On screen, Benjamin Sisko could see his station through the viewport behind Riker's desk. It gave him an odd sense of displacement as he realized he was sitting in his own office, looking at DS9 through the window of the _Enterprise_'s ready room.

 

The bearded captain who was partially blocking his view of the station frowned. "I think we should speak privately. Why don't you join me here on the _Enterprise_?"

 

Sisko nodded at the view screen. "I'm on my way." Reaching over, he closed the secure communication and immediately opened another to contact his security chief.

 

"Odo, I am leaving for the _Enterprise_ immediately. I would like you to accompany me. Notify your people accordingly."

 

Not one to say more than necessary, Odo nodded and replied calmly, "I'll meet you outside the _Enterprise_'s docking corridor."

 

 

 

  * * *

 

 

Riker had risen from his chair and begun pacing the floor almost as soon as Sisko had begun talking. He had refrained from interrupting more than once or twice, but it was evident the effort had cost him.

 

"Damn the man!" he exploded when Benjamin had finished. "He could have waited. He could have told us what he was going to do. What the *hell* was he thinking?"

 

Sisko almost smiled as he and Odo shared a brief, knowing look. They had both heard of Riker's protective streak when it came to Picard. It was obvious it had not disappeared just because the older man was no longer his captain.

 

"He is a mature, rational man, Captain. I doubt very much he expected to be taken quite so brazenly. From what he said when we spoke, he was expecting tomorrow night's dinner to be when they made their attempt; much, he said, as they had done during their previous incursion here."

 

Riker nodded and ran a thick-fingered hand through his hair. "That still doesn't excuse his actions."

 

Sisko watched as Will strode over to his desk, and thought for a moment he was actually going to see the man sit. Instead, the burly captain tapped the top of it with his fingertips and began to conjecture aloud.

 

"He must have walked in on something when he entered quarantine. He mentioned when we met just after lunchtime that someone should drop by to see what they were doing. I assumed he meant Crusher or Bashir - there wouldn't have been anything suspicious about their showing up unannounced - but for Picard to do so... What was he thinking? He'd know his showing up might throw them into a panic."

 

Sisko nodded. "I believe throwing them off balance was what he hoped to do. He just didn't expect them to act immediately. Obviously, if he had, he'd have left more instructions and not said he'd speak with me as soon as he was finished speaking to Hendrickson. I think all he wanted to do was confirm in his mind that his conjectures were right."

 

Riker considered the other man's words, but when he spoke it was obvious his primary concern was not how the present situation had come to be, but how it would be undone.

 

"We've got to get him and take whatever's in him out."

 

Sisko watched the big man begin to pace the floor again, amused that, for once, he was the calm one. Known for his sense of urgency during a crisis, he felt unusually patient and quite prepared to take the time to analyze the situation carefully in the face of Riker's desire for immediate action.

 

He glanced at Odo, then offered in a quiet voice, "That isn't what he proposed we do first, Captain."

 

Will stopped abruptly. Doing an about face, he turned surprised, questioning eyes towards Sisko. Opening his mouth to speak, he closed it again as his face slackened in understanding.

 

"He wants us to talk to it. While it's in him."

 

Sisko nodded, understanding the dismay and disbelief he heard in the other man's voice. He himself would never have guessed such a thing.

 

Riker knew his Picard.

 

Lifting his eyes from the data pad he had been reading while the two captains spoke, Odo cleared his throat and spoke for the first time. "If what I've been able to determine from these records is correct, it is doubtful we would be able to communicate with them in any other fashion. They would have to be in a host in order for us to have discourse."

 

Riker looked at the changeling and frowned. He considered the constable's comment for a moment, then shook his head. "I don't like it. We can't have him running around the station this way. I'm concerned about what they would be able to do by using his clearance levels. They now have access to everything he knows." A shiver of deja vu ran through him as he remembered the Borg, then he gathered himself and said, "Altering security measures alone would be..."

 

Odo interrupted. "All security measures have been re-coded and I have received permission from Star Fleet Headquarters to alter access parameters. There are now only four people able to change computer-originated functions on the station. Transporter functions have also been modified to prevent site-to-site transport without my prior authorization. I have people working on investigating whatever transports took place before I initiated this." Odo paused and admitted, "There were at least three of them that may be of concern - one involving quarantine."

 

Ignoring, at least for the moment, the ramifications of his constables's last sentence, Sisko looked at his security officer in surprise. They had discussed making the security changes when he had gone to Odo's office, but he was impressed by the speed with which everything had been accomplished.

 

Riker was also impressed, and his eyes glimmered in appreciation of what the constable had managed to get done when he said, "I'm not even going to ask how you managed the headquarters permission so quickly! The transporter modifications were wise. Good thinking." Sitting on the edge of his desk, he folded his arms across his chest and asked, "Who are the people with clearance?"

 

"On the station, Captain Sisko and myself. From the _Enterprise_, you and Commander Data."

 

"Commander Data?"

 

Odo nodded. "As with myself, it is unlikely the aliens would be able to accomplish a successful integration with him."

 

Both Sisko's and Riker's eyes widened with realization.

 

"Of course," Riker said. "They rely on infiltrating the neural pathways of their hosts. Neither you nor Data would..."

 

Odo nodded before the captain finished. "It is an advantage the aliens have perhaps not thought of themselves."

 

Riker shook his head. "They may not have considered you, but I'm willing to bet they've planned this well enough to have considered Mr. Data. The aliens will want to remove him as a danger, but we'll take the necessary precautions..." His voice drifted off. Data's 'off' switch was in theory top secret, but he wondered how widespread knowledge of it was. Did Picard know where it was? Crusher definitely did, and if she were taken, and they discovered its location... He sighed. At least, Data turned 'off' would be of no actual help to the aliens.

 

Distractedly, he said, "We've got to find out what they call themselves. This calling them 'aliens'..."

 

"Then you agree that talking to whatever Picard is hosting would be the wisest course of action?"

 

Riker let Sisko's quietly spoken words hang in the air a moment before he nodded reluctantly. "Giving the damned things a name isn't the reason, but yes, we do need to at least make an attempt to speak with them. Admiral Picard is correct in that belief, though why he thought *he* should be the one..."

 

Sisko spoke up. "He had come to the conclusion that both Blake and Hendrickson had been taken, and knew it would be easier for us to separate him from the group than it would be to separate either of the other two. He at least had duties that would necessitate his being away from the others for periods of time. And, of course," he continued, his eyes flickering, "he also shared his quarters, so there would be people observing him most of the time. There's a sort of logic to what he did. It's just the timing that is off."

 

Riker didn't appear totally convinced, but he nodded and turned to Odo. "Please speak with Commander Data. See what you can work out concerning security measures, and how, when, and where he should be questioned." Recalling Odo's earlier mention of the transport to quarantine, he said, "And let me know the status of those transports you mentioned."

 

Sliding off the edge of the desk, Riker warned, "The admiral will at no time be put in danger. I want that perfectly clear. If it looks as though there's a problem, I want people with phasers ready. Phaser fire set on heavy stun forced the aliens to exit their host bodies when we had contact with them the last time."

 

Odo almost frowned. "That is a working theory only, Captain. The aliens may have left after their hosts had been stunned for their own reasons, not because they were 'forced' to."

 

Riker's shoulders slumped a little. "I don't need bad news, Mr. Odo."

 

"It is neither good nor bad news, sir. It is an observation."

 

Riker nodded, subconsciously noting the similarities between this security officer and his friend Data.

 

Continuing, Odo said, "I would like permission to include Worf at the meeting with Commander Data. The documents have repeatedly mentioned the strength of these creatures, and although Commander Data or I would probably have no trouble in handling one or more of them, we do not know exactly how many others have been taken. At this point, I would feel more comfortable if someone else with his knowledge of security were informed."

 

Sisko and Riker looked at each other. They had not yet worked out the protocol of this mission: who would take the commanding role and who would take on the position of second. The necessity for that decision now stood between them, unspoken.

 

A silent tug of war followed. Both men had reasons for wanting to lead the effort: Sisko believed he would be the wiser choice because this was his station, and because Picard had entrusted him with the knowledge of what he proposed to do - his actual *reason* for doing so be damned. His would be the cooler head - hell, he didn't even like the man, so there would be no danger of his rushing in, guns blazing.

 

Riker, on the other hand, needed the control leading would give him. He had far more at stake, and had the resources of the _Enterprise_ at his command. Most importantly, however, he needed to know that he was the one to make whatever decisions might determine Picard's fate.

 

Understanding this, Sisko was willing to concede. A subtle flicker in his eyes told Riker the final decisions about the admiral would be left to him. Riker glanced away and nodded at Odo.

 

"Make it so."

 

The three men then proceeded to recap Picard's final instructions, trying to determine their safest means of accomplishing the interview without alarming the rest of the aliens. They had agreed that secrecy would play a crucial role since, if alerted, the aliens might 'disappear into the woodwork' as they had before, leaving them once again falsely believing that they had all been destroyed.

 

Riker was about to ask a question when a stray thought crossed his mind: Beverly was going to furious. If he survived, she was going to kill Picard when this was over.

 

A shiver of realization ran down his spine. //Beverly.// Ignoring Sisko's puzzled look, he hurriedly reached across to the comm unit and punched in Deanna's comm number. He would have her contact Beverly to see if everything was all right. She could perhaps find a way of warning her.

 

Deanna's face appeared almost immediately. She smiled and said, "Will, don't expect me home until late. Beverly just called, and I'm on my way to her quarters now. Hopefully she's in the mood for more talking! I'll give you the lowdown when I get back, but don't wait up for me!"

 

For a brief second, he thought she was on the other end of the communication, and opened his mouth to speak. When he realized he was viewing a recording, he cursed under his breath and switched the comm off. Raising his eyes to the two men sitting across from him, his mind spun at this new development.

 

Immediately understanding the implications of what he had just heard, Sisko turned to Odo. "Get a report."

 

"Yes sir. I'll use a comm on the bridge." Rising, Odo nodded formally and left.

 

The doors had barely swished closed when Riker barked, "You did nothing to protect Beverly?" He felt panic that both she and Deanna might at this very moment, and forced himself to set the thought aside.

 

Sisko raised his hands. "There was no time. It wasn't until he was actually in her quarters, and I had spoken to him, that I knew something was wrong. By then it was too late. I couldn't do anything without raising suspicion, and considering my conversation with Picard, I thought it wiser to contact you and start an organized plan. They generally do not go out in the evenings, so I felt the danger to the station as a whole was minimal. Odo has someone watching her quarters -and Therese Winthrop's," he added pointedly, having no idea why he seemed to have appointed himself her champion.

 

Ignoring Sisko's concern for Therese, Riker ran through several scenarios in his mind that might have resulted in getting Beverly out of her quarters, then nodded reluctantly, hating the fear he had for the women's safety, and, for a moment, Sisko too, for being so cavalier about the doctor's safety. "I asked before if he was carrying anything when he entered his quarters. You're absolutely positive he wasn't?"

 

Sisko nodded, paused, then said hesitantly, "Absolutely... But there is one more thing."

 

Riker looked up. The man's way of giving out information in dribs and drabs was going to drive him insane.

 

"He suggested that perhaps Lieutenant Winthrop's knowledge and involvement with the Mytherin Project might prove beneficial. He said you would understand."

 

Riker's eyes widened, then closed in disbelief. Wishing he did not understand, he rested his elbows on his desk and put his head in both hands. Picard never did anything by half measure.

 

 

  * * *

 

 

After dinner, Beverly had sat herself down comfortably on the sofa. Picard hesitated, glancing at the chair across from her, but knowing he had to keep as much to normal as possible, he reluctantly sat down on the sofa as well.

 

Beverly looked at him, somewhat surprised. Rising, she moved towards the end of the sofa he had wedged himself into and sat next to him. Raising her hand, she brushed the back of her fingers against his cheek. "Jean Luc, what *is* the problem? You're not acting like yourself at all tonight."

 

"Perhaps I'm just tired."

 

Beverly grinned wickedly and leaned forward to slowly kiss the side of his face. "Well, that's understandable!"

 

Uncertain why it should be, the Srn'n nodded. He moved uncomfortably, disconcerted by the physiological response this body was having to the woman's closeness.

 

Beverly's smile faded. Whatever the problem was, he obviously did not want to talk about it. Determinedly she continued, "Is it something to do with Therese?"

 

"Of course not! Why would you think that?" His surprise was genuine.

 

"Because I can't think of anything or anyone else who would make you so distracted. There's something on your mind, Jean Luc, something bothering you. You can't hide it." She gently leaned against him and entwined her fingers with his. "Talk to me."

 

Disengaging himself from her, he rose abruptly, the human's mind flashing images of what this body did with hers. The memories of his host's skin sliding against hers and his holding her and her moaning and his thrusting himself...Confused, uncomfortable, ignorant of what he should do next, the Srn'n fought the urge to run and said, "Fine. Yes, there's something bothering me, but..."

 

The door chime sounded, and he had to stop himself from exclaiming in relief. A saviour stood outside the door. Quickly, he turned and said, "Come."

 

Beverly frowned, then watched Deanna breeze into the room. Looking from one to the other, she exclaimed in a pleased tone, "Well! So I get to see the both of you!"

 

Picard spoke immediately. "Not for long, I'm afraid. I have a meeting to attend."

 

Deanna looked at him curiously, then turned to Beverly and smiled. "Guess that means we can talk about whatever we like, then!"

 

Beverly glanced uncertainly at Picard, then nodded. "Looks that way."

 

Deanna's smile ended. There was something wrong. Waves of confusion swept over her from Beverly. Glancing at Picard, she frowned imperceptibly.

 

Nothing.

 

Reaching out gently with her empathic senses, she felt something she couldn't identify, but none of the comforting humm of muted, controlled thoughts and feelings that usually accompanied this man.

 

She frowned. He had always been able to prevent her from reading him, but this was totally different. This was like looking at...a shiver ran through her, and she looked away from him. "Beverly," she said quickly, "Why don't we spend some time on the Promenade?"

 

"Don't feel like staying here and putting your feet up?" Beverly asked.

 

Deanna shot an unreadable glance at Picard then turned back to Beverly and shook her head. "Not yet. Perhaps later. I'm hungry, and I feel like being in a crowd."

 

She was also in a real hurry to distance herself from Picard.

 

 

 

 

  * * *

 

 

Riker pressed fingers between his eyebrows, trying to smooth the furrows he was sure were now permanently embedded there. For the past hour and more he, Sisko, Data, Odo and now Worf had tossed ideas around. Finally they'd come up with a sort of general plan, the focus of which was, of course, speaking to Picard's alien and keeping the other aliens contained without their knowing it.

 

Now, only the two captains remained in Riker's ready room, the other three having left to work out manpower requirements for their joint venture. Unable, for the moment, to do anything other than speak generally, Sisko decided to clarify some things. Harking back to Picard's request that he mention the Mytherin project to Riker, Sisko asked:

 

"I know Therese Winthrop is being contacted to join us, but I've never heard of the Mytherin project. What was it about, exactly?"

 

"It's still running, actually. Winthrop initiated the project years and years ago, and led the research team herself for the time she was on the _Enterprise_. One aspect of the project has to do with producing artificial neurotransmitters."

 

"She's been doing the research for a long time, so I'm sure the admiral is well acquainted with what she was working on. Obviously there's something he believes she can help with. As I told Mr. Data before he left, we'll know once she gets here." He shook his head, the feelings of exasperation welling up over him. "Picard can't help but make things just a little more complicated, for some reason. Why the need to add to the equation is beyond me."

 

"The aliens integrate themselves into our neural pathways," offered Sisko, vaguely understanding what Picard had perhaps hoped, but not quite grasping the entire concept.

 

Riker nodded. "And he obviously hopes there's something she knows that will help us." Frowning he stopped to think. His brow cleared and he snapped his fingers. "And I know what it is!"

 

Forgetting his earlier dismay at Picard having been willingly taken over by the aliens, he continued excitedly, "The few who survived being taken over last time had no memory of what they did while the alien controlled them. Nor did they retain any of the alien's thoughts. It was believed this was because of a chemical change that occurred while the alien occupied its host. I'm willing to bet he wants her to see if there's a way for him to retain the memory of his experience - and perhaps even of the alien's thoughts. It'd be his idea of a last ditch effort, in case things don't work out and we have to kill them all. His retaining the memories would tell us what it was all about..."

 

Sisko sat back in his chair, stunned. The man had set himself up to be used as a human guinea pig - and put himself into the hands of the very woman it looked as though he had been playing fast and loose on. Once again, he wished he understood Picard's personal life a little better.

 

"Then it's obvious why she has to be brought into this." He paused, thinking of the situation he'd seen on the station and asked, "But we'll also need Doctor Crusher. She'll be okay with all this?"

 

Riker nodded, missing Sisko's point. He almost smiled when he thought again of how angry Beverly was going to be when this was all over. Looking up, he saw Sisko eyeing him curiously. Allowing his almost-smile to turn to a definite one, he said, "She can handle it, all right, but she's going to kill Picard when this is all over."

 

Sisko had been more concerned about Beverly's reaction to Picard calling in his other lover to help, but he allowed the diversion and commented noncommitally, "She doesn't seem the violent type."

 

Will chuckled, welcoming the diversion of speaking of something else for a moment. "You ought to see her when she's furious, then. The admiral is about the only one I can think of who dares cross her path when she's in full swing, and I half think *that* is just because he refuses to be cowed by anyone. It's kind of practice for him - withstand Beverly's fury, divert it or convert it to something else, and he knows he can negotiate his way out of anything."

 

"It must have been interesting serving on the same ship as the both of them."

 

"It was." Shaking his head, he said, "Lost a lot of credits when he left the ship with Therese."

 

"So Crusher and he were involved at one point while they were serving here?"

 

Hiding his curiosity at Sisko's interest, Riker paused and then answered truthfully, "No one really knows for sure but them, I guess. All I know is that most bets were on their getting together. It seemed right somehow."

 

"From where I sit, Therese Winthrop seems right, too."

 

Now Riker was really intrigued. Nodding, he said, "Oddly enough, most people thought that as well. She's a hard woman to dislike." He looked up and smiled ruefully, "I tried."

 

Benjamin raised an eyebrow.

 

Having no idea why he was discussing this, Riker continued anyway. "Beverly had been my friend a long time. I thought his leaving with Therese hurt her badly and didn't think she deserved it."

 

"Why blame the other woman? Picard did the choosing."

 

The way Sisko said *Picard* alerted Riker to the reason he was speaking of so personal a matter with an 'outsider'. Sisko's unspoken antagonism towards the older man bothered him, and he was trying to win him over...The shock that he felt he had to surprised him, but did not prevent him from continuing, "Because, like it or not, I'd never seen Picard quite so happy,.. so content. Therese was good for him, and I couldn't be upset that he had chosen the woman who could do that for him. I could, however, resent the woman for existing." He shrugged, "It doesn't make sense, I guess, and once I realized that, I got over my dislike for her, short-lived as it was."

