fanfic_name = The Sit. Room Incident

chapter = 29

author = Dwparsnip

Rating = AP15

Type = Suspense

fanfic =

See? I told you all I was still around! Here it is, the long overdue update I've been promising for way too long.

 

Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far. And of course a thousand thanks to Adena who has refused to give up on me and beta'ed this for me. As usual your suggestions were incredible.

 

I promise the next update will come a lot quicker than this one did.

 

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Sue Graham walked through Fleet Intelligence with her mind only half on the report she was looking at in her hands. For the most part, her thoughts centered on her evolving plan and how to get what it was she so desperately wanted, namely Rick Hunter.

 

Fortunately for her, her mind was not so engaged with those nefarious thoughts that she couldn't sense someone bearing down on her in a hurry. She just managed to jump of the way as Woods barged past her without so much as an apology, his face set in a grim and angry cast.

 

Sue lowered her arms to her side and watched as her CO left the room without breaking his stride. When the doors shut behind him, she turned to look for the one person who had become a reliable source of information in the last while.

 

As she expected, a somber faced Dora Baxter was headed her way. It figured that Baxter would be the one Woods would talk to first, having been with him in Fleet Intelligence for a long time. Sue realized early on she could be a very good source of information and had made an effort to become friendlier with her. It also helped that Baxter trusted her implicitly and had no problem talking to her. Sue narrowed her eyes as the other woman approached, and when she was close enough to whisper Sue asked, "What the hell is going on with Woods?"

 

Baxter grabbed Sue and all but dragged her towards an empty briefing room. Sue thought about breaking free, but Baxter had a pretty good grip, and she really wanted to know what her colleague knew. A moment later Baxter closed the briefing room door and turned to face Sue.

 

"Major Woods just got a call from Zolan," she stated ominously.

 

The name sounded familiar to Sue but she couldn’t remember who it was. Her inability to place the name must have shown on her face because Baxter explained, "Zolan! The head of Tirolian Intelligence."

 

"Right!" exclaimed Sue as it all came back to her. Zolan was the head of Tirolian Intelligence and one of the highest government officials there was. The only other thing that Sue could remember about him was the impression she had been left with after the only time she had met him, the feeling that he was a creepy man. "What did he want?"

 

Baxter glanced to the door to make sure it hadn't opened and said quietly, "I'm not sure." Baxter moved closer to Sue just in case. "All Woods said was that the Tirolians had a lead on the shuttle explosion."

 

Sue could feel her face go pale and her lip, after behaving itself for the last couple of days, begin to throb. She gathered her wits and managed to ask, "Is that all?"

 

Baxter nodded eagerly, sending her blond hair dancing in all directions.

 

The frustration that Sue felt at not knowing exactly what was happening found an outlet in her clutching the report she had been reading tightly in her hands. Her mind was running over the possible scenarios, checking and rechecking the plans she had in place and trying to forecast what was going to happen next when Baxter's confused voice broke through her inner chaos.

 

"There was something else," Baxter said quietly as she folded her arms across her chest. "A word that means nothing to me." Baxter took a moment to try to figure out how to sound out the word, and after several aborted attempts she said hesitantly, "Vidam, I think."

 

Sue slammed her right hand down on the back of a nearby chair to keep herself steady, and when Baxter looked at her strangely, Sue attempted to cover it by passing it off as frustration instead of panic. "What could that mean?" She was relieved when Baxter simply shrugged her shoulders.

 

"I have no idea," said Baxter, "but whatever else Zolan said sent the Major into a tizzy. When he finished talking to Zolan he called the flight deck and used his Omega clearance to arrange an immediate trip to Tirol."

 

Sue's grip on the back of the chair tightened. "He's going to Tirol?"

 

Again Baxter nodded emphatically. "Right now. He said he'd be back as soon as possible." Baxter shrugged her shoulders, then walked to the door and opened it. "I hope it's a solid lead," she said as she opened the door.

 

"Me too," managed Sue as Baxter walked through the door, leaving her alone in the suddenly confining briefing room.

 

'Damn it, Vidam!' she screamed internally. 'You better not tell them anything or I'll…' She laughed out loud at the thought. What would she do? What could she do? Nothing. Besides, Vidam didn't know who she was. All he could tell them was the person he sold the bintocite to was a woman. He might have known she was human as well, but that's it.

 

She smiled as she realized that she was still free and clear…so far. Even the throb in her lip had subsided. Still, better safe than sorry. She would activate the computer program before Woods got back…just in case.

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Tim Woods sat in a very uncomfortable chair in a very uncomfortable room listening to some very disconcerting news.

 

When the head of Tirolian Intelligence contacted him earlier to request a meeting, Woods initially brushed him off by saying that he was very busy. When Zolan told him that he had some information concerning the bintocite, and specifically who had obtained it, he was on his way to the hangar deck in a heart beat, only to have to wait several hours to actually see Zolan.

 

He already knew in his heart of hearts that a human had killed Lisa Hunter…he had even told Sterling and Grant as much. That that person was also a REF officer was a virtual certainty.

