in diameter of Earth.” “But you don’t know if they have atmospheres,” Gordon pointed out. “Not yet.” “Can we change coarse to find a more suitable system?” Kree asked. “No,” Gordon said flatly. “As it is, dropping out of warp will be tricky at best. At the very least we’re looking at a day or two in this system while I patch together the core again.” “Can we replicate enough water for our use once we’ve stopped?” Okuma asked. “Not with Pioneer’s power. We’ll have to rely on the shuttles’ replicators once I shut the main core down,” Gordon said. “That should do,” Okuma said sounding relieved. Nobody suspected what was in store for them. “I am Lord Heartstock of the clan Bith,” the prisoner announced arrogantly. “Fine, Heartstock,” Speer said for the fourth time. “I’m bored with that tidbit already. Conversation will stagnate if you don’t engage in it,” he added sourly. Heartstock paced restlessly behind the security field. He kept his eyes locked with Speer’s one good eye the entire time in a fierce expression. Speer had given up on the game half an hour ago. It had been like this from the moment Heartstock revived. The pacing, glaring, arrogant alien would only give his name and clan, and on occasion demand to be let out. From a physical point of view, Heartstock was an impressive specimen. Indeed the alien towered over Speer and the guard. The hands were massive, the arms the diameter of chair seats and long as the full height of some of the women aboard. Short, powerful legs joined to a massive body trunk any Klingon would envy. Speer remembered just then that a Klingon had joined Starfleet about the same time he had. He wished that man were here now. The physical strength of the alien was beyond any human scale, and if Heartstock somehow managed to free himself, there wasn’t anybody to stand in his way toe-to-toe. But somehow M’rath had done that very thing, Speer thought with stunned disbelief. How? Speer stood a head taller, benched pressed half as much more than the Romulan, and yet the man in the other cell had come close to crippling this massive predator with his bare hands. Speer wouldn’t dare risk an encounter against this creature. “Agh!” he grunted. Speer clutched at the patch over his eye as a hot poker of pain lanced through his skull. The eye could be saved, Dr. Fahdlan had told him, but in the days to come, he would wish it couldn’t. His muscles spasmed down the side where the flesh had been burned away and then regenerated. The new tissue was winding itself around old tissue and the older stuff was throbbing from the burns he had received. It was like having old, frayed hemp ropes sliding their rough braids under his skin against his bones and muscles. It was proving to be distracting to say the least. Dr. Fahdlan promised the sensation would pass about the same time his eye healed. Speer could only say it was excruciating. “I think our guest deserves a break, Commander,” M’rath said from inside his cell. The Romulan had remained silent since Koon left, ostensibly to consider the Captain’s offer. Speer had ignored him for the most part, but when he looked into the cell, he noticed the man thoughtfully composed in his cot. On the few occasions M’rath had met his gaze, Speer was relieved to see an expression that mirrored his own: namely frustration and exasperation. M’rath listened in on the entire interrogation of Heartstock with diligent attention, and the Romulan appeared to share Speer’s dislike of the alien. Hell, I need a break! Speer thought but did not say. M’rath moved towards the security field and spoke with deliberate scorn. “I doubt we have much to learn from this kind of filth.” Speer stared at M’rath. What was he up to? M’rath heaped another insult casually upon the first. “The weakling deserves a little coddling to keep him from pouting.” Heartstock crashed hard into the bulkhead that separated the two cells so hard the security consol trembled and both Speer and the guard reset their footing. Again, the huge alien crashed into the bulkhead and this time he succeeded in denting the duratanium. Unsatisfied, he beat at the security field with rapid, massive blows that rattled the whole room. Speer was about to take some action to sedate Heartstock when he noticed M’rath silently cautioning him to do nothing. Speer glanced back at the guard who was carefully monitoring the field stress limits. The guard had already bumped the field intensity to force ten. From his vantage point in front of the consol, Speer could see the stress meters bound and jump like mad waves on the ocean at every blow. Heartstock packed a detonation in his fist, and he was demonstrating it to a shocked audience. After a time, Heartstock stopped his flailing about his cell and resumed his pacing from one side to the next. He glared at Speer and the guard with undisguised hatred, and neither man outside his cell had a doubt the bulky alien would tear them limb from limb if he managed to escape. “Temper, temper!” M’rath scolded. “Tantrums are so unbecoming to a Noble.” “When I