 

"Short-lived?"

 

"Well, I had liked her just fine up until I realized she and Picard were more than just friends, and I realized I liked her well enough after they left and stayed together, and I saw that Picard was going to remain happy."

 

He looked up as Sisko nodded, watched as the other man sorted out what he had been told, and decided it was time to get some information for himself.

 

"Tell me, do you know when he and Beverly started this new relationship?"

 

Sisko shrugged, then paid for Riker's insights with knowledge of his own. Remembering their first meeting in his office, he said, "I think when they met in my office, about fifteen minutes after he arrived on the station."

 

Riker's eyebrows shot up. "What?"

 

Sisko's eyes glinted, enjoying -now- the memory and the retelling of it to an interested party. "Sparks flew. I don't think they were aware of anyone's presence but their own, though Picard did an admirable job of pretending we were there. Whatever it is between them was obvious enough that I wondered his true reasons for being here - to inspect the station...or the doctor...."

 

Riker almost choked, then recovered enough to say, "That's pretty obvious. I'll be damned. Perhaps they were only continuing something they'd started on Earth, then."

 

Sisko shrugged. "That's something you'll have to find out from someone else, but my guess is no. He spent nights in his own quarters, alone, for the first while. When they weren't working or sleeping, however, they were always together. It was disconcerting to see, especially after speaking with his wi..with Therese."

 

At Riker's questioning frown, he explained, "Just before she left to come here herself, Therese called, worried he'd forgotten something. When I finally located him with the message, he was with Crusher." He paused, remembering how she had acted towards her dinner companion. "They looked to be on pretty intimate terms..."

 

Riker interjected, "So it looked to you as though what he'd forgotten was Therese."

 

Sisko nodded. "Then Therese arrived, right as rain, and, except for her first night here, he remained with Crusher." He shook his head. "Yet he still seems to be on perfectly good terms with her."

 

Riker nodded, wondering if Sisko realized that his noticing such things was a little beyond the requirements of commanding a space station...he grinned inwardly. A man after his own heart? It never hurt to know these things.

 

Sisko saw a flicker on the other man's features and tried to explain his resentment honestly, "I don't care for him at the best of times, and I resented that he knew whatever it was that Hendrickson was keeping secret, when I didn't. To have him act dishonorably, as I believed him to be doing, grated on me, and there are always people who keep you in the know about this sort of behaviour." He smiled ruefully. "It also didn't help that no matter when I contacted him, they were together, and I felt as though I were interrupting something *really* private..."

 

The other captain grinned broadly. "Damn! I wish I'd been here!"

 

Riker knew he had at least part of the reason for Sisko's resentment now. The man had a sense of honour a mile wide: if he'd liked what he knew of Therese, he'd have been affronted by Picard's behaviour - to be honest, it still surprised Riker himself, somewhat. He was crazy to know how everyone directly involved managed to take the change so well.

 

Gossip they weren't even certain how they had gotten into stopped abruptly and was quickly forgotten, as the door chime sounded and the three who had left rejoined them.

 

 

  * * *

 

 

Conversation stopped, and the five men looked at one another. The list of 'things to do', as Data had called it, was not long, but its contents were daunting. Quarantine was to be contained with no one entering or leaving. Blake and Hendrickson were to be put under strict surveillance, but not alarmed in any way. Beverly was to be brought into the loop and be present at Picard's interrogation. Therese had to be informed of the situation and readied to play her role. And the containers they had discovered that Bashir had beamed out of quarantine and into Hendrickson's quarters prior to the transporter lockout were to be traced.

 

Last, but not least, on the list: interrogate Picard's alien and then remove it from his body.

 

It was agreed that the final decisions on what to do with the aliens themselves would have to be left for Starfleet Headquarters, and that Picard would obviously have to have some say in the matter as well...providing he survived whatever treatment Riker agreed that Therese could provide in order to preserve his memories...

 

Riker slapped his knees, then rose. "I suppose I should be the one to talk to Beverly. You will remain here to speak with Therese?" When Sisko nodded, he looked over at Odo. "Counselor Troi and Doctor Crusher have just left the doctor's quarters?"

 

At Odo's nod, he exhaled audibly. "I just hope she doesn't take any of this out on me..."

 

Sisko glanced up and couldn't tell whether the man was serious or not. The _Enterprise_ people, he thought, were an unusual bunch...

 

 

End

Complications 33/42

TITLE: Complications 34/42

Author: Mariel

Series: TNG

Part: 34/42

Rating:

Codes: P/f P/C

 

 

 

Realizing Deanna was in a bit of a hurry to leave, Beverly had quickly said goodbye to Picard and headed towards the door.

 

As soon as they stepped outside Beverly's quarters, Deanna grabbed her friend's arm and began to usher her hurriedly down the corridor. Surprised, Beverly allowed the smaller woman her way until they had turned a corner, then stopped abruptly.

 

"What on earth is the matter, Deanna? What's the hurry?"

 

Deanna looked up at Beverly, her face serious. She was pretty certain she was safe, but just in case...

 

"May I see the back of your neck?"

 

A chill rushed from the top of Beverly's head to her stomach.

 

"Why?"

 

"Beverly, please"

 

She turned and bent over a little. "It'd be a lot easier if you'd just tell me what your problem is, De." Flipping her hair to one side, she allowed her friend to look at the back of her neck.

 

Straightening, she said impatiently, "See? No monsters. Now, what's the problem?"

 

"What did I walk in on just now?"

 

Colour flushed Beverly's face. "Jean Luc and I were having a rather unusual discussion... he wasn't himself..."

 

Deanna nodded, allowing Beverly's thoughts to play themselves out.

 

Beverly turned around to look back toward where they had come from, slowly adding one and one together. Turning to her friend again, she asked in a voice filled with dread, "What did you sense?"

 

"I think you already know. Something's not right. I sensed the same strangeness in Jean Luc that I did in Hendrickson." Her eyes stared down the corridor behind Beverly. "I can't describe it to you. I can't even say that it's inhuman...it's just something other than..." She shook her head, at a loss for words.

 

"And you think Jean Luc..."

 

Deanna nodded and returned her gaze to Beverly. "Yes. We have to contact Will."

 

Looking back again towards her quarters, the doctor shook her head and made as though to retrace her steps. "I should find out for sure, first."

 

Deanna knew better than to utter an emphatic 'No!' That, she knew from long experience, would only elicit a protest from her sometimes argumentative friend. Instead, she placed a hand on Beverly's arm to stay her movement and said, "Beverly, think. The Admiral wasn't acting quite himself, was he?"

 

Beverly thought of how he had tensed as she kissed him, when he usually relaxed and invited more, of how he had kept his distance from her when it was normal for them to touch... Then there was the odd way he had reacted on the couch...and even the salting of his food was all wrong...

 

"No," she admitted, a chill of dread coursing through her.

 

"Then under no circumstances are you going back there to check. You know the dangers as well as I do, and I can sense that you now believe he's been taken just as strongly as I do."

 

Beverly nodded reluctantly in agreement. "Fine, you're right. Let's go see Will." She paused, her eyes pools of worry and fear. "Deanna..." Unable to finish, she lifted a hand and ran nervous fingers through her hair, then wrapped her arms around herself tightly, as though to somehow control her growing panic.

 

Deanna nodded and squeezed her friend's arm reassuringly. "It'll be all right, Beverly. We won't let anything happen to him."

 

With that, they set a course for the _Enterprise_.

 

 

 

  * * *

 

 

Arriving at Riker's ready room a short time later, the two women were surprised to find Captain Sisko there. Both men were standing and appeared to be preparing to leave.

 

Immediately suspicious, Beverly darted a look towards Deanna.

 

Knowing that Sisko had been the person Picard was supposed to have been with that afternoon, the empath immediately understood her concern. Reaching out telepathically, she searched for the same strangeness she had felt in both Hendrickson and Jean Luc.

 

After only a few strained seconds, the counselor satisfied herself that whatever she had sensed in Picard and Hendrickson was absent in Sisko. Turning to Beverly, she nodded. "It's all right."

 

Both women then directed their gazes towards Riker, who opened his mouth to speak.

 

Three voices said in chorus, "We've got a problem."

 

There was a pause as Will, Beverly, and Deanna looked at one another, acknowledging their having all said the same thing at once.

 

"Picard/Jean-Luc has been taken", they said in another chorus.

 

There was a brief silence as they realized they all knew the same thing.

 

"How do you know?" they all asked at once.

 

Sisko, tired of the floor show, interrupted by waving a hand in the direction of the ready room sitting area and said, "Perhaps if we all took a seat and sorted this out?"

 

The three turned to him with the unmistakable look of people who were totally surprised he was there. Mentally, Sisko shook his head. *Definitely* a strange bunch, he confirmed.

 

 

 

 

 

After sitting, Beverly and Deanna told their stories and listened as Sisko and Riker began a brief synopsis of what they knew.

 

The two men had barely begun, however, when the door chime rang. At Riker's "Come," Therese Winthrop entered, stopping just inside the door when she saw the company awaiting her.

 

"Captain Riker, I got your message and came immediately. Mr. Data said I should come straight here."

 

Riker's request had concerned her, but she felt even more trepidation at seeing the assembled group. Swallowing, she managed to maintain her outward calm, revealing only a curiosity about her being summoned.

 

Will rose and strode towards her. "Therese, thank you for coming so quickly. I'm sorry to have disturbed your evening."

 

Looking at the people occupying the couch and chairs, she shrugged and observed, "It is not only my evening that has been disturbed."

 

She took a couple of steps towards the others, then glanced up at the tall man beside her. "This has to do with Jean Luc, yes?"

 

Riker looked down at her and paused slightly before nodding.

 

Therese exhaled softly. "Mon Dieu, comme fait-il? Qu'est-qu'il a fait?" Looking across the room, face calm, her heart thudding, she said to the group. "What has he gotten himself into this time?"

 

Everyone looked at her in surprise. Under different circumstances, Riker would have been amused by her tone of patient resignation.

 

"Let me get you a chair, and we'll fill you in," he said.

 

While the rest waited silently, Sisko rose and said in welcome, "Lieutenant, it's good to finally meet you."

 

Recognizing him immediately, Therese stepped forward and smiled. Extending a hand that was immediately engulfed in his, she looked up at him and said, "Captain, I am sorry I have not yet passed by to thank you for playing messenger for me. I was very insistent that evening, and I am sorry."

 

The tall man looked down at her and also smiled, warmed that, despite the circumstances, she was gracious enough to remember. "It was no bother at all."

 

"Only because you are kind. I knew that if Jean Luc wanted me here it must be for something important." Her glance strayed towards Beverly but quickly returned to Sisko. "I was torn between getting here as soon as possible and taking care of details, yes? You were good enough to put up with my demands."

 

The captain noted her glance towards the doctor and wondered if Therese was aware he knew about her husband. "The admiral has informed me of the situation in quarantine," he said quietly, "We may need to speak later."

 

Therese blinked as the burden of two worries asserted itself in her mind. Henri, and now, Jean Luc...Inhaling deeply, she nodded, appreciating the kindly sympathy she saw in the man's dark eyes. She would have spoken further, but was interrupted by Riker setting her chair down near where she stood. Smiling a thank-you at him, she seated herself, and the bearded captain began their meeting...

 

  * * *

 

 

When Riker finished, Therese nodded, understanding immediately what Jean Luc hoped she could do. The understanding was quickly followed by a thousand reasons why she couldn't meet his request. She was angry that he would put himself in such peril without proper safeguards. So foolish...and so typical, she thought. Opening her mouth to voice her protest, she was forestalled by Beverly.

 

"It's too dangerous, Will. My first directive is to do no harm. This could potentially wipe out every memory the man has. I can't allow it!" the doctor averred firmly.

 

Taking a deep breath, Therese swallowed her own fears and concentrated instead on the problem Jean Luc had put into her hands. "I think we can make it safe enough, Doctor, but I must first have time to consider..."

 

"We don't have much..."

 

"I understand, and I do not ask for a lot."

 

"*Any* time might be longer than we can risk..."

 

 

 

Sisko, the outsider, sat back and watched the byplay with interest.

 

He knew what Winthrop was doing -he'd done the same thing earlier with Riker. Watching with growing amusement, he saw Therese settle herself into a calmness against Dr. Crusher's growing concern.

 

Composed and reasonable, her earlier anger at what she had termed the admiral's 'stupidity' now tightly controlled, she sat a moment, her mind whirling with possibilities. Finally she offered absently, "Things are always short of time when Jean Luc gets into mischief, yes? We will get him out of this. We must."

 

"This is a *little* more serious than 'mischief', Lieutenant."

 

Therese shrugged, her thoughts still on the theoretical details of attempting what Jean Luc was asking her to try. "It is still a mess typical of Jean Luc." Pushing her fear for him to the background, she looked at the assembled group, feeling thankful he had such friends. Forcing herself to a reasonableness she did not totally feel, she said, "Captain Sisko and Captain Riker have a plan we agree sounds feasible. We will try. Jean-Luc is fortunate he has people around him who can take care of his brilliant, if impetuous self when he does these things."

 

Beverly clenched her hands into fists, forcing herself not to stand and scream that the important thing was to get that creature safely out of Jean-Luc. They could discuss his predilection for getting himself into this kind of scrape at a later date, when he was safe. "I'm sure..."

 

Forgetting politeness, Therese turned to Riker before Beverly could finish, her mind working rapidly, "There are more reasons why an attempt like this would fail than there are reasons for it to succeed, you are aware of this, yes?"

 

When Riker nodded, she turned to Crusher. "Doctor, I will need all your information in respect to brain function during the hosting period and after the aliens were removed."

 

Beverly looked at Therese with distrust. She had no doubt of her own ability to safely remove the alien life form from Jean Luc, but what Therese seemed to have in mind was an entirely different matter. She had read the initial report findings, and they looked good...but they weren't a certainty. There had yet to be an attempt to test the theory on a living human being, and testing on computer-generated subjects was never quite the same as dealing with the real thing - no matter how good the simulation.

 

A niggling voice in the back of her mind suggested that perhaps, more than anything, she hated that Jean Luc would need to rely on Therese for his successful recovery. It had always been she who nursed him back to health. It didn't seem right that...

 

She slowly became aware that Therese was speaking to her.

 

"...I will need your help, Doctor. I will explain later, but your presence will be important. I've learned that certain conduits must remain open during the process, or the pathways closed, they will not reopen, their neurofibres becoming permanently fused. You are his primary focus," she smiled, "and at the moment, I am his other - if you do not count the aliens." She paused and tilted her head as she looked at the doctor, adding with gentle humour, "This would make an interesting story, yes?"

 

Beverly was not amused, and refused to answer her question. Her primary concern was having Jean Luc safe, alien memories be damned. So far as she was concerned, Jean Luc's desire to know why they were here was a simple bout of fancy, something that should never have been taken seriously. Had the aliens wanted to contact humans, she was certain they could have done so at any time during their presence here. They had not.

 

Sisko had watched everyone's reaction to the situation with interest, and now watched with growing respect Doctor Crusher's response to the crisis. There was no doubt the woman had a lot personally at stake here. Rather than pull rank or become resentful or unreasonable or any of the things that might have been expected, he observed her as she sat back a moment and took the time to analyze the situation.

 

 

When she next spoke, she did so calmly and with assurance. "I don't believe this is going to be worth either the effort or the risk. Obviously, a race of beings so evolved that they are able to take over at will the neural pathways of a human host, and operate among us without detection, is also capable of communicating with us if it wants to. They had the opportunity to the last time we met up with them and they did not. Nor have they this time around. It's obvious they have no intention of communicating with us. I would even hazard a guess that they would *refuse* to do so."

 

Riker nodded, considering her words. "I agree, but I also believe that we must at least try to question them. Trying to retain the alien's memories in Picard is another matter. It would obviously be an asset if we could, but the dangers concern me. When the time comes, I will need your assurance that the risks are negligible." He glanced at Therese, then returned his gaze to Beverly, adding, "Lieutenant Winthrop's expertise is not in dispute, but even she admits she needs time to determine whether or not it is truly feasible."

 

"And it may not be," Therese admitted. "I will need to see the patient first."

 

Riker nodded and looked at the chronometer. "We're about to arrange that now..."

 

Looking at Therese, Beverly took a deep breath and carefully set her professionalism in place. The woman was at the top of her field, and not only was she extremely competent, she cared for Jean Luc. Winthrop would not, she was sure, allow anything to happen to him. Holding Riker's gaze with steady eyes, she said evenly, "Then let's get the show started...I need to contact Julian. We're going to need his help."

 

Riker glanced at Sisko, who nodded. He rose and with long strides went to the console on Riker's desk and established a communications link with DS9.

 

Punching in the necessary codes, he waited impatiently. After a moment, he frowned and said to Crusher, "He's not in his quarters."

 

Beverly frowned and rose to join him at the desk. "That's odd, I was sure he said he'd be there. Try sickbay - perhaps he was called there."

 

Sickbay informed them that Doctor Bashir had left that morning and was not expected to return for the day. Sisko frowned. "Where the hell is he?"

 

Beverly reached over and quickly punched in her quarters' communication number, worry making her muscles tense. "He may have let me know - he said he'd tell me if anything came up."

 

She was immediately rewarded with the message Bashir had sent her, telling her he was on the way to quarantine.

 

Their hearts sank collectively. There would be no help from there.

 

 

 

  * * *

 

 

On his way to Admiral Blake's quarters, the Srn'n Picard was surprised to meet the man he knew was Miles O'Brien. Miles smiled and stopped to speak to him, bringing to his attention something he held in his hand.

 

Unseen, Worf silently moved up behind the admiral. Picard never knew what hit him.

 

 

  * * *

 

 

 

Blake tapped the comm button sharply a second time, "Blake to Picard."

 

The air in Hendrickson's quarters was suddenly filled with tension.

 

"I don't understand. I contacted his quarters earlier and got no response; I assumed he was on the way here. Now he's not answering his commbadge."

 

"Something's wrong."

 

Rising swiftly, the leader said, "Get to quarantine, make sure Bashir and the offspring are safe. I will contact you as soon as I have made sure the young I have here are safe. We may have to evacuate those we can."

 

"And if there is a problem in quarantine?"

 

"Under no circumstances are the humans to learn anything. Make sure the others understand that. We will try again; it is not over."

 

Blake nodded, a feeling of inevitability washing over him. They would succeed or die. Surrender was not an option.

 

 

  * * *

 

 

The three stood quietly, talking intermittently, the wait feeling interminable, though they had really only just arrived at the medlab a few moments before. The small, though well-equipped, lab was on board the _Enterprise_, and had been determined the best place to carry out their attempt to communicate with the alien Picard hosted.