 

Woods took a deep breath and placed his hands on the table he was sitting at for support as he leaned forward. Having his worst fears confirmed still cut him to the quick.

 

"So let me get this straight," Woods said to the only other occupant of the room. Zolan was an older, thin man who had seen decades of service. His blue hair went off in all directions, giving him the appearance of some sort of deranged scientist. He stood across from Woods and nodded for him to go ahead. "You picked up this guy, this…what's his name again?"

 

"Vidam," responded Zolan.

 

"Right, Vidam, on a terrorism charge and he just happened to mention this to you?" asked Woods.

 

"Of course not, Major," said Zolan condescendingly. "We have very effective interrogation techniques that…"

 

Woods held up his hand to stop Zolan from continuing. "I don’t want to know."

 

Zolan smirked as he nodded his understanding. "At any rate, Major, just the threat of interrogation was enough for Vidam to volunteer the information, most likely in the hopes that it would incur him some leniency." Zolan clasped his hands behind his back and began pacing as he once again went over the information. "Vidam was approached about acquiring some of our bintocite. As a former intelligence officer, he had intimate knowledge of our storage practices and security. He also had some inside contacts that enabled him to obtain some of the explosive." Zolan stopped his pacing and sat in the chair opposite Woods and sighed. "Rest assured, Major, that those inside contacts have been neutralized."

 

"And he said that the person he sold the bintocite to was a human female?" asked Woods.

 

At this Zolan smiled a malicious smile that sent shivers down Woods' spine. "More than that, Major." Zolan handed Woods a mini computer data screen, and as Woods glanced over the information Zolan summarized for him. "Vidam, ever the - what do you humans say? Snake? - followed the person to whom he sold the explosive …right to REF Base Alpha."

 

Woods' blood was starting to boil.

 

"According to Vidam," continued Zolan, apparently oblivious to Woods' angry discomfort, "when the person approached a seldom used side entrance to the base, she discarded her disguise and entered the base wearing a REF uniform." Zolan leaned back in the chair. "Apparently Vidam was too far away to get a good description of her facial features, but he was quite adamant that she was a human female, wearing a REF uniform...a flight suit as a matter of fact. She was of an average height with an athletic build, and the guards saluted her when she approached." Zolan retrieved another data screen and handed it to Woods as well. "I have taken the liberty of getting the duty roster for the place and time in question. The guards on duty that night were Lieutenants Smyth and Karnes. Logic suggests she is of a higher rank."

 

Woods examined the data screens. "Lieutenant Commander or better," he concurred absently. He looked up to Zolan. "Do you have any reason to suspect that this guy," he glanced down at the screen to verify the name, "this Vidam, would lie?"

 

Zolan shook his head confidently. "None. He has every reason to cooperate if he wishes to avoid execution."

 

Woods leaned back heavily in his chair and rubbed his very weary eyes with the palms of his hands. When he finished he let his hands fall to his lap. "You got the duty roster for that night," said Woods. "Did you get the list of visitors to the base?"

 

Zolan smiled, and this time the smile was complimentary, as though he was impressed that Woods had thought of it. "Indeed, Major, and it is a telling list not in that it says anything specific, but more by what it does not say." He handed a confused Woods yet another data screen. "There are no visitors listed as departing from or arriving at Base Alpha for that night, Major. What could that mean?"

 

Woods was struggling to maintain his composure. "I…it means that this woman had special security clearance, high enough to override usual security protocols so that there would be no official record of her presence." He looked at Zolan again through the angry crimson haze that was now covering his vision. "She's an intelligence officer or special operations officer."

 

Zolan nodded. "That was my conclusion as well."

 

Woods sat up straight in the chair. "I have to go and speak with Smyth and Karnes," he announced.

 

"Again," said Zolan, "I have taken the liberty."

 

Woods was thoroughly annoyed at this, though he dared not show it. Zolan was being uncharacteristically cooperative and this was the biggest break in the case thus far. The last thing he wanted to do was lose Zolan's help and information by shooting off his face about interfering with his investigation and overstepping his jurisdiction. "Did they know anything?"

 

Zolan shook his head regretfully. "It was too long ago for them to remember anything of consequence. The only thing they could remember was that she was very attractive, but not the details."

 

"Figures," mumbled Woods disgustedly. "I need to get back to the ship." Woods stood up, but had to sit back down when he felt the room begin to spin.

 

Zolan was up and at his side swiftly. "No, Major. You can wait until morning." Zolan pressed a button on the table, and a moment later the door opened and a blue-haired Tirolian woman entered. "This is Dendra," Zolan stated. "She is my most trusted aide. She will escort you to your temporary quarters." When Woods looked at him Zolan held up his hand and said, "It is very late, Major, and you are exhausted. You can leave in the morning."

 

Woods saw the logic of it. He was pissed off and tired, and in such a state what could he accomplish? He wouldn’t even be able to give Sterling a decent report in his current condition. He stood up and faced Zolan. "May I keep these?" he asked of the data screens.

