Erratic Nerd Writings

“Kanor?”

Kanor couldn’t hide a broad grin from spreading over his face as he walked through the corridors of the Enterprise.  Cypher’s voice in his ear was a soothing sensation he could feel right down to his toes.

“Hello, Cypher.”

“What happened?  It has been three days, eleven hours, and twenty-two minutes since I have last heard from you!  I’ve infiltrated the Enterprise’s computer network, and was able to determine you were incapacitated in Sickbay; however I read a report you had regained consciousness as of…”

Kanor’s lips compressed as he passed a couple of crewmen leaving the turbolift.  Both of them seemed to look over at him with bewildered curiosity, which he took some enjoyment in appearing completely oblivious of.  He stepped into the now empty car, and waited to interrupt Cypher’s tirade until the doors had closed.  She seemed…almost panicked.

“Cypher.  I was nearly constantly being observed by someone; if not Marcie or Skid, a nurse, or other medical personnel.  I also did not have access to my gear, and was unaware as to its location.  Believe me, I’ve been wanting to contact you, but was unable to do so until now.  I’m on my way back to my quarters as we speak.”

She was silent a beat before responding, the…excitement in her voice having lowered somewhat.  Calmed.  Her self-creating emotional algorithms seemed to have progressed rapidly during his time in Sickbay; likely due to the improvements he had made to them during the trip out here.

“I have been investigating several plans to set in action in an attempt to rescue you; involving the Hunt, involving the Enterprise’s computer system.  I even created ghost programs in attempts to find out more about the unidentified AI locked away in the Enterprise’s cybervaults.”

The turbolift slowed to a stop, the doors opening onto deck five.  Kanor stepped out into the corridor, and, not seeing anyone else around, murmured a response to Cypher.

“How did THAT go?”

Cypher sounded…frustrated, disappointed.

“In all the differing plans I had come up with so far, the probability you would perish during the rescues attempt was, at best, seventy-three point seven percent.  Conversely, the highest success rate of any of the plans was only thirty-four point two.  None of the results seemed worth putting into effect.”

Drei was heading down the corridor as Kanor came up to his door.  The Communication’s officer was strutting along with his normal swagger, the chain dangling from his left ear making a jangling noise that made Kanor’s jaw clench.  His chin lifted up in Kanor’s direction, though he didn’t say anything as he passed by.  Kanor frowned, idly wondering how the individual in charge of the communications aboard ship could think a lifting of one’s chin was some sort of greeting.  He was fairly certain it was not a Metron greeting of some kind, though admittedly very little was known about them.  Kanor noted the man’s skin tone seemed to have darkened since he had last seen him, closer to Kanor’s own, and that his goatee was now a deep black, versus the green it had been before.  Kanor was, again, confused by the rather inexplicable and swift cosmetic alterations.  He tapped the controls to his quarters and stepped inside, immediately proceeding to ensure his quarters were secure. 

He discovered a new visual-only bug that had been planted outside his door, but nothing else.  Kanor noted while the design and materials used seemed similar to the bugs he had originally removed from his quarters upon setting up shop, the new device was much less sophisticated.  He wondered if the mysterious individual had limited supplies.  Since he felt it safe, now, to continue his conversation with Cypher, he sat down at the desk while he started to disassemble the bug.  He grimaced at a twinge from his ribs as he sat down.

“Well I’m pleased to hear you did not find a high chance of my dying combined with a low chance of success in rescuing me sufficient to put one of your plans in motion.  What about your attempts to find out more about that AI? Despite my previous insistence you stay away from the damn thing, I might add.”

“Given that you were in a dangerous and potentially life-threatening situation, I deemed it acceptable to go against your wishes in my attempts to rescue you.”

Kanor snorted, but didn’t comment further.  He had created her that way, with free will.

“All of the ghost programs were summarily destroyed attempting to break through the multiple layers of security surrounding the AI.  Even those significantly advanced enough to surpass even the most stringent virtual security measures.  In short, I do not believe anything short of a full-on overwhelming and overpowering assault on the security framework surrounding the AI with the entirety of my Being would be successful.”

Kanor paused, his brow furrowing as he contemplated the enormity of what she was saying.