 

The site-to-site transport hummed, and Therese, Beverly, and Riker all turned toward where the sparkled shimmer of the transporter slowly changed to reveal the two forms of Worf and Jean Luc Picard.

 

Worf held the admiral's slumped form carefully until Riker moved to help him carry the unconscious admiral over to the waiting biobed.

 

"I used the maximum dosage," the klingon reported tersely.

 

Beverly nodded and ran a tricorder over Jean Luc's body, trying to push down the thought that this was happening all too easily, that there had to be some hitch...

 

...And gasped as Picard's eyes suddenly flew open.

 

End

Complications 34/42

TITLE: Complications

AUTHOR: Mariel

SERIES: TNG

PART: 35/42

RATING:

CODES: P/f P/C

 

 

 

When Jean Luc's eyes shot open, Beverly gasped and stepped back. When no further movement occurred, she gathered herself quickly and began running her tricorder over him. She knew the amount of drug Worf had injected him with ought to have knocked him out completely, making both the kind of brain activity she was seeing and the opening of his eyes impossible. Obviously, the alien was somehow shielded against the drug's effects.

 

"Will," she said, "Here."

 

Riker looked at her shocked face, then followed her gaze to Picard.

 

Moving closer, he watched as she continued to run the tricorder over the admiral's body. "He's not really conscious," she informed him, "but there is brain activity I can't explain..."

 

"The alien?"

 

Therese moved closer and looked at her own tricorder with interest. "There are the same brain chemical differences present here that were noted in your previous experiences. It is likely that they are not affected by the sedatives as much as the host is. What we are seeing here is not Jean Luc's independent brain activity but the alien controlling his brain activity."

 

Beverly nodded. "What are you picking up concerning their use of neural transmitters?"

 

Therese frowned. "It is unusual. They have a different..." She paused, examining the tricorder data, then looked up at the doctor. "Osmotic pressure in his entire body is higher than normal, and even higher in the alien life form. Whatever they send through the neural pathways...there are neurotransmitters here I'm not familiar with...they seem to be enabling the alien to..." her voice drifted off as she punched in data, then waited for her tricorder to respond.

 

Beverly's mind raced. "His salt intake...it was extraordinarily high..."

 

The older woman nodded. "That would explain..." She stopped examining her tricorder readings a moment to look at the patient. "His brain activity is increasing - the neural pathways are being accessed - it's almost as though the alien is 'clearing' them somehow...I think it retreated, gave up control of Jean Luc's brain at the shock of the drug being administered, but now that it's realized it isn't affected, it's resuming control."

 

Picard blinked his eyes.

 

Beverly reacted immediately. Placing a gentle hand on his arm she leaned over him and said in a low voice, "Jean Luc?"

 

The eyes stared at the ceiling, unresponsive, and the red-haired doctor's shoulders slumped. Looking up at the bio-bed readings, she said, "His circulation is approaching normal, respiration and heart rate steady, and..."

 

She frowned and moved to again run her tricorder along the base of his head.

 

"Therese, take a look at this."

 

Winthrop moved closer and examined the data flowing across the readout screen of the tricorder.

 

"It is definitely trying to recover control of his brain function. It is altering the chemical balance in the neural pathways enough to counter the effects of the sedative."

 

Riker spoke up. "So it might be possible to communicate with it even while he's still, theoretically at least, sedated?"

 

Beverly nodded.

 

They all stared down at Picard. There was no expression on the admiral's face, no physical movement other than the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.

 

Then he blinked again: once... twice... then slowly brought his eyes around to focus on the three gathered around him.

 

Stepping closer, Riker said, "There are some questions I would like to ask you."

 

Picard blinked again, but did not otherwise respond.

 

After two more attempts to draw a response from whatever was currently residing in the admiral, Riker stepped back.

 

"Are you certain the creature has adequate control of his brain to communicate?"

 

Beverly nodded. "There's no doubt about it. The brain has now regained most of it's activity, barring some gross motor control." She frowned slightly and looked at Picard. "There is a completely different wave pattern, and I still can't explain the chemical difference..."

 

Therese interjected, "It is aiding the flow of neurotransmitters. My guess is that these parasites are not perfectly adapted to humans as a host. They are not, if you like, as 'comfortable' in us as they are in whatever their normal host is."

 

Riker threw Therese a surprised look. "Parasites? Who said anything about parasites?"

 

"We all have our hobbies, yes? I am no expert, but parasites, they have always fascinated me. I am beginning to believe that, basically speaking, it is a parasite that we are dealing with here."

 

He looked over at Beverly, who shrugged to indicate she thought it might be a possibility.

 

"So what does that tell us about them?"

 

Therese shrugged. "They are adaptable, obviously. And we already know that humans are not their usual host. Probably, as they are so obviously an intelligent parasite -which, by the way, most claim is impossible- their normal host is likely not so intelligent as we. They may have trouble adapting to the complexity of our brains." She stopped to think of the wonder that such a thing could come to be, then added, "It is also likely that their society and their attitudes to things we take for granted as universal is not so with them."

 

Riker frowned. "That's a lot of supposition based on very little fact.

 

Therese nodded. "Perhaps. I'm just trying to correlate our experience with what we know about them."

 

They all turned and looked at the admiral, who lay staring up at them. Impatiently, Riker moved away from the biobed. "I have to meet Captain Sisko in a short time. What do you think the chances are of my being able to communicate with this 'parasite' before I have to leave?"

 

Beverly shook her head. "I have no idea. It's not up to us, Will..." Turning her gaze back to Picard, she finished, "...it's up to *it*"

 

 

 

  * * *

 

 

The Srn'n moved quickly down the corridor towards the quarantine area, doing his best to reassure himself that everything was all right. Half expecting to find Picard as he turned each corner, he became increasingly worried when he did not. He had tried to quell his concern over Hendrickson's quick reaction to Picard's failure to respond, tried to doubt the wisdom of Apa Pr'm's impatience and refusal to wait a while longer to see if everything was all right.

 

Arriving at quarantine, he sighed in relief and punched in his access code, then moved quickly to enter...

 

...only to be forced to stop short when the doors failed to open. Frowning, he punched in the numbers again.

 

The doors remained closed.

 

A panic began to rise within him. It was not right, it was not right, it was not right.

 

Fingers trembling slightly, he tried once more.

 

Nothing.

 

His hand dropped to his side. Forcing down a cold rush of panic, he made himself think, then calmed as he accessed Blake's knowledge and realized the number of possibilities behind the doors not opening. Raising a now clammy palm, he slapped his comm badge, deciding that protesting to Sisko should be his next step. Perhaps there had been a problem....

 

//It is not right,// a little voice inside him continued to mutter.

 

A disembodied voice calmly replied to his request to speak with the captain, explaining that Captain Sisko was unavailable.

 

"Look," the Srn'n exclaimed angrily, "this is ADMIRAL Blake. I want to speak to him immediately!"

 

The person on the other end paused, then said in an apologetic voice, "I'm sorry, Admiral, sir, but the captain has ordered he not be disturbed under any circumstances."

 

"This isn't 'any circumstances'. Get him. That's an order!"

 

The "One moment, sir," he received gave him only a brief second of satisfaction.

 

//It is not right,// the voice insisted.

 

 

  * * *

 

 

Standing beside the ensign who had been communicating with the admiral, Odo nodded. "Good work, ensign. We've got him just angry enough, I think. Wait three minutes, then reply that Captain Sisko is on his way."

 

Odo was pleased. Delaying Blake's entrance meant that Hendrickson would have to wait longer to determine his next move.

 

The ensign nodded at the constable's instructions and watched as he left the Ops station, wondering what the hell was going on.

 

 

 

  * * *

 

 

 

Automatically, Hendrickson moved towards the computer, then stopped himself. He had to remain calm. No more mistakes. Things were going awry, but that did not mean something couldn't be salvaged.

 

Looking at the computer terminal on his desk again, he sighed regretfully. It would have been the easiest way to access what he needed to know, but any inquiries he made would be recorded, and he didn't have the time to hide his tracks. It was imperative that he leave no leads to follow.

 

Walking into his sleeping area, he strode to the closet and pulled out a black, rectangular case by its handle. Quickly striding over to the bed, he laid the case down and gently opened it.

 

He couldn't help but smile down at the young nestled inside in their little compartments. They were well, but they would need nourishment and a constant medium of saline. Going to the replicator, he placed instructions and waited for the liquid he required to appear. When it did, he took it to the case, and, opening a small tab, poured the liquid into it. He could see the compartments fill completely. That would last them for a while. Their fragility with respect to sodium fluctuations was a concern, but he would watch over them carefully until they were older and hardier.

 

Closing the case, he slid it off the bed and stood holding it as he looked once around the room. There was nothing here that could possibly lead the humans to what or who he was. There was nothing *anywhere*, he thought, thanking the Decree he had the sense to destroy or bring with him anything that might indicate a Srn'n had been guiding many Federation policies for the past five years.

 

He ought to have heard from Blake by now, but refrained from contacting him, wanting nothing to appear out of the norm. Looking at the chronometer, he made a decision. There were a couple of enquiries he could make without danger of giving away his plans. Walking back into the livingroom, he placed the case carefully on the desk and then hurriedly pulled out his own personal computer, immediately asking it to access DS9's data bank.

 

"Access denied. Invalid security code."

 

Hendrickson frowned and keyed in his numbers once again.

 

"Access denied. Invalid security code," the voice repeated.

 

The confirmation of what he was already sure of sent a shiver though both him and the host.

 

They knew.

 

He was not certain what, or how much, but they knew enough to know he was involved. He swore under his breath, the human body trembling from the Srn'n reaction to this setback.

 

Thinking rapidly, his features slowly relaxed. All he needed to do was look up fleet transport records. Those he had in his own personal files - they were a day or so old, but they'd be able to give him an idea of what was going where....

 

It took only about 10 minutes for him to find exactly the transport he was looking for. He prayed to the Decree that it hadn't been re-scheduled since he'd last updated the files.

 

 

  * * *

 

 

"There are questions we would like to ask you," Riker attempted again.

 

Still Picard's eyes regarded them stonily, hating the restraints they had put on him to prevent his moving, knowing that he would not give them the pleasure of seeing him strain against them.

 

Throwing his hands up, Will turned away. "Are you certain there's consciousness?"

 

Beverly nodded.

 

Turning back, he tried another angle. "You will remain here until you tell us something, you know that don't you? All we want is information on why you're here and what you want. You know enough about us to realize that you will not be harmed."

 

The Srn'n regarded the human coldly through Picard's eyes. They were so persistent, these fools, always so confident that they would get their answers if they just kept trying.

 

Riker shook his head. "Dammit! I have to leave!" Looking down at Picard in frustration, he told the two women, "You know what has to be asked. Contact me if there's any response, any response at all."

 

The women nodded, resuming their work before the doors had even closed behind him.

 

The Srn'n lay there, thinking. Humans were always so assured of success, he thought. But they would not be rewarded this time. His strength slowly ebbing, he summoned forth thoughts to bolster him. They had no idea of the magnitude of what they were up against, no idea of the seething masses waiting in a region far distant from even the farthest outskirts of their space, waiting for the right time for admittance. That right time would come. It would come as the Decree had dictated. There would be a host for everyone. This space was theirs, it was Srn'n destiny. His faith had ordained that it be so.

 

Anger began to build within the Srn'n at the ineptness that had allowed them to be discovered this time. They should never have altered the plan, never have taken Picard - instead, they should have....

 

He stifled his 'could have, should haves' and forced air noisily into the human's lungs. He knew he would probably not last a lot longer, knew that it was well past the time he ought to have taken more sodium into the host's body. His time left could be measured in hours... but the fools that were watching over him would be able to do nothing to prevent his demise.

 

 

 

  * * *

 

 

 

Sisko strode towards the quarantine area, wondering not for the first time if this was really what he wanted to do. Still, he knew they had to tread carefully until they were assured that all the aliens were accounted for. Hendrickson had reportedly left his quarters, carrying a case. He was presently in Quark's, of all places. At least it would be easy to keep an eye on him...Glancing at the padd he carried with him, he smiled. It wouldn't be long now before everything was under control.

 

Turning the last corner before the quarantine doors, Sisko saw Blake angrily pacing the floor.

 

"Admiral," he said smoothly as he neared the clearly agitated man, "I'm sorry for the inconvenience, but we've had to declare this area off limits for everyone."

 

"Captain, you don't understand the importance of what is behind those doors. Please, stop this foolishness. I have level five clearance. The restrictions can't possibly apply to me. I must have access to this area.

 

Sisko shook his head. "Sorry, sir. Orders from Star Fleet Headquarters."

 

"Captain, I am PART of Star Fleet Headquarters, and I need to get inside those doors!"

 

Sisko pretended to consider, then nodded. "Fine sir, but if you go in, these doors will have to be locked behind you, and I do not know when you will be allowed out. There is concern about contamination at the cellular level." This, he hoped, would allow more time before the admiral knew for sure that their presence was known. If Blake thought that there were other reasons for the new security measures, then perhaps they would not panic and try to flee or hide...

 

Blake nodded, the Srn'n's heart falling. So it would end here. At least he would be with the others, and they could pray that Apa Pr'm made good an escape, could get word sent home....

 

"That sounds reasonable to me, Captain. It's simply that the patients here have been made my concern, and I do not like being kept from them."

 

Sisko nodded. Something told him the alien knew what was happening, and the resignation he saw puzzled him. "Fine then."

 

Using his voice command, Sisko had the doors opened and ushered Blake inside. Immediately inside the door, Blake turned. The doors closed. Captain Sisko would be the last thing he would see outside these walls.

 

 

 

  * * *

 

 

 

Beverly frowned at the readings. "There's something wrong here. The electrolyte balance is changing again!"

 

Therese moved over and ran her tricorder over Picard. "Brain activity is decreasing." She looked up at the doctor. "The alien is withdrawing its control. Calcium levels are increasing within the brain, glutamine is being converted..." Hastily she called up something from the tricorder's memory bank.

 

Her hands dropped to the top of the biobed beside Picard. "There is the same slowing of activity in the Hippocampus that was noted in your earlier records. The alien's presence seems to somehow repress its functioning properly." She frowned at her tricorder. "Their neurotransmitters...they aren't able to access that area of the brain for some reason - and since the electrolyte balance won't allow normal neuron function..."

 

Beverly understood immediately. "Of course! Then no short term memory can be formed - without the hippocampus..." She looked down at him, her mind working rapidly, "Jean Luc's brain has recorded nothing of what has happened since this started - it hasn't been able to."

 

Therese nodded. "There may be some early impressions, but very few."

 

Beverly looked down at Jean Luc, relief that he would not have to be the subject of an experiment washing through her. "So there are no memories to attempt to retain."

 

"Oui." Therese's response held a mixture of regret and relief.

 

Reluctantly, Beverly asked, "What if we could somehow block the neurotransmitter the alien sends to that part of his brain? That would perhaps allow the hippocampus to 'record' whatever memories the alien has from here onward. That might be better than nothing."

 

Therese looked at Jean Luc uncertainly, understanding Beverly's reluctance to do anything that might do harm, surprised at her attempt to draw some sort of success out of their failure. "It might be possible, yes. We will have to acquaint ourselves better with the chemical makeup of the neurotransmitters though. You will assist?"

 

Beverly nodded.

 

 

  * * *

 

 

Already stressed because of the slowly decreasing level of sodium in the host's body, the Srn'n writhed in discomfort when the two humans began to alter the chemical balance within Picard's brain. Unable to obtain more saline, his body unable to adjust its calcium level to compensate, he knew he was weakening quickly, knew the reduced sodium levels he was experiencing were breaking down his cellular structure as the osmotic pressure in them changed... He moved slowly... He would have to evacuate... There must be no danger of his accidently speaking through the host. He was Srn'n. It was his duty to die in silence.

 

Withdrawing would be painful. Drawing upon his quickly depleting energy, he began the process.

 

 

 

Therese turned away from the station she and Doctor Crusher were working at and walked over to Picard, once again running her tricorder over the top of his head. The parasite's infiltration into his brain was a delicate, wonderful thing to behold - or at least, she told herself, it would have been, under different circumstances. The chemical differences -subtle, yet so critical- these, she knew, were of fundamental importance to solving the puzzle of a parasite that existed so well within a host obviously not its native one.

 

Taking her eyes from the readouts, she took a moment to gaze down at the man she loved so well...only he, she thought, would deliberately place himself into a situation like this.

 

Only he would have so much faith in his people to keep him safe.

 

A strange movement of his jaw made her step forward and look at him closely... A bulging at the corner of his mouth made her narrow her brows in puzzlement. She stepped back in revulsion and surprise as a small, bloodied claw slowly slipped through his closed lips, waving about slightly before gripping the skin just below his bottom lip.

 

At Therese's gasp, Beverly turned around. Seeing the look of horror on the other woman's face, she stepped nearer and turned her gaze towards Jean Luc. She exhaled sharply, suppressing a shudder.

 

Therese made a forward movement, but Beverly stayed her. "No."

 

Together they watched as a second, blood-streaked claw made its way through Picards mouth, this one grasping the skin just beside his nose. The Srn'n crawled painfully through the host's mouth, each newly emerged claw feebly pulling itself further out, centimetre by centimetre. Finally, it heaved itself fully out and, too weakened to stop its forward momentum, it slid down the side of his chin, leaving a slick, bloody trail. Dropping onto the biobed beside the human it had inhabited, it lay motionless, its body slightly curled in upon itself.

 

Therese stood, unmoving. Beverly, torn between examining Picard and examining the parasite, ran a quick tricorder over the admiral, then devoted her attention to the creature lying beside him. It took only a brief sweep of her tricorder for the doctor to realize it was dying.

 

And only a moment or so more for it to do so.

 

"It's dead." The words hung coldly in the medlab's filtered air.

 

Therese ran a hand along Picard's arm, reassuring herself that he was here, solid and real. Ignoring the small creature that lay beside him, she asked, "He will be all right, yes?"

 

Beverly looked up, saw the fear in the other woman's eyes and understood that it was not just for Jean Luc. If Jean Luc did not survive this, how could Henri, who had played host for who knew how much longer?

 

Glancing quickly at the bio readings on the display above Picard's head, she ran a tricorder over the admiral again. "There's the same internal bleeding around the Srn'n exit point, but it is quickly clotting. Electrolytes...We've got to get him hydrated, and his kidneys are going to be working overtime for a while, but I'd say he's going to be fine." She paused, refusing to let show her worry over the unusual effects this occupation had on Picard's body.

 

"And his mind?" Therese prodded.

 

"If the past is any indication, he'll be fine - just a headache and no memory whatsoever of the time period the parasite was in him."

 

Therese squeezed Picard's arm reflexively, then relaxed and smiled. "You handle this better than I do, doctor."

 

"It's how I earn my living, Therese."

 

Therese looked at her thoughtfully. "Yes, but you are not unaffected. You simply forge ahead anyway, yes?"

 

"I have to."