 

Zolan nodded once as he said, "Of course."

 

Woods nodded gratefully. "And may I contact my ship to let them know that I will be staying the night?"

 

Again Zolan nodded and turned to Dendra. "Escort the Major to the communications center, then to his quarters."

 

Dendra nodded to her superior and said in a soft voice, "Please follow me, Major."

 

Woods thanked Zolan and followed Dendra through the corridors of the Tirolian Intelligence complex wondering as he walked when things had gotten so very bad.

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"Yes, sir," said Dora Baxter to her commanding officer. He had contacted her a minute earlier to inform her that he wouldn't be back until the morning.

 

'I want you to pull the flight logs for the day I specified, Commander," sounded Woods' voice through the speaker. 'If the person came from the SDF-3 there may be a record of it.'

 

Baxter made a note to do just that and said, "Will do, sir. Is that all?"

 

There was a pause and then Woods said, 'For now.' Another pause. 'And Commander, tell no one of this, not General Sterling or Commander Graham…no one. Understood?'

 

Baxter didn't understand why, but she understood an order when she heard one. "Yes, sir."

 

'Woods out.'

 

Baxter closed the channel and accessed the flight logs for the day in question before she called it a night, totally oblivious to the fact that her conversation with her CO had been overheard by one of the two people that Woods had specifically ordered her not to tell.

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Lisa sat with her back against the wall of the cave as daylight began to filter in through the cave entrance. She had managed to force down one of the ration packs and finished off her second bottle of water of the young morning. She couldn't seem to quench her thirst, no matter how much she drank. She wondered several times if there was something about the cave that could have been causing it, but she couldn't see or feel anything that would indicate it.

 

Her right hand gently rubbed over her stomach in a slow circular motion as the churning that had been the mainstay of her last number of mornings began right on schedule. In some small part of her mind, where actions of the past were stored for posterity, the slow rounded movements seemed intimately familiar, though she couldn't quite place the feeling.

 

She hadn't thrown up yet, but the way her stomach was behaving it was a virtual certainty that it would happen soon.

 

She sighed and leaned back against the wall and then arched her back to try to stretch out the kink that had taken up root in her lower back. It was the damnedest thing. If she didn't know any better, she would have said that she was…

 

Her hand froze in mid circle and she exclaimed into the empty cave, "Oh my God!" She looked down to her abdomen, remembering what it had been like when she first found out she was pregnant with Roy. It had been exactly the same – sick in the morning; steady lower back pain; constant peeing and an unnatural craving for pizza, which disgusted her to no end considering pizza was her least favorite food in the universe. The same things were happening to her now, including the God-awful desire for pizza.

 

"It can't be!" she exclaimed with a mixture of nervousness, shock and excitement. Her left hand found its way to join her right on her stomach, and together they smoothed out the REF issue sweatshirt that Angie had given her over her stomach. It was still as flat as it usually was, but she knew that she couldn't go by that, she had to go by the signs and the signs pointed in a very special and glorious direction.

 

Keeping her right hand flattened gently and protectively against her tummy, Lisa reached over with her left hand and picked up the picture of Rick and Roy that Angie had left her.

 

Angie.

 

Lisa smiled and felt something that she could have called relief if she wanted to be optimistic about it all. Angie asked her how she was feeling the day she visited. The young woman knew enough, saw enough and understood enough to know that something wasn't right. 'What did I say?' asked Lisa to herself. She thought back and repeated in her mind, 'I said, 'I’ve had a bad back for a little while. I guess the thermal blanket isn’t exactly what Jean would recommend for a bed. My stomach has been acting weird, but I guess being torn from those you love and locked in a cave on a dead moon will do that to you.''

 

Lisa's heart rate stepped up a notch as she realized it was possible that Angie, a medic, and a damn fine one if Jean was accurate with her job performance evaluations, might put the symptoms together and come to the same conclusion that she herself had just arrived at.

 

Lisa forced herself to calm down. The odds were against it…she doubted that even Jean herself would come to that conclusion based on those flimsy and non-specific symptoms. But still…

 

Lisa held the picture up in the dim light of the cave. "Well you two," she said affectionately to the two men in her life through the picture, "how do you guys feel about it?"

 

Lisa brought her right hand up to her mouth as she laughed and cried at the same time. The mix of emotions was not lost on her. How could she not be happy that a new life was growing within her, a life created by her and the man she loved? Still, how could she not despair over the fact that she was being held prisoner on a nearly dead moon with those she loved thinking she was dead?

 

Lisa focused on Rick's face in the picture. She raised her right hand and with trembling fingers she caressed his left cheek, then traced along his jaw and eyes. The simple gesture, the thought of being close enough to Rick to do that was enough to strengthen her resolve, her belief that she would see and touch him again.

 

She continued to rub the picture where Rick's cheek was with her thumb even as anger boiled up within her.