“You mean to tell me even YOU would have to go all-out on this…security system to break through?”

“Without testing the strength of the system even more blatantly than I already have, yes.”

“But you weren’t discovered, you didn’t make your presence known.”

“Negative.  Enterprise personnel detected the anomalies I created in infiltrating their system to access the information about you I required, and the ghost programs I created to test the AI’s security were observed.  However, I am certain all signs of my presence were untraceable, and all connections relating to you were untraceable.  In essence, they detected attacks on their infrastructure, but they were unable to determine the source of these attacks or their purpose, with the exception of the ghost programs attempting to break through the AI’s security.”

“Hopefully they’ll attribute those to the Benders…”  

"Benders...?"

He frowned, tossing the pieces of the bug down on the desk as he leaned back in the chair.

“The Doughnut Aliens.  What would you speculate, based on this new information, about the AI locked away in there?”

Cypher was silent a few moments before responding.

“If I had to, I would speculate the AI contained within is on an approximate level of complexity and computational power as myself.  Thus the failure of the ghost programs to penetrate the security framework, as the security measures would need to be able to withstand attacks from the AI itself.  I am…relatively certain I would be able to break through, though it would be difficult for me.”

“’Relatively’?”

“Eighty-nine point five percent.”

Kanor nodded, mulling that over.

“Doesn’t that seem to indicate the AI within isn’t as…advanced, as strong, as you?”

“Not necessarily.  You have given me the ability to learn and self-improve on the base programming you initially gave me.  Virtual warfare, tactics, and systems were one of the areas I specifically strove to constantly excel and continually develop to the best of my ability to do so.  Essentially, self-defense for my state of life.  In much the same way you are a better fighter than Marcie, and she is a better healer than you; I could simply be capable of breaking through those security measures while the other AI cannot because it is my specialty.”

“And here I always thought your specialty was your charm, Cypher.”

Cypher didn’t respond to the jab, but Kanor found himself enjoying their conversation, at least.  He had missed her.

“Any speculation as to what the purpose of this AI could be?  If it’s so dangerous, why even have it aboard?”

“Impossible to tell.  The only possible thing that seems likely in any fashion is a last line of defense or offense.  There is simply not enough data otherwise to determine further.”

Kanor got to his feet, his lip curling in disgust as different areas of his body protested the movement.  He started to remove his gear, with the intent of taking a shower.  Though the nurses had made sure to keep him cleaned, especially Ensign Clarke, it wasn’t the same.  He was about to have Cypher compile a list of recorded individuals that had approached his door that could have potentially planted the new bug, when she spoke up, instead.  Her tone seemed…softer than usual.

“I was helpless while you were incapacitated.”

“Well I don’t know about that, sounds like you were about to launch some sort of war aboard the Enterprise I doubt the crew would have been able to suppress well.”

“With unacceptable rates of failure, and the termination of my primary goal.”

“Now you said there was seventy-three point…”

“That was only in one scenario.  In all others, the probability you would die during the rescue attempts was one hundred percent.”

Kanor’s eyebrows rose as he started removing his jumpsuit.

“Well then, I’m REALLY glad you decided not to carry out any of those plans.  You know, Cypher, sometimes there AREN’T any situations that don’t lead to failure statistically.  It’s in how we handle those situations, despite the odds, that shape us.  Why, the Federation even has a test…”

“If I had some sort of method of interacting with the physical world and manipulating it, as in a body, the success rates in all of those situations increased exponentially.  In fact, in multiple plans, the likelihood I would have succeeded in retrieving you were a practical certainty.”

Kanor remained silent as he finished disrobing.  Had the temperature been adjusted down while he had been away?

“Being unable to interact with you, and unable to do anything about it, was the single most frustrating experience I have ever had to deal with.”

Kanor headed across his quarters to the lavatory, noting, as he moved, things seemed…off, somehow, though he couldn’t quite place his finger on it just yet.  Nothing that was an immediate threat, at least.  He wasn’t sure how to respond to Cypher’s comments without coming across as condescending; so he decided to just be honest and up-front about her observations as a whole.

“Honestly, Cypher, helplessness is probably one of the most difficult things to deal with for anyone.”

