Date: Mon, 10 Jan 2000 17:02:58 -0500 From: dansieja Subject: Knight of the Undead 00/26 To: FKFIC-L@LISTS.PSU.EDU Finally- the third part in the Voyager series! Permission granted to archive at the fanfic site, and FTP. All others please inquire. The first story, "The Persecuted", and the second, "Redemption of the Damned", can be found at Mel's fanfic site and at my own webpage- www.angelfire.com/wi/CourageKnight. Many thanks to those who have sent such kind notes and encouragements! Knight of the Undead By Lorelei Sieja Prologue: Ryeta Space Canons blasted through the failing shields. Kulin gasped as the smoke filled his lungs, burning, searing... he blinked, wiping hot sticky fluid from his eyes. It was blood- but whose? Staggering to his feet, he tripped over the captain's body. He looked near death. At least something good would come from this misbegotten battle. "Get us out of here!" he barked to the helm officer. The young Ryeta soldier nodded vigorously as he slapped in the new coordinates. It didn't occur to him that Kulin was not the one to be in charge. No, with the Captain incapacitated, command would shift to Murth... but never had Kulin met a man less qualified to be in space, let alone in charge of a battleship during an interstellar war. Murth was a man of thought, not action. The ship would be blown to bits before Murth could decide what to do. But then, maybe Murth wouldn't survive long? Battle could be so hazardous. Kulin's large mouth tugged in a mirthless grin. The Xin ship fired on them again, but the shots went wide and they broke off their attack, crawling back to their own little sector of the galaxy. Perhaps they'd been hit more seriously than it appeared? Kulin glared at the young crew. They were so inept. Well, a few months under Murth, and then they would be his. He grabbed the body of their fallen captain and stormed from the bridge wondering if he'd find the honorable Murth shivering under his bed. The Discovery limped from the battle to hide in the shadow of Q42's larger moon. Captain Murth strode through the corridors assessing the damage and estimating the time for repairs. He'd have an official report to file within the hour-- his first act as the new captain. At least, it was something he felt capable of handling. Two soldiers were clearing debris off the bridge, trying to patch the communications console together with parts rigged from trash. Fyid, the doctor, was assisting with clean up, as they'd had just two casualties, and both were beyond the help of modern medicine. Now, they would know for certain the answers to Ryeta's most pressing questions: were there gods? Shouts drew Murth's attention away from his useless musings. He redirected his steps towards engineering, the source of the conflict. Murth pushed through the doors just as Kulin backhanded a little Liat whelp in front of the engineers and the enraged cook. He went to the Liat and helped him to his feet. An ugly red and purple bruise colored his hairless cheek and the strange salt-water dripped from his large moss-colored eyes. Murth didn't like the Liat; he didn't want them on his ship. But he couldn't abide cruelty to any kind of creature, no matter how useless or stupid. He reached out towards the Liat to brush away its water, but the whelp shrank back from him. Of course. Now Kulin had taught him to fear. Curse that man! "Sh-sh. That's enough," he said softly, whispering other nonsense syllables, knowing the Liat would only understand his tone and not his language. Keeping a firm hand protectively on the Liat's head, Murth turned towards Kulin and the cook. "Speak!" he demanded, hoping he sounded more authoritative than he felt. "Worthless Liat! Just a pack of useless hay-burners," Kulin cursed. "We ought to fire them out a cannon and be done with it!" Murth turned to the cook. "It's "Tregor", isn't it? I take it the Liat are yours?" Tregor was an exceedingly handsome Ryeta, and the youngest member of this crew, not including the Liat. His fur, a deep sienna, was thick and coarse, his black eyes barely visible through the long fringe. Murth wasn't really interested in Tregor's physical attributes as his interests were for females- although the war made meeting any all but impossible. He was glad to see that Tregor had a fierce temper, though. He would need it to survive long on this entirely male ship. "Aye, Captain," he grumbled. "Except for that one. Kittim was the late captain's. Now he's yours, I guess." Murth glanced again at the skinny little Liat. Good gods. He'd never owned one before. A slightly panicked feeling choked him. Kulin was shouting again. Murth scowled slightly. Everyone on the ship treated him with the proper respect, except this one. He disliked the rude soldier immensely, even as Kulin made him feel grossly inadequate. "Make him climb down there to remove the charred debris away-- he's small enough-- it will take hours to take the panels off so we can reach it." Murth glanced down the reactor tube. It was barely three feet in diameter. The Liat would easily fit through it, as no Ryeta on the ship could. But how to make the mute little beast understand? "Your method of communication eats muck, Kulin," Murth replied, insultingly. He glared at the engineers' snickering. Although he suspected that no one really liked Kulin, he wouldn't tolerate insubordination from any one. "Tregor, can the Liat do this task?" The young cook nodded vigorously. "They understand a hell of a lot more than we give them credit for, captain. You just had to give short, clear directions. And I don't know why, but it helps if you are looking right at them when you speak." "Are they deaf?" "No. They hear well. I don't think they understand what they hear, though. I don't think they even know their own names." Murth nodded, adding that piece of information to his meager store. If it weren't for the war, he'd still be a scientist. When he'd first entered the university, he had planned to work in medical research, hoping to discover the cure for the harmless Ryetan disease that was systematically annihilating the Liat. He gestured to Tregor to demonstrate. Tregor knelt down to be closer to the Liat's eye level. "Kittim," he stated, also touching the Liat to draw his attention. "Climb down the tube. Put broken things in this bag." Murth stared agape as the little Liat nodded, then took the bag and slung it over his thin shoulders. Glancing timidly at Kulin, the Liat scurried around him and climbed fearlessly into the tube. But then, the Liat wouldn't have the faintest idea how dangerous it was down there. One wrong move and the whelp would be dead. It seemed somehow dishonest to take advantage of his ignorance. "Kulin," Murth called, squaring his shoulders to appear more commanding. "If you strike any creature on this ship again I will have you under arrest." Then he turned and marched from the room. Kulin glared at Murth's retreating form. Yes, he thought angrily. War could be very dangerous.... Murth stared out through the large porthole in his quarters at the peaceful void of empty space. The massive blackness called to him. All the little spots of light signified disasters in the making, but the darkness contained nothing. Closing his eyes he could almost imagine himself floating among the void. Regret was bitter company. How had everything turned out so wrong? The gods would curse the day the Ryeta ever entered space. The smaller door set inside the larger one hissed softly. That would be the Liat, Murth thought, without turning. A picture of the boy sprang to his mind suddenly, full and clear, and Murth wondered now what he should do with him. It was a Ryeta responsibility to care for these helpless creatures, but it was yet another task for which Murth felt hopelessly inadequate. Only a few months ago he'd still been a junior officer and attaché to Ambassador Derk as they tried to form an alliance with the neighboring Bugali nations. That, like everything else Murth had ever laid hand to, had failed. He slumped onto the couch. Small soft hands startled him as they touched his feet. Murth nearly jumped out of his fur. "What the devil!" Kittim, the Liat whelp, drew back his lips in an expression that showed his teeth. Murth wasn't sure what it meant, except that he sensed the creature was not frightened now. He stared curiously at him. His teeth were so strange looking- two long, sharp canines, like little needles, smaller teeth filling in the spaces but just as sharp looking. The whelp tugged one of his feet onto his lap and began to massage the stress away. Murth relaxed and closed his eyes. The tiny fingers threaded through his thick fur, gentle and soft yet not quite tickling. Maybe having a Liat around wouldn't be so bad after all. "Captain," a tired voice interrupted, speaking over the comm system. "A priority message from High Command." Murth felt a cold chill settle deep in his gut, destroying the restful feeling the Liat had induced. Damn them! If only he could have refused that promotion! "I'll take it here," he answered. Sighing, Murth stood and went to his desk. He adjusted the comm screen and forced the fear from his voice. General Gorlon's craggy face filled his screen. The battle-scarred soldier was looking tired these days, Murth thought. Unlike himself, Gorlon had always been a soldier. If he was giving up hope... "Captain Murth. An alien vessel has been detected on our long-range scanners, coming from sector 142 mark 2. Ambassador Derk reports that they are aggressive and dangerous. Apparently, they attacked the Bugali, stole food and supplies, and held the prince ransom. One report even states that they drink the blood of their enemies." Murth couldn't quite conceal the shudder of disgust that swept through him. Gorlon merely grunted. "My sentiments exactly. However, we are under no obligation to the Bugali at this point, so it may be in our best interests to try to make an alliance with this ship. Their weapons are superior, and if the reports are at all correct, they can outrun and out-maneuver us. The only thing not in their favor is their small size. We could best them easily in hand-to-hand combat." "Gone are the good-old days," Murth muttered sarcastically. Gorlon snorted, but chose to ignore the disrespectful tone. "How soon until your ship is repaired?" "Thirty-six hours." The general nodded. "The alien ship is called "Voyager". If it maintains current heading and speed, they will enter the edge of our space in two weeks. You are to intercept them, and begin negotiations. If they are as hostile as the Bugali suggest, you must annihilate them." It was a suicide's mission. The only way to annihilate a superior vessel was to deliberately ram it, igniting both their warp engines. The resulting explosion would take them out, as well as any life form for a circumference of several light years. "Aye, Captain," Murth replied grimly. end, prologue KotU 01/26 Four Weeks earlier... Chapter One: The Morning After Nick stared at the beauty in his arms, gently brushing a strand of dark Klingon hair from her tawny complexion. In sleep none of her defiance and inner rage was visible; instead she looked deceptively small and delicate. B'Elanna Torres was the most amazing woman he had met in many centuries. She loved him. And very soon she was going to become his wife. B'Elanna's breathing increased as she slipped through the layers of sleep. Languidly, sensually, like a cat uncoiling from a nap, she stretched one vertebra at a time. Her dark, lustrous eyes opened. "Good morning, beast," she whispered huskily. "Still want to marry me?" he teased. She held her hand before her and gazed at the small rock on her third finger. "This is going to take some getting used to," she grumbled, already sounding more like the B'Elanna Torres that everyone knew. "I'm not really the jewelry type." Nick smiled, pulling the small hand to his lips and laying a kiss on it. "Why don't you have to wear one?" That made him laugh. She was half-human. Didn't she know any of the mortal-human customs? "I will, B'El. At our wedding. We exchange wedding rings. Remember?" "So I get two rings, and you only get one? Why is that? It doesn't seem quite fair." She snuggled closer on his shoulder and lightly traced her fingers down the smooth firm chest. Nick caught the exploring hand and held it. There was never enough time anymore. "A long time ago, when a couple wanted to wed, they gathered in the middle of the community and walked three times around a blazing fire. Three was to signify two lives becoming one. The fire was for passion and purity. The circle has always meant forever, no beginning and no end, and the community bore witness to their marriage walk. Then certain stones were believe to have magic power- the diamond was to promise a long life and bless the marriage with children. After the spread of Christianity, the ritual marriage walk was incorporated into the three rings." "Oh, Nick! That is so sweet. I didn't know," B'Elanna murmured. "It is a -lovely- ring. I'm sure I'll get used to it... eventually." Nick laughed heartily at that. "Come on, then. Let's hit the shower before we miss breakfast again!" Chakotay shared a cup of coffee with the captain before retiring. It was hardly an appropriate bedtime beverage, but sharing anything with Kathryn was worth it. They didn't always work opposite shifts, but until they'd put a few more light years between them and the Bugali, she didn't feel comfortable sleeping with any other officer at the helm. "That was such a lovely concert last night," she reminisced, swallowing the still too hot brew. Wincing only slightly, she repeated the action before speaking again. "He has such a gift. Wonder if he'll perform more often now?" Chakotay blew across the top of his coffee. It smelled better than it tasted anyway, and he certainly did not want to spend all his time with Kathryn just talking about Nick. He was very fond of the vampire; thought of him like a brother, but this was not the place. They were both off duty for another ten minutes. "I could ask him to play at Neelix's next party, if you like," he suggested. "He is planning a couples night first, then a special party in honor of the color green, to be followed by a birthday celebration for the Wildman child." Captain Kathryn Janeway burst out laughing, sloshing her coffee dangerously close to the rim of the mug. "Why so many?" Chakotay shrugged. It wasn't often he could make her laugh, but it was such fun when he succeeded. "I'm not sure. I think it has something to do with the dark space." At her questioning look, he continued. "The area of space we're in now- few stars and fewer planets. It's dark. Neelix seems to feel that it is at least partly responsible for the depression among the crew, so he has been feverishly trying to create these diversions." Kathryn refilled her cup and ordered a honey-wheat bagel from the small replicator. She might be a few minutes late to the bridge, but they'd all been putting in overtime for far too long. And the "dark" space, as Neelix called it, was also "boring" space. No planets meant no people to interact with or cause problems. She could afford to relax a bit. Being responsible for 151 lives for the past five years was more than exhausting. Depression was something to be concerned about, however. They were all long overdue for shoreleave. Janeway was feeling a bit off herself, and a few days on a sandy holographic beach just wastn't going to fix it this time. "So tell me more," she probed. "Whose idea was this couples' night?" "Nick's," Chakotay answered, slightly frustrated that the conversation had come back to him already. His frustration vanished as she laughed again, more heartily. "Yes, I should have guessed. He's had little else on his mind for weeks. Wonder if we'll be having a ship's wedding soon?" Nick strolled liesurely towards the mess hall clasping B'Elanna's hand in his. "We should announce