 

Keeping the picture in her left hand, her right hand fell gently back to her abdomen to once again caressed her belly, though it was no longer to settle her upset tummy, but to protect and reassure the life growing within her that all would be fine.

 

And as she rubbed her belly and continued to look at the picture of Rick and Roy, she said resolutely, "If anything happens to this baby, Sue, there will not be a hole deep enough in the universe for you to hide in."

 

Forcing the bitter thoughts from her mind, Lisa smiled and brought the picture to her lips, giving Rick a kiss she wished with all her heart that he could feel.

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The shuttle was on approach to the SDF-3, and for Woods it wasn't a moment too soon. He had gotten up before the crack of dawn and woke Dendra up in order to get back to the ship as quickly as possible. Needless to say Dendra was slightly irritated.

 

He hadn't slept. Not a wink. All that kept going through his mind was the confirmation that a colleague had done the unthinkable. It was so far beyond surreal for Woods it was nauseating.

 

Not only did he now have solid evidence that the person responsible for the murder of his Admiral was a REF officer, but he now knew that it was very likely that the woman was an intelligence or special ops officer, perhaps even one of his own officers.

 

It boggled his mind and sickened his stomach.

 

The question was what to do next? He could tell Sterling and Grant what he had found out, but they would want more information, precious information that he didn't as yet have. No, first he would go to Fleet Intelligence and see if Baxter was able to come up with anything…not that he expected her to. Whoever this woman was she was good at what she did, and had so far expertly covered her tracks, with the exception of getting partially identified by Vidam.

 

No, Baxter would not find anything. That meant that he would have to sift through the hundreds of intelligence and special ops officers present on the SDF-3 and the Tirol bases. Eliminate the males, then use the physical characteristics supplied by Vidam to narrow it down and then verify their locations during the time the meeting with Vidam took place. That should narrow it down significantly.

 

Woods folded his arms across his chest and took a deep breath. He had the strangest feeling that he was missing something, something obvious and close to him but for the life of him he couldn't figure it out.

 

The pilot's voice over the loudspeaker announcing that they were about to land dragged Woods from his thoughts.

 

'Close,' he thought anxiously and he picked up and tightly held the data screens in his hands. 'We're so close…'

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Rick rolled over onto his back and sighed. It had been another night of fitful sleep, broken up by dreams of that which he had recently lost. It always amazed him how his dreams of Lisa could be so beautiful and so painful at the same time.

 

He took a deep breath and realized with a start that the aroma of coffee filled the air. He glanced over to the bottom of the bedroom door and saw light filtering through the opening.

 

Rick's brow knitted together in surprise and he sat up. 'Who the hell is out there at', he glanced to the clock,'7:38 in the morning?'

 

It took him a moment to realize that he didn't automatically assume that it was Lisa, much like he did for the first few days after her death. It saddened him deeply to know that she would never…

 

'No!' his mind screamed at him as he violently shook his head. He had promised himself that he wouldn't allow those thoughts to enter into his mind and take away his strength. Lisa would be furious with him if he allowed himself to wallow in grief when their mission…her mission…had yet to be completed. There was work to be done and he would find the strength to do it the same way he found the strength to do everything he had done for as long as he could remember: from her.

 

After taking a deep breath, Rick rubbed the sleep from his eyes and let his feet fall to the floor. His hands rested on the bed on either side of him as he tried to fully come to his senses. He looked again to the door.

 

'I wonder which one it is this morning', he thought. There had been a revolving door of friends coming and going during the preceding days. Rick would never know who was going to show up on any given morning. Max, Miriya, Jean had all made appearances. He knew it wouldn’t be Vince, who had been banned from cooking of any kind by Jean after he nearly destroyed a section of the ship while attempting to make pancakes years earlier. To his knowledge, Vince had never even so much as turned on the stove since.

 

Rick grimaced as he stood up and, after stretching out the stiffness in his joints, took a step towards the bathroom. He paused and turned to look back at the bed. His bed…no longer their bed. He still slept on Lisa's side of the bed, and he was still cuddling his face to her pillows as though he were nuzzling her neck as he had done on so many occasions.

 

He sighed heavily and went into the bathroom and after using the toilet he settled down in front of the mirror and began to shave.

 

Two minutes later Rick watched in the mirror as the tiny droplet of blood worked its way down his to his jaw from the small cut on his left cheek as though it were something he had never seen before. Seconds ticked by as the bead of crimson stopped at the edge of his jaw in what could have been a last ditch effort by the drop to stay where it was needed, but in the end nature and the artificial gravity of the ship won out, and the drop of blood flew from his face. The free fall lasted a mere second until the small drop splashed down into the slightly soapy water that filled his sink in his bathroom.

 

Without taking his eyes off the blood, he gently placed the razor he had been holding in his right hand on the sink, then placed his hands on either side of the sink for support and leaned in to watch.

 

And he did watch as the small amount of blood began to rapidly disperse in the water; its tiny volume easily swallowed up by the relatively enormous amount of water working against it.