get out of here, you little insect, I’ll…” Heartstock hissed. Speer interrupted him, “But you’re not getting out, Mr. Heartstock. So it would be best if you cooperated.” M’rath rolled his eyes and made a chopping motion across his neck with his hand. He wanted Speer to shut up before the alien stopped talking again. Speer, unfamiliar to this kind of interrogation, blabbed onward with an irritated look at the Romulan. “You’re options are exactly nil in my brig, Heartstock, and if you want that to change you’ll shape up.” M’rath not only rolled his eyes but his whole head this time. He threw up his hands, and marched back to his cot where he collapsed. Shaking his head and rubbing his brow as if a headache had just bloomed behind his eyes, he silently marveled at the man. How did Speer get the idea he was cut out for counterintelligence work? In M’rath’s estimation, the man lacked a certain talent for oblique thinking. Speer was a linear thinker and he charged straight at his goal no matter how fast it ran away from him. While that kind of drive was admirable in its own way, the intelligence business was anything if not a looping, sidelong, torturously circuitous mess. No amount of simply banging away at a question would yield an answer until the facts were obsolete. No wonder he had duped them for so long. Pitting his extensive skills against Speer’s methodology was like presenting advanced quantum mechanics to a newborn. Speer’s com badge chirped to life. “Okuma to Speer,” the disembodied voice said. Speer acknowledged the call and waited for his instructions. “Report to the Captain’s ready room,” Okuma ordered. “On my way,” Speer said and marched out of the room. The guard stared nervously at Heartstock as the silence deepened. The man began to pale after a minute or two and began pointedly ignoring the big alien. “Reading something, Lieutenant?” M’rath asked idly. With Speer gone, he might yet tease a fact or two out of Heartstock. He needed to engage him somehow. Idle talk was the best way to do it. The guard brightened, “The Aniad by Virgil,” he said. “The Iliad is a fine poem, but I always found Latin to be more lyrical,” he added. “I’ve read it,” M’rath agreed, “the translation into Romulan is spectacular.” He quoted a few lines in his mother tongue of the epic poem, and discovered he remembered far more of it than he realized. He quoted stanza after stanza until a full five minutes had passed. The guard was surprised, “That is impressive. I didn’t realize the language was so…” he searched for the word. “Backward!” Heartstock barked in disgust. “And if I may fit a word in edgewise next to this guttural gibberish let me add the modifiers ‘unpleasant’ and ‘tedious’ to the list.” “I was going to say rhythmic,” the guard said sheepishly. M’rath was grinning like a shark inside his cell. This could go well after all. “What was all that pointless wind about anyway?” Heartstock asked. “A battle between heroes,” M’rath said. “One fights for family and love.” “And the other?” Heartstock grumbled. M’rath almost giggled but managed to keep his delight out of his voice. “Fighting is all he knows.” “Truly?” Heartstock mused. “Sounds like an accurate description of my entire clan.” M’rath looked excitedly at the guard who sensibly kept a neutral expression and his silence. He noticed the younger man discreetly set the room surveillance to record the conversation. “I’m sure you wouldn’t understand,” he said. “It’s a story about human nature. I must confess it’s more than a little puzzling to me and I know it all.” “Heroes are nothing more than hunters amongst a great sea of prey,” Heartstock explained. “Heroes serve others,” M’rath pointed out. “I’m sure these heroes you spoke of served themselves first. Glory and honor waits for no one,” Heartstock said. “And you would know something about that?” M’rath asked skeptically. “More than you can fathom with your gibberish,” Heartstock said defensibly. “I can tell you of heroes for the ages.” M’rath almost danced a jig in his cell. Paydirt! He exulted. After the meeting with his senior officers and scientists had cleared out, Koon was surprised to find Lieutenant Tylan waiting patiently outside. After a brief word with Commander Okuma, she and Sam walked back to him. “A moment of your time, Captain?” the austere “Vulcan” asked. Koon knew what this had to be about, but he kept his expression innocent. Speer had been too preoccupied to arrest Tylan and M’rath had suggested that she be allowed to present her own case in her own time. Since there was nowhere to go for the Romulan agent, Speer had reluctantly agreed to set the matter aside for a time. Koon had not expected her to present herself the next day after her partner’s arrest since Speer had kept that affair as quiet as he could, but here she was. “Come on in,” he said and gestured her in. Okuma took a seat next to Koon while Tylan waited for the door to close behind her before she made so much as a peep. “What is it, Lieutenant?” Koon asked. “I’m Romulan,” she blurted. Koon stared at