“How does one go about ensuring it does not happen to them again?”

“They make a choice.  Get used to feeling helpless and surrendering all control of their lives, or doing whatever they can to minimalize the possibility of feeling helpless by taking control, being pro-active.”

“Minimalize, not remove entirely?”

“No one is all-powerful, Cypher.  Everybody feels helpless sometimes.”

                                                                           *****

Kanor sat the PADD down on the desk as the chimes to his quarters went off, indicating someone requesting entrance.  Marcie wouldn’t have requested, she would have just come in; he wondered who it might be.  He got to his feet and headed over to the clean jumpsuit he had brought with him from the closet after his shower, having neglected to put it on.  The chimes sounded again as he plucked it from the chair and proceeded to climb into it.

“Just a moment!”

He grumbled, wincing as the movements elicited pains throughout his body.  Someone was impatient.  He fastened the jumpsuit from the waist down; he’d get the intruder to scamper off, and then he’d take the blasted thing back off again.  He headed into the entry foyer, slapping the door interface as he growled, his teeth clenched, while the door opened.

“WHAT?!”

Skid was on the other side of the door, a grin spreading over her features as she shifted her weight, her eyes travelling over him rather blatantly.

“Well, ya certainly exude a personable warmth to visitors, doncha, boyo?”

Kanor blinked, surprised to see the curvy redhead standing outside, his expression of annoyance faltering.

“I…wasn’t expecting any visitors.  Aren’t you supposed to be on duty or something…?”

Skid crossed her arms beneath her breasts, and Kanor tried not to let the resultant change in her upper torso distract him too much.  She was wearing a sleeveless black shirt, which seemed to wrap up behind her neck, leaving her shoulders bared as well.  A pair of black pants was separated from her shirt by a thin green belt, which served to accentuate her waist.  The outfit looked comfortable, while still coming across as a bit dressier than normal clothes.  The way her mane of fiery-red hair tumbled freely over her freckled shoulders was riveting.

“I got off duty about an hour ago.  When I heard ye were finally out of that prison known as Sickbay, I thought you might like to accompany me out to dinner.”  She paused, arching an eyebrow.  “Are ye going to invite me in, or are you wanting to show off your chest hair?”

Kanor expression was slack, surprised by both invitations.  Skid had never requested to actually enter his quarters, and he couldn’t remember ever having seen her outside of her typical work jumpsuits, uniform, or workout attire.  That she wanted to go out with him formally for recreational purposes was…unusual, as well.

“I…uh…”  His mouth clamped shut as he stepped back, allowing her entrance into his quarters.  The door hissed shut behind her, and Kanor found himself awkwardly stepping back towards the replicator behind him so Skid could step in further.

“I had not eaten anything for dinner yet, no…”

Skid’s eyes travelled around his quarters curiously as she leaned against the doorframe between the foyer and living area. 

“Gah, you keep it so hot in here…well if that’s yer way of saying you’d like to come along with me, doncha be needin to get ready to leave?  Don’t mind me, go right ahead and change…I’ll just leer…I mean uh, look the other way, ayup.”

Kanor couldn’t think of any reasonable excuse for backing out on Skid’s invitation, and he had to admit getting to see her in that outfit longer was appealing.  He found the smattering of freckles that trailed over the otherwise pale flesh of her shoulder facing him especially arousing.  Besides, he could talk with her about his intent to talk with Munson tomorrow, even find out if any progress had been made on the equipment to protect from the Bender’s telepathy.  He looked down at himself, proceeded to seal his jumpsuit the rest of the way up, his hands then moving to ensure his queue was securely fastened.

“I am ready to depart.”

Skid’s gaze flicked back over at him, her brow furrowing in what seemed like disappointment.

“Are those bloody jumpsuits the only thing ye have to wear?”

“Of course.  They meet societal requirements for clothing, and allow me to do my work unencumbered.  If I need additional armor, it is quite easy to place over these jumpsuits.”

Skid rolled her eyes.

“Naturally.  Of course.”  She sighed, shaking her head.  “I dunno why I bother sometimes…”

“I suppose I should wear my boots.  Just a moment.”