the news this morning, don't you think?" A moment of panic choked her, but then it faded. She smiled up at Nick in wonder. In the past, whenever she had become serious with anyone, panic had always made her push away, but Nick was so different. He wasn't like anyone she had ever dated before. And something about him just felt right! "Sure. Do it." "What about a date?" B'Elanna didn't answer at first. Still no panic. She would be able to do this. But, just in case, she should push the date off for a while. "Oh, Nick," she thought aloud. "I don't want to get married until some plans are made, like, where're we going to live? I mean, my quarters and yours are both single occupant." "Okay," Nick answered agreeably. "We get married right after the room is fixed." He flashed her a brilliant smile. As they entered the busy, noisy mess hall, the conversations died down. Many eyes turned towards the happy couple with expectation. Nick clasped her hand firmly and gazed into her eyes for a moment. He saw her love and her trust, and not a trace of indecision. He turned to address the assembled crew. "Friends," he said a little louder and with conviction. Tapping his comm badge and contacting the captain, he continued. "I would like to announce to all of you, that I have asked B'Elanna to be my wife! And she has accepted." A loud cheer split from some of the crew, and more dignified responses from the rest. "Congratulations, Nick," the captain answered. "When?" "When we've had a chance to make some plans, but soon. Very soon," he answered, causing a raucous laugh from the less inhibited. "Congratulations to both of you. I'm happy for you," the captain said, then closed the comm link. Kim jumped up and pumped Nick's hand. He kissed B'Elanna chastely on the cheek, and wrapped them both in a hug. Neelix waddled up quickly, bringing Nick his breakfast in a glass flute and a second flute with champagne for the future bride. "This is traditional, I think," the talaxian chef insisted. "And since it's non-alcoholic, it will be okay before work." Others came forward, each with some expression of joy and good wishes, yet Nick scanned the crowd for one who had not yet appeared. At the back stood the lanky blonde ensign, Tom Paris. The younger man nodded at Nick tensely. Then, sighing, he pushed himself away from the table he'd been perched on and approached. Brushing past Nick, he held B'Elanna at arms' length and stared at her intently. "Happy, B'Elanna? Is this what you really want?" Nick could hear her heart rate increase rapidly. She'd been Tom's girlfriend not long ago. Nick forced the animal surge of jealousy to creep under a dark rock somewhere. He tossed the last of the Bugali blood down his throat and waited. B'Elanna returned Tom's steady gaze and nodded. "Yes, Tom. I am." Tom pulled her tightly into an embrace and kissed the top of her head. "Good," he answered simply. Then he slapped Nick on the back with one hand and shook the outstretched hand with the other. "Be good to her. Or I'll find some garlic." The words were said lightly, almost carelessly, in that notorious Tom Paris way, yet Nick was all too aware that Tom wasn't entirely joking. "I'll do my best, Tom. Or I'll die trying." He held Tom's gaze for a moment. Nick still saw pain reflected, but it was different. The pain was not raw like an open wound. This pain had the look of long suffering. Tom had accepted B'Elanna's abandonment, just like everyone else who had ever left him. His mother, his sisters, his father.... And with this acceptance, the officer was more deeply convinced that he deserved it. That he was so worthless, no one would ever stand by him... and he buried this belief behind an arrogance that many found annoying. "Come by my office later, Tom," Nick said softly. Tom lowered his gaze and shifted uncomfortably. "Sure, maybe. Look, I gotta run." And then he was gone. Nick felt B'Elanna's arm slip around him. "He'll be okay, Nick. He'll get over it." Nick nodded. Yes, Tom would have to be okay. Because Nick was the ship's counselor and Tom's only hope. If he couldn't help the other man to deal with it, then Nick just wouldn't feel right to go through with the wedding... he'd have to make things right. Quickly! "That was fast," Chakotay said, finishing the coffee and standing to take his leave. "But not unexpected," Kathryn answered. "Keeping those two apart for two weeks was more of a punishment for the entire crew! I had no less than seven people come ask me to lift my ban before the time had passed!" "You're kidding! Seven people questioned one of your orders?" Chakotay was amused, enjoying the light banter. "Maybe this is indicative of a deeper problem, lack of discipline in the ranks?" "Could be, Commander," she teased back. "I'll dig out the cat o'nine tails and start practicing. And you, get some sleep. That's an order." "Aye-aye, captain." end, part 1. Chapter Two: LaCroix's Demand By Lorelei Sieja Nick parted, letting B'Elanna report to engineering while he took the turbolift towards his office. He touched the small brass plaque mounted just to the right of the door with no small amount of both pride and humility. "Lieutenant Nicholas Knight, Counselor". It was a first for him. He'd been many things over the centuries- doctor, teacher, archeoligist, even mortal once, when he'd been a knight. He was proud and pleased to once again feel important, needed, even liked by the mortals he tried so hard to emulate. Yet, it still terrified him that he was unprepared for this position and he hoped fervently that whatever god ruled this side of the galaxy would keep him from making any major mistakes. The door parted for him and he stepped into the small office. There was the terrarium Crewman Paulus had helped him to plant, and the paintings they had worked on last- still wet and unframed. There was the couch and the rug that he and B'El had... put to good use. Yes, this room was already collecting memories. Nick sat at the desk in the back and activated the computer. Although computers in this century were voice operated, Nick had never quite lost his attachment to archaic keypads. He opened the most recent history file and began to enter the latest events into his account of Voyager's adventure. Nick had started this history years ago when circumstances marooned his maquis crew with this starfleet one out in the delta quadrant 75,000 light years from earth. When Janeway had discovered it, she made it official. Granting him the title of "Ship's Historian", she also gave him the clearance to access the files legally so he could continue his project. She said she had been impressed with his clear style and his insightful perceptions. Nick glanced over the last paragraphs of his "history" with a smile. He hadn't meant to be insightful or clear. This was begun as a letter home to his father.... "Good morning, my son," the familiar voice sounded in his mind. Nick leaned back in the desk chair and closed his eyes. "Good evening, LaCroix," he answered. Then, concentrating on the threads that connected them even across the expanse of space, Nick opened himself to the ancient vampire. He sensed peace between them. It felt wonderful. Such times were precious few and far between, so he relished every moment while it lasted. LaCroix was still in the South Seas back on earth. Nick sensed the rhythmic pulsing of drums in the distance, the soft, wild sounds of one of the last of the "untouched" jungles on his overpopulated planet, and the faint glow of moonlight on his father's face. LaCroix seemed contented. And, LaCroix was not alone. "Who's there?" Nick blurted, without thinking. He regretted it instantly, filling his mind with incoherent thoughts and almost losing the link between them in his distress. LaCroix demanded respect above all else, even more than obedience, which was something they still fought over. "Nicholas," the ancient said, his silken voice sounding faintly amused. "Always so emotional. It is all right, this time. I take no offense." Slowly Nick relaxed and opened himself again to the intimate contact of the blood link. Likewise, the ancient master dropped the curtain of privacy that he mostly held taut between them so Nick could meet the latest of LaCroix's little diversions. He saw clearly the small, svelte Island woman with long black hair and bronze complexion. She smiled seductively at LaCroix, her delicate fangs glinting in the pale glow of the waning moon. "Meet Kayleia," LaCroix murmured. She looked too young for his father, but then Nick sensed that she was actually about 700 years old and no kin by blood. He heaved a sigh, unaware how jealous he had been until now. LaCroix wasn't replacing his prodigal son. LaCroix was simply finding a moment's diversion with a pretty girl. "I will not be with you for a time, my son," the ancient said. At Nick's sudden wave of concern, LaCroix went on to explain. "The moon fades. I have not the power to reach you without it. Six days at most, before we can commune again." Nick nodded absently. LaCroix had mentioned once before that he drew strength from the moon for this mystic union between them. Nick didn't really understand how it worked, or why. He'd only been grateful on occasions that it did. Although he resented LaCroix's control over him, he'd never resented his help when help was truly needed. And it was strangely comforting that no matter how badly Nick treated him, LaCroix was always there. "One more thing, Nicholas," LaCroix began. Again Nick almost lost the link between them. He concentrated harder, knowing he would need to hear his master's last demand. Then the tenuous link strengthened. He felt LaCroix's arm around him in a paternal embrace. "Again, my son, you have been careless. You must do something about this situation." "Do what? What danger could we possibly be in, LaCroix! We are decades away from reaching the alpha quadrant. The enforcers can hardly touch us here." The friendly contact became firmer, almost threatening for a moment. Nick struggled to calm his irritation, but LaCroix always knew how get under his skin. He knew LaCroix was upset about the crew's new knowledge of vampires. It was the biggest crime a vampire could commit and the enforcers would kill them all to keep this precious secret. Still, the enforcers couldn't possibly know unless LaCroix had told them.... "I did nothing of the sort, you ungrateful child," LaCroix snapped. Then calmer, with almost a condescending tone, the ancient explained. "I would never betray you, Nicholas. You told them yourself. Six months ago, when your ship somehow managed to get letters sent home. You wrote to me, and told me you were still alive, and how you came to be a part of the Starfleet crew. It was the happiest day of the century for me." Nick sensed that LaCroix was very near to shedding a tear. They had not been in contact for almost four years before the letter. Then somehow the ancient had found a way to reach Nick through the mind link, stretching his power across light-years of time and space. "The moment Starfleet received the letters, the enforcers were aware of your situation. You can be assured that they will be on the first vessel you meet from the alpha quadrant. You must at least conceal all written proof of your existence in a separate file, which you can delete at a moment's notice. You could always deal with the mind purges later. Do this, my son, at once!" Then, the link faded again. "Good-bye, LaCroix," Nick whispered to the empty space between them. KotU 03a By Lorelei Sieja Chapter Three: The Valentines Nick strolled towards the small replicator placed in the office for his use and called up a glass of plasma. It was flat, lifeless and unsatisfactory, but it helped in a pinch. Now the warm liquid soothed as much as comforted. Returning to his desk, he tried to concentrate once again. There was so much to add since the last entry. The strange trip towards the Bugali outpost and the subsequent attack on the little shuttle that he piloted. Four lives were dependent on his skills then, and all of them friends, but none of that had entered his mind when he'd dropped the shuttle almost faster than the inertial dampers could compensate for, as his instincts had warned him of danger a moment before the Bugali fleet opened fire on them. Nick wrote and rewrote that episode. No matter how he presented the facts, it still sounded boastful. The truth was, he'd just been damn lucky. It had been so much easier to record the incidents when he wasn't one of the key players.... "Nick, this is Neelix," the Talaxian called over the comm link, startling Nick out of his reverie. The fretful tone didn't immediately worry Nick. Neelix was often upset about something. "Go ahead," he answered. He saved the files he'd been working with, then tried to focus on what the other was saying. "I just don't understand, I'm afraid," he panted. "I mean, this holiday is supposed to show how much you love one another- so why hang hearts for decorations? Isn't that just a bit barbaric? It almost seems like something from the Klingon culture!" Nick was stunned for a full minute. Then, when he realized what the Talaxian must have thought, he burst out laughing. "I did not mean to amuse you, lieutenant," Neelix sniffed. "Don't touch that!" "What?" "Not you, Nick. I have Naomi with me this morning." Nick nodded, still enjoying a smile. Naomi was the only child on the ship, and Neelix was her godfather. She was a good kid. A little precocious and outspoken, perhaps. Her curiosity and enthusiasm were probably normal for a child, too, but this ship had not been designed with kids in mind. "Neelix, why don't you come to my office and I'll try to help you. Okay?" "Gladly!" Neelix must have been already on his way while speaking, as only moments later he entered with Naomi riding on his back. The short Talaxian was huffing heavily. Naomi was not very heavy, but Neelix's one small lung was over-taxed. Nick grabbed the little girl, tickling her around the ribs. "And who invited you?" he growled playfully. "You're a counselor, Mr. Nick! I don't have to have an invite to come here," she squealed between shrieks of laughter. She wrapped her arms around his neck and perched on his hip. Nick patted her rump affectionately, then turned to Neelix. "Not real hearts, Neelix," he explained. "You hang heart-shaped paper cut-outs." "Human heart shapes?" Nick sat back at his desk, pulling Naomi onto his lap. "Computer, display six valentines from twentieth century North America." He waited a moment for the results. Then pointing to a pink shape he explained. "This is called "heart" shaped. It is a symbol for love really, more than for the heart. People used to send this heart shape in a letter with a poem to loved ones. See this?" Neelix leaned over his shoulder, while Naomi read the card aloud. "Roses are red, violets are blue, I am so happy 'cause I love you." "Nick! That's silly!" she giggled. "And it isn't even a good poem!" "Of course it's silly. When you're four years old, everything is silly. Now read the next one." Naomi complied. It was a longer poem, a free verse without rhyme and something a husband might have sent a wife. Nick had to help her with only one word. She read very well. Neelix bobbed his head up and down. "So, this heart shape will decorate the mess hall. But, where did the word "valentine" come from? Is that another word for heart-shape?" Nick sighed. Why did they all treat him like a walking encyclopedia now? Sure, he was older than most of the existing architecture on the planet earth, but that didn't mean he was an expert. "I don't know, Neelix. Yes, I guess, valentines are cards that are made with heart shapes. But the word comes from St. Valentine. He was a priest in the early Catholic Church. And if you need to know more than that, you'll have to research it yourself." "That's fine. I think I have enough to get started, so I'll just hurry along then! But, I