 

Rick couldn't help but see the symbolism…it fit so perfectly, for like the droplet of blood, Rick felt as though the world was trying with its sheer size and force to swallow him one piece at a time. More and more each day Rick could feel himself slipping farther and farther into the void despite his best attempts at staving it off.

 

And just as that little droplet of blood that lost its ability to exist as it was because it left the safe shelter of his body, Rick was losing himself because that one thing that protected, nourished and grounded him for as long as he could remember was gone.

 

Rick watched intently as the blood went from bright red and whole, to pink and finally to nothing, and Rick wondered if he was destined for the same sort of fate. Finally Rick looked up to his reflection staring back at him in the mirror. The steam that had risen from the hot water in the sink gave his reflection an eerie look, though the way he looked lately ghastly may have been a more appropriate description.

 

The ten days since the worse day of his life, the day Lisa died, saw his skin turn pale and eyes darken. Add to that the cut that currently graced the upper part his left cheek and he looked horrendous, and he couldn't help wondering just who it was he was trying to kid with his earlier bravado.

 

Rick sighed as he watched with morbid curiosity a new drop of blood wind its way slowly down his cheek to join its brother in its demise. Rick had cut himself shaving before, of course, what man hadn't at one time or another? It just seemed to happen more often than usual in the last few days. He wasn't certain as to why. It could have been that he just didn't care anymore. It could have been that he was just too tired to do it properly. It could have been the fact that the slight weight loss that affected his waistline also occurred in his face and the bones of his cheek and jaw were protruding out more than usual.

 

It was most likely a combination of these three things, he decided.

 

Rick closed his eyes and remembered the days when Lisa would be there to baby him over the simplest things, like cutting himself shaving. He closed his eyes at the thought of Lisa gently pressing a facecloth to the small scratch with one hand and trying, unsuccessfully, to get his wayward bang to move out of the way. She never could do it, but she always tried. She would do all of this, all the while berating him for being so careless. There was never any real heat or anger in her voice, and the smile she always tried to fight told him she was playing around with him.

 

He got so lost in the memory that he could, for an all too brief moment, feel her touch on his cheek; he could hear her laughter; and he could feel her lips against his.

 

His eyes flew open and he gripped the sides of the sink until his knuckles turned white. Rick looked into the mirror at his reflection and smiled. The cut had stopped bleeding. More than that, the warm feeling on the right side of his face reminded him so much of the way Lisa's lips felt against his skin.

 

He smiled and remembered the promise he spoke to himself at the conclusion of Lisa's memorial service. 'I will never say good-bye, Lisa…never,' he repeated to himself. 'How can I say good-bye when I still need you to take care of me, to give me strength…when I love you so much?' Rick shook his head and closed his eyes. "I can't," he whispered aloud. "I just can't."

 

It took him several more minutes to finish cleaning up and make himself presentable. Finally Rick opened his bedroom door and walked out the short hall. His senses were assailed by aromas that told him that coffee and bacon were ready. The lack of a burnt toast smell, broken dishes and Zentraedi cursing was evidence that Miriya was not the person in the kitchen making breakfast. One down, two to go. He approached the door and stopped before looking inside. He cocked his head to the side and smiled. There was no humming come from inside the kitchen; in fact, there was complete and total silence. That could only mean that Max was inside…Jean always hummed as she worked and Max had learned over the years the fine art of being stealthy to avoid waking Dana and Miriya.

 

Rick nodded and reached over to push open the kitchen door.

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At 0730, Max opened the door to the quarters of his best friend and walked in as though it were his own home. The fact that he had spent more time in Rick's place than his own since Lisa died had nothing to do with the feeling of familiarity and comfort. He had always felt comfortable enough in the home of Rick and Lisa Hunter to feel that way, and he knew with all of his heart and soul that Rick and Lisa both felt the exact same way about his home.

 

Max stopped just inside the door and looked around and listened. As expected there was so sign of Rick yet. Breakfast hadn't been started and there was no mouth watering aroma of coffee filling the air.

 

Max sighed in sympathy for his friend and moved to the kitchen to get things started. As he turned on the coffee maker he ran over the schedule for the day in his mind. There was nothing of Earth shattering importance going on as far as he knew, and if there was he would know…his new rank and some people's perception of Rick's inability to totally command made sure of that.

 

No, he would let Rick sleep in today. It had been less than two weeks since Lisa died, and though Rick insisted on getting back in the saddle, so to speak, Max knew that keeping up the appearance of the strong leader was taking a lot out of him, mentally and physically. True, Rick had shown moments of genuine levity, almost seeming like his old self. But Max knew it wasn't going to last, at least not for long…Lisa's death was too big a blow to Rick for him to rebound so easily. Rick would rebound, Max knew, but it would take time. Lots of time.

 

And because of that, he and Vince had agreed to give Woods more time to find something concrete before telling Rick Woods' suspicions. They ended up giving him more time than they had intended, but that time was running out. Max knew he couldn't keep Rick out of the loop much longer. Maybe he couldn’t keep him in the dark any longer at all. Max made a mental note to talk to Woods in the evening and figure out what to do. Rick deserved to know that Lisa may have killed by one of their own.