“Boots.  Fookin boots.”  Skid threw her arms up in exasperation.

Kanor frowned, puzzled by her obvious agitation, as he stepped past her to the chair where his ankle boots sat beside.  He sat down and stepped into the right one first.

“I can assure you, they will not take long to put on.”

“No, of course not, that’d be bloody inefficient, now wouldn’t it?”

                                                                           *****

They settled in to a wooden booth; a notched, weathered, and stained wooden table in front of them.  He was against the wall; Skid was on the outside to his left.  The lighting was dim, and rather inconsistent.  Kanor’s brow furrowed as he stared at one of the light sources.  Was that an actual candle?  The kind made of wax?

“This is certainly an…interesting business.”

Skid laughed, clapping him on the left shoulder, her eyes alight with merriment. 

“THIS is a bona fide bar, boyo, not like those sterile places ye find on space stations nowadays.  For this place alone, I love that Kaz finally conceded to put a holodeck on the Lady.”

Kanor’s eyes glanced beneath the table at the floor beneath his feet; he was sure that if not for his ability to see better with less illumination than humans, he wouldn’t have been able to see much past his knees.  What WAS that debris all over down there?

“Funny you should mention ‘sterile’…what is this material on the floor?”

Skid’s grin only served to broaden further.

“It’s called ‘sawdust’.”

“And its purpose…?”

“Why, to soak up blood, piss, vomit, and spilled alcohol, what else?”

Both of Kanor’s eyebrows arched up on his forehead as he studied the mirth on Skid’s features.  He determined she was not joking.

“Well, this is certainly not what I was expecting when you said ‘dinner out’.  You call up this program and come to this place often…?”

“Absofuckinglutely, I love it here.  Sometimes, I think one day I’ll retire and start up a place like this somewhere…a right proper tavern…”

Kanor’s eyes roamed around the “tavern”, soaking the place in.  The structure appeared to be made of wood and stone alone, lit solely by candlelight, and the roaring fire from the rather large fireplace at the far end of the room.  A large, hairy man was messing around with some sort of stringed device in front of the fire as his bulk teetered precariously on a three-legged wooden stool.  Beside him, a tall, willowy woman was seated on another stool, bent over adjusting her footwear.  On the mantle of the fireplace was the head of some beast he didn’t recognize mounted on a polished piece of wood; a trophy of some kind.  While it appeared to be rather small, he had to admit the creature did look ferocious.  The people seated at all the other tables were filling the common room with a din of laughter, conversation, and greetings that they shouted out to each other as they milled about.  It was filling up rapidly; they had secured one of the last tables, but people still seemed to be coming in.  The entire atmosphere seemed to radiate a warmth that went beyond mere temperature.

“It is…interesting.  The ceiling seems to be rather low, and I do not believe we are dressed in the appropriate attire.”

Skid shot him a withering, scathing look.  He didn’t understand the hostility.

“Tell me about it.  Usually, I wear somethin a bit more period-specific, but tonight, I thought…”  She shook her head, waving a hand dismissively.  “As for the ceiling, do you see anyone anywhere even remotely close to your height?  Places like this were not designed for Klingons, ya know.”

Kanor shrugged, looking around as he ran a hand over the uneven surface of the table.

“I suppose.  However, I do believe this IS a place Klingons would likely enjoy very much, with few changes.  I think I like it, I was simply…surprised.”

A warm smile grew over Skid’s features.

“Well, glad te hear it.  We haven’t even gotten to the food yet, either!  Or the entertainment!”

“What’ll it be tonight, Skid?”

A diminutive human woman who seemed nearly as broad as Kanor was tall had lumbered up to the edge of their table.  Kanor’s eyes widened at the massive heaps of flesh that seemed to be spilling out of the woman’s top; what wasn’t exposed seeming to be preoccupied testing the limits of the fabric’s ability to keep her bosom contained.  The woman’s hands moved to rest against each of her wide hips.

“Yer friend sure is a looker, aint he?  Looks like his noggin is all contained in his britches, though.”

Skid’s elbow poked him in the ribs, making him wince and drawing his attention to her as she chuckled heartily.

“He’s just not used to meetin a woman with yer type of charms, Madge.  He’s not half-bad when his blood isn’t goin all to one place, though.”