 

Therese nodded. She felt better about Jean Luc's choice. The doctor was obviously only stupid in matters of the heart, and since she seemed to be learning in that area too...She sighed. She couldn't say she *liked* the woman any more than before, but....

 

 

End

Complications 35/42

TITLE: Complications 36/42

AUTHOR: Mariel

SERIES: TNG

PART: 36/42

RATING:

CODES: P/f P/C

 

 

 

Thanks as always to NC and NOTSharon, and to Nomi for her valient attempts to beat evolutionary theory and basic biology into my head.

 

Complications 36/42

by: Mariel

 

Beverly sighed softly. Therese had left for a few minutes, and the med lab was peacefully quiet -its lights dimmed, the sounds from the various diagnostic machines muted and oddly comforting. Taking pleasure in finally being alone with Jean Luc, she reached down to trace gentle fingers across his forehead and down the side of his face, her mind wandering over the many problems he faced with his recovery.

 

The damn thing had been pregnant. That, she hoped, explained why he wasn't pulling out of the reaction his brain and body were experiencing after the...she paused at the unfamiliar word... 'Srn'n' occupation.

 

The creature's ability to drain its host of any nutrients it needed had wreaked havoc with Picard's body, depleting its stores of proteins, carbohydrates, and several of the important minerals as well, in its drive to provide nutrition for its young. His amino acid concentration was also dangerously low, and she had been surprised to see that, despite the short time the parasite had inhabited him, there was even a small but detectable loss of muscle mass caused by the creature's breaking down muscle tissue to procure needed proteins.

 

She shook her head. If there was detectable damage after so short a time in Jean Luc, she shuddered to think what irreparable damage might have been done to the crew members had the Srn'n not been in stasis.

 

She played the word over again in her mind, getting used to it. 'Srn'n.' That had been about all he had said when he had regained consciousness. Groggy and obviously disoriented, he had repeated it over and over. At first, no one had recognized it as a word, but it had slowly dawned on them that he was saying something intelligible. When asked what 'Srn'n' was, he had replied weakly, "We...are...Srn'n." Then, as though realizing belatedly that made little sense, he exhaled deeply and attempted to focus what little of his thoughts he could. "*They* are Srn'n..."

 

He had soon lapsed back into unconsciousness. Believing it wisest to allow him time to rest and recover, she had not tried to force him awake for further questioning. There would be time for that later; for now, there was still the worry of his recovery. His kidneys were struggling to adjust, his neurotransmitters were going crazy, and she had been filling him with fluids slowly in order to re-balance his electrolyte concentration.

 

He would recover, she knew, though it would be at least twenty-four hours before she saw the kind of improvement that would allow her to relax. Then, she would be able to allow her anger at his betrayal to hit her full force. He had deserted her the way all the others she had loved in her life had deserted her. The fury at what his actions told her was there, unseen, humming beneath her concern, building in strength in direct relation to his recovery.

 

At the moment she could maintain a calm demeanor, feel relief that he was safe, and find comfort in the steady rhythm of his breathing and in the warmth of his skin beneath her fingertips. She knew, though, that there would come a time when her anger and hurt would boil over. Then, all control would disappear, vanished as though this peaceful lull had never happened.

 

She took a deep breath. She had made a painful realization standing here, but one she was prepared to face. She now knew beyond all doubt that she could not personally deal with the sort of emotional rejection she had dealt with in the past. She could not survive watching someone she loved walk away from her again, ignoring her pleas to stay.

 

A shudder passed through her. It was obvious what she had to do: she had to give him up, had to free herself of the madness that had allowed her to convince herself that this time she was safe, that this time it would work. Softly caressing his cheek, she looked at him, her eyes holding a shimmer of tears that reflected the dim lights on the bio readouts on the wall. He would leave her, just as everyone she had ever loved had left her. It wasn't his fault, exactly... It was her destiny to be left.

 

Her destiny. Her hand dropped away from him. She could not allow herself the pain of watching Jean Luc leave her.

 

Beverly looked away, tilting her chin up slightly to prevent her tears from falling. She needed more than his love, she needed the assurance that he would be with her. He had just proven that he would not do that.

 

Better to live without him than to have to survive his leaving her behind. She knew she was loved, but she also knew it simply wasn't enough.

 

 

  * * *

 

 

Still carrying his black case, Hendrickson strode into the washroom, making sure the security guard saw him. He knew he would not have to wait long before, curious or concerned, the guard would enter to see if he was still there.

 

And he would be. There was a brief change of career in his future; how difficult could being a security officer be?

 

 

  * * *

 

 

Bashir looked up at the sound of the door and caught a brief glimpse of Sisko before the doors closed, shutting the captain outside in the corridor. Only Blake had entered.

 

The young doctor took a couple of steps in Blake's direction and began to speak immediately, his manner nervous, his words spilling out in a hurried rush. "What's wrong? I tried contacting you. The communicators don't seem to be working. I couldn't leave here, not with the young, so there was no way to contact you. What's happened?"

 

Blake strode across the room to him, taking note of his surroundings as he did so. The hosts still lay quietly, unmoving, but there was evidence that there had been activity here since he and Hendrickson had left earlier that day. Now, containment units for the young were placed along the one wall not occupied by biobeds, their medium indicators showing that they were in use. Their number told Blake that all, or at least close to all, of the birthing was completed.

 

The admiral looked grim. "It's bad. Hendrickson is convinced they've discovered Picard. I think he's right. We're locked in here now -Captain Sisko says it has to do with Federation security and concern about the quarantine, but I'm sure it's because they know about us."

 

Bashir sat down abruptly in his chair, the ramifications of that statement immediately obvious. "So we're trapped." He looked up and asked, "But why haven't they come in, removed us from the hosts, killed our young? Why are they just leaving us here?"

 

Blake looked sadly at the humans lying on the biobeds, red, green and yellow lights indicating their vital signs silently blinking on the wall above them. He knew that in a few hours they would awake, wondering where they were and what had happened to them over the past months. By then it would all be over, he suspected.

 

For a moment, he wished that he, too, could be as oblivious to the death about to begin. "They're concentrating on making sure they have us all. They know we can't go anywhere, so they can focus on any others that might be on the station," he hypothesized. "They want to make sure none of us escape."

 

"You think they realize that was where they failed last time?" Bashir rose and began to pace restlessly, his soft footfalls making a counterpoint to the sounds of the diagnostic machines humming in the background.

 

Watching him, Blake shrugged. "All I know is that they are being very careful and very quiet about all this. I don't believe they know that we are aware that they have learned of our presence. That gives us our one chance."

 

The Srn'n Bashir turned abruptly. "One chance?"

 

"Hendrickson has one container of young he has set aside...that means almost one hundred possibilities... If he can escape with them, this will not be so serious a setback."

 

"But we must die." The words were quietly spoken.

 

Blake nodded. "For the preservation of the Decree."

 

Bashir inhaled deeply, then forced the air from his lungs noisily. "For the Decree." He looked around at the containers holding the newborns. They stood, row on row, a silent, gray testimony to the almost-success of their plan. They had been so close...He sighed with sorrow and regret and said softly, "But the young..."

 

"There is no other way."

 

The Srn'n Bashir nodded sadly. Such a waste of life. But no better way to die, than in this attempt. They would be assured a Place. They would be Blessed.

 

"How should we...?"

 

Blake raised a hand, then let it drop. Trying to keep the regret out of his voice, he said dispassionately, "The young will weaken and die when their saline is not replenished, but I would prefer them not to suffer at all." He looked about the quarantine and said, "There must be something here we can give them to ease their way..."

 

"But that would be murder." There was no mistaking the surprise in Blake's voice.

 

The admiral nodded. "Better that than their suffering. If we can help them, it is our duty to..."

 

"But it would be murder," Bashir repeated, horrified at the thought of having such an act written on one's scroll.

 

Blake lifted his hand again to stop the doctor's protests. "I take responsibility."

 

Bashir nodded slowly, understanding what the other was taking upon himself, doubtful that he should allow it. A weaker part of him, however, sighed with relief that the young would not feel pain before their passing.

 

He knew he would agree.

 

The older man's voice took on a softer, more persuasive tone, "I understand your reservations, but it is something I must do. I am partially to blame that we have failed - I will not have their suffering on my soul too. All I need is something to put in their solution..."

 

The other Srn'n slumped, all objections left unspoken. Moving wordlessly to a wall unit, he opened a compartment and inserted an ampule into a dispenser. Keeping his eyes on the object in his hand, he turned towards Blake.

 

"It need only be injected into their nutritional medium..."

 

After being told how much was to be administered to each containment box, Blake took the dispenser with a nod and quickly strode over to the row of boxes. Refusing to allow himself to think, he opened the nutritional supplement access tabs on the top front of each box, one by one, and injected the indicated amount of drug into each. Finally finished, the tabs all carefully closed again, he turned and exhaled, his features frozen.

 

"It is done. It was the right thing to do."

 

He did not know this for sure -indeed, he knew he would never know- but it felt better to say such a thing.

 

He turned his gaze toward the young. It had to be this way, they had to continue their attempt to fulfill the Word. The Decree was more important than a few lives...and they were all guaranteed a place now in The Host.

 

Bashir's voice broke into his thoughts. "What about us?"

 

"We and the others have a choice in how we die."

 

"Then we should offer it to them now."

 

"They have all birthed?"

 

Bashir nodded. "It was a quick process - I had them delivering two and three at a time, but there were no complications, and only a few lost in the process."

 

Unable to contain all his feelings, Blake shook his head. "Such a terrible, terrible waste..." Stirring, he forced himself to focus. "Where are they?"

 

"Put into holding places until later. It keeps them out of sight and out of danger. They were in need of rest. To expect them to resume possession of any of the humans so soon after birthing was too much to ask of them. It was more appropriate to put them with a rich supply of nutrients and allow them to recover. Now, under the circumstances..."

 

Understanding, the admiral said, "Then we will tell them ourselves, and die together, as Srn'n." There was a moment of silence as they stared at one another through human eyes. "It is all against us, but we can still serve a purpose. Perhaps when they find us dying they will concentrate more on us than on trying to find Hendrickson."

 

Blake walked over to a table beside the entrance and lifted up the container that Bashir had indicated held the other adult Srn'n. Bringing it closer to where Bashir stood, he set it gently onto the floor.

 

When he lifted the lid, its occupants moved restlessly in their briny liquid, surprised by the disturbance. He took a moment to regret the limitations of this host: their natural one would have been capable of uttering the sounds Srn'n recognized as language. With humans, this was not possible, and he knew the Srn'n wouldn't understand what he was going to say without being integrated into the neuropathways of a human themselves. He spoke anyway. "I am sorry. So sorry...."

 

Bashir turned away from the look on the admiral's face and quietly sat down. After a brief moment of stillness, his eyes rolled into the back of their sockets, his body slumped, and his head tilted to one side, its jaw slack. Soon, a movement in the side of the doctor's neck could be seen, then a bulge traveled along the inside of his cheek. A tiny claw protruded between the doctor's lips...

 

The Srn'n, still strong, quickly pulled itself out of Bashir's mouth, unaware and uncaring of the trickle of blood that followed. Quickly, and with surprising agility for one so constructed, it made its way down the body of the unconscious doctor and headed towards the container Blake still stood over.

 

 

 

 

Blake watched as the Srn'n joined the others, watched as it communicated with them...watched the gentle nods, could swear he felt the very air fill with their resignation and resolve.

 

Looking around the quarantine one last time through the host's eyes, he allowed himself a moment of regret. To have waited so long, to have prepared so meticulously...to have been so close...A brief flare of anger rushed through him, and the human trembled in response.

 

The trembling made him look down at the body he'd inhabited for three years.

 

He felt nothing that a human would recognize.

 

Silently, he took out the dispenser. He had said that they had a choice, but he had lied. He was going to make it for them. He could allow no suffering but his own. After injecting enough of the drug to put the Srn'n to sleep permanently, he slowly closed the lid and stepped away, saying a brief prayer to send them speedily to their Host.

 

It was time.

 

Walking over to the quarantine's second desk, he sat down and, like Bashir, his eyes soon rolled backwards. The angle of Blake's neck made it difficult to emerge, and more damage than usual was necessary in order to extricate himself. As he emerged, the Srn'n allowed himself a moment of regret over this unfortunate treatment of his host; a host was, after all, part of the Power.

 

Soon, however, he made his way across the floor to the container. He shut his ears to the imagined cries of the young and settled down. His death would be painful. Dehydration would eventually kill him, and it would not be the quick death he had granted the others. For him, death would be a painful atonement for the murder of the innocent.

 

He prayed Apa Pr'm succeeded.

 

For the Decree. For the Future of the Srn'n.

 

 

  * * *

 

 

The Srn'n Hendrickson/Anderjon straightened his security officer's tunic and looked at himself in the mirror with satisfaction. His plan had worked flawlessly. The security officer had walked in, curious as to why he had been in here so long. It had been a simple matter to render the fool unconscious, leave Hendrickson's body, and then make his way into Anderjon's. Adapting to the new host was not quite so easy, but years of living in a human enabled him to adjust more quickly than it would have taken most. Wisely, he tried to follow only those neuropathways that gave him the control he required. Any information or control he needed later, he would access as necessary.

 

Pausing before leaving, he looked down at the discarded host. It had served him well, and he honoured it silently for that service. He inhaled deeply, feeling the different musculature of this new host, found himself liking this firmness that had been absent in Hendrickson. Noticing the case filled with precious young, however, he was abruptly brought back to the crisis at hand.

 

Reaching over, he picked up the black case. The direct physical contact reassured him. He thanked the Host and the Decree once again that he'd been wise enough to have brought it with him from the ship. By not using the containers they'd been transported to his quarters in, he was laying yet another false trail. He regretted having to leave some of the young behind in the original containers as decoys, but resisted feeling guilt. It had been necessary, sacrifices had to be made. Now, when they finally searched his rooms they would be assured that they had all the young.

 

Stepping into the corridor, he was dismayed to see a young man in security colours turn the corner towards him. Frantically, he threw tendrils out into Anderjon's mind, searching... an idea flashed brilliantly, and the Srn'n smiled.

 

"Michaels! Here!"

 

The dark haired young ensign looked at Anderjon expectantly. He recognized the fair-haired, bearded man as one of the station's more senior security officers. As he was himself new to DS9, he was surprised and somewhat flattered that someone recognized him already. "Sir! May I help you?"

 

Anderjon nodded, pleased at the eagerness he saw in the green eyes so earnestly looking at him. "Yes. You know that there has been an all out search for Admiral Hendrickson?" The ensign nodded, and Anderjon continued, "He has just entered that washroom over there. I want you to stand watch until he exits. When he does, notify the Constable immediately, then follow him at a discreet distance until you are given further instructions. I'm leaving to make a formal report."

 

Michaels nodded respectfully. "Yes, sir!" and turned towards the indicated door.

 

The Srn'n felt a moment of elated satisfaction. The man hadn't even questioned the more senior officer leaving his post. Fool. More time bought.

 

Eventually, he knew, Michaels would grow impatient. He would discover the admiral and would call for help. Then they would take him to sickbay, where they would have to wait until someone who was aware of their presence on the station could come and realize that Hendrickson was no longer a host.

 

More time bought. Brilliant.

 

Smiling, he picked up the case and its precious contents, and left.

 

Walking casually, he turned into Quark's a few moments later and looked around. Loud laughter mixed with a plethora of curses indicated where he needed to go. He tightened his grip on the handle of the containment box in excitement.

 

Miners, he thought. Perfect.

 

End

Complications 36/42

 

 

TITLE: Complications 37/42

AUTHOR: Mariel

SERIES: TNG

PART: 37/42

RATING:

CODES: P/C P/f

 

 

Gandron cursed. As nights went, this had been about as bad as they got. He was low on money, not half as drunk as he wanted to be, his ship was due to leave for the mining colony shortly, and this son of a fhrin was insisting he owed him money.

 

"I don't owe you a dinnin thing!" he repeated hoarsely, his jaw still sore, despite the attention it had received from a nurse in sickbay a few hours before.

 

"Cheap tripe! You lie!" was all he heard before a huge dark fist came hurtling at his face. Ducking, he grabbed a chair, swung it in front of him and pushed it, legs first, into his accuser's gut. The thick-set miner fell backwards, crashing into the wall.

 

At a neighboring table, another miner stirred. Not one to see anyone get into a fight without assistance, the burly man rose and stepped forward, muttering in a threatening tone, "Ya didna shuldna dun tha."

 

Gandron turned and looked at him, momentarily stunned into inaction. "What?"

 

It was a mistake. In the few seconds he took to wonder what the hell the man standing in front of him had just said, his creditor rose behind him, unnoticed. Picking up the chair Gandron had tried to shove through his middle, he swung it up and smashed it over Gandron's head.

 

There was barely enough time to remember he was supposed to stay away from chairs before Gandron fell, unconscious, to the floor.

 

The other two stood over him, surprised. They looked at one another, then down at Gandron. No others had joined in the fight, and they were at a loss as to what to do next. There were no injuries to go to sickbay with, no flying furniture to duck, no other faces to smash with a fist...Looking back at each other again, they shrugged.

 

"Drink?" asked the creditor.

 

"Din mine fdo" Nethin said agreeably.

 

Ignoring the unconscious man on the floor, they moved to the bar.

 

 

 

  * * *

 

 

 

The Srn'n in Anderjon knew the work of the Decree when he saw it. Pushing the spectators out of the way, he used his best 'this is business, out of my way and move off' voice. Bending on one knee beside the felled miner, he looked up at someone who had not had the good sense to leave. "Help me get him off the floor."

 

With the reluctant help of the bystander, Anderjon got the miner slung over his shoulder. "I'm taking him to sickbay," he said to no one in particular.

 

Making sure he also had a good grasp on the black case, he left, knowing he would soon be forgotten.

 

 

  * * *

 

 

It didn't take long for Anderjon to find a dim, out of the way alcove. Moving as quickly as possible, the Srn'n unloaded Gandron onto the floor. It took only a few precious moments to remove himself from Anderjon and integrate himself into the miner.

 

Slowly, the miner got to his feet. The rapid succession of hosts, from Hendrickson to Anderjon to Gandron, made it difficult for the Srn'n to adjust as quickly as he might have. Shaking his head slowly from side to side, he worked to adapt to the miner's more simplistic thought processes, trying his best to adjust to the effect of so much alcohol in the body.

 

Resolutely focusing on his goal despite his discomfort, he made his way toward Gandron's ship's docking corridor, black case secure in his hand. He felt no worry about the security guard he left behind being discovered -the body was reasonably well hidden, and Anderjon would take a while to regain consciousness. Even better: when he did, he wouldn't have the faintest idea what had happened to him.

 

It had been almost laughably simple, he thought, walking openly down the corridors, joining others who were also heading for their soon-to-be-departing ships. The _Anathema_ was due to leave in only minutes, one of several ships departing that day for various mining colonies throughout that section of the quadrant.