 

Max continued to get breakfast ready for Rick and himself. He would never admit it to Rick, but he waited until now to get something to eat, despite the fact that he had been up for nearly two hours and he was starving. It was a deliberate move on his part to wait. That way Rick would feel obligated to have something as well, and he couldn’t accuse him of getting something specifically for his breakfast.

 

Max smiled at the deviousness of his plan. Simple but effective. Every Veritech pilots motto.

 

He looked at the tray upon which he had been placing everything, and after a quick survey to ensure that everything was there, Max picked up the tray and headed for the kitchen door. He was just about to reach for swinging door when it suddenly flew towards him. There was nothing he could do as the door made contact first with his outstretched hand and then his right knee, sending him backwards towards a meeting with the floor that he was fairly certain wouldn't be pleasant.

 

And it wasn't. His tailbone impacted the deck with a resounding thump, sending a shockwave of pain up his spine and spreading out through the cheeks of his ass which caused him to yelp loudly…at least he thought it was a yelp. He managed to keep from going all the way back, instead tensing every muscle he had so he could stay in a seated position. It took everything he had, but he managed to keep the tray balanced without even spilling one drop of coffee.

 

A moment later the door slowly opened again and Rick stuck his head through. Max could see the dread, concern and embarrassment on the face of his friend.

 

"You okay, Max?" asked Rick slowly. He walked in and reached down to relieve Max of the tray, placed it on the nearby counter and then held out his hand to help Max up.

 

"I'll live," replied the General as he took Rick's hand. Rick pulled him up and Max grabbed Rick by the shoulders and asked dramatically, "Did the breakfast make it?"

 

Rick smiled and nodded towards the counter. Forgetting about his sore tailbone, Max ran to it and made sure that everything was still there and okay before allowing himself to relax.

 

"Thank God!' exclaimed Max as he picked up the tray again."I'm starving." He stopped in front of Rick. "Could you, ah, get the door please?"

 

Rick nodded and held the door open and Max walked through to the table, and after setting the tray down on the table he pulled out two chairs and sat in one of them. He looked up to Rick, adopting a firm expression, telling the Admiral that he would not eat unless Rick ate something as well. It was all part of his plan. He had breakfast ready and had already told Rick that he was starving. Now, with his facial expression and the fact that he had not touched anything yet, and wouldn’t until Rick did, he knew that Rick would feel obligated to sit and eat.

 

Max managed not to smile when Rick sat down and tentatively picked up a piece of toast. Max did the same, only with slightly more enthusiasm, and watched as Rick nibbled at his toast.

 

"Something wrong, Rick?" asked Max. He hated asking what sounded like a stupid question. Rick just lost the woman he loved, of course something was wrong. But he couldn’t figure out a way to ask if something else was wrong without bringing up Lisa's death, so it was the old between a rock and a hard place scenario.

 

Rick managed a half smile and set down his toast. "No, well, no more than usual." Rick sat back and folded his arms across his chest. "It's just…every time I think I've gotten over a hump, or taken a step forward, something happens and I find myself in worse shape than before." He looked at Max beseechingly. "Does that make any sense?"

 

Max took a sip of his coffee and sighed. "Sure it does, Rick." He smiled at his friend. "No one expects you to just wake up one day and be over this. Like I've told you before, it's going to take time to heal, or at least be able to deal with it."

 

"I know, Max," said Rick softly. "I just feel her so strongly." Rick leaned forward suddenly and placed his elbows on the table. "Like just now when I was shaving. I cut my cheek and I'm sure I felt her hold my cheek and then kiss me. Just as though she was in the bathroom with me." Rick lowered his head. "It just felt so damn real."

 

Max leaned over and reassuringly squeezed Rick's right forearm. "I know, Boss. I wish…"

 

The comm. unit sounded with a tone indicating a priority message and Max jumped up to get it. He looked at Rick as he picked up the headset, and it relieved him to see that Rick was alert and seemingly ready for action.

 

"General Sterling," said Max into the comm. unit. He listened to the person on the other end, and only seconds later he slammed it down and said, "There's been an accident on the flight deck." On cue the emergency siren sounded.

 

Rick was already moving to the door as he yelled, "Let's go!"

 

Max stood there for a second, then yelled, "Wait for me!" and took off after Rick.

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In another section of the ship, Jean Grant sat at her desk earlier in the morning than usual trying to get through the latest crew health evaluations, checking to see who had visited the infirmary, why they came and how they were treated. She had reports from all the doctors under her command, that is all of them save one.

 

The thought brought a smile to her round face. Alistair Pullman was a valued colleague and brilliant physician. Yet, it always amazed her that someone so intelligent could be lacking in something as vital to a doctor as a sense of time.