Madge’s entire body shook with her booming laughter, the curls in her brown hair bouncing.  The effect was mesmerizing.

“And what about when it IS goin all to one place, eh?”

Skid grinned, looking aside at Kanor slyly.

“Well that I haven’t found out just yet…”

Madge pressed a small, coarse hand to the center of her prodigious chest.

“Land-o-live, Skid, you must REALLY like this one!”

Skid laughed herself as she glanced over at Kanor again, clearly amused by his discomfort and loss for words.

“Bring us some ale; plenty of mutton…wouldn’t happen to have any tarts stashed away somewhere, would ya…?”

Madge grinned, leaning forward a bit conspiratorially. 

“Might’n I do…for a special friend and her tree-like companion…back in a shake, darlin.”

Kanor looked at Skid incredulously as Madge made her way over to the long bar across the common room, heading through a doorway that was just behind it. 

“Surely women of that size did not actually exist at the time frame this place seems to indicate, nor would they wear clothes of such…woeful inadequacy.”

Skid leaned back against the wooden booth as she looked at Kanor questioningly.

“Well I’m not THAT old, Mister Kanor, but yeah, Madge’s…appearance is quite in-line with the period.  Tavern owners and their families were often well fed if they were a prosperous place like this; twas an indicator of their success.  And textiles were expensive and hard to replace; ye had to make do with what ya could.  Besides; ya think Madge doesn’t earn extra tips with those chest puppies?  She’s the epitome of ‘bar wench’, which is what I wanted.”

Kanor decided he would have to do some research as to what a “bar wench” was exactly, though he was pretty sure he got the idea.

“Ah, well…I was wondering, now that I am…”

The sound of a high-pitched airy sound rose up over the din in the tavern, drawing Kanor’s attention over in front of the fireplace.  The willowy woman, now standing, was holding a metallic cylinder up to her lips.  She appeared to be blowing through it and using her fingers to adjust the tone emitting from it, her hips slowly swaying along.  The big man beside her started strumming his fingers along the strings of his instrument in accompaniment, and soon after began to sing.  Skid’s hand reached out to squeeze his bicep, a smile lighting up her features. 

“This is one of my favorite things about this place…”

Kanor’s eyebrows arched as he studied the pair, noticing most of the patrons in the tavern had stopped their own conversations and were simply watching the two performers.  The man had a higher voice than Kanor would have expected from such a large frame, but he had to admit it was a pleasant one.  While his performance partner wasn’t particularly attractive-somewhat plain, in Kanor’s opinion-the rhythmic grace she moved in, all while playing the flute-like device, was beautiful and entrancing.  Since he noticed some of the patrons were still talking, albeit with more difficulty, Kanor decided he’d continue with what he was going to say, as well.

“Anyways, I was wondering if we might meet with Muns…”

Skid released his arm as he started speaking again, looking at him as if he had just sprouted horns from his forehead and was threatening to charge.  She hauled off and punched him in the arm.  Hard.

“Dammit, Kanor, I didn’t come here to fookin discuss work!  Bloody hell, man, are ye really that dense?”

Kanor’s mouth clamped shut; his brow furrowing again.  Perhaps now was not a good time, though it seemed to make sense to him.   They usually did nothing but talk about work when they were spending time together.  However, they had also never had dinner together.  In a holodeck.  Outside of uniforms.  Kanor practically felt a synaptic pathway in his brain click into place.  A sheepish look crossed his face as he inclined his head in her direction apologetically.

“I…may get a bit caught up in objectives sometimes, to the point I neglect to notice…enjoyable circumstances.”

Skid gave him a look.  She seemed to have a surprising multitude of those, to varying degrees of intensity.

“’Enjoyable circumstances’?  Really?”

Kanor was saved by the return of Madge, who had somehow managed to bring out more food than it seemed possible she could carry all at once.  First, an impressively large pile of steaming meat was dropped in the middle of their table, on a dish Kanor couldn’t even make out due to everything piled on top of it.  Next was a bowl full of some brownish liquid, a pair of empty plates, and then two huge tankards were clunked down, liquid sloshing over the rims at the impact.