 

He smiled to himself. He would likely be the last one to go on board, and they'd be in a hurry to leave. He was confident that no freighter carrying the kind of cargo the _Anathema_ was would be too particular about following Federation edicts about inspections.

 

 

He was right.

 

 

 

  * * *

 

 

Sisko looked over at Riker, satisfaction clearly written on his strong features. "We've got him! Hendrickson's being taken to sickbay now. Doctor Crusher has been informed and will meet us there immediately."

 

Riker smiled. "It went like clockwork. Better, actually. I can't wait to hear the details."

 

"I'm beginning to wonder why Odo was so worried - we didn't meet up with even half of what we thought we'd have to deal with. We're lucky they were mostly in quarantine."

 

The bearded captain nodded in agreement. "Good thing the containers that had been transported to Hendrickson's quarters were still there. I can't believe he left the young behind."

 

//It was all too easy.//

 

They stared at one another, the sudden, uneasy thought hanging in the air between them. Superstitiously, they both refused to vocalize it. All possible precautions had been taken, and they had Hendrickson. Everything would be fine... Sisko's eyes flickered and the two men moved, the moment broken.

 

Replying to Riker's comment about the abandoned young, Sisko said, "Perhaps he was too worried about saving his own hide? Or he may have intended to go back for them." He offered both choices, not really caring which was true. "We've got the young and Hendrickson. Once Doctor Crusher has removed the Srn'n from the two admirals and Bashir, we'll have everything all sewn up," he said, reassuring himself.

 

Riker nodded. With all the creatures contained, they could then determine their next course of action. And perhaps get a few answers. Where the Srn'n came from, what their exact purpose was, how to communicate with them...there were so many questions. Finding the answers was going to be an interesting endeavour.

 

 

 

  * * *

 

 

Beverly had reluctantly left Jean Luc in the very capable hands of Doctor Selar. Pushing down a sense of foreboding at the summons to sickbay, she gave last-minute instructions to the Vulcan. Then, with a final backward glance and a grateful thought that at least it wasn't him she was rushing to see, she left.

 

 

 

Once in DS9's sickbay, Beverly found herself torn between feeling right at home and wishing that Julian were there to lend a hand. Another person to help deliver the bad news might have been nice. Arriving just moments after Hendrickson had been brought in, a major problem became immediately obvious. Only Hendrickson had been brought in - the Srn'n was missing.

 

Responding to Riker's suggestion that the Srn'n might have escaped after arriving in sickbay, Beverly insisted, "Will, trust me, there was no Srn'n present when he arrived. It'd be impossible. Look."

 

Pointing to the opening at the back of the unconscious admiral's neck for emphasis, she explained, "It has begun to heal. Tricorder readings show that healing has been going on for at least an hour, perhaps more. The changes in physiology induced by Srn'n occupation make it difficult to determine anything with total accuracy, but I'm certain it's been at least sixty minutes."

 

Appalled, Sisko and Riker turned to look at one another, their earlier feelings of satisfaction gone, their unspoken concern over the ease with which their plan had been carried out resurrected. Riker ran a hand through his hair and looked down at the admiral. "Damn! So it's had an hour's head start, at least." He turned to Sisko. "We're going to have to step up the pace."

 

Sisko nodded and immediately contacted Odo, informing him of the new situation and demanding to know how the hell they had managed to lose the Srn'n that Hendrickson had been hosting. After ordering a report on when and where and how the admiral had been found, he left. He'd meet with the Constable first, then proceed to quarantine to deal with whatever situation he found there.

 

When the doors closed behind Sisko's retreating form, Riker turned to Beverly. "How long before Hendrickson is conscious?

 

She shrugged and looked down at the patient. "A few hours, perhaps. I really can't say for sure -everyone seems to react a little differently."

 

"You'll probably be needed soon in quarantine," Riker warned. He had noted the dark circles under her eyes and wondered how long it would be before she had the chance to rest. Crusher, being the only qualified doctor to draw upon besides Selar -added to the fact she was the only one with the knowledge to deal with the Srn'n situation- put a lot of pressure on her.

 

Beverly nodded, feeling tired at the very thought of what she would have to deal with there. If only Bashir...

 

Resolutely putting wishful thoughts aside, she said, "I'm almost finished here. The intern on duty can take over soon."

 

Hendrickson moved restlessly, drawing their attention back to him.

 

"What's his overall condition?"

 

"Physically, there's severe kidney damage, as well as the peripheral problems that accompany long periods of dangerously high blood pressure. Both conditions seem to be a direct result of the inordinately high salt content in his body. It'll take a little time to repair the damage, but he'll pull through just fine." She ran her fingers through her hair tiredly, then looked down at Hendrickson. "His neurotransmitters are acting a little wildly, and that concerns me...."

 

Remembering how severely affected the captain had been by the Srn'n's brief occupation, he asked, "Hendrickson hosted a Srn'n a lot longer than Picard. Shouldn't he be a lot worse off than this?"

 

Beverly shook her head, understanding his confusion between Picard's reaction to the parasite and Hendrickson's. "No. Thankfully, the Srn'n inhabiting Hendrickson wasn't pregnant, so his body hasn't been drained of important minerals in the same way as Jean Luc's. Hendrickson's neurotransmitters may take a little longer to settle down, but that's only natural since he obviously hosted the parasite for a much longer time." She paused and glanced down at the admiral. Crossing her arms in front of her, she frowned and said, "There may be problems resulting from long exposure: we'll have to wait and see."

 

Riker was nodding at her response when his comm badge sounded.

 

"Riker here."

 

Odo's distinctive voice said, "Captain, if you and Doctor Crusher could join us in quarantine?"

 

There was no mistaking the tenseness in the Constable's voice. Darting a quick, concerned look at the doctor, Will responded, "We're on our way."

 

 

  * * *

 

 

Beverly stopped abruptly just inside the quarantine doors, making Riker almost run into her.

 

Quarantine was in chaos.

 

Patients still lay on the biobeds, oblivious to their surroundings, but it was not they who drew her attention. There were at least three dozen gray, shallow, trunk-like cases with fitted lids scattered around the quarantine floor. All appeared to have been opened, their contents examined, then left with their tops ajar. She had the surreal feeling that she was looking at a scene where guests had arrived, left their traveling cases scattered about, then lain down to rest.

 

After a quick glance around, Riker left her side to get a report from Odo. Crusher immediately accosted an ensign walking by and demanded, "What's happened here?"

 

"They're all dead, sir." Noting Beverly's quick glance at the patients, the ensign hastened to assure her, "Oh, not the patients, sir, the aliens." He shook his head in wonder, "Every last one of them - there are hundreds of young, and over there," he pointed in the general direction of Bashir's desk, "There's a different case that has what looks to be some adults - they're bigger, anyway. We found one that got out somehow, and I've put it in a separate container on the desk there."

 

Someone walked by with a case, forcing Beverly to step back. Overwhelmed by the impossibility of working under these conditions, she snapped loudly, "I want this to stop!"

 

Hearing her order, Odo, who was standing with Captain Riker just to the left of the entrance, lifted his head in surprise. Realizing she must have some specific medical concerns, he quickly reinforced her demand, saying, "You heard what the doctor said: stop what you're doing. Doctor Crusher will give you your orders."

 

Nodding to the captain, he walked over to Beverly and held out a padd to her. "This is what we've managed to find thus far. The patients seem fine, the parasites are all dead, and..."

 

Beverly nodded, still distracted. This might be fine for a security investigation, but medically speaking... Unable to stand it any longer, she interrupted Odo and, pointing, she directed an ensign, "Get those cases closed. I want to go over them one by one. You can't leave them exposed to the air like that!"

 

Looking directly at the ensign who had replied to her first enquiry, she said, "Is this how you found things when you arrived?"

 

While William Riker moved up behind her, Beverly nodded as the young man told her, "No. All the cases were stacked over there," he said, pointing. "We just spread them out in order to get them all open."

 

Odo nodded at the ensign's response and added, "It was necessary to ensure that they were all secure."

 

Beverly controlled her anger at the slipshod way things were being done and nodded. She knew it was not their fault that they weren't doing things the way she thought they should be done: a chief of security had different priorities than did his medical equivalent. Bashir should have been there to help direct this side of things, she thought with a twinge of worry.

 

The thought of the doctor made her look about sharply. She knew he was supposed to have been here, but...Before she could ask about the other doctor, Riker took her by the arm and began to lead her across the room, repeating as he did the information Odo had given him on his arrival. "Julian Bashir and Admiral Blake are over here. They're alive, but you need to take a look at them. They're no longer infected, according to Odo, but the intern here thinks Blake is in bad shape..."

 

Both men had been placed on biobeds, their life sign indicators blinking calmly on the wall behind them. Going to Blake's side first, Beverly nodded at the curly-haired intern in attendance. Smiling faintly, he stepped back from the bed, obviously relieved that someone with more seniority had arrived.

 

Pulling out her tricorder, she scanned the admiral, a frown slowly creasing her brow. Looking up, she said crisply, "There's an unusual amount of damage around the area of integration. I'm not sure why. Perhaps the parasite left too quickly, perhaps..." she stopped, hoping the damage hadn't been done intentionally.

 

"He'll live?"

 

"He'll live."

 

Running her tricorder over him again, she added, "But I'm not sure how extensive the permanent damage will be - there are important nerve endings in that area of the spine and neck, and I won't know until I operate what can be regenerated and what can't."

 

Looking up at the intern, she directed, "I want him taken to sickbay immediately. I need to operate, and I certainly can't do that here."

 

She programmed several antibiotics to ward off infection and a dose of cortizaininol to promote healing into a hypospray, then injected Blake with the mixture.

 

Turning to the young intern, she smiled, trying to reassure him that everything wasn't quite as crazy as it seemed.

 

"Your name?"

 

"Gont, sir"

 

"Well, Gont, I need you to get the admiral to sickbay and prep him. We'll have to operate, and I'll need you to assist. You've done this before?" At the young man's nod, she smiled. "Great. I'll be there in less than twenty minutes, now see to getting him moved."

 

Without a backward glance, she turned away and moved over to Bashir.

 

Her tricorder told her the good news that he was basically undamaged. The Srn'n had left only its usual signs of occupation, his neurotransmitter were only slightly off-kilter, and his electrolyte concentration wasn't far from normal. She expected he would pull through reasonably quickly.

 

A movement caught her eye, and she looked up to see that Sisko had joined Riker. Noting his obvious concern as he looked over at the young doctor, she reassured him, "He'll be fine, Captain. I expect he'll regain consciousness within an hour or so. His exposure to the parasite was limited, and if my guess is right, it wasn't pregnant. He's in fine shape." She looked around the room and commented, "Which is a good thing, considering what we're going to have to deal with here. My plan is to put him to work as soon as I can get him on his feet."

 

Sisko grinned, his relief evident. "You do that, Doctor. I'm just glad he's all right." Glancing at the cases that were once again neatly stacked against the far wall, he asked, "The report that they are all dead is correct?"

 

Beverly nodded, all business. "I've yet to check myself, but I doubt the readings were wrong. I've got a few minutes before I'm needed in sick bay. I want to do a quick check of the patients here, and I need you or someone to see to it that the Srn'n are all put in stasis until I can take a look at them to determine what killed them. Any news on the one that got away?"

 

Both men shook their heads. Sisko spoke, "All we know is that it'll be next to impossible for it to get off the station without our capturing it. I've heard from Michaels, the security officer who found Hendrickson. From what we can determine now, it's likely the Srn'n implanted itself into another security officer by the name of Anderjon. We're looking for him now. He won't elude us for long."

 

Beverly nodded quickly, her attention more focused on the people and creatures here than on finding the missing Srn'n. "Well, send him to me when you find him," she commented. Adjusting her tricorder, she inclined her head as a parting gesture and moved over to where the _Questor_'s surviving crew members still lay.

 

 

  * * *

 

 

McAbercarthy looked out the viewport and smiled. He was on his way. Life would be quite satisfactory for the next month or so, all things considered. He'd been an admiral; being a captain would be easy. His ship was taking a sedate course back to the mining planets in the Strantin system, and he was confident that from there he would be able to pick his next destination at his leisure. He had the most precious thing in the world: time. It felt good.

 

Reaching up, he palmed the back of his neck. Catching a glimpse of himself in the reflection of the window, he made the body show the emotion he felt in human form, and grinned, his large, even teeth glinting back at him. New body, new position, new opportunity to work for the Decree. He would wait before he contacted home, in case they were monitoring unusual communications - but there would be an opportunity to piggyback a transmission on a natural phenomenon at some point. It would be good to let them know that all was not lost, that, though his days were slowly drawing to a close, he would have time to instruct what would be an entire generation of young to prepare for the Srn'n occupation of this species and territory.

 

He sighed and grinned at his reflection once more - a host for every Srn'n...the thought filled him with elation.

 

Glancing over at the chest against the wall, satisfaction welled within him. They were safe. The replicators had been programmed for everything he would need for them until they were ready to choose their hosts.

 

He would help them choose wisely.

 

 

  * * *

 

 

 

Beverly frowned. There were traces of drugs in the crew's systems that had not been there before. "They've been kept sedated to look as though nothing had changed."

 

At the doctor's comment, Riker moved over to join her. "What kind of shape are they in?"

 

"Not as bad as they might have been had the pregnant Srn'n not been in stasis. They show signs that it was a while before they were removed from the hosts, but..." she looked at Riker, somewhat perplexed, "My guess is that someone provided them with increased supplements of whatever nutrients a pregnant Srn'n needs. There is only an infinitesimal decrease in normal levels of amino acids, minerals, and such. Their electrolyte concentrations will have to be corrected, and their neurotransmitters are also all over the place, but they show surprisingly little damage."

 

"Good thing they were in stasis." There was relief that here, at least, there was good news.

 

"Precisely."

 

The quarantine doors swished open and Therese stepped inside, hesitating while she refamiliarised herself with her surroundings. Seeing Crusher and Riker, she smiled and stepped in their direction. "So it is all over, yes? Captain Sisko said that I might come. I hope you do not mind."

 

Beverly shook her head. "No."

 

"How is he..they?" she asked, looking until she found Henri, then not taking her gaze from where he lay.

 

"I haven't finished all my tests, but I'd say they're all going to be fine," Beverly answered.

 

"May I see him?"

 

Drawing back, Beverly raised an arm to indicate Therese could.

 

Quietly, Therese moved to stand beside him. Resting her hand on his arm, she began to speak to him in a low voice.

 

Will and Beverly looked at one another.

 

"Another happy ending," she said.

 

Riker looked across at the couple, his eyes distant. Thinking of the relationship Therese had with Picard, he said slowly, "I don't know. I wonder how I'd feel...if I'd understand..."

 

Beverly then turned her gaze towards them too, wondering. What if Henri couldn't accept what had occurred while he had been away? Therese would turn to Jean Luc...The pain of how alone she was now shot through her. She inhaled sharply. "I have to get to sick bay; my time here's run out."

 

Riker nodded. "Contact me when you're through?"

 

She nodded, "Of course. I don't expect it will take me more than a couple of hours. Ogawa is on her way here, so at least I know quarantine will be all right until I get back. I'll return to oversee the crew's regaining consciousness. We'll need Deanna and anyone else she feels is qualified..."

 

"I'll get Deanna here immediately. There's probably a couple of people on the station who are qualified to help in this sort of thing too." He paused and added gently, "Don't feel as though you can't take a quick look in on Jean Luc..." He faltered as he saw a look of pain flash across her features, then continued uneasily, wondering what he had said. "You said you expected him to awake fairly soon?"

 

Beverly nodded, quickly controlling her features. "Yes, but Selar's there, so there's no point in my getting in the way. I'll be needed here, especially since I want to get Bashir up and going as quickly as possible. I need him to assist me in examining all the crew members so that we can determine what, if any, medical attention they will require. My guess is that they're all going to need a little something."

 

She glanced over at the containers holding the dead Srn'n. "And I need to examine the Srn'n to find out what killed them. It doesn't make sense that they should die like that..."

 

Riker shrugged, more concerned with the living, and with one doctor in particular. "You're the boss," Riker commented, his eyes questioning her.

 

Realizing he'd seen her reaction at the mention of Jean Luc, she ignored the unspoken question and turned away purposefully. Heading for the door, she said over her shoulder, "I'm off. I'll let you know how Blake does."

 

Riker stood and stared at the door that closed behind her for several heartbeats before moving. He'd have to have a little talk with Deanna about Beverly, too. Something wasn't right, and he was sure it had something to do with the admiral.

 

He sighed. What the hell had happened? It was beginning to feel like old times again...

 

End

Complications 37/42

TITLE: Complications 38/42

AUTHOR: Mariel

SERIES: TNG

PART: 38/42

RATING:

CODES: P/C P/f

 

 

 

Therese looked down at Henri and smiled. It felt so good to be able to look at him whenever she liked, to be able to reach out and touch him when she pleased. Softly, she touched the beard he had grown with the back of her fingertips. She liked this change in his appearance; it softened the angles of his face, the sprinkle of gray complimenting the gray at his temples.

 

At her touch, his eyes opened slowly. She watched as he focused, then recognized who was standing beside his bed, watched the smile spread across his features. Their eyes held for a long moment, savoring each second.

 

"So," he said, finally. "It's not another dream. You really are here."

 

"Oui," she replied, her eyes glowing, happy that in just two days he had become so much his former self.

 

She watched as he sat up and slid his legs off the bed. Stretching his arms straight over his head and then letting them down slowly, he said. "You know, I feel remarkably well, all things considered."

 

"I know that tone, cherie. Don't even think about looking at those data files," Therese admonished gently. "Doctor Crusher said you should be careful not to take too much upon yourself for a while. I am going to see to it that you obey doctor's orders."

 

He smiled at her, and nodded. "Fine. Then I suggest you persuade something edible out of the replicator, and you can regale me with all that you have done since our not-so-happy leave-taking."

 

Therese's smile froze and she turned quickly, not wanting him to see the emotions playing across her features. They had soon gotten over the 'Oh, I'm sorry, I love you and what was I thinking' stage, and she had told him she had read his logs from the _Questor_. Happy in the knowledge she had no doubt of his feelings for her, he had explained why he had done as he had done, apologized for having to follow his orders for secrecy so closely, had sworn he had never at any point truly thought she would go so far....

 

Not understanding completely - there were still things about the mission itself he would not discuss - Therese had taken joy in the fact he loved her still. She had also worked hard to calm the growing concern she felt at having to explain some of her activities during his absence. It would take understanding on his part to accept her relationship with Jean Luc, and she knew he would feel hurt.

 

Or perhaps, she thought 'betrayed' might be the better word. He was unlikely at first to accept that she and Jean Luc had helped each other through difficult times in both their lives. She sighed, knowing she should have told him immediately, explained somehow that she had not been alone during his absence, assuring him that she had never stopped loving him, merely stopped believing that there was hope for that love.