think Naomi should probably stay here, don't you? You have such a way with kids, Nick! And who knows- with your up-coming marriage, maybe kids will be in your future, too! Bye, now," and the Talaxian traitor scooted out before Nick could come up with a response. Naomi snuggled back against his chest and patted his hand. "Poor Nick. You just got drafted, didn't you." "Yeah, I did. So, what are we going to do?" "Do you want me to help you with your work," she volunteered. "I know a lot about everybody's problems. They all have parent trouble." "Parent trouble? You're the only one with a parent on board, squirt. Where did you get that notion?" It was Naomi's turn to sigh, with the sound of long-suffering when a child realizes she is not being taken seriously. "Really, Nick. Ensign Paris doesn't think anyone will love him because his dad doesn't. And Captain Janeway works so hard because she still wants her dad to be proud, only he's dead, so maybe he doesn't care. And Lieutenant Torres is afraid to marry you because her dad ran out-" "That's enough," he snapped, a little louder than he'd meant to. Naomi shifted on his lap and waited in the heavy silence. "Kid, you have a lot of strange ideas. Don't you ever do anything normal for a kid?" "Mommy says I'm a pest." Nick laughed. "Your mom is a smart lady," he said. "But, I meant more like games. What children's games do you play?" Naomi turned around on his lap so she could look at him. Her small arms wrapped around his neck and she leaned very close. "I don't know any children's games," she whispered. "There aren't any children here to teach me." He blinked quickly, deeply touched by her admission. It must be very hard to be the only child on a starship. Maybe, almost as hard as being the only vampire? "Come with me," he said suddenly, standing up and setting her on the floor, keeping her hand in his. "Where are we going?" "We are going to pick up some supplies and come back here. You and I have a lot of valentines to make this morning, and no time to waste!" Captain Janeway covered a yawn while she strolled towards the counselor's office. The party the night before had run just a little too long, and she'd been one of the last to leave it. Today she was paying the price that even six cups of coffee weren't going to help. She'd sent Nick a note that she'd be stopping by, which he hadn't answered. It wasn't really important. She just hoped she wasn't going to interrupt anything. "Computer," she asked, tapping her comm link softly. "Who is in the counselor's office now?" "Lieutenant Nicholas Knight and Naomi Wildman," the dispassionate female voice responded. She nodded to herself, half wondering why she couldn't have had a computer audio with a sexy male voice. Approaching the door, she set off the automatic chime announcing her presence, but without any response. She stepped closer and let herself in. End, part 3a. KotU 03b By Lorelei Sieja The room's occupants were so engrossed in their work that they failed to notice her at all. She stared at the mess they were making, wondering what sort of therapy the new counselor would call it. Both he and the child were sitting cross-legged on the carpet. Scraps of colored paper littered all around, with bits of ribbon and lace, and a dozen crayons scattered in several directions. Naomi accepted a pink cutout from Nick. Then dipping her fingers in a jar of thick, white goop with a wintergreen scent, she smeared one side of the cutout and attached it to a folded red card. Then she sucked the remainder of the goop off her fingers and wiped them dry on the carpet. Janeway cleared her throat disapprovingly. Both of them glanced up at her with childish innocence, the oldest and the youngest members of the crew, and both completely clueless. Janeway hid her smile and turned to the lieutenant curiously. "Library paste, Captain," he said. "Perfectly harmless. Mortal children always eat it. The wintergreen is supposed to serve as a preservative, but it also makes it irresistible." Janeway vaguely remembered that. She hadn't played with paste and paper since she was three years old, though, that she could remember. "But what is all of this?" "We're making valentines, Captain," Naomi answered. She smiled at Janeway with paste smeared on one cheek. Then she proudly offered one slightly damp gooey card. "This one is for you! I made it myself- 'cept Nick helped me cut the heart-shape. It isn't a real heart, you know. It is a valentine heart shape. It means, "I love you"." Janeway hunched down on her heels and read the short poem, resisting her first urge to set down the card and wash her hands. "Dear Captain Janeway I just want to say How much I love you On Valentine's Day. Naomi." Behind the pink heart was a white lacey doily, then a brilliant red ribbon all on a red construction paper card. The poem was printed in block type with black crayon. Vaguely, Janeway remembered having made one similar, a long, long time ago. She'd made it for her father. Everything she ever did was for him. "Thank you, Naomi," she said sincerely. Then, on a moment's impulse, she reached out and hugged the little girl. The faint perfume of wintergreen attached itself to her uniform. "Nick showed me how to make them, Captain. He's real good at it, too. Do you want to see the one he made?" Naomi reached for another card, but Nick snapped it out of her hand and tucked it behind him. "That's all right, Naomi. It's for B'Elanna; I'm sure she doesn't need to read it." Janeway could have sworn that the pale vampire was blushing. She grinned at him. "It must be some card, Nick. Actually, though, that is what I came to see you about." Nick wiped his fingers on his trousers and stood, trying to look like an officer. "Yes, ma'am. How may I help you?" Janeway stepped over the damp artwork and picked her way towards the couch. Nick joined her, taking the chair beside the couch. Naomi shrugged her shoulders and continued with her project, but kept her ears open. Adults always talked around her and tended to forget she was even there. That's how she stayed informed about the crew. They as much as told her everything themselves. "Nothing, Nick. I was just wondering how I could help you," Janeway responded. "Chakotay mentioned something about housing accommodations. I know that the quarters on this ship are rather tight, but I also know that there isn't much in the way of extra space. I talked it over with B'Elanna. She didn't seem to have any ideas either. If you could get adjacent rooms somewhere, then we could knock out an interior wall. But the rooms on either side of B'Elanna's are both double occupants. And there are similar problems adjoining your quarters." Nick nodded as she talked, trying to visualize the ship's interior. He hadn't really given it any thought yet. But surely, someone would be willing to trade rooms with them? "Then Tom stopped by. He has a plan that I think will work out fine. It has my approval, if you like it. He'll stop by later and show you the design." Embarrassment flooded Nick. He'd always been a private person; having the entire ship try to find a way so he could sleep with his betrothed was just too much. "Uh, thanks, Captain," he mumbled. "And then there is the marriage ceremony itself. I'm sure you know that as ship's captain, I can perform the ceremony, if you wish. Or Tuvok could, as he studied to become a priest in the Vulcan tradition. I understand that you were once Catholic, but we don't have a Christian priest on board-" "I can assure you, Captain, that it won't be a church wedding," Nick interrupted. "Actually, B'Elanna and I haven't talked about what sort of ceremony to have." Janeway smiled. "That's fine. Don't mean to rush you. Just thought I'd give you something to think about. And I know the crew is eager to have a wedding- any reason to celebrate, I am afraid, but don't let that rush you into anything before you are ready. And honeymoons are also traditional. After we pass through this "dark space" as Neelix calls it, we'll look for a good place for shore leave. I think we can manage a three-day honeymoon for you then. All right?" "Yes, captain," Nick answered. He was deeply touched at her thoughtfulness. For the past two weeks he hadn't had one kind thought about her. She'd ordered him to stay away from B'Elanna, after all! Somehow, and he didn't understand why, he and B'Elanna had "linked". She knew his thoughts and he knew hers. He'd never felt this close to any other being, vampire or mortal, not even his master. Oh, LaCroix knew all his thoughts, anytime the ancient wanted to invade them. But the connection was seldom reciprocal. Even after nearly twelve centuries, LaCroix remained an enigma to Nick, his favorite son. "I do have something else I'd like to talk to you about, though." Janeway raised her eyebrow and nodded for him to proceed. "Naomi?" Nick asked. "Will you go to Neelix for a few minutes? Tell him I'll be by to see how the preparations are coming along." Naomi heaved a sigh. So Nick hadn't forgot about her.... "Okay," she muttered. "Can I give him his valentine now, too?" "Sure," he said, then waited until the doors closed behind her. "That kid is not normal, Captain." "I'm sure she's fine for her species, Nick. She's only half-human, you know." "I'm not talking about her physical nature. I mean, she isn't a real kid. She has no playmates, no kids her age to interact with. She doesn't know any kids games. All she ever does is adult stuff." Janeway nodded. "True. But then, she wasn't supposed to still be here. None of us were." "I know. But, whether we get back to earth when she's six, or sixteen, or even sixty, she is still going to have to fit in. We should try to help her become as normal as possible, given the circumstances." "And what is it you want me to do about it? We can't very well provide her with a playmate!" Nick glanced down at his hands, clasped tightly on his lap. This captain could be so intimidating, and it really ticked him off sometimes. He thought through his response carefully before answering. "Nothing, yet, I guess. I just think that you should be aware that this is a problem. I mean, she knows everyone on this ship, almost too well. She knows all their problems, all their quirks and tastes. But she doesn't know how to play tag or shoot marbles. She knows nothing about fairy tales or nursery rhymes, although she reads several years above grade level and is making excellent progress in elementary algebra. I think that when she goes planetside, she needs to be encouraged to play like a kid, and that not all of her activities should be educational in nature. And, she should get a pet- like a kitten or a dog- soon. Pets are great when other children aren't available." He stole a glance up at the captain then, trying to gauge her reaction. She seemed lost in thought. She cupped her chin with her right hand, the thumb massaged along the jawbone like she did when she was seriously considering something. Nick leaned back then and relaxed, waiting for her. Janeway thought back to her own childhood. Naomi was a lot like she had been. Her dad never played with her. From the time she was old enough to talk, he gave her mental puzzles to solve, new skills to master. She'd work and work at them, and then she'd earn a word of praise for her success, only to be given a new and more difficult puzzle. She'd grown up precocious and lonely. Yet, her little sister had been cuddled and babied, and never challenged. There had been times when she'd almost hated Phoebe. Why could she get hugs and love from their father just for being, when Janeway had always had to earn them? Yes, Nick was right again. She smiled at him. "I knew I was right about you, Nick. You're making an excellent counselor." Nick squirmed boyishly under her praise. It amused her. No matter how long they lived, some men never seemed to grow up. "I'm sure you know how difficult it will be to find a pet for the child that we can safely bring on board. That might not be possible, but I won't rule it out. I want you to review the archives for all information pertaining to tribbles. You will find that Captain Kirk and Commander Sisko both had run-ins with these "harmless" creatures. The reports are amusing, but the problem is a potentially serious one." She stood up to leave then. She picked up her valentine and smiled brightly. "I remember making one once. Earth doesn't still observe this holiday, though. I wonder why?" Nick nudged a few crayons out of Janeway's path with his toe. "It faded out in the early part of the twenty-second century. When we starting incorporating the holidays of other planets, the calendar got a little cluttered. Traditionally held on February fourteenth, it was also a Vulcan holy day, a time of silence to respect the honored dead. The solemnity of the Vulcan day was at odds with the lighter romantic holiday. So, only babies in day schools still made valentines." Nick was as good as a walking computer sometimes, Janeway thought to herself. "Thanks, lieutenant," she said. Then stepping carefully over the paper clutter, she grinned at him. "Don't let me keep you from your duties any longer." He glanced around at the mess in his office. Well, he'd get Naomi to help him tidy it later. Neelix was waiting for him. As he stepped through the sliding door, a wave of dizziness passed over him, sudden and staggering, and then it was gone. end, 03b. KotU 04a By Lorelei Sieja Chapter Four: The Loft Nick glanced around his office. All signs of the morning's destruction were gone. Naomi shook his hand. "Good work, Lieutenant," she said. "You too, crewman," he responded. Momentarily shy, she glanced up at him, her forehead creased with concern. "May I come by again?" Nick knelt down at her level. "I would like that very much," he answered truthfully. Naomi hugged him, then broke free, all smiles again. "Thanks! See you tomorrow!" And she skipped out, colliding with Tom Paris in the corridor. "Oops! Sorry! Bye!" Tom shrugged, his expression carefully nonchalant. "Gotta hand it to you, Knight. You sure have a way with women." Nick ignored the barb. "Were you coming to see me?" Tom's pale complexion flushed red with embarrassment, a physical reaction he had little control over. He ambled through the door and shoved a small device towards Nick. "Here. The designs. Captain thought you'd be interested." Nick motioned him in further without taking the strange small device. He wasn't sure how it worked. Technology advanced faster than his interest. "Sure. Why don't you show them to me?" Tom pressed a small button and held the device on his palm. A holographic three-dimensional image of the ship formed in the space above his hand. Setting the device in Nick's palm, he flipped another switch and the image became a cut-away view, displaying one half of the ship. "Here's your place," Tom said, indicating the image with a finger. "Double bunks on this side, and the turboshaft here. No room to expand. But up above is just storage space. We can't give you the whole room, but if we drop the ceiling in the storage area, and push in one wall, we can built a loft bedroom above that. We'd have to put in a narrow, circular stairway for B'Elanna, since she doesn't fly, but, I think there'd be room." Flipping the controls to the last display, the ship disappeared, replaced with an image of Nick's room fully remodeled with the loft and stairs. Tom fell silent, awkwardly waiting for Nick's approval. He shuffled from one foot to the other. "This is great," Nick said. "I've always loved a loft bedroom. How did you ever think of this? I was afraid that I'd have to move, trading places with someone." Now excited and no longer nervous, Tom became more animated. "I think it will work, too. I didn't have a loft room, but I slept in an attic for a while, tucked up under the eaves. It was peaceful, and you could hear the rain on the roof- this roof above the storage area slopes a little. There