“Mutton.  Ale.  Figgerd ya two would nae want that tart till later.”

Skid scowled over at Kanor.

“Might not even be makin it that far.”

Madge scowled along with the redhead, her gaze shifting to bore into Kanor’s as she pointed a greasy finger at him.

“You be mindin your mouth around meh Skid, Tree-man, or I dun care how big ye are, I’ll throw ye out into the street fastern you can say ‘but Madge’, ye hearin me?”

Kanor did his best to look sufficiently admonished.

“As you so excellently pointed out earlier, I unfortunately sometimes let my mind fall into my pants.  In this case, my ass.  I’d very much like to taste this tart of yours, and leave with Skid, versus…by bar wench.”

Skid snorted, but Kanor caught a trace of a smile tugging at her mouth before she hid it.  Madge frowned; harrumphed, but lowered her hand regardless.

“Smooth talker, ain’t he?  Well, ye best be watchin yerself, Tree-man.  Skid’s family here.  Good lookin and smooth talkin or no, family before charm!”

“Thank you, Madge.  Ye heard the man, though; his head was up his ass.  I suppose I’ll forgive him, even if he’s aimin to taste your tart.”

Madge grinned playfully, but turned to go.  She pointed her index and middle finger at Kanor as she was departing, however, yelling over the music.

“Watch it, Tree-man!”

“I seem to collect nicknames around you left and right.”

“Hmph.  Not my fault you earn em all, Hairy Knuckles.”

She reached out to grab one of the hunks of meat on the platter, her other hand grabbing one of the tankards and passing it over to him.

“Dig in!”

Kanor accepted the tankard, lifting it up to his lips for a taste.  It was…not what he was expecting from something called ale, it almost seemed to be more like flavored water.  He eyed the bowl of dark liquid as he reached out to grab a haunch of meat as well.

“And that is…?”

“Gravy; ya dump it over the meat, and then, once you’re all done, you use that bread there to wipe up the remnants.  It adds flavor, and moisture.”

“The blood isn’t enough…?”

Skid shook her head, talking around a mouthful she had just taken.

“Humans, right?  Cooked, not bloody.”

They continued digging into the food, Skid’s appetite on par with Kanor’s own.  The need for the gravy was readily apparent after his first couple of bites without it; he would have likely choked on the practically charred meat otherwise.  Still, it was a decent meal, and probably as close to food he was accustomed to eating as it could be.  Madge brought out the strange “tart” that had been mentioned at some point, glancing at Kanor suspiciously until Skid must have indicated things were going better.  It was entirely too sweet for his taste, despite the name that indicated it would be otherwise.  Skid seemed to enjoy it, however. 

She sat back with a satisfied sigh, smiling as she looked over at where the performing duo was starting up a third set of music after their latest break.  She reached her hand out for her tankard of ale, which Madge hadn’t ever let get too low before reappearing briefly to replace with another.  They hadn’t said much while they ate, but as Kanor swiped the last of his bread through the gravy on his plate, he felt he should be the first to speak.  His eyes followed Skid’s gaze to the musicians.

“Their songs are rather elegant in their simplicity.”

Skid smiled, nodding.

“Aye, they are.  Just average folk tryin to make a livin.  Doing what they love, and creating beauty for others.”

Kanor’s eyes roamed around the tavern; taking in the clientele, the setting, the atmosphere.

“It seems to fit the entire establishment, really.  Madge wasn’t exaggerating, they’re like family; though I’m assuming people here do not actually share the same direct ancestry.  They just have that bond.”

Skid turned to look at him, her eyes peeking out over the rim of her tankard as she took a long pull of the ale.

“That’s why I like it here.  Honest, average folk.  Sharing a bond, a hearth.  No pretensions, just…carefree relaxin.  Maybe a good ol brawl every once in a while, but nothing serious.”  She paused, her eyes sweeping around the place again.  “Reminds me of home.”

Kanor’s head tilted to one side inquisitively, reaching out to pick up his own tankard.

“Where IS your home?  You said not Earth, but…you’re pretty damn close to human, right?”

Skid belched unapologetically, her eyes centering on her hands as she fiddled with her tankard.