her for a long moment. He assumed an unimpressed expression and shared a glance with Okuma of mild incredulity. Shifting his gaze back to Tylan he asked, “And?” drawing the word out for effect. Tylan’s iron composer slipped a cog. She gaped at Koon not able to understand what he meant. “I’m a traitor to the Federation,” she added. Okuma took a Koon’s lead and asked her another short, open-ended question, “So?” Tylan looked fit to split with exasperation. She looked from Koon to Okuma and back in disbelief. “Doesn’t that bother you?” she asked aloud before answering her own doubts with a horrified, “He told you, didn’t he.” “No he didn’t,” Okuma said casually. “But it wasn’t a strain of imagination to assume you were an agent, and we thought you might have something to say for yourself,” Koon added. Tylan seemed to deflate as the news struck home, “May I sit down?” she asked looking faint. The rollicking emotional shift in her mind had her head spinning. “Please,” Koon said motioning to the couch across from Okuma and him. Tylan gingerly plopped into the couch as if the thing were made of crystal and prone to shatter under her weight. “I knew he would break someday,” she said to herself. She stared out the ports at the starlines passing the ship and muttered, “Good!” “Does that mean we have your full support as a member of this crew, Mr. Tylan?” Okuma asked. “By all that is holy, yes!” Tylan said. “But may I beg a condition from you?” Koon suspected what that would be, but Okuma eyed the other woman suspiciously. “I want private quarters. I don’t care if they are small and crude, but I never want to live with that man again,” she said more to herself than to the other two. “Is he that bad?” Okuma asked. “No,” Tylan said quickly, “But together we are.” She let that comment settle in for a moment before adding, “I was plotting to kill him later this year.” “Vicious!” Koon said. “Don’t suppose you’d be willing to tell us why?” “I wanted to be free of him,” Tylan told him. “I wanted to be free of Romulus. I wanted to be as free as the rest of you.” Koon shared another glance with Okuma. M’rath did not present much of a problem to security since his former post was under Dr. Totem and his scientists. For all the success the agent M’rath had garnered aboard Pioneer, his role as an equally brilliant microbiologist and virologist was something Koon was eager to keep around. If he went back to his duties this instant, only minor changes in security would permit the man to proceed almost without a hitch. Tylan by contrast was a weapons designer. While grossly underused during much of the past seven years, the coming refit demanded much from her. The weapons could be refitted and installed without her, but both Koon and Okuma agreed it would take a great deal longer and increased the potential for design flaws by an order of magnitude. They needed Tylan, but they were far from comfortable with that option presently. Even if they expressed a flippant disregard for her allegiance in the beginning of the interview, they were not so foolish as to think she was completely trustworthy. Koon’s appeals to M’rath not withstanding, Okuma found the whole idea of keeping the man anywhere but inside a cell alarming. She sided with Speer on this matter in the opinion neither of the Romulans could be trusted. On another ship, a brief background check of all Vulcans would be in order. Pioneer apparently left the Federation with only these two posing Romulans, which made the search for more conspirators easier but still difficult. Extensive protein therapy could mimic the physiology of a human, Targ, Bolian, Chits, Mottir, Hone, Betazed, or Bajoran. Only Lieutenant Kree and her elaborate Andorian physiology plus Dr. Totem’s unpronounceable species could not be mimicked. Therefore, Speer was waiting for Dr. Fahdlan to finish up with the casualties to cover the possibilities. Tylan waited patiently for judgment. She liked Koon and Okuma despite her now abandoned mission. She liked almost everybody aboard Pioneer she freely admitted to herself. She liked even that overbearing boss of hers Totem for his quick grasp of the facts and clear-minded judgment. In her heart of hearts, she admitted a particular liking for Commander Gordon because he had always made it difficult for her to keep her “Vulcan” composure with his dry humor and unaffected manner. She did not like M’rath anymore, and that more than anything had brought her here to face her punishment. “How long have you and M’rath been together?” Okuma asked. “Too long,” Tylan admitted, “Forty-one years.” Koon made a surprised smirk; “Damn!” he said admiringly, “you’ll have to tell me the trick of that.” Tylan allowed a flash of annoyance to the surface of her calm composure and snapped, “Just tell me what you’ll do with me!” Koon’s expression softened. “That depends on what you want for yourself. We could lock you away until a Starfleet Judge Advocate could hear your case, but I don’t know when that’ll come to pass. That means thirty years or more in my