isn't a window there, but eventually we could put a skylight above the bed, and you could see the stars. I thought it would be, ...cozy." Tom was suddenly embarrassed again, as he thought about his ex-girlfriend being with her fiancée. "This is really great, Tom. Thanks. How long do you think it will take to remodel?" "Depends how many volunteer to do the work. Hey, I'm great at designs, but I'm afraid you'll have to get someone else to do the grunt work." Nick hesitated to press the issue. He knew Tom could build it if he wanted, but the younger officer was dyslexic and often made errors of reversal. It wasn't a big deal, but it did embarrass him. So Tom avoided doing any projects when others might be around to watch him screw up. Of course, he covered the real reason behind careless indifference, but Nick wasn't fooled. "Well, I suppose I could ask Jans to help me," Nick hedged, intentionally picking one of the more inept crewmen. "But, I was hoping that maybe you and I could work on it alone. I mean, everyone else is pretty laid back right now. Even the captain is off-duty for a few days." "You and me," Tom stated, eyeing Nick suspiciously. "Yeah," Nick said, trying to imitate one of Tom's indifferent shrugs. "I mean, it is your design. Maybe you'd like to see it done right?" Nick caught the eager look in Tom's eyes before the façade dropped back in place. "Okay. I guess," he drawled. "You can tell B'Elanna that it's my wedding present or something." Nick nodded. "And, if we work together on it, I gotta be in charge. You can't build shit with a committee." The vampire stifled his urge to complain. He hadn't done a lot of construction work over the centuries, but he surely had more experience than Tom would ever accrue. But this wasn't really about building a loft. It was about building bridges. "Committees," Nick snorted. "Where the hell would Starfleet be without 'em?" "Maybe a lot better off?" Tom suggested. They shared a grin. "Well, come on then," Tom said, slapping Nick firmly on the shoulder. "Let's get started." "Now?" The younger officer glared at him. "What? You getting cold feet already?" Nick shook his head. "No. Fine, let's go." He took a backward glance at his tidy little office. Well, his shift was almost over anyway, and working on the loft was sort of work-related. Then he took a few big steps to catch up with Tom. Nick hesitated before stepping closer to his door, which would cause the internal sensor to scan his bioreadings and open it at once. "I didn't clean up this morning," he confessed. "Shit," Tom commented. Nick wondered how long he would remain in the anal-obsessive stage? "Who the hell cleans when there's a woman in your arms? Besides, we're only going to mess it up now." Nick stepped through the door then. His gaze quickly swept the small room. The bedsheets were rumpled; a few clothing items scattered over the carpet. Still damp towels hung over the shower and sink, and a few empty bottles covered the nightstand like dead soldiers. His keyboard was still on the table. The easel filled one corner, with a large canvas- a work in progress- displayed. The paint was dry. Nick had been too preoccupied lately to work on it. Tom looked up as if he could see the ship's internal structure right through the ceiling panels. "You'll want to push everything aside. Cover stuff with sheets or towels to keep 'em from getting too dirty." He hefted a painting, the portrait of LaCroix and Janette, from where Nick had hung it over the shattered mirror. Tom stared at the broken reflective surface and whistled through his teeth. "Not bad," he praised. "I've punched a few computer screens, broken chairs and stuff, but I never tried to break an unbreakable mirror before. Did it help?" Nick took the painting and glared at Tom's reflection. Although two men stood in the room, there was only one in the mirror. At Tom's surprised expression, Nick grunted. "Obviously it didn't," he muttered. Then Tom shrugged. His attention shifted away, no longer concerned that the vampire was incapable of casting a reflection. Tom rolled up the keyboard carefully and clasped the strap, then laid it out of harm's way. Nick unzipped the Starfleet jacket and tossed it aside before lending a hand. It didn't take long to clear the area. Tom left briefly, returning with some tools. Then they began tearing away the ceiling panels, cheerfully destroying Starfleet property with the captain's permission. Nick tried to remember to hold back. His superior strength could have torn the panels off in just minutes, but that would accomplish nothing towards gaining Tom's trust and maybe even his friendship. So Nick exerted only enough effort to match Tom's, which made it a long, sweaty job. He lowered the internal temperature in the room twice, and eventually they both pulled off their shirts. Still, Tom's pale complexion glistened with a light sweat, and Nick wiped a fine sheen of blood off his forehead repeatedly. Then Nick took yet another of his many replicator rations, and brought Tom a beer. He put his own beverage in a beer-shaped bottle as well. Tom accepted the beer gratefully, clinking the bottles together. "Cheers," he said. The vampire flinched. The ancient custom was supposed to drive the evil spirits away from the beverage, so the drinker would not suffer a hangover or worse from consuming it. But Tom didn't know that. Now it was just a custom. And Tom wouldn't know that Nick still thought of himself as evil. "Cheers," Nick answered thickly, then downed half of the contents in one swallow. Tom sat on the floor of the storage compartment above, with his legs hanging down in Nick's quarters. Nick still leaned on the ladder between the two levels. They had opened a three-foot wide section of the ceiling, running the length of the room. The storage room was half filled with crates of raw material- metals mostly- for emergency repairs for the ship. They might be critically important one day, but weren't often needed, so the storage room could be dark and cramped. Nick glanced up at the outer bulkhead's gentle slope. It would be perfect if they really could install a skylight here. "Nick?" B'Elanna's voice called from below. "What the hell?" She glanced up through the hole, seeing only the lower half of both men at first. Then two blondes grinned down at her, both handsome and filthy. She smiled back. "What trouble are you getting into now?" Tom gestured towards the mess with the empty bottle. "This is your wedding present, B'Elanna," he said. "Gee thanks, Tom," she answered flatly. "I don't know what to say." "B'Elanna," Nick began. "Tom's helping me to remodel the place. We're getting an extra bedroom here." Understanding spread across her face. She smiled brightly. "Great. Call me when you're done. I think I'll head back to my quarters for a shower. Will you be coming to dinner any time soon?" Nick came down the ladder not wanting to let her leave just yet. "Of course I'll join you," he said softly, reaching out to hug her. "Ugh," she exclaimed, pushing his arms away. "Only if you shower first!" Then she ducked out of his reach and left. "Never figured a Klingon would turn up her nose at a little sweat," Tom quipped. "But hey. I'm getting hungry too. Want to call it a day?" "You're the boss," Nick reminded him. Tom grinned, then dropped down to the floor without the ladder. "Fine. See ya tomorrow. 'bout the same time." Nick nodded, before heading in to clean up. Work on the loft progressed slowly. If they'd been on earth, Nick could have framed in the addition very quickly, but on the ship materials were limited. Although he was eager to get it finished, the extra time spent in Tom's company was worth it. The younger officer was a master at keeping conversations superficial, at steering away from intimacy or any potentially threatening situation. Nick was hesitant to push too hard. He figured he'd only get one chance at helping this troubled officer. And so he followed Tom's lead. He laughed at crude jokes and told a few himself. He imitated Tom's careless shrugs. And slowly, a working relationship grew out of it. One of the most challenging projects was constructing the circular stairway. They had bulkhead panels, duroplast sheets, flooring material, but nothing suitable for the wedge-shaped stairs. "Wanna hit the Mess Hall for a break? Maybe I can bribe Neelix out of a snack. I'm a little hungry," Tom said. "Sure," Nick agreed. He wasn't really hungry. Since leaving Bugali space, he was finally getting enough to eat at regular intervals, which was so necessary for him to maintain control of his violent instincts when working among mortals. Still, consuming food was a social activity. "Neelix made a cake this morning," Tom was saying. "I think he's practicing for Naomi's birthday, so he'll get it just right. I saw him tuck it up in a cupboard." "But won't he object if you eat it?" "Naw. What else will he do with it?" Mess Hall had an almost empty air when they strode inside. Neelix usually whistled or hummed while he worked, or sometimes he had music playing loudly. Recently he'd developed a fondness for Klingon Opera, much to the discomfort of the crew. But someone was in the kitchen. "Neelix?" Nick called. The sounds ceased. Maybe it was a carryover from his years as a cop, but Nick was instantly alert. He pulled Tom behind him and pressed up flat against the wall. Stealthily he approached the entry, then burst in with a shout. "Freeze!" Naomi Wildman screamed. Tom Paris laughed. Nick felt a little foolish, as the four-year old thief must have shared Tom's knowledge about the existence of the cake. She had stacked a series of empty storage containers one on top of the other yet off-centered, creating a makeshift step stool. One foot rested precariously on the top container, the other foot froze on the counter, and both hands were on the cupboard door. "Mr. Nick!" she gasped. "You startled me." Nick stepped forward and gathered her into his arms. "And just what do you think you're up to?" She wrapped her arms around his neck and tried an innocent look. Nick recognized a schmooze job when he saw one, and it intrigued him at how young females learned to manipulate others. Naomi even did that thing with her eyes that he had seen Janette do for centuries. "I didn't do anything wrong, Nick. I'm just hungry. I'm a growing child, you know. I need lots of carbohydrates to keep my energy up." "Nick, that's it," Tom exclaimed. He pointed at the makeshift stairs Naomi had constructed. Lifting the top container, he turned it around in his hands and wrapped lightly on the flat surface. The all-purpose storage bins were metal, roughly six inches deep and two feet wide. They held all sorts of materials, from food and medical supplies to parts and equipment. If they'd been in the alpha quadrant, the empty containers would have been exchanged at a star base, and filled ones taken on. But here, they were mostly just accumulating. Neelix refilled them on his frequent foraging trips, and Kes had filled some with soils for her plants- although she mostly gardened hydroponically. Still, the storage rooms were full of empty bins. Tom set the container down, then took a second one and stacked it on top, turning it to make the wedge-shaped stair of the initial design. As he set a third step on top, Nick grinned widely, suddenly realizing that the last hurdle in his new loft had just been jumped. "And I helped you, didn't I, Mr. Nick?" Naomi pointed out, still trying to wheedle out of a tight spot. "Yes, you did," Tom agreed. He reached into the cupboard and brought out the hidden cake. "And such a major accomplishment deserves a celebration, isn't that right, "Mr. Nick"?" Nick rolled his eyes. "You're a lot of help," he muttered under his breath. Naomi squirmed out of his arms and raced after Tom. He cut them each a large piece, then filled two cups- one juice and one coffee. "Going to join us?" he asked Nick. He grabbed a mug of his beverage and slid into a chair. "Partners in crime to the bitter end." Naomi giggled. "You're so funny!" KotU 04b By Lorelei Sieja == Flashback, Cardassia == It didn't take him long to locate the hidden camps on Cardassia, Nick learned with regret. It wouldn't take the Cardassians long to find them, then, either. He wouldn't have much time. There were a few adults -mostly political enemies- innocent Cardassian men and women who objected to the growing reign of terror a little too often. They'd had to flee into the wilderness, leaving behind possessions, comfort, family and friends, and without much hope for a better tomorrow. Their faces were gaunt and empty. They were sheep without direction. Mostly, the camps were filled with children. Little boys and girls, all part Cardassian and part something else, all the offspring of the violent unions between the prisoners of the Cardassians and the soldiers who'd raped them. For years they had been surviving in the harsh prisons, growing in number, until some of the Cardassian Guls decided to do something about it. They ordered the deaths of these impure beings, these guttersnipes who brought only embarrassment to their Cardassian parent. Nick had objected loudly. He'd demanded the Cardassians accept responsibility for these children. Then he had begged them to allow him to take the children to other worlds, to the homes of their vulcan, or bajoran, or human parents. But the Guls had merely laughed. They would not permit these children to become political pawns of the Federation. They were better off dead. Nick had tried to send information about the children to Starfleet, but his communiqués were intercepted. Then one day, while he'd slept as the sun shone brightly, his home had been bombed. The refugees were distrustful at first. Nick hunted for them at night, bringing them fresh kill to roast and feed upon. He'd gathered foods from far away as they had already stripped the plants within their reach. He'd stolen blankets for them from the Guls' own apartments. Gradually, he won their trust and their friendship. Nick took to snacking on the soldiers he met, leaving them tired and listless. He didn't kill them. He was not a killer any more, and leaving corpses might eventually lead the soldiers to discover the refugees he worked to protect. But more than one soldier had his career altered when he'd been found sleeping at his post. Helping the refugees was only a temporary solution; they needed to escape. So Nick became part of the underground. Smuggling them in small groups, he got them out. Sometimes two or three at a time, sometimes as many as a dozen, all packed into the storage compartments of shipping lines, of Ferengi trading vessels, of pirate ships, even a few undercover ships of the new Maquis freedom fighters-- any way at all, he'd get them away before the war officially broke out and escape became all but impossible. Finally, he had a ship that would take twelve children. He had the money to bribe the proper officials. He had the supplies, and a few weapons, should they come under attack. But he had no pilot. The alien had died in a bar brawl that night, but not before revealing too much information. Nick had to get the children out immediately! Carrying them two at a time, Nick flew low over the city so he wouldn't be detected on their surveillance systems. They huddled in the small ship, waiting for the rest of their group. At last, Nick closed the hatch and launched into the night. The small vessel made a clean escape-- at least, until the Romulan rebuilt cloaking device started to blink. Within moments, Cardassian scout ships were firing on him. The children screamed. Many were crying. Nick tried to block out their misery as he focused on saving them, but he couldn't fly and fire at the same time. One of the older girls took the co-pilot seat. She watched Nick lock and load the photon torpedoes and fire them. Then she took over. Nick gave her what he hoped was an encouraging