 

He was now officially two days late with his evaluations and reports, which meant that he would be arriving any minute with…

 

"Forgive the intrusion, Dr. Grant," interrupted a familiar voice from her doorway which caused her smile to widen.

 

Pullman walked in and stood in front of Jean's desk with a small stack of folders held in his hands out in front of him like an offering to a god. Jean couldn’t help but notice the frown, more pronounced than usual, upon his face, or the fact that he had an air of uncertainty about him.

 

Pullman took a breath as if he were about to speak, but then let the air out in a rush without saying a word and looked down to his files.

 

"What is it, Doctor?" asked Jean, suddenly concerned with Pullman's more unusual than usual behavior.

 

Pullman looked at Jean quickly as if she had surprised him with her question, and then looked back down to the folders in his hand. "I have these for you," he said abruptly. He placed them roughly on the desk, then turned on his heel and walked towards the door without saying any more.

 

Jean shook her head in amazement…he never even gave her the chance to thank him or further question what was bothering him. She was just reaching for the top folder when Pullman barged back into her office, strode purposefully up to Jean's desk and snatched the file from her grasp.

 

Slightly annoyed and more than a little shocked, Jean asked crossly, "What are you doing, Alistair?"

 

Pullman ignored the question and instead opened the folder and began to read its contents to himself. A moment later he spoke, though without taking his eyes off the file in his hands.

 

"This officer is the one I told you about some time ago. She obtained a virulent infection that seemed to resist every treatment, though the latest prescription I gave her seems to be working rather well." He closed the file and finally looked at Jean. He seemed to realize that he had been clutching the file, for he held it out abruptly for Jean to take.

 

She took the file, but instead of opening it and reading what was inside, she gently placed the file on her desk and folded her hands together on top of it.

 

"Alistair," she began calmly, and when he focused on her she asked, "what is it?"

 

Pullman sighed. "The infection was caused by a bacteria that was matched in our database," he explained. "But her story about how she came in contact with the bacteria is suspicious." He shook is head slowly. "I don’t know."

 

Jean's brow furrowed in confusion. "Is it life threatening?"

 

Pullman shook his head again. "Not now, no."

 

Jean looked down to the folder. "Alistair, I don't…"

 

"I believe she is deliberately misleading me in regards to how she could have received this infection," announced Pullman in a rush.

 

"She lied," clarified Jean.

 

Pullman nodded stiffly. "Yes. The story she concocted is total rubbish." Jean nearly smiled at the change of posture in her friend. She knew that people skills weren't his strong suit by any means. Even with her, his interaction was stiff and curt at the best of times, and she was as close to a friend as he had. Seeing him rendered so unsure of himself by someone compelled her to help.

 

Jean raised an eyebrow at her friend and colleague. "What kind of story?"

 

Pullman waved his hand dismissively at Jean. "It's not important. Suffice it to say it was a total fabrication. There is no way she could have come into contact with the bacteria that caused the infection the way she said she did." Pullman shoved his hands into the pockets of his white lab coat and became perfectly still.

 

"Well," said Jean with a determination she hoped would ease Pullman's mind a little, "let's see what we can figure out."

 

Pullman's frown lightened up a little and he nodded. Jean was just about to open the folder when an alert sounded throughout the infirmary.

 

The head nurse was at the door in an instant. "Dr. Grant! Dr. Pullman! There's been an accident on the hangar deck!"

 

Jean was already up and running before the nurse was able to finish her message, followed closely by Pullman. The nurse jumped out of the way to allow the doctors to pass and watched as they ran down the short corridor to the exit of the infirmary, slowing just enough to grab an emergency trauma kit each before regaining their top speeds.

 

When they were gone out of sight, the nurse went into Jean's office and regarded the stack of files.

 

"I guess these evaluations will have to wait," she said as she gathered the files in her arms. She was almost about to turn around when the file that Jean and Pullman were discussing caught her attention. She reached over and picked up the file of Lieutenant Commander Susan B. Graham, put it on top of the pile and put them in a box in the medical records room for Jean to look at later.

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Woods stepped off the shuttle and surveyed the hangar deck. It was nearly void of life so early in the morning with only a handful of crew working. Soon the main morning shift would start and the usual hustle and bustle would commence. A junior flight crew member walked up to him and asked him how his trip was. He answered her and started to head for Fleet Intelligence with the data screens that Zolan gave him when a strange sound caught his attention.

 

He stopped and looked up just in time to see what his career military mind easily identified as a motorized munitions cart heading straight for the shuttle.

 

What he did next was by pure instinct. Without conscious thought, he ran back and grabbed the flight crew member who had started inspecting the shuttle's undercarriage, pushing her as far away from what was going to be the impact area as possible, ignoring the fact that he could have easily escaped the inevitable blast.

 

There was just enough time left before he got caught in the explosion to verify that the cart was carrying a single short range missile, and that, across the bay in the direction from which the cart had come, Sue Graham was hiding behind one of the massive vertical support pillars.