brig since treason proceedings can’t be held in absentia, or so Mr. Speer tells me.” “It would be better than thirty years more with him,” Tylan grumbled. “I’ve offered M’rath a deal which I feel is no longer applicable,” Koon continued. “He was to turn you in for a new place on the roster.” Tylan glared at Koon with contempt. The life of an agent or mole was one of skirting and confronting betrayal, but it was no less painful to bear it. “I left him this morning considering the offer,” Koon said. “Then you arrived in my ready room.” Tylan immediately grasped what Koon was telling her. Since she had come of her own free will, he was willing to be lenient. That left some more attractive options ahead of her but no less grim in her estimation. House arrest or strict supervision at best came to mind. “I’m inclined to interpret your presence before me as an act of faith,” Koon said, “you and M’rath will remain part of the crew. Commander Okuma will see to it you are assigned new quarters.” Tylan was stunned, “But… but…” she stammered. “You’re a traitor?” Koon asked completing her thoughts. “M’rath told me as much himself, but I’m short handed and I can’t spare you.” “Romulus is far behind us, Tylan,” Okuma said, “but so is the Federation. The Captain is willing to leave them behind us so long as you know that your loyalty is to the survival of this crew. Will you agree to those terms?” Tylan staggered through the rest of that day in a daze. Okuma asked her to stay out of engineering and the weapons lab until a thorough review of her activities could be completed. That meant she only had to move her things out of her quarters into her new room. Her new roommate worked another watch so there was little chance she would ever see the woman. In her shocked state of mind, she had forgotten to register her roommate’s name. She was assured her roommate would be told before the rest of the crew. After her things were unpacked and situated around the room to her liking, she had nothing else to do. She thought of going to ten forward, but dismissed the notion when she remembered the compartment was still locked off with flare damage breaching the hull. She thought of going to the science department, but her lab was only next door so she decided against doing that as well. The galley came to mind, but many tired people were in there at all hours of the day, and she judged it might not be prudent to loiter around them while they were so busy. Isolated, lonely, and with an uncertain future ahead of her, she allowed her iron grip on her emotions to crack. The tears first traced elegant lines of exquisite relief down her face. Soon tears all but fountained out of her as the pent up emotions of her life found their release. Carrie Locke found her that way five hours later. Her first reaction to seeing a weeping woman in her room was one of surprise. “Tylan?” she asked. The sheer scale of the other woman’s grief was shocking. She’d never seen anybody so unstrung. The Romulan woman sobbed in great heaves that shook the very floor. Her bawling could be heard down the corridor it was so loud. The linen on her cot was soaked from top to bottom with tears. “I’m… sorry,” Tylan sniffed. “It’s just so good to be free!” Later that night, Samantha Okuma stretched out on her bed and tried to sleep. Although her body ached and her mind was tired, she could not find the oblivion of rest. Her mind stuck on two important facts. Koon had shut her out of the engineering loop and he was keeping two confessed Romulan agents aboard over her protests. To say she was irked was an understatement. Her damaged pride fanned the flames of her outrage until sleep was impossible. Irritated, she rose and threw on a robe. Peyter would have a piece of her mind before this day was done, she declared to herself. As she stepped into the corridor the smell of something delicious wafted past her. Her stomach growled so loud that a passing crewman turned an amused eye her way. A cramp in her belly insisted she investigate this pleasant aroma so she put off her chore with Koon until she could get some food. Her quarters were on the same deck as the galley so the sight of her in her pajamas and robe was an ordinary one after seven years. On the other hand, the source of the delicious smell was a surprising sight. About a dozen people crowded around the kitchen chatting amiably. At the stoves, wearing an apron and wielding a long handled ladle was Lieutenant Darin Forte. “Ah, Commander!” he said cheerfully over a steaming pot, “I knew the proper bait would draw a fine catch.” He held up a huge platter in one hand and a steaming ladle in the other. “I have egg rolls and sesame chicken with rice,” he offered over wide smile. Sam’s stomach tried and failed to make her snatch one of the egg rolls off the platter gobble it down but only by a hair. Instead, she picked up a plate and allowed Darin to dish out servings. “There’s more if you want it, Commander,” Darin said then turned around to the guffaws of everyone in the room. Apparently, he was