smile. "My name is Vasik," she replied. Her vulcan parent had trained her well, given the circumstances. Vasik seemed calm in the face of near certain death. "Nick," he answered. But then, the children probably already knew that. He hadn't looked for personal glory, but he was something of a hero among the refugees. Vasik did well, considering that there'd been only had a few torpedoes to work with. The phasers were on line, but they weren't much defense against the swift, sturdy scout ships. Nick's best chance was to outrun them. The little ship was fast, with a warp engine several sizes too large. If he wasn't careful, he could fly her apart. Nick saw a pattern to the blinking of the cloaking device. He timed his course changes to coincide, so that every time his ship blinked back onto their detection grids, he was in a different location. It bought him time. They had to spend more time looking for him than firing. Smoke was filling the ship. Vasik was coughing, as were all the children. Two older boys found fire extinguishers and began spraying equipment liberally. At last, Nick shook off the scouts and entered into the neutral zone between Cardassia and the Federation. "I can't breathe," one of the children cried out. Nick took a deep breath. The air- or lack of it- burned. The life support systems were failing. He'd saved them from the Cardassians, only to let them suffocate in the cold, loneliness of space.... He sent out a distress signal and put the ship on autopilot. Then he pulled a little girl onto his lap and hugged her. "What is your next plan of action, Nick," Vasik inquired. He looked at her with suffering and regret. How could he answer? She was obviously too smart to fool into believing that everything was going to be all right. "I don't know," he replied truthfully. "Anyone here know how to repair the life-support?" One boy of about 12, named Jamie, caught Nick's attention. "No, sir," he said. "But I heard once how some people were saved, by locking themselves inside a transporter beam until help could arrive." "Really?" he asked. Then looking at Vasik, as if she'd had a full degree in science even though she was just a 10-year-old half-vulcan child, he asked her if it was possible. "Considering the alternatives, sir, it would seem to be a viable option," she answered calmly. Nick wasn't sure how to do it. Technology had never been his stronger suit. But with inspiration born of desperation, he began the transporting process, dismantling all of the children into molecular streams, and locking them in the pattern buffer. He would stay out. He could survive without breathing. And someone needed to make sure that power wasn't cut to the transporters. His small ship drifted for days. His supply ran out and hunger became a constant. His mind grew fuzzy. Then finally, he succumbed, and fell down as one dead in the cold, airless ship. == End, flashback == KotU 05a By Lorelei Sieja Chapter five: The Waltz The big night finally arrived. Neelix had posted that no one was allowed to dinner in uniform as this was a purely social event, and dinner would be served in shifts to allow everyone the opportunity to attend. Nick had the night off, as did B'Elanna. Their shifts coincided fairly well now, thanks to a sympathetic and understanding first officer. Nick stared into his closet and flipped through his clothing choices. One thing about uniforms is it made dressing easy. The tux he'd worn for the concert was too formal. Blue jeans and T-shirts too casual. Black had been his favorite color ever since becoming a vampire. In the end, he pulled on black jeans and a black silk shirt with silver-thread embroidery down the front. His black belt with the big silver buckle finished the ensemble. Although he'd worn something very similar in past centuries, some styles never seemed to go out of date. He picked up the card he'd made for B'Elanna, the long stemmed rose and his keyboard, then hurried to catch her at her quarters. B'Elanna was nearly ready when he arrived. Nick stared, awed, at the feminine figure before him. She wore a knee-length gown of pink filmy material. It had spaghetti straps at the shoulders, and the soft, full fabric hugged her hips and curves like second skin, yet swirled out when she turned. Her short hair glittered. He looked more closely, and saw little star and moon shaped sequins scattered in her hair, caught in the thick strands and catching the lights. She wore no jewelry, other than the diamond ring he had given her, yet she was every bit at regal as his Janette had ever been. A line from a children's book suddenly came to mind- all girls are princesses. For B'Elanna at least, it was correct. "Nick, you're staring. Don't you like it?" she asked, her face betrayed a moment of insecurity. He grinned broadly, then whistled through his teeth. "I love it. You're stunning," he said. "Here, these are for you." She took the rose and inhaled its gentle perfume, then timidly opened the card. "What is this?" "A valentine, B'El. Didn't you read Neelix's memo about the party?" "Nope. I ignore him as much as I can." Nick waited, watching her expression as she read the verse he had penned. He wasn't much of a poet, but after centuries of practice, he had hoped he'd learned something. It was hard to read her expression, though. She seemed closed off, even through the link. Something was bothering her. "I wrote a song for you, B'El," he confessed. "I thought you'd rather hear it in private, though." Nick unrolled the keyboard on her table and pulled out a chair. As he played the opening passages, he kept his eyes on her. B'Elanna clutched the rose tightly. She didn't seem to be breathing. It had started as just a musical number, but Nick had realized that it begged to be sung. Working out the words had taken weeks. While he was marooned on the Bugali outpost, he'd thought about it. The two weeks they had been kept apart, he'd worked on little else. Even the hours he put in at his new office, he still had the lyrics running through his mind. Now, as he sang them for her, although they'd been the best he could do, they still seemed a pitiful way to express his feelings for her. Perhaps she would understand? My B'El "I love the glow in your eyes at morning When we wake and I'm the first you see My love for you came so fast, without warning B'Elanna, how much you've come to mean to me. You are my morning, the light that fills This dark eternal soul. You are my day, my night, the joy that makes me whole. You are lilacs and honey, fresh and sweet, my darling... You are my all. What can I offer as a token of my love, A gift to gather dust upon a shelf? What of value can I possibly give you? I offer you ... myself. As the words ended and he played the final musical passage, Nick glanced at her hesitantly. Tears filled her soft, brown eyes, but her mouth was set grimly. She slammed the rose down on the table and growled. "Damn you, Nick!" He jumped to his feet in a panic. "What, B'El? I'm sorry... I know, I shouldn't try to write poetry." He tried to gather her into his arms but she pulled away and turned her back to him. She swiped away the tears, pacing angrily in the small confines of her quarters. Nick had learned that her anger didn't necessarily mean she was angry. B'Elanna didn't often know her own feelings. If she was lonely, or frightened, or overwhelmed, she would often react with anger. It was a safe emotion, as everyone expected a Klingon to behave aggressively. Nick opened himself to the link between them, trying to sense her, but all he felt was a swirl of confusion. "What is it?" he asked softly. "It's you!" she exploded. "You! You're just too much. You are so, loving, so solicitous, you scare me! No one's ever written a song for me before! I feel like I'm suffocating!" Nick tried to bury his hurt. He'd only meant please her, not threaten her. He sat on the edge of her bed, struggling to control his beast that ever lurked just beneath the surface. "I'm sorry, B'El," he choked. "I am the way I am. I can't really change. But I can promise you, that I won't leave you. You know that, B'El. You can feel it in the bond we share." "Don't pull that ship's shrink crap on me, Knight!" Nick lunged for her, pinning her into a corner. She reached up to strike him, but he grabbed both her wrists and held them easily above her head. The man had wanted to be loving and supportive, but the beast had burst free. The golden-eyed vampire glared at her; he hissed through sharp fangs. "I'll tell you what 'crap' is, B'Elanna! This is crap. Your anger! I love you, damn it, and I know you love me. Nothing else counts. The rest is all crap." The beast nuzzled her neck; his breath tickled her ear. Her breath came in short gasps. She stopped struggling, arching her neck and offering herself to him. Nick released her wrists. She wrapped her arms around him fiercely and bit his throat. It was enough to destroy the last of his control. His fangs slipped into the soft flesh behind her ear and he trembled as her passion filled him. He gulped her rare klingon-human mix, and his own passion crested instantly. They clung together, desperately, as slowly her breathing returned to normal and Nick's eyes faded again to deep blue. "That was lovely," B'Elanna whispered hoarsely. Nick licked at the two small wounds until they scabbed and began to heal. "What, this?" His breath still made her quiver. "No. The song. Thank you. I guess I don't know how to just accept a gift. Gracefully." Nick laughed then. "Oh, I kind of like the way we do things. Come on, now, or we'll miss the party." The party was again set up in the shuttle bay, which had more space than the mess hall. It also allowed Neelix to decorate in advance. The tables were covered with red cloths, delicate white candles floated in glass bowls filled with water and stemless red roses. The room was illumined by candlelight alone; the soft scent of perfumed wax lent a magical quality. The grand piano was still there on a slightly elevated platform. Tom sat at it, playing away one romantic melody after another, until they all blended together. Neelix had first asked Nick to play tonight, but Nick had suggested that he ask Tom instead. That permitted Tom to come without the pressure of asking anyone to be his date. Tom was casually attired in blue jeans with a soft sweater, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, and the ever-present lopsided grin. A glass of champagne sat on the piano, which he sipped from between pieces, and which Neelix, the perfect host, kept filled. The Delaney twins leaned over the shiny piano, each trying to make certain that Tom had a clear view of her cleavage. They were "safe" dates, Nick decided. They were silly, shallow girls, and would not be expecting anything from Tom other than one night's memories. "Hi, Mr. Nick!" Naomi called, waving vigorously. "Good evening," he replied, with a slight bow towards the smiling child and a pleasant smile for her mother. "How are you tonight?" "Great! I gave everyone their valentines. Mom really likes hers." Ensign Wildman beamed at Nick. "She's talked about you non-stop for weeks, Lieutenant. Thank you for spending time with her." Then she turned to include B'Elanna in the conversation. "Hang on to him, Torres. They don't make them like that anymore." Nick jerked with surprise. Ensign Wildman wasn't supposed to know about his special nature... but he knew that once the secret was out, it would spread, regardless of the mortals' basic integrity. Once they'd learned the gift of speech, they almost didn't know how not to use it. Eleven of the crew knew of him: The captain, Commander Chakotay, the Doc, the Vulcan, Neelix- ah! That was the weak link in his chain. Neelix had a tendency to run at the mouth even while the brain was disengaged. How much had he told? Nick would have to visit with Wildman at the earliest moment and use his power of hypnosis to find out whom she told, and what she told, before erasing her memory. "Will you be able to drop by my office sometime tomorrow," Nick asked. "I'd like to talk with you, if I may." A look of concern shaded her face. "Is something wrong? Has she been a nuisance?" Nick shook his head and put her at ease. "No. Nothing's wrong," he lied. "She's a great kid. Enjoy your meal." Then, he steered B'Elanna away before he had to lie again. "What was that all about?" B'Elanna whispered softly, knowing he would hear her. Vampires had even better hearing than Vulcan's. "We'll talk later," Nick answered. Then he forced his fears away and plastered on a smile. "Hope you wore your dancing shoes, B'El. You're not getting out of here without a waltz." The dinner was a rare treat- it was delicious. Neelix had several choices, catering to many of the various races and species of lifeforms on the ship. There was a vegetarian dish- sautéed and served over pasta, and the human favorite, grilled steak and potatoes. There was a soufflé- a Talaxian favorite- and yet, many of the earthers loved it as well. He prepared a noxious ground nut paste over bread for the Wildman child, as it was all she would eat these days. It concerned him, as a growing child needed a variety of minerals and vitamins, yet the mother assured him that strange food binges were a normal part of human childhood. B'Elanna and Nick didn't speak much during the quiet, candlelit meal. At least, not with words. B'Elanna had bonded with Nick so quickly and completely, that she was able to hear his thoughts and feelings. The gift was raw, untrained and unpredictable as yet. Nick focused on their link, sending her very detailed accounts of what he planned for later. The blush that stained her tawny complexion informed him that the message was received. She surprised him by expanding on his thoughts and sending them back. Nick's eyes suddenly flipped to amber gold as the passionate messages aroused him. "Nick," she whispered. "Control yourself!" "You're not helping," he murmured. "Time for that dance, so we can get out of here." B'Elanna glanced around nervously. "Nick! I don't dance, you know that." He ignored her denial, standing and holding a hand out to her. "You did just fine the last time. Besides, I promised Neelix. He's afraid no one will dance unless someone gets brave and starts it out. Waltzes are easy. Just hang on to me and count to three." B'Elanna hesitantly allowed Nick to take her hand. They moved passed the tables to a clearing near the piano. Nick nodded to Tom, and the younger officer winked. Tom called the computer to play "Tales of Vienna Woods," a Strauss waltz, and he played along. Still holding her hand, Nick bowed. "Now you curtsey," he whispered to her. "What the hell is that?" she whispered back. He grinned. "Never mind." Pulling her closer, he placed one hand on her lower back, and held her other hand close to his heart. "Feel the beat of the music? One, two, three... just relax." Then, he led her off. B'Elanna shut her eyes tight. Nick's embrace was so strong that her feet hardly even touched the floor. His steps were broad and flowing. The music was powerful, igniting her passion in a way she wouldn't have believed possible. Not even Klingon music affected her this way. They moved fast, swirling around the dance floor. Her dress billowed, her body pressed close to Nick's. She felt his own desire rising, sensed it through their link. On and on went the waltz, around and around they moved, almost faster than mortals could move. She glanced up at her lover, her fiancée, to see him gazing at her with such love. She smiled shyly. "I think I love waltzing," she said. Nick grinned. "Good." The waltz ended. B'Elanna held on to Nick until her balance returned. Then she noticed that no one else had joined the dance. Instead, the edge of the dance area was filled with couples just watching them. Her embarrassment threatened to turn to anger. Nick sensed it. He changed her mind, claiming her mouth with a very public kiss. The