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It had worked surprisingly well, her little impromptu 'accident' for Major Woods. She stayed and watched for a few moments as the flight crew scrambled to contain the fire, and as she watched the flames dance around the now blackened shuttle, she counted her lucky stars.

 

She was fortunate to have overheard Baxter's conversation with Woods the previous evening; she was fortunate that, as a pilot, she knew about the hangar deck protocols and where everything was kept…everything like the munitions trolleys; and she was extremely lucky to have found a trolley this morning with just one small missile on it, enough to take care of her latest problem, but not big enough to cause an undue amount of suspicion or an unnecessary amount of damage.

 

The fire was extinguished rather quickly, and Sue looked away from the shuttle. She genuinely liked Woods, so much so that she sincerely regretted what she had to do to the point where she hesitated. For what seemed like an eternity her finger had hovered a millimeter above the power button of the trolley as what was left of her humanity warred with her cold logical mind for control over her actions. In the end, the logical side of her mind, knowing the seriousness of her situation demanded action, came out the victor. She pressed the button with her eyes closed, unable to watch herself perform the act that would kill a man she had come to respect and perhaps even admire; a man who had done so much to make her feel welcomed in Fleet Intelligence. She had tried in vain to find another way out, but there was no other way to handle the threat that he was becoming to her ultimate goal. There just wasn't.

 

As it was, his death didn’t eliminate the threat entirely, there was Baxter and the Tirolians who could very well know what Woods knew, but it did buy her some time.

 

Movement from the main entrance of the hangar deck caught her attention. Rick and Max Sterling roared in through the door, followed in rapid succession by Jean Grant and Pullman.

 

Sue shuddered and covertly made her way back to the exit she had stationed herself by so she could leave quickly and without being seen.

 

'Now,' she thought as she walked misty-eyed to her quarters, 'I hope Angie doesn't become a threat as like Woods did.' Her pace quickened as she considered once again the variables at play in her plan. So far, through careful planning, anticipation and luck she had been able to stay ahead of the variables like Woods. Angie was another one, Pullman yet another. The Sterlings. Jean Grant. They were just some of the many variables that she had to keep a track of in the ever increasingly difficult equation that her plan had become.

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Angie was just finishing up her daily duty log at the main duty station of the Hermes' infirmary when a piece of paper was dropped on the table in front of her.

 

She tucked her hair behind her right ear and glanced at the first few lines of the type written note and sighed. She looked up into the unhappy face of her temporary CO and couldn’t help but share in the sadness.

 

In her short time aboard the Hermes she had come to realize that it was a place that she could actually call home. The people she had met and worked with were all good people who seemed to accept her for who she was and the work that she did.

 

Including the woman looking at her so morosely. It was the first time since she'd been on the Hermes that she'd seen the CMO so sad.

 

Angie averted her eyes and read the rest of the transfer order, which complimented her on her professionalism and so on, and ended with the time for her departure to her new assignment, which in her case was actually her old assignment: the SDF-3.

 

She was leaving to go back the next morning.

 

Angie leaned back in her chair, knowing of course that it had been inevitable but finding herself still unprepared to return to the ship.

 

"I tried, Angie," said Gleason sincerely. "But Jean refused to make the transfer permanent." Gleason sighed and leaned down so that she couldn’t be heard by anyone other than Angie. "I even begged but she still wouldn’t do it. Apparently there was an accident on the SDF-3 flight deck this morning, something about shuttle and a weapons trolley colliding, and Jean said she really could have used your help."

 

Angie couldn’t help but feel embarrassed, both by the fact that Gleason thought enough of her to beg Dr. Grant to let her stay, and by the fact that Dr. Grant thought so highly of her to refuse the request.

 

After a moment, Angie swallowed the lump in she found in her throat. "How many people…"

 

"One fatality," answered Gleason, aware that that would be the first question from Angie's mouth. "Six injured, three seriously, but they're all expected to make it."

 

Angie shook her head sadly. "Well, I guess I better get packing…when I finish this report that is."

 

Gleason nodded and turned to walk away.

 

"Dr, Gleason," called Angie, which caused Gleason to stop and turn to face her. "Thank you for everything. Your confidence in me, your kindness…everything." Angie hesitated as she tried to find the words to appropriately express to Gleason just how much she truly did appreciate everything. Finally it came to her, a phrase that was ripe with tradition and honor. It was perhaps the ultimate compliment that one officer could give another. Angie stood up straight and saluted Gleason as she said respectfully, "It has been an honor serving with you, ma'am."

 

Gleason was genuinely surprised by Angie's sentiment and actions. After a moment of simply standing there, she shook herself out of her surprise and returned Angie's salute. "The honor was mine, Lieutenant," she replied softly.

 

Both women lowered their arms and smiled at each other. Angie waited until Gleason left before sitting back down and finishing what would be her last report aboard the Hermes.

 

She took her time, the prospect of packing suddenly seeming like a daunting task; a difficult endeavor whose culmination would likely be the end of her friendship with Sue and most certainly the end of her career.

 

State = Continuará/To Be Continue

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