not wearing anything under his apron and his exposed ass flashed into full view. Sam almost dropped her plate in surprise. The crowd around her seemed oblivious to the long list of regulations Darin was breaking, and it was her job to enforce them. But despite that fact a small part of her wanted to stare at Darin’s bum for as long as he would allow it. It is often said, “Familiarity breeds contempt,” but a lesser appreciated aspect is the blindness that implies. The people around her had known her so long that they entirely failed to notice her fixed stare for what it was: a sudden flash of lust. Her mind seized on this with a hunger rivaling that of her stomach before. Before she could be exposed for all to see, she turned on her heel and plopped down at a table. She was so distracted she forgot utensils and stared at her food without seeing it for a full minute. Finally, she picked up an egg roll and began munching it. The flavor of the roll revived her somewhat and her stomach settled down, happy to accept any morsel she sent its way. A moment later, Darin appeared at her table with an apologetic stoop in his stride. “Sorry, Commander, I lost a bet with the guys over there so I had to…” he motioned at the apron that was preserving his modesty from this angle. He placed some utensils and a napkin next to her on the table and asked, “Are you going to write me up for this?” Sam did not look at him. “I should,” she said. She picked up a fork and sampled the chicken. Like the egg rolls, it was excellent. “Did you cook this, Darin?” she asked. Forte seemed surprised by her change in the subject. “Well…” he almost stammered out the words, “yes I did.” “You’re a very good cook,” she said truthfully. There was a long silence between them before Forte mustered the courage to ask, “Does that mean you don’t mind?” Sam didn’t answer. Part of the reason was this was very close to a fantasy she harbored secretly for the man. For years, she had admired the handsome and endlessly cheerful helmsman secure in the knowledge that Starfleet regulations forbade any chance of her pursuing the relationship. However, having the man serving her and asking for her approval clad only in an apron and his good nature was almost too sadistic to bear. Confused emotions and long dormant desires welled up in her and shaped her selfish answer to Forte’s question. “Only if you show me everything you know about how to make this later tomorrow,” she said then added, “I trust you can manage that with pants on.” Oblivious to the undertone of Okuma’s condition, Forte beamed an innocent smile. “I learned a lot from my girlfriend back in Hong Kong,” he said, “These are just a couple of recipes she taught me.” Sam felt a pang of virulent jealousy when the word “girlfriend” met her ears, but she quickly dismissed it. I’m not even supposed to be scheming for his affections; she told herself, having him all to myself is too much to ask for. “Think of something simple for the time being,” she told Darin. “We’ll work up to something more elaborate as we go.” “I’ll look forward to it,” Forte said with a charming, guileless twinkle in his eye. “Tomorrow around dinner time then?” “I’ll come get you when it’s convenient,” she said as tonelessly as she could manage. She did not want to sound sultry in front of the crew and expose herself to the embarrassment. Forte backed away from the table and vanished into the kitchen again to the muttered jokes and laughs of the others. Sam sat quietly and ate her serving thoughtfully. If Koon found out what she had in mind, he had every right to shut down her plans and humiliate her. On the other hand, Koon was ignoring a catalog of regulations by keeping the Romulans as part of the crew. He had also slighted her by keeping her out of the loop with Gordon earlier today. She had the leverage to block Koon’s discipline, but the question in her mind was whether to be preemptive and announce her intentions to Koon before she made a move or try to hide it form him. You know better than that, girl, she scolded herself, how many rumors have you ferreted out over the last seven years? This ship is too small for secrets to last long. Having decided on her plan of action, she finished her food and marched over to Koon’s quarters. She would wring his neck if he tried to deny her what she deserved! She had been a loyal supporter of the man from the beginning, and he owed her more than this trifling breach of regulations. She was not sure she could function much longer without someone for herself, and Peyter would just have to accept that. Standing before Peyter’s door, many defiant arguments bayed for blood should he as much as urge her to be cautious. In her mind, she picked apart his arguments methodically almost vengefully. She imagined her Captain shrinking from her as though lashed with a whip and color draining from his face under the onslaught of her reason and outrage. She rang the door chime. There was a long pause as she waited for him to respond. As the wait grew, doubts assaulted her