audience clapped. "Quick!" B'Elanna said loudly, for all to hear. "Let's get out of here, or you'll be asked to give dancing lessons!" The others laughed too. Tom began a more contemporary dance number and the bystanders moved out onto the dance floor. Nick led B'Elanna away, disappearing from the crowd. As they turned down the corridor towards B'Elanna's quarters, Nick could hear the strains of "Pretty Baby," a twentieth century number, and the sounds of laughter. Neelix's party was a success. It was just what this over-worked, isolated crew needed. KotU 05b By Lorelei Sieja ==The Neutral Zone, ten years ago == The scent of blood was close. Nick struggled back to consciousness, to find a mortal encased in an environmental suit leaning over him with a tricorder in her gloved hand. "No life signs," she was saying. Then Nick opened his eyes. The woman screamed. Nick smelled blood very near, and he needed it immediately. Grabbing her in a hypnotic stare, he commanded her. "Give me blood!" In a daze, she took human plasma from her medi-kit and injected it into the undead body beside her. "Are you all right?" someone asked, rushing to her side. "What are you doing, doctor?" The woman could not answer. She was still in the hypnotic daze. The one unit of blood did not satisfy, but it was enough for Nick to regain control. He lunged unsteadily to his feet and raced to the transporters. Four mortals, all in environmental suits, stared in awe at the man now obviously alive in the cold, airless ship. Nick did seem to be gasping for air, yet he did not pass out. Nick stared at the transporters. They were still functioning. But what should he do now? They would not be able to breathe if he rematerialized them. He turned to the dark-skinned mortal standing beside him. "There are twelve children in there!" he exclaimed. "How can I save them?" Geordi LaForge stared at him quizzically. "You put them in the pattern buffer?" At Nick's impatient nod, the engineer accepted this fact and began working on the solution. "Our ship is nearby. We have to rematerialize them here, as we can't ship all of them at once, but then we can immediately retransport them to the Enterprise. They may experience a moment of discomfort, but it shouldn't be serious." The engineer was already manning the controls as he explained. "Enterprise, stand by," he spoke into the comm link. Nick leaned against the bulkhead, gasping and struggling to remain conscious. He watched as Vasik and five more children became solid only to fade again as the Enterprise took them to safety. Then the last six children came and went. Nick crumpled to the floor, yet he felt a surge of relief that they were going to be fine. Then he felt the strange tingle as the Enterprise rescued him as well. Once on the transporter pads of Starfleet's flagship, Nick was engulfed in a crowd. Vasik, Jamie and nine more of the children all reached out to touch him, their lifesaver in a sea of strangers. Nick did a quick head count. He coughed deeply, bringing in the clean, filtered air of the Enterprise. One child was missing. His eyes zeroed in on the smallest little girl, Marti. A small, gray lump lay unmoving, as a medic ran his tricorder over her. Nick grasped her hand. It was so cold and still. "Marti!" he cried, gasping. He touched her smooth, baby-plump cheek, patting it gently. "Marti, wake up!" The medic was administering a hypo to the child. Her eyelids fluttered once. She coughed and cried out. "Mama!" Nick pulled her into his arms and kissed her, blinking back tears quickly. He patted her back, hiding his face in her wispy brown hair. The eleven other children grasped on to him, hugging his legs and waist, almost crowding the air from him, as they latched on to the only person they knew. He stood on shaky legs, holding Marti close. She leaned against his chest and closed her eyes. He swayed, still weak and hungry. "Easy there, mister," the mortal doctor said, placing a supportive arm around him. Her helmet had been removed. Nick saw a pretty, slim redhead of 40 something smiling at him. Her smile didn't reach her eyes though. She was definitely suspicious. The doors of the transporter room parted and in walked an older gentleman of power and distinction. Nick recognized him as the captain even before he spoke. "I am Captain Jean-Luc Picard, of the Starship Enterprise. Welcome aboard." His voice was deep and comforting, and Nick detected the hint of a French background. He wasn't sure what made him do it, but Nick replied with a French accent himself. "Bon soir, Captain," he said. His voice didn't sound very stable yet. He desperately needed to feed. "I am Nicholas de Brabant, former refugee of Cardassia." As long as the Cardassians thought Ambassador Nicholas Thomas was dead, he might as well remain so. He wasn't interested in resurrecting that life again. He'd learned about the growing underground operation, the Maquis, while on Cardassia. They might be worth looking in to. A surprised smile spread across the Captain's handsome features. "Ah!" he said. "Are you from France, then? What part?" "My ancestry was from what is now Belgium, but I lived for many years in Paris." That much was truth. He just didn't expand that he hadn't been there much since the Nazi occupation of the mid-nineteenth century. "Captain," the red-haired doctor interrupted. "They should all come to sick bay immediately." Captain Picard nodded. "Yes, of course, Doctor Crusher. Mr. Brabant, I'd like to see you later, when you are up to it. I'm interested to learn how you came to be here." Nick nodded and smiled easily. He liked this man already. He felt he could trust him. The little girl would not let go of Nick's neck, so he carried her. Most of the children walked, but they latched onto his clothing, all wanting to touch a part of him, even Vasik. Maybe her Vulcan training was not perfect, after all. It made walking very slow. The doctor kept a firm hand on him. Nick could hear the fading conversation of the engineer as he described to the captain about the transporter trick. It had been tried once before by someone he called "Mr. Scott", but it was still rather unusual. "So, what do you make of him?" Picard asked. Geordi shrugged his confusion. "Definitely not human, captain. Beyond that, I haven't a clue." Deanna had been silent up until then, but she felt it necessary to add what little information she had gathered. "He projects a powerful mental aura, Captain. I've never felt it so strongly from another being before- not even my mother. His concern for the children was genuine." Picard nodded, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Stay with him. It shouldn't be too difficult- you are ship's counselor, and he has been through a traumatic event. After he's settled into guest quarters, I want to meet with all of you." Deana's aristocratic features puckered in a slight frown. "Do you suspect something?" Picard's look was guarded. "Perhaps. A man fleeing from Cardassians is less than forthright about his identity. Could be Maquis. Until we know more, I don't want him alarmed. Let him feel nice and comfortable here." Beverly held Nick's arm securely, guiding him towards sickbay. "Tell me, Mr. Brabant, what are you?" Nick knew what she meant, but he sidestepped her with practiced ease. "Please, call me Nick, doctor. I am a refugee." He gave her one of his most endearing boyish grins. "And your servant, for I shall be eternally grateful for your rescue." She flushed a little. Nick was glad he'd thought to use the French accent in this persona. The doors parted before them, and Nick stepped into a modern sickbay. He felt the eyes of the entire medical staff staring at him, and he squirmed uncomfortably. He had to shift their attention to the children. And he had to find food. Dr. Crusher whipped out a tricorder and aimed it at him. With a lightning-quick movement, Nick caught her wrist. "No!" he commanded. Then softening his tone, he added, "I feel fine, doctor. See to the children." She glared at him and at the bruise on her wrist, her temper rising. Bless Vasik, Nick thought with relief. She tugged on the doctor's frock and pleaded with a little-girl innocent voice. "I think I'm going to be sick." The doctor touched her shoulder gently. "Go with Nurse Ogowa. We'll help you to feel better soon." Vasik clung to Nick's sleeve tightly. Her lower lip trembled. Nick put a hand on her back and comforted her, unsure now if it was entirely an act. "I'll stay with you, honey. Don't worry about a thing." It took some doing before the twelve children were seated upon four biobeds, unwilling to go anywhere alone. Some of them were crying. Marti still clung to Nick in a deathlike grip, and Vasik still held onto his sleeve. He didn't notice the way the nurses stared at him, a handsome young man who had a way with children. The medical staff examined them, cleaning small cuts and abrasions, giving them the vaccinations they had not received growing up in a Cardassian prison. "Mostly, they are suffering from malnutrition," Dr. Crusher stated, closing her tricorder. "Now, it's your turn, Nick." What now, he thought? The stalling techniques hadn't helped him come up with a feasible story, and he couldn't just hypnotize her in front of all the kids and medical staff. He'd have to lure her away. "I require privacy," he said softly. She shrugged. It wasn't really necessary, as most medical exams did not require the removal of clothing, but she thought he might be protecting the children. She indicated a small surgery off to the side. Nick removed Marti's tight grasp from his neck and passed her to Vasik. "I'll be just a few moments, baby," he promised. Inside the surgery Nick tried to catch her again in the hypnotic trance. "I want to know how you survived on that ship," she snapped, not looking at him. "There was almost no air, for who knows how long. The temperature was below freezing, and you had no life signs! Yet, here you are. Tell me how you did that." She unfolded her medical tricorder again and began scanning him. "You have no pulse, no heart beat!" Nick grasped her wrist again, trying not to bruise her this time. "Look at me, Dr. Crusher," he demanded softly. He touched her chin to bring her eyes to his. Her heart was beating quickly with the adrenaline rush. He'd have to slow it down to be fully effective. He spoke soft, soothing French, calming her. "I am fine," he said, when he was certain he had her. "I am just hungry after the ordeal. You will give me blood for an injury received in the battle, and you will not be concerned about my health again." Her eyes were slightly unfocused as she moved to obey. Drawing a packet of blood from the cooler, she handed it to him. Nick tore open the contents and drank it. It wasn't enough, but it would help. Then, he waited as she came back to her present. She shook herself and put her fingers to her forehead. "I must be more tired than I thought," she said with a nervous laugh. "Well, you seem fit enough. You must be hungry. Lets get you and the children down to ten-forward and find you something to eat." Several single nurses volunteered to assist him, each taking two children by the hand, and led them through the massive, comfortable ship to the informal lounge called ten-forward. They pushed three tables together before helping the children into chairs. Marti clung again to Nick's neck. She was not going to let him out of her grip. Nick sat in the center of one long side and settled Marti on his lap. Then the nurses began to bring out food- whatever the children requested. Now wasn't the time for a well-balanced nutritional supplement. Food spelled comfort for children of many backgrounds. So they were served ice cream sundaes and hot chocolates and oatmeal cookies, assorted fruits, and juice. Nick was grateful. He wasn't sure he could stomach the noxious scent of a garlic and pepperoni pizza just now. Suddenly, he felt a presence. The hair on his neck tingled. But it wasn't a vampire presence! He looked around, searching for the source of the sensation. Then he beamed a smile of surprise. "Guinan!" === End, flashback == end, part 5. KotU 06a By Lorelei Sieja Chapter Six: The EHP B'Elanna didn't want to see Nick's room again until the remodeling was finished. Nick didn't mind whose quarters he slept in really, except that hers was a mirror image of his, so everything was backwards. If he awoke a little groggy, like good vampires often do, he walked into walls and tripped over furniture. He'd broken another chair just yesterday. B'Elanna had growled at him, saying he was getting expensive to keep around. Later, as they lay entwined on the narrow bed, B'Elanna asked again what was bothering Nick. "LaCroix was with me," he said. B'Elanna tensed. She didn't really understand this bond thing. And the few times she knew of LaCroix, Nick's father, contacting him, had been painful. The ancient vampire seemed to find pleasure in bullying his son. She hated him. She hated her own father. Sometimes, she thought she hated men in general. Except Nick. He was different. "So what's that sadistic tyrannical bastard want now?" Nick chuckled. "Be glad you're not linked with him. You would not survive." B'Elanna was not amused. "He wants what is best for me, ultimately... in his opinion. Before, he wanted me to stop consuming replicated plasma. The doctor then learned that it would not keep me healthy." She merely grunted. "Now, he wants me to do a little damage control. Too many people know about me." "So he wants you to murder again?" Nick flinched at her bluntness. The link between them had revealed more of his past than he liked. She knew about his centuries of killing, of feeding off the mortals of his world. Strangely, it didn't offend her. But then, Klingons had just as violent a past, even consuming their enemies. "Not necessarily," he said. "But maybe wipe a few memories. I think he knows I won't wipe everyone's. But, now even Wildman knows about me. Neelix must be telling folks." "No. Not Neelix. I know his mouth flows constantly, but I trust him." "Why else would she make such a comment as she did at dinner tonight?" Nick exclaimed. B'Elanna thought back. Her memory wasn't as perfect as Nick's, but as he recalled the evening's events, she was reminded of them through their bond. The ensign had made a comment about "not making them the way they used to". Then she laughed. "Nick! That doesn't mean anything. That is just an expression. She doesn't really know that you are 12 hundred years old!" Nick wasn't convinced. "Regardless, I should at least insist that the doctor keep my medical files separate from the rest of the crew's, and under a separate password, so that at the first sign of enforcers I can purge all record of my existence instantly." "Worry-wart!" B'Elanna rolled on top and bit him playfully. They would not talk again that night. Ensign Wildman came by first thing the next morning. She still seemed concerned and flitted nervously around his office. Nick gave her the short tour, showing her the terrarium, the paintings he and Paulus were still working on, and then he insisted she take a seat. It took a while to catch her in a hypnotic trance. Then he interrogated her. "How old am I," he began. "Old," she responded blankly. It took several tries before he was able to elicit a more informative response. "Chakotay says that you are a Delta quadrant being, and no one knows for sure how old you are. You are the last of your kind. Your home world no longer exists. You are peaceful, and not a threat to us," she said. Nick was surprised at her narrative. He'd never thought of that himself. Delta quadrant, heh? That meant he could be an alien, and all his particular quirks would be swept under the rug of enlightened acceptance.... He questioned her further. She didn't know that he drank blood. She didn't know that wood was lethal, garlic poisonous, and religious symbols painful. She only knew that