 

Walking over to the replicator, she stopped in front of it, deep in thought.

 

She and Jean Luc: it had all seemed so sensible at the time. Now, with Henri there wanting to talk about her life instead of his, she wondered at her sanity - or at least at her ability to reason.

 

How much of her feelings about the whole episode were due to rationalizations? She wasn't used to second-guessing herself, but now, with Henri back and her life turned upside down again, she wondered. Was she wrong to think that she and Henri could overcome their parting and the subsequent events in their lives? She was worried about the number of times lately she'd been wrong - she'd thought Henri had deserted her, but had she really given him a chance to defend himself? She knew her temper, knew how she'd reacted. What if she'd been calmer? Would he have stayed, or at least reassured her enough that the divorce and its accompanying agony might never have happened?

 

She looked down at her hands. Jean Luc had been a godsend, yes, but had it been the right thing to do? Could she not have faced the couple of years alone? Would Jean Luc have been any worse off? Would she have been?

 

Standing in front of the replicator, she inhaled deeply and straightened. It was a mess. It hadn't been at the time, but it seemed it now. Inhaling deeply, she pushed her anxieties away impatiently. It didn't make sense, but it was the way it was, and she would have to make him see that. Somehow.

 

"Having trouble deciding on a menu, cherie?"

 

Henri's words startled her out of her reverie. Turning, she recovered herself and smiled. "Something simple, I think, yes?" Facing the replicator once again, she gave her instructions.

 

Picking up the selections she had requested, she walked over to the table where he had seated himself, a determined set to her face. "Cherie," she asked calmly, "Do you remember Jean Luc Picard? I've mentioned him a number of times...he was the captain of the _Enterprise_..."

 

 

  * * *

 

 

 

Quarantine was finally peaceful. The patients that hadn't been moved to sickbay lay quietly resting in the now dimly lit room. Bashir had been sent to change his uniform and grab something to eat, and Beverly had only to wait until he returned before she left.

 

Too tired to do more than think, she slumped down in her chair and closed her eyes. The operation on Blake earlier had been a success - at least so far as she could determine. The nerve damage had been fairly severe, and it would be a while before he walked again. Moving her head more comfortably on the back of the chair, she made a mental note to check in on him before the review meeting Riker had called.

 

The sound of a nurse dropping something made her open her eyes for a moment. Tiredly, she looked around at a quarantine that no longer was one - a 'quarantine' which, truth be told, hadn't been a quarantine for some time. Soon, she thought, there would be no evidence that there had been a medical service provided here at all. The air would no longer hum with the sound of air filters and monitors, and the diagnostic machines, the biobeds, and all the accompanying medical paraphernalia would be gone.

 

She closed her eyes again, vainly trying to make it disappear even sooner. She was weary. Bashir, thank goodness, had escaped his period of playing host to the Srn'n with few side effects and had been able to take a fair amount of the workload from her shoulders. Still, it had been a long time since she had rested in any true sense of the word, and she knew there were still things to be done.

 

The _Questor_'s crew had all regained consciousness, and were adjusting as well as might be expected to awaking in a strange place with no memories of what had happened during the past few months. Medically, what problems there had been were not expected to have a long term effect and had been all taken care of efficiently.

 

Henri, because he was the only one of the crew to have someone on the station to care for him, was not present. Therese had suggested he be moved to her quarters. There, she could care for him herself, with the occasional drop-by visit from a doctor. Hesitantly, Beverly had agreed. He suffered no life-threatening problems,and, since Sisko had informed her of Jean Luc's request, she felt it the best thing to do.

 

She inhaled raggedly as a feeling of longing washed through her. She wondered how Jean Luc...Struggling, she opened her eyes and sat up straighter. Determinedly she redirected her train of thought, shying away from the hurt and doubt she felt.

 

Determinedly she stared at the bank of stasis units lining the wall opposite. The Srn'n had as yet given up few of their mysteries in the little time she'd had to examine them. She had, however, found that one had died later than the others - the one the ensign had said had 'escaped.'

 

Listlessly, she wondered how it had come to be separated from the others. Another mystery they were never likely to solve. Sighing, she leaned her head back against the chair's headrest again, too tired to play detective.

 

 

  * * *

 

 

"Captain. We're looking for one of your passengers - a miner, by the name of Gandron."

 

Captain McAbercarthy raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Captain Riker, I was about to ask Deep Space Nine if they knew of his whereabouts! We were forced to leave without him yesterday because of schedule restrictions. The Company is concerned, of course -he has another year in his contract to fulfill."

 

Riker nodded, his concern building. "You're sure he never made it aboard?"

 

McAbercarthy nodded regretfully. Gandron had not been a successful host, and because he had to remain so long in his body before he managed to integrate with McAbersarthy, Gandron had died. The body, however, had been easy enough to dispose of. A necessary sacrifice to the Decree. "Positive, Captain. This is not a large ship, and," he added, wryly, "given his personality, we would know if he were here, believe me."

 

After closing the transmission, Will sat back in his chair, a feeling of dread skittering down his spine. There had been more than half a dozen ships approved to leave the station since they'd begun their search for Hendrickson. The job of tracking them and questioning them before they had contact with either a planet or a starbase was...he groaned inwardly, dreading the task.

 

And Gandron wasn't the only miner missing. The Srn'n that had taken over the security officer may not have moved into Gandron - there were far more possibilities than just him; anyone of the station was a possibility.

 

Riker tapped an angry tattoo on the top of the desk with his fingers.

Starfleet had been notified as soon as they had discovered the security officer and traced the story of Gandron's removal from Quark's. And Starfleet wasn't happy. They seemed to be ignoring the fact they'd had two Srn'n in their midst for the past who knew how long.

 

He sighed and stilled his fingers. That still didn't absolve him from the fact that they'd bungled this one, and badly. Damned if he knew what they could have done differently, though, short of forbidding any ship to leave - a nearly impossible thing to do, considering the nature of the station....

 

 

 

  * * *

 

 

The meeting had been long. Everyone had a report and summation to give. Riker reported that the Federation was sending people out to interview the _Questor_ survivors. Beverly noted the status of the crew, and the arrangements that had been made to have the Srn'n shipped to Starfleet Medical for examination. Obviously irritated by the Srn'n's disappearance and by the chase being delegated to others, Odo discussed tracing the lone Srn'n's nearly invisible trail. Deanna reported on the mental state of the _Questor_ crew and also quietly took notice of the reactions of the Enterprise and DS9 crew to recent events.

 

Now all that was left to do was recover and prepare for departure.

 

When the others rose to leave, Beverly remained seated, too exhausted to move right away. Noticing, Will and Deanna lingered behind, sitting down at the table again after everyone else had left.

 

"Beverly, I think you ought to get some rest. When was the last time you slept?"

 

She frowned, trying to remember. Had it been almost two days ago...?

 

Deanna reached across the meeting table and touched her friend's hand. "I think it's time you got some sleep. Everything is under control. Doctor Bashir and Doctor Selar can take care of anything that comes up. Ogawa says that Jean Luc is almost ready to leave sickbay..."

 

She stopped talking as the raw emotion she felt when Beverly heard his name mentioned pushed at her.

 

"Beverly?"

 

Beverly refused to meet her gaze. "I slept for a few hours before this meeting. I'm all right. I want to do a little more research into the Srn'n, and I suppose I should see about getting back to Earth. God knows what's happened there since I left."

 

Riker looked at Deanna, then asked, "And what about the admiral?" Softly spoken, the question was tentative, hesitant.

, her face expressionless, raised and then dropped her hands in an I-don't-know gesture. "That depends upon what he plans on doing next. I haven't spoken to him, so obviously I wouldn't know."

 

"Beverly, I..."

 

Rising, the doctor looked down at Troi, striving for calm. "Don't, Deanna. Not now." Before her friend had time to respond, she had turned and left the meeting room.

 

Riker and Troi sat in stunned silence until he said in disbelief, "They've managed to mess it up again, haven't they?"

 

The counselor nodded. "I believe so, though how on earth they could manage that with Picard unconscious..."

 

She sighed. She'd have the chance to speak with Beverly soon. There had to be a way of finding out which insecurity had been touched this time.

 

 

  * * *

 

 

 

Beverly was awakened by a soft caress against her cheek. Smiling, eyes still closed, she leaned into his touch, bringing her hand up to hold his against her cheek. She kissed his palm, enjoying the scent of him....

 

...Sudden realization that she was not asleep shot through her, and she sat up abruptly, almost throwing his hand away from her as she did so.

 

"What are you doing here?" she asked in an accusing tone, unprepared to see him just yet.

 

Jean Luc raised a surprised eyebrow, taken aback by her harsh tone. Standing up from the crouched position he had assumed when he'd found her asleep on the sofa, he replied, "Checking up on you. Ogawa said I was well enough to leave sickbay, providing I had someone to keep an eye on me." He smiled. "I volunteered you."

 

She stood up quickly, refusing to meet his eyes. "That may not be possible, Jean Luc. I'm going to be spending a lot of time researching the Srn'n, and I've got someone busy trying to arrange my transport back to Earth. I don't know how long I'll be here."

 

This was not the response he'd expected. Frowning, trying to cover his disappointment and confusion, he said, "I had expec...hoped that we would return together. It shouldn't take more than a couple of days to..." His voice trailed off when he saw the look on her face.

 

"I have a job to do, remember?"

 

Picard's eyes widened, then narrowed as he recognized the emotion behind her words.

 

"You're angry. Why?"

 

She threw him a look designed to let him know she believed her reason obvious. Pressing her lips into a thin line, she felt her anger build, and refused to elaborate. He should *know* what he'd done, know that he'd broken trust with her...

 

"Beverly, if you're upset because of..."

 

"Selar to Crusher."

 

Both reacted to the voice, one frowning, the other quickly tapping her combage.

 

"Crusher here."

 

"Doctor Crusher, we have agreed to have our meeting on the _Enterprise_, if that is convenient. Doctor Bashir is already on his way."

 

Beverly looked at the chronometer, startled. She'd slept an hour longer than she'd planned. Looking at Picard, her eyes unreadable, she told Selar, "I'm on my way then. I'll be stopping in sickbay on my way there to pick up my data. It shouldn't take me more than ten minutes."

 

Selar ended the communication with a brief, "Understood."

 

"I've got to go."

 

Picard nodded. "But we've got a conversation to finish," he retorted stubbornly. They had too much to lose now. He was going to get to the bottom of this, no matter how hard this stubborn woman made it for him.

 

"If you like, but it'll have to be sometime later. I don't know when I'll be back. Are you sure you're going to be all right here?"

 

He didn't like her distant tone. What had come over her? Disgruntled that he wasn't even at that moment holding her in his arms, but knowing better than to try, he answered impatiently, "Yes, yes, I'll be fine."

 

 

  * * *

 

 

In the next forty-eight hours, he saw her for a total of ten minutes. Part of this was due to his own busy schedule - members of Starfleet and the Federation had arrived, and he had dutifully attended all their meetings, offering what he could. The biggest reason for their not meeting, however, was Beverly's blatant avoidance of him.

 

Nothing, he fumed, could get her to talk or to look him in the eye. He could feel the distance she had put between them, remembering it the way one remembers a familiar path, recognizing all the signs, all the twists and turns...but he refused to accept where it lead.

 

She was angry with him, fine. Perhaps she was upset because she hadn't known what he planned, perhaps she was upset because of the fears he knew she had of him dying in her sickbay. Whatever the reason, he knew that they had to talk about it. He had a right to know precisely why she was acting and feeling the way she was. At least then he could defend himself, and they could get this over with.

 

 

 

 

He sat in their living area, sullenly looking into the bedroom with its neatly made bed - the bed she'd not visited for the last two nights. The first night he had been out of sickbay she had spent on the _Enterprise_, making some feeble excuse he couldn't even remember. Last night, he had waited up until, exhausted, he'd finally gone to bed alone. This morning, he'd awoken to find her asleep on the sofa.

 

Knowing this couldn't go on, he had resolved to speak with her, and had entered the living area intent on doing so immediately. Looking down at her as she slept, however, a feeling of tenderness had washed over him, and he'd decided to grant her a few minutes more sleep before waking her. Quietly, he returned to the bedroom to prepare for the day.

 

Misplaced compassion, he thought angrily.

 

She'd been gone when he got out of the shower.

 

He hit the arm of the chair with his fist. Enough. She had avoided him long enough. They would have this out before they returned to Earth, where she could no doubt manage even more brilliant tactical maneuvers to avoid him.

 

He rose and headed for the quarantine.

 

 

End

Complications 38/42

TITLE: Complications 39/42

AUTHOR: Mariel

SERIES: TNG

PART 39/42

RATING:

CODES: P/f P/C

 

 

The quiet in Bashir's inner office was disturbed only by the occasional click of a padd being set down upon a desk. The two doctors had been working silently on data they'd gathered from the Srn'n for hours, unaware of time passing as they submerged themselves in the vagaries of Srn'n physiology.

 

His office wasn't large, but it held what they needed to conduct their investigation: space, quiet, and access to computer terminals. There were two desks, one of the regular variety, which he had set against the wall opposite the door that led into the sickbay, and, to the left as you entered, a computer console/desk arrangement built into the wall.

 

Beverly Crusher sat hunched over Bashir's desk, back to the door, her face set in concentration. Desperately wanting something that could take her mind off her personal troubles, she had managed to find the very thing she needed.

 

Running a hand through her hair, she turned her chair half-way around and looked across at Julian, her exasperation and wonderment obvious as she said, "If I hadn't collected the data myself, I'd never believe this. She was right! Almost everyone said she was crazy, but here it is: proof!" She shook her head. "It's amazing: to have evolved in such a manner..."

 

Noticing the young doctor's puzzled look, she realized her outburst had not been totally understood. Smiling, she launched into an explanation. "About a hundred years ago, a Dr. Elisheva Politser theorized evolution could take a species in this direction. In the process, of course, she debunked most of our long-held theories about evolution. Almost everyone regarded her as a heretic of sorts. But now...to actually see an example of what she thought possible..."

 

Bashir rose from his work area. Walking over to where she sat, he looked over her shoulder at the padd she held in her hand. After reading the data for a moment, he sighed, then moved to one side before saying, "An intelligent parasite does seems rather far-fetched."

 

Crusher leaned back in her chair and nodded. "Absolutely impossible. Logic says that such a creature, with the number of offspring it has at one time..." she shook her head. "There's no way they could provide adequate care for their young. Intelligent species require far more individualized attention than the Srn'n could possibly have given their young - imagine looking after and teaching not one or two offspring, but one hundred or more at a time! It simply isn't feasible! In order for them to develop the way they have... there must have been some factor we aren't aware of..." She paused, lost in thought.

 

Bashir folded his arms and leaned against the wall next to the desk. "Unfortunately, it looks as though we aren't likely to find out how they managed this anytime in the near future."

 

"Not likely is right," Beverly agreed, tossing the padd onto the desk. "Their world must be so totally different from our own experience! And to be adaptable enough to be able to use us as their host!" Her face softened and her eyes took on a faraway look. "What I wouldn't give to..."

 

Crusher's voice trailed off as the sound of Bashir's office doors swishing open interrupted her. Julian, surprised when she stopped speaking, looked at her, then followed her sharpened gaze to the man who had just entered.

 

It was Admiral Picard. Julian opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. Picard's attention was very obviously directed solely upon Crusher. Turning his gaze back to Beverly, he saw her features tighten.

 

As they were in his office, Bashir felt no compunction to leave. He knew discretion was required, however, so he quietly returned to his work area on the other side of the room, grinning inwardly. He'd heard the rumors about a fight -who hadn't? And now, he thought with satisfaction, he had ringside seats. Settling back into his chair, he made himself as unobtrusive as possible, happily expecting some very interesting fireworks.

 

The clearing of a masculine throat disrupted his reverie, abruptly demanded his attention. Looking up, Julian met stern hazel eyes making a silent but unmistakably firm suggestion that he make himself scarce. Curiosity was strong, but prudence stronger, so after reconsidering his position, he rose and excused himself, saying to Beverly, "If you don't mind, I think I'll be going now, Doctor. There are a couple of patients that need checking up on. Will you be here tomorrow? Perhaps we can finish our report then."

 

Crusher nodded, not taking her eyes from the admiral who, despite her glare, was resolutely standing his ground just inside the office doorway. "I'll be here."

 

Keeping his eyes locked firmly on the woman he'd come to see, Picard nodded as Bashir passed, acknowledging Julian's "Admiral" with a drawled "Thank you, Doctor."

 

Bashir made his escape into the main sickbay area with only a little regret.

 

 

 

As soon as the door swished closed, Picard raised a hand. "Beverly, before you say anything, let's go home. We need to talk...." He paused to look around the room, then added, "...but under the circumstances, I would prefer doing it where there are no sharp objects or laser scalpels."

 

Beverly also wanted this discussion elsewhere, preferably where there was no danger of their being interrupted or overheard. If he was going to insist on this, then she was going to make sure she got everything she wanted to say said. Standing, she drew herself up haughtily.

 

"Very funny, Jean Luc," she muttered, striding past him without another glance.

 

  * * *

 

Not a word had been spoken between them the entire way back to her quarters.

 

Much, however, had been said since then. Conversation had started slowly, tentatively, but had soon gathered a momentum neither could have stopped. They had spoken both softly and loudly, losing control, then regaining it, only to lose it again. Now, a silence had fallen while they gathered their reserves for another foray...

 

Inhaling deeply, he turned from the window and tried again to explain himself. "Beverly, it needed to be done. It was the most sensible way of finding out what they were doing, of getting the opportunity to speak with them instead of simply shooting them the way we had to last time. Because of my meld with Sarek, I was the only one who could do it without their being able to access what we planned to do."

 

Beverly expelled a sharp breath and whirled on him angrily. "What *we* planned to do? *WE*? I told you before: there was no 'we' in that plan, Jean Luc, only a 'you'. And sensible? What in hell's name makes you think it was sensible? It didn't even work!"

 

Stepping close to him, she punched him with her forefinger as she emphasized her words. "It was *risky*, *foolhardy* and you *could* have been *killed*." She curled her fingers into a fist and laid it against his chest, inhaling deeply in an attempt to calm herself, steeling herself against a desire to wrap her arms around him, to reassure herself that he was here, and safe.

 

Exhaling slowly, she asked more quietly, "What if Sisko hadn't realized you had been taken ahead of schedule? How much damage could they have done before we discovered what had happened? That alone proves you had no control over anything! What if they had gotten past that little block you put up against the memory of your 'plan'?"

 

Backing away from him, feeling her anger build again, she said, "You went too far, Jean Luc."

 

Jean Luc looked at her, bewildered. She had never reacted this way before, and he could not understand her reacting this way now. It had been, after all, an extraordinary circumstance... he was not likely to ever have to make the same sort of decision again.