with festive energy. She was about to blackmail her superior officer into allowing her to pursue a subordinate. How was that supposed to work? What kind of bonehead logic brought her to this action? Koon would deny her and bust her down to an Ensign before he allowed her to manipulate him that way. What if he had designs on her? He has kissed her before the Flare Jump after all and he might have done so with the desire to have her in mind. He might insist she attend to him before allowing an affair with Forte. He might… The door opened. Peyter had clearly been sleeping before she’d come calling, and he took a moment to focus on her. After a few owlish blinks and a rub of his face, he muttered, “Something wrong, Sam?” Doubts flooded her again and she had the childish urge to bolt back to her room and hide under the covers. She regretted ever having come here tonight, but her disciplined mind forced her to march ahead with her argument. “You shut me out of the loop today,” she said sidestepping the larger reason for her being at his door. “I should have known what was going on from the instant you found out.” Koon shook his head blearily. “Do we really have to discuss this now, Commander?” “It’s important we get this settled, Captain,” she declared. Koon nodded wearily and motioned for her to come in. He asked for a pitcher of water from his replicator and took a mighty swig from a glass before settling into a chair at his desk. Sam entered his room and waited for the door to close before she settled into a chair opposite him. “Things are going to get hectic around here, Commander,” Koon said, “I really don’t understand why you’re going to the mat over this issue.” “Because we’re a team, and I need to know these things,” she insisted. Koon nodded again. “It was an oversight not a professional slight, Sam,” he said. “You still could have told me,” she pointed out. “And you ignored my advice regarding the Romulans as well.” Koon was too tired to roll his eyes and simply stared at her. “We’re short handed.” “They’re traitors!” she said. “To Romulus, not us,” Koon said gently. “How can we trust them?” she asked. Koon sat back and took another long pull at his glass. “What’s the real reason you’re here, Sam?” he asked. Thrown off guard Okuma had the unnerving notion Peyter could see right through her. “What does that mean?” she asked tartly. “In all the years I’ve known you, I’ve never seen you cover dead issues,” Koon said reasonably. “It’s something I’ve always admired in you.” Sam looked away uncertain how to proceed. “What’s on your mind, Sam?” Koon asked. “I’m here to help if I can.” “I’m…” she almost blurted the whole thing out to him in a rush, but she stopped herself and struggled to compose her thoughts. “You’ve been breaking Starfleet protocols all day, Pete,” she said. “I was wondering if…” she trailed off. “Are you asking me to skirt another one, Commander?” Koon asked reverting to her title. “Y-yes,” Sam answered hesitantly. The sense of asking for parental approval to date a boy held in paternal contempt wouldn’t leave her mind and made her all the more nervous. “I don’t think it will cause problems down the way.” Koon considered her answer carefully for a long time before continuing. “Feeling lonely, Sam?” he asked. Okuma didn’t answer, but she felt her cheeks burn and she couldn’t meet his eye. Koon smiled, “Darin’s a lucky man.” Okuma’s eyes snapped back up to stare at Peyter. “You can’t know..!” Koon waved a dismissive hand at her, “You really don’t know how much you talk about that boy do you?” he chuckled. Samantha’s mouth opened and shut in utter shock as she struggled to voice her indignant outrage. How did he know? How dare he know! Something deep in her feminine center screamed bitter curses at Peyter. Anger mixed with shame made her want to claw his twinkling eyes out of his head. He had known all along! Koon leaned forward and said in a fatherly tone, “I know he thinks of you.” Surprise, hopeful and giddy, washed away her anger. “He does?” she blurted before she could stop herself. “Yes,” Koon said, “and I’m not one to stand in the way of such things.” Indeed, he was not. In fact, Koon knew that bearing down on such things would erode the will of the crew just as fast as the confusion rampant promiscuity would cause. He had learned that while in the Klingon Empire. Klingons were many things, but they were the most genuine personalities Koon had ever come across. The urge, nay the cultural decree, to be defiantly oneself and proclaim it to the universe in uncompromising terms held a great appeal to the young Lieutenant Koon once he recognized it for what it was. The kind of slow, cold regret humans endured out of social necessity was unknown in Klingon circles. Men roared their desires at females, while the females openly scoffed at the weak contenders and berated the bad manners of the favored suitors. This kind of bellicose interaction between the sexes was at first alarming to watch, but Koon found the charm of it later on. Klingons mated without pretense, and