he was allergic to sunlight and to the drugs that would treat that particular allergy. He decided to do them both a favor and give her one more piece of the puzzle. "I sleep very soundly," he told her. "Don't ever try to wake me." Then he roused her from the hypnotic trance, making her think that they had been chitchatting the entire time. She seemed a little confused at first, but as he turned the conversation towards Naomi, Ensign Wildman became attentive. "Yes, I'm very concerned about her myself," she said. "She never met her father, you know. Now she feels she is better off. I try to tell her about him, but she doesn't want to know. She seems to feel that fathers are a burden others must endure. I don't know how to change her opinion, yet I don't want her to feel that way about my husband. He is really a dear, and I know he will be heartsick about missing so much of her life." Nick nodded. "Thanks for telling me. But I was more concerned that she doesn't ever just play. All of her activities are geared towards teaching her something. She needs to kick back and have fun sometimes." Her mother shrugged. "She does have fun. She loves to read, and she's very good at mathematics. She helps Neelix in the kitchen- she's a very happy child." Nick could see the problem already. The mother must have had an unnatural childhood herself. This was something he'd have to solve alone. "You don't mind her spending time with me, then?" She laughed. "I couldn't keep her away if you wanted me to, I'm afraid. She can be very headstrong." Nick conversed with her a little longer before ending the meeting. Then he stood and escorted her to the door. "Tell Naomi that I could use her help in the holodeck after lunch." Ensign Wildman smiled. "She'll be there!" LaCroix's demand weighed heavily. The ancient had been away from their link for two full weeks, well past the few days of the new moon that he had mentioned. Any day now he would return, and he would know if Nick had done anything or not. Nick made the appointment and went to speak with the doctor. The EMH called him paranoid. He spoke with the captain, who brushed his concerns aside. Finally, he talked with Chakotay. The big Indian should have been his first contact, but Chakotay had been working the third shift lately. Chakotay at least listened to him. But he seemed more concerned about LaCroix than about the need to keep Nick's medical files secret. "What will he do? Can you block him from your mind? How can we protect you?" They just didn't get it. "It isn't LaCroix, Chakotay. He is my father! He is only trying to protect me from the Enforcers! Please, you must help me." The stoic stone wall expression dropped over Chakotay's face. His arms crossed over his chest. He would listen but he would not hear. "I will speak with the Captain," he stated. Nick sighed. Short of trying a hypnotic whammy, he wasn't sure what else to do. And he had promised the captain he wouldn't hypnotize the crew any more. Except for emergencies, maybe... He did go back to the captain one last time, unsuccessfully. She felt that the ships' records were already well protected and any further coding of his files would be redundant. "May I ask for a favor, then captain?" She welcomed the distraction, fixing herself a cup of coffee and even bringing him a mug of replicated plasma. Settling on the couch cushions of her ready room, she invited him to join her. Nick took the chair, trying to seem more relaxed with her. He wasn't here as some errant lieutenant receiving disciplinary action again. Now he was the ship's counselor, and the captain was truly interested in his work. Nick sipped the flat beverage while he tried to collect his thoughts. "I'd like you to assign Tom Paris to work with me in constructing an educational holographic program." Janeway nearly choked on the too-hot coffee. "What?" "He knows about them. He had one himself when he was very small. I think the Wildman child could benefit, but also, I believe it will help me with Tom. Working on the remodeling to my room has been great, but we're going to finish that tomorrow." Janeway nodded. "But I thought you said she was getting too much "education" and not enough play?" Nick grinned boyishly. "You don't know that much about Tom's EHP then?" At the captain's blank look, he continued. "He reprogrammed it. Originally the unit was supposed to conduct a traditional classroom in math and reading. When Tom finished with it, they went on many holographic field trips, from Kittyhawk to Thermopolae to the Pony Express. Tom had a most- unique- education." Janeway burst out laughing, setting her mug on the coffee table before she spilled it. "That sounds like Tom alright! Tell me, how old was he then?" Nick laughed, too. He liked Tom. If they had met before the Cardassian conflict, before Caldick Prime and Tom's imprisonment, he was certain they would have been friends. "Four years old," he answered. Janeway's laugher continued. "And you think Naomi is precocious? All right. I'll grant your request. But if he wants to know why I'm giving him extra work, I'll answer him truthfully." Nick agreed. It was fair enough. "Thank you, Captain." "And Nick- we've picked up an alien vessel on long range scanners. It is on a direct course with us. We launched a probe, but they destroyed it. They're running with shields down yet, so I don't think they are hostile. Perhaps just cautious? As more information becomes available, I'll transfer it to your office." It was good to be useful again. As Nick left her room, another wave of dizziness belted him. KotU 06b By Lorelei Sieja == Flashback, The Enterprise == Guinan joined Nick and his tableful of children, setting a tall mug of something in front of him. "This is new," she observed with a secretive smile. "What are you this time? Teacher? Foster Parent?" "Try refugee, Guinan," Nick said in a low voice. "And you? A bartender?" "It's a life," she said. "Do you know Nick?" one child asked. "What's going to happen to us now?" asked another fearfully. Guinan pulled a small boy onto her lap and made herself more comfortable. "Nick and I go way back," she said truthfully. They shared a grin. Try about four hundred years? Nick had met her in San Francisco in the mid-nineteenth century, before earth had even been aware of life on other worlds. Guinan was also a refugee. Her people had been nearly obliterated by the Borg. Now they were scattered throughout the galaxy without a home to call their own. "Well, we're not near a space station," Guinan said. "But I'm sure Captain Picard is contacting Starfleet even as we speak. You'll be found new homes and you'll be well taken care of." "We want to stay together," an older boy informed her decisively. He had a sad face, the look of a Bajoran priest, Nick thought. Even in his torn rags and thin, gaunt face, he carried himself with a quiet calm that comforted the younger ones. Nick thought back for a moment. Laret something. No, just Laret. None of the children would want their Cardassian surnames now. Guinan nodded. "Yes, you've been through a lot together. Must make you feel like family." Skillfully, Guinan launched into a tale of her past, and one of the families she had adopted for her own. The children relaxed, mesmerized by her calming presence and deep, soothing voice. They sat around the table for over an hour. Finally an officer, who identified himself as Commander Data, came to escort them to their quarters. As the children refused to let Nick out of their sight, he gave them a suite of adjoining rooms. He then assisted Nick in getting the tired children bathed and dressed in clean pajamas and in to bed. The children seemed to trust Data, for in spite of his perfect military bearing and impeccable speech, there was something almost childlike about him. Data was an android. "Thank you," Nick said, as the last one, Marti finally went to sleep. "If you require further assistance, please call. Counselor Troi will be by later to talk with the children." Then he left. Nick took the opportunity to rest himself. Who knew when he would get a chance again? These children were going to be more than a fulltime job, he realized. Somehow, he'd become their security, and he couldn't abandon them now. Still, it wouldn't be long before suspicions were aroused. The captain would no doubt be running a check on any Nicholas de Brabant. If only he'd had the opportunity to speak with Aristotle, or Felix, before boarding the Enterprise! Either of them would have taken care of the "paper trail"- the proper documentation to create a new identity. Well, he'd have to deal with it one step at a time. Meanwhile, Commander Data joined the officers at the briefing. Geordi confirmed Nick's claim to be Cardassian refugees. They were definitely Cardassian weapons that had fired on the ship, and his logs verified Cardassia as point of origin. The Romulan cloaking device concerned them. It was fifty-year old technology, so not of any particular scientific value, yet it was unusual and suspicious. It pointed more and more towards validating Picard's suspicions that the young man was a Maquis rebel. Yet, it wasn't enough to convict him. "There is no record of a Nicholas de Brabant as a Federation citizen. It would seem unlikely then that his heritage is actually from Belgium, as he claims," Commander Riker stated. "What did you find, Doctor?" Beverly Crusher's eyes came a little unfocused. Her response was vague, repeating only what Nick had told her. She'd given him a blood transfusion for his injuries, and told him to get some rest. "Where was he injured?" Geordi asked, concerned. He'd seen Nick on the ship, no environmental suit in an airless room, but he hadn't noticed any obvious injury. Beverly became confused, searching for information she did not have. Deanna Troi sensed her distress but did not understand it. "Doctor?" Picard prodded. "It is private, Captain," she answered at last. "He asked that his exam be kept private. I can only assure you that he will be fine." Picard accepted that. Only Deanna still felt uneasy. "He claims to be French," Picard mused. "I think I shall have to spend some time with him, and see how carefully he's done his homework." A slight smile curved the corners of his lips. "Starfleet has been appraised of the children. They should be sending a shuttle to take them from us by the end of the week." Then the briefing turned to other matters. Deanna continued to watch Dr. Crusher throughout. Something wasn't right. She could sense it. But until she had more than vague suspicion, she would remain quiet and alert. She was certain that Nick De Brabant was not who he claimed to be. Besides his genuine concern for the children, she had also sensed a deep, threatening power from him. Behind the boyish smile and easy charm, she sensed a killer. ================= End flashback ================== KotU 07a By Lorelei Sieja Chapter Seven: The holodeck Tom was already at work on the loft when Nick showed up after his duty shift. The younger man was dressed in blue jeans and a plain white T-shirt. His light blonde hair hung in his eyes, no longer neatly slicked back in Starfleet fashion. He swigged a beer taken from Nick's replicator before speaking. "I got started with out you, old man." Nick tugged off the uniform jacket and shirt, wearing only the gunmetal gray undershirt. He knew from experience that the manual labor would soon have him sweating. Without even thinking, he flew to the loft to join Tom. "Not going to give the stairs a try, huh? Paint's dry now, you know." "Stairs are for mortals," Nick said with a grin. He looked around appreciatively and whistled. Tom had finished more than just the stairs. The carpeting had been laid, and in place of Nick's narrow, single bunk stood a massive bed. It was even made up, with black sheets and a forest-green printed cover. "B'Elanna picked out the furniture," Tom explained defensively. "Captain gave her a bunch of replicator coupons for an early wedding gift." "It's great," Nick said. "Really." Tom shrugged off the compliment. It ran like water off a duck. He would forget all praise and remember each and every reprimand. Sometimes Nick just wanted to shake him. The finishing work took longer than he'd expected. The room had been so close to done- he hadn't realized that the little things could be so time-consuming. They'd worked through dinner, and when at last it was complete, neither quite knew what do to. An awkward silence took over. Tom fidgeted. He rubbed his palms on his jeans, then ran his fingers through sweat-damp hair. "Captain wants me to work on programming an EHP with you," he stated abruptly. Nick nodded. "Yeah. For Naomi, and any other children that might join the crew." "Shit," Tom said. "You want to work with me so you can get inside my fucking brain. Admit it!" Nick should have known Tom was too bright to be manipulated. He shrugged. "I wouldn't put it quite like that," he answered truthfully. "Well forget it. I'll help with the EHP- for Naomi- but you can leave my brain alone." Nick waited. "Like, what the hell could you know about my life? My father? What could you possibly know about growing up with a perfectionist? No matter what you tried, it was never good enough? He's a dictatorial bastard. And you? You were a fucking prince, for gods sake!" Nick felt his lips twinge. It didn't go unnoticed. Before Tom could take offence, Nick responded. "Well, I wasn't really a "fucking" prince, Tom. You have to understand times were different. You didn't fuck a lady. You placed her on a pedestal and pledged your life to defending her honor. You never fucked her." "Yeah, right," Tom snorted. "Is that how feudalism ended? No future princes for the throne? You can't tell me you knights were celibate." Nick laughed. "I didn't say that. There were always the peasant girls. But they weren't considered ladies. They were more like cattle. Possessions." "That's pathetic." "Times were different." A silence fell again. Nick wasn't sure, but he felt that he'd reached a crossroad. Tom seemed very close to accepting him. If only he knew how to encourage him. He reflected on Tom's outburst. "And I do know what it's like to have a bastard for a father." Tom just snorted again. "I've met yours," Nick explained. "Through your blood and through the captain's. And I met him in person, when I was an ambassador. Yeah, he's a jerk all right, but he's only a neophyte jerk. If you want him to be a professional jerk, he should take lessons from my father." "Okay. Show me your old man," Tom challenged. Nick stared at him. "In the holodeck. Show me what your dad was like. If he's really a jerk, then I'll compare notes with you." Nick shrugged. "You're on." They swung by the mess hall first and their conversation seemed natural, almost like friends, Nick thought. For the moment, they were equals. He hoped he'd be able to keep Tom's trust. In the holodeck he began to search the archives for any record of LaCroix. It would be easier if he could pull up existing data, rather than start from scratch. The holodeck didn't have records dating back to the battles LaCroix had commanded as a Roman General, though, and he'd avoided mortal history pretty much after that. However, he had attended some of Nick's functions. Like when Nick had been awarded the Federation Peace Prize after the Cordec negotiations, a major victory for any ambassador. LaCroix had come to the ceremony, and remained for the party after. Nick accessed the file and shortly a still hologram of the ancient vampire stood before them. "Well, he's not going to win any Mr. Personality awards," Tom remarked, "but he doesn't really look like a jerk, either." Nick cocked a grin at him. "Hold on. Computer, access my personal logs, and using any references to Lucien LaCroix, create a reasonable facsimile." They watched, as the hologram evolved. Nick gave a few more directions to the computer, then saved the finished product. It