 

An anger of his own began to build at her frustrating inability to see things his way.

 

"You're being unreasonable, Beverly."

 

That was the last straw. "Unreasonable?" She spat the word out, his thick-headedness finally becoming too much, "*I'll* show you unreasonable!"

 

She swept towards the door, turning only to say, "If I were *reasonable*, I'd simply call security and have you thrown out! As it stands, I'm leaving....and these are MY quarters! Now, THAT'S *unreasonable*! "Twirling on her heel, she exited, leaving Jean Luc standing alone in stunned silence.

 

Shocked at her abrupt departure, he made to follow her, then stopped. Thinking rapidly, he let out a deep breath. She would come to her senses. They had finally talked, had they not? She would realize he had to do what he did. Besides, he had survived to tell the tale. Surely she couldn't be all that upset....

 

 

  * * *

 

 

...Hours passed, and she did not return. Moving restlessly about the room, Picard once again raised his hand to his communicator, then dropped it without opening a signal. Asking the computer for her location had already drawn a blank - she must be on the _Enterprise_, he thought. Hesitating, hating to give in, he then reluctantly did what he probably ought to have done at least an hour or so earlier.

 

Noting with approval that his clearance had been reinstated, he keyed in his security code to link up with the _Enterprise_, and asked the computer for the location of Doctor Beverly Crusher. He knew the inquiry would become part of the ship's logs, knew that someone would see it and add it to the general scuttlebutt concerning this latest spat, but didn't care...this couldn't continue.

 

*Doctor Crusher is located in TenForward.*

 

Picard threw on his over-jacket and left for the _Enterprise_.

 

 

  * * *

 

 

She was sitting with Deanna when he arrived. He stood just inside the door for a moment, watching unobserved as they sat talking quietly at a table in front of one of the large view ports, occasionally taking a sip of their drink. Gathering his strength together, he moved across the room toward them.

 

Both women looked up at the same time as he reached their table. The smaller, dark-haired one rose.

 

"Admiral. It's good to see you looking so well." She looked at him fondly, then glanced at Beverly, who refused to look at her. Turning her gaze back to Jean Luc, she said, "Ummm...I was just leaving, I think."

 

Picard nodded, blessing her silently. "Thank you, Deanna."

 

Throwing a smile in Beverly's direction that the other woman refused to turn to see, Deanna left.

 

Beverly maintained her examination of whatever was on the other side of the window, steadfastly ignoring her new companion. Joy coursed through her that he had made this move, but she refused to allow it to undermine the anger she felt at his foolhardiness. He had betrayed a trust, jeopardizing their fledgling relationship, and she would not allow him to get away without realizing it.

 

Silently, Picard sat down in the chair Deanna had vacated.

 

Thoughts of her conversation with Deanna milled about in her mind. De had been right: she had to stop running, had to trust again, had to give herself the chance to love this man despite her fear that he would, ultimately, leave her just as all the others had. She knew that he was worth the leap of faith, knew that one day, one week, with him was better than an eternity of not having him, but....

 

They both stared out the window for a while, the silence oddly companionable, despite the undercurrent of anger. Some instinct told them that this was part of a new dance, and that, if performed correctly, everything would be all right. One mis-step, however, and....

 

Neither could bear the thought of the consequence.

 

She saw him turn his head out of the corner of her eye, but remained focused on a small star to the right of a larger one. Not much to concentrate on, but....

 

"Beverly..."

 

His voice had that deep, soul-trembling quality that always made her want him to say more, made her want to lay her head on his chest and *feel* the words as he spoke them.

 

"...Come back. We can't ignore this, or run from it - Nor will I go back to the relationship we had before we arrived on DS9. I cannot. If our adjustment to one another is a little uneven, then sobeit. It's worth working at. I need you to help me understand."

 

She turned dark eyes toward him. "I don't want to talk anymore, Jean Luc. When I realized what you had done, realized..." She shuddered and stopped speaking a moment. When she resumed, all she said was, "It was wrong for you to put yourself in that kind of dangerous situation without telling me."

 

Inhaling deeply, hating that he was repeating himself, he said again, "How could I tell you? The only one I could possibly talk to was Sisko - he was the only one they wouldn't have expected me to confide in."

 

She closed her eyes in frustration, then opened them. "But, Jean Luc, in all of this, you forgot about *us*. What happens to you, happens to me. I might not prevent you from doing whatever mad thing it is you want to do, but I have to know that you are doing it. I have to trust that you are not doing foolhardy things that I don't know about. I cannot have the risk that you will come home dead when I least expect it because you haven't told me what you're doing..."

 

She knew she was shying away from the real reason for her anger. But how could she tell him she was afraid he would leave her? How could she bear hearing him swear he wouldn't, when she knew, deep down, that he was bound to?

 

He covered her hand with his own. "I'm sorry."

 

And she believed that he was. There was a wash of tears in the blue eyes that raised to meet his. "I know, Jean Luc, I know..."

 

"I should have done things differently."

 

He hated admitting it, but, if she'd done the same thing... He sighed. This would take getting used to.

 

She sat there, her fingers now entwined with his, holding on to him as though she were afraid he might disappear. Still not quite understanding, sensing somehow that she was still not telling him everything, he lifted her hand off the table slightly. He had to be alone with her, had to put his arms around her and hold her, make love to her. Inhaling deeply, he said, "Beverly, let's go."

 

Nodding, sensing his intent, loving him, hating him, she rose.

 

They walked slowly out of Ten Forward. For the moment, at least, they were together, and walking on firmer ground.

 

End

Complications 39/42

TITLE: Complications 40/42

AUTHOR: Mariel

SERIES: TNG

RATING: NC 17

CODES: P/C

 

 

When the door to their quarters closed behind them, Jean Luc and Beverly found themselves oddly uncomfortable. They knew they would make love that night, knew that they needed that physical expression to clear the air between them, but after the few days they'd just gone through, and the unusual way they had come to terms again, they felt strange with one another.

 

They stood a few feet apart and looked at one another. The things not said hung in the air between them, making one defensive, the other questioning, and both of them uncertain as to how to take the next step.

 

"Can I get you something to drink?"

 

The words sounded silly and scripted, but it was all she could think to say.

 

Taking off his over jacket, Jean Luc placed it on the back of a chair and nodded. There was a detectable gleam in his eye when he suggested, "Why don't we try the rest of Quark's little offering?"

 

Beverly smiled, the warmth of it lighting her face and Jean Luc's heart. "That would be perfect."

 

It took only a moment for her to conjure up two glasses of the unusual brew. Still standing, they faced one another. Jean Luc raised his glass. "To us."

 

There was a little hesitation, then Beverly echoed, "To us," keeping her eyes locked with Jean Luc's as she took her first sip. A huge, very vocal part of her still thought she should run. It muttered urgently, warning her of the pain she would feel when he, too, left. //Better to back away now,// it said, // you know how it will hurt...better cut your losses before they're too great.//

 

Her eyes flickered away from his. She knew he was sorry she had been upset, knew he wasn't likely to do something like that again without talking to her first, but could she take this chance? The rational part of her had gotten her back here with him, but could she really put herself through the sort of loss she feared was just around the corner?

 

During the weeks they'd shared here on the station she'd been able to forget everything but the here and now and the joy of finally being with him. Wrapped up in the immediacy of the moment, it had taken the past few days to show her the folly of forgetting the dangers of loving someone - and the dangers of loving *this* man in particular....

 

No, she was certain she couldn't handle the loss. Nothing she had ever felt for anyone held a candle to what she felt for Jean Luc. Raw, intense, all-encompassing, it took her breath away and filled her with an urgency, a need, that shocked and frightened her. What would it do to her when, as with the others, she had to watch him leave? What would it do to her when, like the others, he failed to come back?

 

She shuddered, not wanting to think about this now. She took a deep breath to try to calm herself. And listened as a cool, quiet, unfrightened little voice within her acknowledged that all she really wanted to do was get naked with this man, let him love her until she couldn't remember her name, until she was nothing more than a response to his touch and his love....

 

Restlessly, trying to quell her growing response to Jean Luc's nearness, she moved over to the window and leaned one shoulder against the curved strut that bordered it. Looking out, she watched as a ship slowly pulled up to a docking station, its lights blinking. She could see tiny people moving in front of some of its windows and wondered if they, in turn, noticed the tiny people over here in the windows of DS9....

 

"Beverly."

 

His voice interrupted her thoughts. Sighing, she turned slightly to watch as he moved to join her.

 

"There's still something bothering you."

 

She looked away, unable to respond. God, she wanted him...on her, beside her, in her... And wanted him safely far away from her, too, so that she could curl up alone and cry and not be afraid of the loss she would have to bear. He would take her soul if she allowed this to continue - the past few days had taught her that.

 

Her voice was low, almost a whisper, when she said quietly, "I don't think I can do this, Jean Luc."

 

"Do what?"

 

She lifted her hand to indicate the two of them. "Us. The two of us, together. I don't think I can..."

 

Shocked for a brief moment, appalled by her words, he paused before responding. Slowly, he felt a certainty settle quietly into place within him. She would not run away again. He would not allow her to twist their relationship away from its possibilities. He had learned to face and deal with his emotions these past couple of years, and he was prepared to face and deal with Beverly's now. Silently, he took her drink from her and bent to set it down with his own on the viewport ledge.

 

Turning back toward her, he regarded her wordlessly for a moment. Therese had told him this might happen, had said that when reality struck, Beverly might be afraid, and that he would have to talk his way through it. He sighed, wondering what to say, how to say it...and then made a decision. Sometimes, it wasn't words that were necessary. Without speaking, he placed his hands on both her shoulders and moved her backward until her shoulder blades rested against the window strut behind her. Tilting his head to one side, he slowly, gently, touched his lips to hers.

 

She closed her eyes and remained motionless, refusing to respond.

 

As though unaware of her lack of response, he continued, dropping slow, warm kisses against her mouth, then along her jaw. Nuzzling her neck, softly nibbling her earlobe, he soon elicited tiny, involuntary shivers of response from her. As one arm wrapped around her, he gently caressed her neck and the back of her head with his other hand. When she made as though to protest, he moved his mouth to cover hers, this time more insistently, refusing to allow her to put an end to his persuasion. She loved him, he was certain of it. Whatever it was that made her shy away from their being together he would overcome in the only way he knew how....

 

Slowly, with an exhalation that might have been a sigh, she parted her lips, loving this intimacy, wanting it, needing it, knowing it would lead to more.

 

And then her fears screamed in protest. She broke the kiss and lowered her head. "No," she whispered breathlessly, "Jean Luc...please..." Unable to stop herself, she traced her lips along his neck as she spoke.

 

A gentle hand lifted her chin, and his lips began again their exploration of her mouth...and again she parted her lips, unwilling or unable to stop herself from having this, just once more.

 

Tears welled up in her eyes. This was what she wanted, what she needed. She would have to face being alone later, when he finally left. For now, he was hers, and she was his. Tomorrow...whenever the tomorrow of his leave-taking happened...tomorrow, she would deal with the pain.

 

Making a small sound in the back of her throat, she leaned in against him, prompting him to hold her closer and kiss her more deeply. Moving herself against him, she felt his erection and shivered in anticipation, exalting that their desire was so well matched.

 

When he felt her surrender and knew she had given herself up to this, he wrapped both arms around her tightly. "I love you, Beverly."

 

She nodded her head against his neck, "Forever, Jean Luc, please, forever..."

 

"I always have, I always will..."

 

She ignored the slowly quietening voice that told her he might love her, but that he would still leave her. She had made her decision. It would happen when it happened, but she would take what she could while it was given and be glad. No more refusal, she vowed, to love because she was afraid of losing that love.

 

Moaning when he began to caress her more intimately, she said, "Jean Luc..." He covered her mouth, and it was several moments more and a few discarded pieces of clothing later before she remembered to continue her thought.

 

"...Jean Luc..." she said, smiling against his skin, "...let's see if we can make it to the bedroom this time."

 

Lifting her leg to rest against his hip, he ground his hardness against her, knowing she was right, but hating to break contact for even a moment. In front of a window wasn't necessarily a good idea, whether or not distances meant they would not be recognized... and his back... yes, the bed, definitely the bed....

 

  * * *

 

Morning came too soon.

 

Waking slowly, Jean Luc had been careful not to move in order to not disturb his companion's peaceful slumber. Arm around her, pressed against her back, he felt warm and comfortable and completely at peace. It was an unusual feeling for him - and a welcome one.

 

Having her here with him made him feel as though he had won a battle - though he still could not have said with certainty what the battle had been over. He tightened his arms about her reflexively; their lovemaking had been warm and wonderful and had continued well into the night. Now, with the chronometer telling him it would soon be soon time to get up, he felt a strong desire to stop time, just for a while, and enjoy the peace of being. He did not understand her feelings last night that she could not continue, was overjoyed that he had been able to persuade her otherwise, and refused to feel guilt over his seduction. He was selfish, he admitted it, but he was also in love with her and knew that she loved him. There were no tactics, he thought, that were above consideration when it came to protecting that.

 

There would be no going back to the way they had lived before.

 

The feel of her skin against him began to have its effect, and he stroked her side gently, enjoying the smoothness of her skin, the soft contours of her body. When she sighed and positioned herself a little more comfortably against him, he smiled and pressed his face into her hair, loving the fact she was here.

 

Softly, he kissed her neck. Encouraged when she moaned very softly, he trailed kisses along her shoulder and part way down her arm. Peering over to look at her face, he saw her lips were curved in a smile.

 

"Good morning," his voice rumbled softly.

 

"Good morning to you." She paused a moment, then, when he did not continue his caresses, said, "Please, don't stop just because I'm awake."

 

He grinned and brought his hand up to gently cup her breast. "We have to start our day soon."

 

Beverly turned to face him and wrapped a leg over his, forcing him to turn onto his back. Pressing herself against him, she said, "Yes, we do."

 

When she didn't move, Jean Luc moved slightly but found himself firmly held by her leg. "Beverly?"

 

"Yes?" she replied, not moving and keeping her leg securely wrapped around his.

 

"Um... are you going to let me go now?"

 

She smiled and put her face close to his to whisper in his ear. "That depends upon how you want to start your day." She raised herself up a little to look down and smile at him. "I was getting the distinct impression you didn't plan on starting it by getting out of bed immediately." Rubbing her thigh against his rather obvious erection, she added, "and I can think of a thing or two we could take care of before we do."

 

He relaxed against the pillows, waiting. "Really."

 

Beverly nodded and rose enough to slide over his body and straddle him. "Really."

 

He started when she reached back and wrapped her hand around him and slowly began to manipulate him, playing with his balls, teasing his scrotum....Closing his eyes, he let out a deep breath of pleasure.

 

Smiling, she let go of him and leaned forward to kiss him, loving the feel of his arms around her when he clasped her tightly against himself.

 

Slowly, she lifted herself away from his kisses, still smiling, enjoying the feel of him beneath her. Grasping him in her hand again, she raised herself enough to slowly place him so that, as she again settled herself onto him, he in turn settled into her. Both exhaled as she slowly slid down his length, pleasured by the feeling of him filling her.

 

Once he was in her completely, she began to move slowly. Rolling her hips slightly, she moved up and down his length, ever so slightly increasing the strength of her movements each time.

 

As their momentum increased, and their need for more and more sensation increased with it, he grabbed the top of her shoulders and thrust her down hard as he arched up into her.

 

Again and again he pushed her onto himself, again and again she gasped in pleasure, wanting more and more heat, more pressure, more of him than he could possibly give.

 

Finally, she could stand no more, could no longer hold her breath and contain the rush of orgasm that flooded her. Groaning, she bore down on him and tightened her thighs around him as she convulsed. That added pressure, combined with the sensation of her pulsing around him, was his undoing. With one final thrust, he shoved down on her shoulders and groaned his own release into her.

 

Exhausted, slick with the efforts of their lovemaking, she lay on him, panting as she listened to the thud of his heartbeat. As her pulse slowly regulated itself, she shivered, her body filled with the pleasure of their joining.

 

Pressing her against him to still her movements, he said, "Shhhh, lie still a moment more."

 

She smiled at his words. "I wasn't aware I was going anywhere."

 

He exhaled softly. "Do you always have to contradict me?"

 

"I just like having the last word. You know that."

 

"True."

 

"Of course."

 

He looked at her, saw the glimmer in her eye and asked, "People have been thrown from my bed when they get too incorrigible, you know."

 

She laughed, giddy with happiness, and smoothly escaped his arms to stand beside the bed. Looking down at him, she said, "Too late. I win."

 

Shaking his head, certain it was he who had truly won, he rose as well.

 

As they sorted out what they would wear for the day, Beverly commented, "I've only one or two more visits to Henri, and I think I'll be able to clear him for leaving the station. He says Therese is quite eager to get him home."

 

Jean Luc paused. "I told her I'd visit him before they left, but there hasn't been time. I haven't even seen Therese for a couple of days." Remembering his last conversation with her, he said, "Perhaps I'd better make an effort to do so today."

 

Beverly stopped what she was doing and nodded thoughtfully. "I think that'd be a good idea, all things considered."

 

He frowned, and opened his mouth to respond when, her mood suddenly changed, she asked brightly, "Now, what would you like for breakfast this morning? We have about fifteen minutes before I'm due in sickbay. I *did* tell Julian I'd see him in sickbay this morning."

 

He smiled, unaware she had purposely changed the topic. "Yes, I believe you mentioned that to him. I'm still surprised and a little hurt that he hasn't sent a team of medics to see if you've killed me."

 

She grinned. "He's probably disgruntled you made him leave. He was expecting a show, I think. You spoiled that when you sent him out."

 

Jean Luc raised an eyebrow. "I hardly think being cheated out of a show is just cause for neglecting my well-being."

 

She laughed and went into the living area. Over her shoulder, she said, "You forget, he likely has money riding on the outcome!"

 

He looked up sharply through the doorway. "Beverly," he said plaintively, "they're not betting on this!" He shook his head. "I've got to get Riker off this station before he corrupts everyone."

 

Beverly's trill of laughter greeted him as he went to join her.

 

End

Complications 40/42

 

 

Complications 41/42

by Mariel

 

Picard watched as Henri hesitated. It had been obvious from the moment he arrived that the man had been disconcerted by his presence. Conversation, however, had gradually eased the tension, and he felt that, though Henri might not quite be enjoying his presence, he was at least tolerating it.

 

Until, that is, he had asked after Therese.

 

With a look that made it plain to Picard that he knew he was being offensive and didn't care, Henri had said, "She's fine, I suppose. She's changed; not quite the same woman I knew before I 'returned from the dead,' so to speak." He darted a quick, resentful look at Picard and continued, "No doubt something to do with her little fling with you."