splits could be bitter but very simple by human standards. Klingons tended to laugh about their romantic adventures rather than burden themselves with the pain from them. Koon had seen jilted lovers act with surprising good humor towards each other. As one Klingon friend had told him, “The joke is on us in the end. We cannot be complete without each other and yet we cannot stand to be whole together. There’s no sense in making a secret of it. Why not flaunt your flaws in front of all so that others may learn a lesson and laugh about it? Surely it’s no different for you?” Over the years he spent on Q’onos, Koon discovered how fine a thing it was to let pretenses drop. Klingons were comfortable with themselves and each other to such a degree that their needs always seemed to be met. One man would make a bitter complaint to his fellows and they immediately launched into the reasons he allowed such a thing to happen to him citing their own foolish adventures of a similar nature to much guffaws and hoots. Despite this outwardly callous behavior, Koon had seen a deep feeling for the misery around them. They reveled in their misery so that they could not feel the shame of it. When that misery was of a romantic nature, the response was alarmingly swift and brutal. Often, his laughing friends would drag lonely Klingon men to an ill-tempered female so that they might make a joint appeal for the man. It was a sign of weakness on the lonely man’s part to come to this point, but invariably he was embraced by the female presented to him. It was bawdy, rowdy, violent, and sidestepped larger romantic issues (to which all Klingons professed great knowledge and skill) but the man’s loneliness would be cured. By contrast, the human tendency to retreat from forays into romance seemed downright ignorant to Klingons. “They know what you want, human,” one of his friends had told him, “don’t fool yourself into thinking you can hide it from them. We may mystify females in many ways, but not love. They are the undisputed masters of that arena of conflict.” After a time he found being jilted by the women he sought better than enduring the longing he felt for them. Soon he was being just as bawdy, just as bellicose, just as rudely forward as the rest of his Klingon friends. He never did get anywhere with Klingon women, but he found he could laugh just as hard about his loss as the rest of his friends after being refused. The affect this had on Klingon crews was striking. They attacked their lives as a group, which made them very cohesive day to day. They made their arguments in the open and settled them at once instead of coming back to them again and again. They hated being wrong, and the public exposure of this flaw was the one downside of this equation. On the other hand, they did not hesitate open expression their shame. In turn, other Klingons found it deeply painful to witness the shame of others. The human habit of retreating from all that and sometimes reveling in shame and doubt may have made for polite social interaction, but it often developed divided motives among supposedly close crews. Klingons put their whole soul into their lives. Humans rarely managed a faint investment of themselves into the lives of others. The habit of hoarding one’s soul from prying eyes was just as degenerative. Petty jealousies, rivalries, and private agendas soured the fullness of life, the Klingons had taught Koon, and it was a lesson he suspected shaped his selection for this job. Koon was not so foolish as to fashion his crew on the model of Klingon society. Few humans had the stamina for the lifestyle. However, Okuma’s visit was the perfect example of how he put what he had learned into practice. Commander Okuma was overworked, overextended, and lonely. That she needed more in her life than she was willing to admit to Koon, was something he took for granted. “Keep your personal lives off my time, Commander, and you have my blessing to proceed as you see fit,” Captain Koon said sternly. Then he softened his voice and added, “Darin’s a good man, Samantha, I can’t think of a better match for you.” Okuma blushed a florid shade of red, and averted her eyes. “This seems like I’m asking my dad to go out on a date,” she said shyly, “I suppose you can look at it that way, but I don’t,” Koon said offhandedly. “From my point of view this conversation was inevitable.” Okuma was confused by the remark and her expression openly told him so. “Sooner or later we’re going to find a way to either keep us all forever young, which I don’t favor, or replace the crew as we all begin to age past service years,” Koon explained. Okuma giggled, “I can’t imagine what Voyager must be doing to address this problem.” Koon snorted, “You can’t imagine, and I don’t want to know.” David Cabrillo stared at his data in dismay that night. After the ship had moved far enough along to see the planet, David had a clear view of the world backlit by the star. The third planet was dry. He barely registered the rest of the data. The two large moons, the