was eerie. It really looked like LaCroix. It even sounded like him. "Good evening, Nicholas," the ancient's voice purred. Tom shivered. "The guy's creepy." "Good evening, LaCroix," Nick answered, his insides quivering slightly before the intimidating hologram. He forced himself to smile. It wasn't real. LaCroix was thousands of light-years away. Nick thought back to what time it was on earth. Late night here, late morning then, if LaCroix was still in the South Seas. He should be sound asleep. "LaCroix, tell my friend Tom about my music and art lessons." The hologram turned a disdainful look upon the mortal. "Only the best for my children," it said coldly. "Beethoven, Chopin, and Rachmaninov gave him piano lessons. Mozart was good, but he was no teacher. Raphael, Da Vinci, and Van Gogh taught him to paint." Tom shrugged, but his façade wasn't quite as convincing. "Yeah. Well. My dad wouldn't allow me to paint. He chose my life. It was preordained that I would be a Starfleet pilot." Nick faced the hologram again. "What did you do, when I wanted to change my life? When I tried to become mortal again?" An evil sneer spread across the marble features. "My son, I would have beat you within an inch of your unlife to keep you from such a self-destructive purpose." Nick couldn't stop the shiver that ran down his spine. This was too real. He even felt a tingle of the hairs on the back of his neck, like another vampire was actually present. It didn't make sense. He needed to end this little experiment quickly. He turned towards Tom. He didn't see the golden flash in the hologram's eyes. Tom grinned. "So this jerk is really your dad? He must be older than dirt." The hologram flew at Nick, clutching him firmly by the throat. "What did I tell you to do, Nicholas? Why must you persist in defying me?" His voice was chilling. Nick stared into the amber pools. He was confused. The hand on his throat felt cold and familiar. The presence in his mind was definitely his father. How had the hologram become so real? "Hey!" Tom shouted. "Unhand him, you fucking bastard!" He pulled back a fist, ready to do battle with this symbol of parental domination. His repressed anger burst forth with a vengeance. LaCroix slowly turned to the scrawny mortal; his fangs fell into place. Still restraining Nick with one hand, he flipped the mortal across the room. Tom slammed into one blue and silver wall and crumpled to the floor with the wind knocked out of his lungs. "LaCroix!" Nick gasped, barely able to choke the words out from the crushing grasp of his master. LaCroix released him. Slowly, he faced the mortal with a predatory gleam. "Since you won't clean up after yourself, my son, I shall do it for you." Tom gulped in air as he felt himself lifted from the floor. He stared into the face of the demon, just beginning to feel apprehensive. The holodeck safeties were still active, weren't they? They would keep him from getting critically injured, but what about death-by-draining? Had the programmers known to take that into account? "Computer, end program!" Tom shouted. Nothing happened. The hologram of the vampire should have disappeared, but it remained, the razor sharp fangs drawing nearer. Nick had to stop him, had to distract him somehow, so Tom could get away. He flew at LaCroix and bit his neck savagely. The hologram made a stunned expression before releasing Tom. Then it tore Nick from its throat and threw him into a wall. Tom heard something snap. Whether it was holoemitters or vampire bones, he wasn't certain. He tried to get to his feet. He knew they both had to get out of here quickly, but he still couldn't breathe. His legs wouldn't respond. "Leave him be," Nick shouted. He struggled to his feet again and flew at LaCroix, only to be tossed away. The ancient vampire temporarily ignored the fallen mortal. He turned his attention on his errant son, willing to give him the punishment he begged for. Nick fought with desperation. The blood he'd taken was not empty holograms. It coated his throat, filling him with images from his vampire father. It was cold and ancient, and healed his crushed throat instantly. It was LaCroix. Somehow the ancient had traveled across the galaxy to take possession of the holographic double. And he didn't disappear when Tom had tried to terminate the program. They were both in real danger now. Nick seldom won these fights. LaCroix was so much stronger than he was, and the elder vampire had been a general in the fiercest army earth had ever known, while Nick had only been a knight, governed by rules of conduct and chivalry. LaCroix fought mean and dirty. LaCroix did not know how to lose. It hurt to stand. Nick was certain some of his ribs were broken, as was his leg. His face was cut and bleeding, one eye already swollen shut. He was exhausted, yet he couldn't relent. "Get out of here," he begged Tom. He would always heal, but the mortal must be protected. He didn't have the strength to back up his command with a hypnotic punch. Seeing LaCroix turn again towards the ensign, Nick flew at his leg and bit down hard. The ancient blood barely spurted into his mouth, not enough to heal his many injuries, before the vampire plucked him off. LaCroix slammed his fist into his mouth. Blood gushed, even his fangs felt loose. Nick felt blackness creeping in at the edge of his vision. "Please go," he whispered. He heard LaCroix laughing. He felt the cold hands on his throat again; regret filled him as he realized that once again he had failed. Tom reached the controls for the holodeck. Struggling to his feet, he clenched his hands together and raised them behind his head. He slammed them down on the controls. Sparks flews out as little cuts on his hands started to bleed. The raging vampire glanced at him with surprise. Tom slammed his fists down on the controls again. Then, the hologram disappeared with a flash. Nick's body, formerly held by the vampire, fell to the ground with a moan. Tom went to his side. Habit made him check for a pulse. A cold dread sickened him before he remembered Nick wouldn't have a pulse on a good day. "Nick, hang in there," he said. "I'll get you to the doctor." "No!" A bloodied hand clutched weakly at Tom's arm. "No. Just bring me something to drink." "Nick, you're hurt. You need a doctor," Tom insisted. "No. Drink!" At that moment, B'Elanna came racing in to the holodeck. She caught the smells of burnt circuitry and fresh blood. "Damn! I knew it," she cursed, as she slouched down next to Tom. "I felt this, Nick! All of it! Why are you doing this to me!" Nick looked at her sorrowfully with his one good eye. Blood tears, blood he couldn't afford to lose, pooled and spilled down his cheek. "Forgive me," he whispered. "No doctor. Blood!" "Tom, get him some. Hurry. And bring a first aid kit." Tom shook his head as he exited. B'Elanna looked over Nick's injuries, knowing them all. She'd felt the pain when his ribs had cracked. She'd lost her balance and tumbled to the floor when his leg broke. Her head hurt, her vision blurred. When her initial fear dissipated and she'd opened herself to the link they shared, she'd known someone was hurting Nick. Not certain with whom she should be angry, she caressed Nick's cheek tenderly. "Just rest, my love. Tom will be back soon." Nick closed his eye and gave in to the blackness. KotU 07b By Lorelei Sieja === Flashback, Enterprise == Captain Picard invited Nick to his quarters that night. Nick hesitated. One didn't turn down an invitation from the top, and the children were starting to relax a bit. But what did he want? Vasik patted his shoulder affectionately. "You'll be fine, Nick. Just be yourself." Her dark eyes sparkled mischievously, an unusual vision with the upswept brows of the Vulcan and the bony double spine of the cardassian- neither species was known for possessing a sense of humor. Yet, in spite of her mixed heritage and the two cultures that would shun her, she was poised and confident. "And you know this because?" he asked. Vasik just smiled. "Captain Picard is interested in archeology. He prefers English tea, although his family owns a small vineyard in France. And he has an excellent memory." "You learned a lot in a short time." "Come. Wear this," she said, pulling him into the small private chamber he called his own. Laid out on the bed was a white cotton shirt with wide sleeves, white trousers, and a bright green vest with gold embroidery. It was a traditional French outfit, one Nick might have worn in some past century on Bastille Day. "Isn't this a bit obvious," Nick questioned. Vasik grinned. "Well, you were the one to start with the French ID. I'm just helping it along." Nick pulled on the shirt and vest, but kept his own dark trousers. Vasik straightened his collar and attempted to brush through his hair. "Don't worry, Nick. I'll watch the kids," she said with an assumed air of adulthood. He returned her smile and went to face the captain. Picard greeted him warmly, speaking in French. Nick hadn't even noticed the language change at first, until the captain looked surprised at one of Nick's more archaic terms. Nick knew many languages- and many dialects of them- but modern French was the most difficult for him. The medieval language of his birth just came out naturally, even after all these years. They talked about archaeology for hours! Picard was very impressed with Nick's knowledge of earth's history. Then they got into discussing Shakespeare, somehow. It was yet another interest they held in common. Picard had once played Juliet's nurse in an all boys' production at the military academy he'd attended. Nick had known Willie Shakespeare personally, although it wasn't a fact he shared with Picard. But Nick had also acted in the famous romance about the star-crossed lovers. Before long, they were spouting romantic sonnets to each other in fun. For a short time, Nick was able to relax. Nick quickly became the most popular bachelor on board. He'd have to speak to Guinan about it, but women were coming by constantly, bringing something for the children and then flirting with him outrageously. He wished he'd thought to mention at the outset that he was married. It would be impossible to add that detail in now. So, he returned their open invitations with a shy smile, playing naïve rather that risk offending them and the children didn't seem to be suffering from the added attention. Again, the door chimed lightly, announcing another visitor. Nick opened it. A sweet Asian woman with a wide friendly smile stepped inside. "Hi, I'm Keiko," she said, turning from Nick to include all of the children. "I came to escort you to our classroom. I thought maybe you would like to meet the other children on the Enterprise." They looked at one another with frightened faces, then Laret spoke up. "No, thank you," he said. "We'd rather stay together." Keiko was taken back, but quickly regained her composure. "Certainly, all of you can come. Even Nick." Nick gulped, pulling a child- Vasik this time- in front of him defensively. Keiko laughed. "Relax, Nick. I'm married; I am not on the make. This is genuine. Since they feel more comfortable in your presence, perhaps you would join us." He'd been a college professor once- he could handle this. He gave her a weak smile and hefted Marti into his arms. "Lead on." The schoolroom was very different from what he remembered. It was carpeted and comfortable, more like a family room or den than an institution. There were children's computer terminals and toys, blocks and various art materials, maps, charts, and several adults. The Enterprise children looked up curiously at the new arrivals in their classroom. One boy, a small Klingon-human child of about four or five- extended his hand. Nick shook it, then introduced himself and the others. "My name's Alexander," the boy said, then grinned broadly. He was adorable when he smiled, Nick thought with surprise. He'd never seen a Klingon smile before. "Wanna play with my remote?" He showed Jamie how the hand-held controls directed a small vehicle. Nick felt the quiet panic of being watched. Quickly searching the cheerful schoolroom, he found the quiet, sensuous eyes of a Betazoid. Her look was guarded though. Nick sensed trouble. Turning away from her intent gaze, he went to a low table where several younger children were playing with clay. Nick knelt down, setting Marti on the floor beside him. One of the teachers brought a smock for Marti. "Would you like to try the clay?" she asked sweetly. Marti poked at it timidly, clutching Nick with her other hand. "It doesn't look good," she said softly. Nick chuckled. "No. It isn't good for eating. But you make things with it. Bricks, dishes, sculpture." As he spoke, Nick grabbed a lump and began to work it, getting Marti's fingers covered as she still didn't let go of his hand. "Cold," she observed. "Clay feels cold," he agreed. He rolled several simple figures and stood them up. Marti shivered. Making a fist, she mashed them flat. "Fucking Cardassian Pigs!" The Betazoid woman moved swiftly to join them. Nick shifted uncomfortably. He hadn't taught the child those words! What did she expect? "You are angry," the woman stated, reassuring Marti. "Hi. I am Deana. May I play clay with you?" Deana, Nick thought. Deana Troi, ships counselor. Why did she have to be an empath? He held his vampiric breath, trying to calm the terror that must be emanating from his thoughts. If she would only buy it that his fear was from the ordeal they had endured at the hands of the Cardassians, but somehow he didn't think she would. Deana talked with Marti. They talked how the gray clay did look like the Cardassians, but no Cardassians were on board the Enterprise. Deana reassured the child of her safety. Eventually, Marti tired of the clay. Nick helped her to wash up. Then she ventured away from him and went to join the children listening to Keiko read a story. "Tell me about yourself," Deana said, taking Nick's arm and leading him away from the children. "Not much to tell," he stalled, desperate to keep from breaking into a sweat. "Don't be bashful! It's nothing short of miraculous how you saved all these children. How did you come to be on Cardassia, anyway?" He wasn't certain how much to share. He hadn't thought through his story yet, as he really hadn't come up with anything believable. Oh Felix, I need you, he thought. "What about the others?" he asked, changing the subject. "Others?" "Yes. I've helped about fifty refugees, mostly children and a few adults, escape over the past three months. If my last pilot hadn't got himself killed, I would still be there." "I see," Deana said slowly, puzzled. She was getting such a mix of feelings from this young man. Regret, shame, anger, concern, real love for these little ones, but most of all, fear. She touched his hand, meaning to reassure him, that he had nothing more to fear, but they both jerked away from the contact. Her hand burned where she had touched him- burned with cold- like gripping dry ice and fire. And she discovered that Nick was terrified of her! Deana wasn't sure what to do with this new insight. Her first response to comfort and reassure him contradicted with her intuition that he might actually be someone very dangerous. He had done something to Beverly. She didn't know what, but she would find out. Getting to her feet, Deana stepped away from this strange man. "My office is open, Mr. Brabant. If you should need to talk." Nick had to get away. The children were busy. Vasik saw him back towards the door, but she just smiled at him. Nick took off almost running for any turbolift that would bring him to ten-forward. == End flashback == KotU 08a By Lorelei Sieja Chapter Eight: The Deception Tom returned shortly with several bottles of blood that he'd copped from Neelix's storeroom. B'Elanna didn't even try to wake Nick. She attached an IV shunt from the bottle directly to Nick's stomach, as she'd seen the doctor do a f