 

Picard frowned. Henri had avoided the topic of Therese from the very beginning of their conversation, refusing to speak of her in anything but the vaguest of terms. Recognizing that the other man was skirting the subject, Jean Luc had become determined to open the topic. The implications of Henri's response, however, disturbed him, and the man's petulance triggered an anger in him he controlled with difficulty.

 

His voice dangerously restrained, Jean Luc said emphatically, "It was no fling."

 

The bluntness of the statement made Henri look up sharply, and Picard felt a small, guilty sense of satisfaction. Continuing, the admiral said, "Our relationship was not embarked upon lightly. You are aware of the time frame; she must have told you. And we were friends, long, long before she arrived on the _Enterprise_."

 

Jean Luc leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands folded in front of him. Frowning, he searched for the right words, knowing he owed it to Therese to speak carefully and to try to clear up any misunderstandings Henri had. It might be somewhat satisfying to bait the man who had caused Therese so much pain and confusion, but he also knew how important Henri was to her. She had been worried that Winthrop was not adjusting well to the idea of what had happened while he had been away, worried that perhaps they would not be able to get back on an even footing with one another. He sighed. He had to do what he could to fix things.

 

Inhaling slowly, he found and discarded several calm, reasonable things he might say. Tapping the ends of his fingers together, his lips formed an even disapproving line. It was no use. Calm and reasonable had little to do with this situation anymore. He felt both anger and a growing conviction that Henri needed to accept his portion of responsibility for the situation they now found themselves in. That he should have the temerity to blame Therese, or to call their relationship a 'fling'....

 

Without allowing himself more time to think, he coldly stated, "I think you should remember that the relationship between Therese and me would not have occurred had there not been a divorce: a divorce which she instigated as a direct result of *your* actions, not because she no longer loved you. When we met again on the _Enterprise_, we found that the time was right, for various reasons, for us to be together. I remind you, however, that we were *both* free agents at the time.

 

He noted with some pleasure the flash of guilt that crossed Henri's face at the mention of the reason for the divorce, and some of the anger eased from his voice as he continued, "I will not apologize for what took place between us while you were lost. She...we have always cared for one another deeply."

 

He looked up and his eyes held Henri's steadily, commanding the other man to see the truth in what he was about to say. "She's in love with *you*. You're the one she wants, the one she wishes to spend her life with." His features relaxed as he added dryly, "I should know, I've lived with her for the past year and more."

 

Suddenly unable to remain seated, Picard stood and walked over to one of the room's view ports. He stood silently for a moment, looking out, but his mind was focused totally on the man sitting behind him. Finally turning, he said in a low voice, "Therese and I have been friends a long time. That friendship would have remained as it had been for the last fifty years, had your actions not precipitated something else entirely. You hurt her, and hurt her badly. You're a fool if you love her and allow the friendship she and I have to stand between you. "

 

Henri cleared his throat. "I have," he admitted, "always been aware of your existence..." He glanced away from Jean Luc's steady gaze, his voice drifting off as his mind worked. It was also true, he thought silently, that Therese had been a little reticent about details. Her finding solace with Picard wounded him far more than her finding solace with a stranger would have. She loved him, yes, but how much? And would Picard always be hovering in the background, her backup in times of trouble? He felt a tremor of hate for the man standing in front of him.

 

If only...The beginning of the thought drew him up sharply.

Picard was right; he had started the fiasco that had resulted in their divorce, he had blindly followed orders and refused to divulge anything about the project -including the reasons she had not been asked to accompany him. In truth, he had left Therese, not she him. He closed his eyes briefly. And all for a foolish exploratory mission that had, in fact, been revealed to be only a ruse to bring the Srn'n back to the Alpha quadrant.

 

Picard stood, waiting for Henri to continue. When the bearded man lapsed into silence instead, he turned again to the window. It was out of his hands - they would have to work it out now between themselves. Therese and he had been thrown together in circumstances not totally of their making, in no way planning what had happened. It had been, he repeated to himself, a natural progression. If Henri saw betrayal there...he sighed, hoping Henri loved her enough to understand and set it aside.

 

He tried to analyze his feelings about the man sitting behind him and failed. They were certainly not entirely positive. He smiled inwardly, amused at the irony that Therese felt much the same in regards to Beverly -no matter how she had tried to keep it from him.

 

The silence between the two men lengthened. Picard exhaled heavily, deciding the conversation was over. Looking around the recuperating scientist's quarters, he said, "I should be going. Beverly is expecting me back soon."

 

Henri nodded, and Jean Luc could see that mention of the red-headed doctor seemed to be a reassurance somehow. Therese had mentioned last time they'd met that she had told Henri about his past and present relationship with Dr. Crusher. She had hoped that knowing the admiral was in another relationship would still some of his insecurities. It appeared she had been correct.

 

"I think perhaps I owe Therese an apology," Henri said in a low voice. Surprised by the admission, Picard merely nodded.

 

Henri stood, and said, "She'll be back shortly. She will be sorry she missed you."

 

Picard smiled slightly, recognizing the tentative olive branch. Perhaps, he thought, the man had more sense than he had originally given him credit for. "There'll be other times - it's another two days before we're all cleared out of here." He hesitated, then added, "She is a special woman, Dr. Winthrop. I hope you appreciate that."

 

It wasn't until the admiral had left that Henri wondered if there had been a note of warning in the other man's voice.

 

 

  * * *

 

 

Beverly needed time to give Henri his final physical before granting permission for him to leave the station, so Jean Luc and Therese had arranged to share morning tea together at a quiet table on the upper level at Quark's. Glancing around, Jean Luc was reminded of his dinners there with Beverly and the comments that their being together had caused. The corner of his mouth turned upwards; this sharing of tea, he knew, would also be noted and logged.

 

Therese saw his eyes flicker over the people at the table nearby, read his thoughts when he smiled, and smiled herself. "There will always be something for people to discuss, cherie, yes?"

 

He nodded and turned to her, his eyes warmly amused. "Always."

 

"So, what did you two speak of?"

 

Her companion raised an eyebrow at her abrupt change of topic and tone, but displayed no confusion as to what she was talking about.

 

"You."

 

"And?"

 

"He needed reassurance, I think, that I was not someone you had up your sleeve all along, waiting in the wings...and that I was not waiting again now."

 

"And you persuaded him of this?"

 

"I believe so."

 

"Then you are very good, Jean Luc, and I thank you." She looked away from him, then down at her hands. "I am surprised at the way he has reacted."

 

Picard did not try to hide his disbelief. "Only somewhat surprised, Therese, and you know it. You are feeling guilty, though God knows why. He senses that, and is looking for a 'why?' He said that there's a difference in you. It's likely that blasted guilt. I think you've got to let it go. You did everything you did thinking it was over. He has to accept that."

 

"Yes, but..."

 

He placed a warm hand over hers. "He loves you."

 

Remembering the mixture of embarrassment and shame that he had seen on Henri's face when he had mentioned their divorce, he added, "And I think he has a need for *you* to forgive *him*."

 

There was a moment of silence while she thought. Heaving a sigh, she finally lifted her eyes to meet his. "Perhaps we need to forgive each other."

 

Picard opened his mouth to object, almost angry that she felt she should apologize for their having been together, then closed it without protesting. She would have to deal with Henri as best she could. There was, he thought, a connection between Henri and Therese that, for all their volatility, was undeniable. He was certain they would manage to weather through this.

 

A comfortable silence eventually rose between the two friends, and each became lost in their own thoughts as they sipped their tea.

 

Out of the blue, Therese commented, "She thought it was the best thing for you, at the time, cherie."

 

Knowing immediately what she was talking about, he raised an eyebrow. Smiling inwardly that he could read her so well, he sat back casually in his chair and looked at her. //So,// he thought,//now she feels it is time to reassure me.//

 

"Oh?"

 

"Yes. She had made the decision to let you leave because she wasn't ready, and since you and I...we..." Her voice trailed off as she saw his reaction to her words.

 

His lips curved wryly. "So now it's *she* made the decision! And to think I thought is was *my* decision, for you and me."

 

Therese's eyes twinkled. "Our decisions are rarely entirely our own, cherie. She leaned forward a little over the table and dared him, "Admit it: had she come to you and asked you not to go, you would have remained -and I would never have suggested you do anything else. She made a different decision, however, and it was upon that decision that we based ours. We had each other for the time we needed. And for the time Beverly needed too, yes?"

 

Rising, Picard held his hand out to Therese, the corner of his mouth quirking in a half smile. "We ought to be getting back to them. Beverly says she's certain she'll be giving him his clean bill of health today."

 

Therese smiled and rose, recognizing that this was his way of saying he did not want to talk about this anymore. She lifted a hand and touched his cheek softly. "Poor Jean Luc. All this talking: with me, with Beverly ..." She smiled and added, "...*with Henri*." Shaking her head, she said, "It has not been easy for you. Be warned though: with Beverly, you will have to make sure that the talking continues. She is one who holds things to herself more than she should. As do you. I have tried to teach you differently, Jean Luc, but you must remember my lessons, oui?"

 

Resisting the urge to hug her, Jean Luc chuckled. "Oui, madame."

 

She grinned up at him. "I think you are in for a very interesting life, with her, Jean Luc. It is not going to be all sitting back and relaxing. You have still many things to learn about one another, I think."

 

Picard smiled, "Therese, I'm finished. You will not draw me into any more conversation!"

 

Therese's eyes twinkled as she relented. Shrugging expressively she said, "It never hurts to try, cherie...."

 

They walked slowly back to the quarters Henri and Therese were sharing. Enjoying the feeling of being together, there was also a mutual satisfaction in knowing that they were on their way to meet that one, special person they loved above all others.

 

As they neared her quarters, Therese looked up at Picard, a curious look in her eye. "Jean Luc," she said hesitantly, "Do you suppose they have talked about us?"

 

Slowing his pace, he looked down at her. "Who?" he asked, puzzled.

 

"Beverly and Henri. They have spent time alone together, you know. I have not always been there when she has dropped by to examine him. I wonder..."

 

Picard couldn't have described the feeling that washed over him at the thought. Whatever the feeling was, however, he didn't like it. He'd always kept Henri and Beverly quite separate in his mind. Their talking about the 'situation' made him uncomfortable, though he couldn't have said why.

 

"I hadn't thought of that," he answered slowly. "I suppose they might have."

 

"I wonder what they have said?"

 

Picard shook his head wordlessly, wondering how he could manage to bring up the subject with Beverly. When it became obvious neither of them had any more to add, they continued on their way, deep in thought.

 

 

Once outside her door, they paused and looked at one another. Therese smiled. "This is a new beginning, yes?"

 

"Yes."

 

Slowly, knowing exactly what he was doing, he bent his head towards her. She tilted her face to meet him, allowing their lips to touch. The touch turned warmer, and they kissed, enjoying for the last time the taste of the other's mouth, the warmth of the other's body as they tightened their embrace.

 

Releasing her mouth, Picard hugged her, not caring who might see.

 

"Merci, Therese. For everything."

 

Therese smiled. "We have been good for one another, cherie."

 

"We have."

 

She stood back and said, "After today, I do not know when we will meet again."

 

"But we will."

 

The certainty in his voice warmed her. Smiling, she collected herself. "Well, I think we had best join them, yes?

 

He squeezed her hand and nodded. Turning towards the door, they activated its sensors and stepped happily forward.

 

 

End

Complications 41/42

 

TITLE: Complications 42/42

AUTHOR: Mariel

SERIES: TNG

PART: 42/42

RATING:

CODES: P/C

 

 

Early spring sunshine streamed warmly through their apartment window, dancing first on the polished furniture, then settling on the walls to give the room a welcome glow.

 

They were sharing breakfast, as they had for more times than Beverly could remember. She sat listening quietly as Jean Luc spoke, her mind screaming //No!// even as she nodded calmly and moved to sip at her tea.

 

"..It's a fascinating, long overdue idea, Beverly," he continued, his voice filled with barely controlled enthusiasm, "...and makes sense, all things considered. The length of time it takes to get a decision from Headquarters if you're out in deep space is far too long, in many cases. Captains have always had the leeway of making their own decisions in those instances, but, considering our present circumstances, to have an admiralty presence within light years makes sense."

 

Dying inside, she looked at him, her blue eyes unreadable. So, here it was again. Already. Like the others, he was leaving her.

 

"And they're suggesting you're the man for the position?" she asked quietly, spreading butter on a roll she had no appetite for.

 

"I'm the most obvious choice," he said, reaching over to pour himself more tea, "But I'm not the only choice. My diplomatic experience would be of benefit, and I'm still not so removed from the field that I don't remember some of the problems of being out there and having to act unilaterally when I could really have used a little added input." He paused to take a sip of the hot beverage, then added, as he placed his cup back on its saucer, "And you have to remember that there are a lot more young, inexperienced captains out there than there were a few years ago. They could use the help."

 

He winced inwardly at the thought of the destruction he had helped the Borg cause, then pushed it aside. Raising hazel eyes that smiled warmly at her, he said, "They're good people, mind you, or they wouldn't have their own ships - but having experience out there to guide them would be a great benefit. I'll admit there were times I preferred not having someone to second-guess me, but...."

 

Her mind reeled. He was going. He was going to take this job and leave her here, and them only together these few short months. Already... so soon.

 

She stood, so swiftly that Picard stopped speaking and looked up at her in surprise, his eyes questioning.

 

Turning towards him, she looked down and smiled. "It sounds just right for you."

 

He nodded, puzzled by her manner. "I think so," he said uncertainly, sensing something was wrong.

 

"So when do you leave?"

 

He looked at her, not sure he understood her. "What?"

 

"When do you leave to begin this new project?" She moved over towards the replicator so he could not see her face when she received his answer, swallowing her panic, thinking she couldn't bear this repetition of rejection in her life.

 

Frowning at her back, Picard remained silent, feeling confused at her response, and sensing her withdrawal. He was also, he knew, somewhat hurt by her lack of enthusiasm.

 

A sense of 'deja vu' washed over him.

 

Watching as she picked up the warm drink she had ordered to replace the one she hadn't drunk, his mind raced back to the memory of their conversation aboard the _Enterprise_, when he had been considering the admiralty. Her distance, the tight expression on her face, her refusal to meet his eyes...Her reaction this morning was very much the same as it had been then.

 

He inhaled sharply. No. This would not happen again.

 

Watching her as she walked over to resume her place, he said, "Beverly, there's been no decision to go made. I thought I'd made that clear. I'm rather excited about the idea, yes, but this obviously isn't a decision I can make alone."

 

Setting the cup down on the small table, she sat, not beside him again, but on the chair opposite.

 

"I think it boils down to what you want to do," she said evenly. Placing her elbows on the table and raising the cup in front of her lips, she looked down at the steaming beverage, and said in what seemed to be a careless manner, "I can't make those decisions for you, Jean Luc."

 

He felt the distance between them widen.

 

"Beverly, it's a decision WE have to make."

 

She looked at him, her eyes not quite focused on his, and he felt his heart sink.

 

"You have to do what you want to do, Jean Luc," she repeated, her voice tightly controlled.

 

He held her eyes. "Really?"

 

She nodded and dropped her eyes way from his face, refusing to open herself further to the rejection she knew was coming.

 

Jean Luc could not possibly take this as her final response but not knowing what else to do at the moment, he nodded slowly, covering his hurt and not taking his eyes from her. "Then I'll have to consider it very seriously."

 

She nodded, bracing herself against the inevitable, against the pain of loss life seemed to have preordained for her. Looking away, she stared sightlessly across the room, feeling the control and happiness she had found these past months slip away.

 

Then, in the uncomfortable silence that hung between them, a ripple of rebellion began to grow. She shifted restlessly. On DS9 she had vowed to speak her mind, to talk things out, to not be afraid. It had gotten her a greater happiness than she had ever thought possible. She turned back to face Jean Luc, setting her cup down with a clatter.

 

"No!"

 

The solitary word erupted from her before she had time to think it.

 

Jean Luc looked at her in surprise.

 

Breaking all her old habits, and willing to risk this final rejection because it was her life, her love, her very being, at stake, she continued. "No," she repeated. "I don't want you to go. I couldn't bear the separation, Jean Luc. I can't stand the thought..." She inhaled shakily. "It's too soon; it will always be too soon." The words tumbled out, embarrassing her with their abandon, their close-to-hysterical sound, despite her calm tone. "...Please, I couldn't bear it...I cannot let you do this..."

 

She watched as he sat a moment in stunned silence. Her eyes wavered, then dropped from his. She recognized that look, remembered that stunned silence. Now, he was going to explain why he had to do this, how it would only be for a little while, how he would be back soon, how they would be able to see each other often...

 

She felt his nearness before she saw his hand held out to her. Taking it automatically, she allowed him to draw her up out of the chair to stand in front of him.

 

Picard looked at her in wonderment, understanding finally dawning on him.

 

"Beverly Picard. How could I marry you and then go away? I will never leave you, ever." He lifted a hand and put gentle fingers under her chin, waiting until her eyes met his before continuing, "Why would you think I even could? I meant what I said about it being OUR decision. Wherever I am, wherever you are - we will be together. If I end up at the end of the galaxy, it will be because we go there together. I need you. I will not give you up or leave you alone. We decide together where we will be." He drew her into his arms and murmured into her neck, "This position is merely an option available to us, it is a possibility, not another complication."

 

Beverly relaxed against him. A possibility. For the both of them. All her life, she had to fight to make her way, had to look after herself, knowing that to lean on another would only bring rejection and loss. Time and time again she had convinced herself she was mistaken, and time and time again she had been left, alone and hurting.

 

But not this time. Not with this man.

 

Raising her mouth to meet his, her lips parted and, for the first time, she gave herself up to her love without fear. Who could have dreamed that living one's life with someone so complex, whose life was so complicated...a life that might, indeed, soon be lived out on the edge of nowhere...who could have believed it would be so... simple?

 

EPILOGUE:

 

On the outer rim of Federation territory, the Srn'n smiled in contentment. This far from the Alpha Quadrant, he felt no danger of detection: he knew from what little access he had managed to obtain to StarFleet communications that the search for him had slowed, and guessed that they were not even aware that he had managed to bring young with him.

 

He stood watching the hosts with their Srn'n young. All of them were sitting, row upon row, in front of computer consoles. All were filing away as much information as they could, about this part of space and the humanoids that had been promised them. Once the young were instructed further, he would be able to seed them across a number of nearby planets, allowing them the opportunity to adapt to dealing with those who were not-yet-hosts.

 

He had a plan drawn up, knew who he needed to take in order to infiltrate in the most efficient manner possible, and reveled in the knowledge he had the time to be particular. Confident in his new identity, he knew that here, on the far outskirts of space, no one was likely to have even heard of the Srn'n, or recognize anything that might spark worry that something was not quite right. Here, they were safe. This time, he knew, they would be successful. This time, they would be more careful, they would take their time, and infiltrate slowly. They would grow and breed. The Decree would be fulfilled as it had been written.

 

It would all be so...simple.

END

Complications 42/42

 

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