perfect gravity, the nitrogen-oxygen atmosphere all paled in comparison to this gloomy detail. “No water, not a damned drop in the entire system,” he said aloud “We’ll mange, David,” a voice said behind him. By now, he recognized Kree’s voice and looked forward to hearing it. However, he wondered how she always managed to sneak up behind him without alerting him. He turned around and saw the little Andorian looking over his shoulder at the data that confirmed his worst fears. “I’m not sure what to do,” he said. “We need water for almost every project on the list including keeping us alive.” “You’re exaggerating,” she said softly, “we’ll manage.” “I wish I had your confidence,” he said. “That planet should be uninhabitable by the formation models I have.” Kree cuffed his shoulder playfully. “You should know better than that,” she scolded him, “there are examples I can show you that defy that assumption.” She leaned forward and manipulated the controls on his display panel. The planetarium was the most elaborate display in the whole ship. Large, precise, and with a huge library of imagery, the designers of Pioneer had once argued to install the system in the bridge to facilitate better integration of the crew with their work stations, but the complexity of the idea made it far too elaborate to implement. The image shifted above their heads to display the pink sky of a hazy atmosphere. The ground below was parched and dusty, and a large lake of oily black water nestled in the hollow of a deep valley. “Cardassia doesn’t have detectable water either,” Kree said. “But they once did,” he explained. “The water was wasted over centuries of misuse and boiled off the surface.” “What about Vulcan?” she asked. “It’s a very old world,” he said, “but it formed with more than enough water. The local star is just boiling it off faster than they can replenish it.” “But you can’t see it from this far out either,” she pointed out. “No but…” he floundered on the next part of his argument and slumped in his chair when he could not find the words. “Maybe the water was there, but has been removed,” she suggested. “That would take a huge effort,” David argued. “So it took a huge effort,” Kree said flippantly. “The planet could be habitable.” “I suppose,” he allowed gloomily. “I just can’t tell from here.” Kree assumed a strangely arrogant expression like a woman examining the finer appointments of a house. She tilted her head, and narrowed her eyes while her mouth became a thin slash across her face. To David she looked disappointed one moment and challenging the next. “At least you’re honest, David,” she said after a long pause. “It must hurt you to admit such things.” “I don’t like to disappoint if that’s what you mean,” he said. Kree’s nostrils flared and her antennae dipped towards him. It was an odd sight to David and he felt a strange sensation of being weighed and measured somehow. After a long silence she said, “I believe you, David.” He did not know why, but he felt suddenly embarrassed. Bashfully he turned away from her and brought up another display. Blue ocean water crashed against high cliffs covered in sun-drenched moss and golden sand. Clear, blue sky opened up overhead casting Kree and himself in bright sunlight. Kree blinked against the glare for a moment or two before asking, “What is this place?” “It’s the beach in Spain near my home,” he said. “I wanted to show it to you.” “It’s wonderful!” she sighed. After a moment’s consideration she added, “This is what you hoped to find on Cove, isn’t it?” David nodded unhappily. “I can’t say I blame you,” she said. “Show me your home.” The image moved over the cliffs to a low group of ornate buildings surrounded by an adobe wall. On the top of the largest building sat the unmistakable, if small, dome of an observatory. Kree scoffed, “You really have had your head in the stars all your life, Cabrillo.” She turned off the display. “Is there anything else you do?” Embarrassed, David had to admit there wasn’t. Kree rolled her eyes and muttered to herself, “You sure know how to pick ‘em, girl.” David thought this little comment would spell the end of her visits, but she continued. “You were wondering why I came here earlier?” she asked. David almost blurted he didn’t care so long as she came back to talk with him from time to time. Kree did not let him speak. Instead, she playfully ran her fingers through his hair. The sensation was a new one for David and the effect was blissfully crippling. He had not realized that such sensations existed in his body and he stared at her in amazement. “I know you can’t resist me, David,” she said in a husky voice. He wanted to agree with her, but she placed a finger to his lips and traced their outline with its tip. Shockwaves of pleasure blotted all thought from his mind. When she bent to kiss him, the last frustrations of the day, the last few weeks, and the past few years fell away completely. Almost as completely as he fell for her. To Be Continued |
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