“No where you’ve ever heard of, it’s not on any navigational charts.  My people…we left Earth.  A long, long time ago.”

Kanor frowned, puzzled.

“I wasn’t aware there was any sort of exodus like you speak of in Earth’s history…”

Skid smiled, though it seemed bittersweet.

“Nothing so dramatic as that.  More like we…faded into obscurity.  We were no longer needed there.”

“Yes, but…”

Skid twisted at the waist, reached up to loop a hand behind Kanor’s head, and pulled him down to crush her lips against his in a long, passionate kiss.  Kanor was taken aback at first, but the feel of Skid’s warm, hungry mouth on his was more than pleasant enough to drive any sort of protest far, far away.  Instinctively, he turned his upper body towards her, his right arm reaching up to run his fingers along the left side of her face.  They breathed through their noses, their lips eagerly enjoying the sensation.  Skid’s eyes fluttered open as she drew back, their gazes meeting.

“I didn’t come here to talk about my past, either…I don’t share it lightly…not even that much…”

They were both breathing heavily; a mixture of excitement, and the aftereffects of such a lengthy kiss.  While their mouths had pulled back, their faces were still quite close.

“What DID you come here for, then?”

“You.  Ye get me so worked up, I often don’t even know whether to hit you or grope you.”

“Like the last time you ‘groped’ me and sent me to Sickbay?”

Skid grinned wickedly.

“I’m not used to a man so aggressively trying to bed me so soon after meeting me; besides, Munson is a friend.”

“A ‘friend’, hmm?”

“JUST a friend.”

Kanor let his eyes blatantly sweep down over Skid’s body, grinning as he finally raised them to look back at her.

“You’re one of the sexiest women I’ve ever met; I’m not used to a woman making my blood boil as soon as I meet her, either.”

She smirked.

“I bet you say that to all the girls.”

He laughed.

“Haven’t met one before I had cause to say it to.”

He leaned in to take a kiss from her lips this time, his hand sliding down her neck to caress her left shoulder for a few moments; luxuriating in the feel of her skin, the heat that seemed to radiate off of her.  As he ended the kiss and drew back, he let his hand drop even further to cup her left breast, fondling her through the material as he looked into her brilliantly green eyes.  They flared with excitement, her grin widening. She made no attempt to remove it, though he knew her to be quite capable of doing so.

“This booth is excessively cramped…” he murmured.

Not saying a word, she scooted out of the booth, reaching out with her right hand to grab his left arm and pull, not that she needed to.  Skid led the way over to a stairway leading up across the common room, situated just to the left of the bar.  Madge, in the middle of pouring some drinks from a large wooden barrel as she talked to some middle-aged man behind the bar with her, smirked as she saw them head up, though neither of them noticed.

When they reached the top of the stairs, Skid stopped at a small table where a lamp burned brightly.  She grabbed an unlit candle from a small pile, lit it in the flame of the lamp, then started heading down the hallway to the far end, glancing over her shoulder at Kanor as she walked, grinning even further as she saw him blatantly checking out her ass.  A handful of the rooms they passed had closed doors, and Kanor’s sharp ears could even hear sounds of occupants inside them, but they grew scarce the further they proceeded down the hall.  Skid turned into the last room on the right.

Following her through the open door, Kanor saw her lighting a lamp on the nightstand, then placing the candle down in an empty candle holder.  The room was simply furnished; a rather small-looking bed, a nightstand, and a dresser directly across from the door where the empty candle holder sat beside a pitcher and washbasin.  The room’s dimensions were barely greater than Kanor’s height.

“Ye goin to close that door, or are you one of those people into THAT particular kink?”

Kanor grinned, reaching out to close the door behind him as Skid smirked at him from in front of the dresser.

“I’m not; but I think the door being closed is going to be a fairly moot point here in a minute.”

“All talk and oh so little…mmph!”

Kanor had crossed the room and slammed Skid’s body up against the wall before she had a chance to react, his mouth silencing her as his hands began frantically tearing at her clothes.  The dresser beside them rattled, the candle wobbling dangerously, though neither of them paid it any mind.  Skid’s hands anxiously ran over Kanor’s body, unfastening his jumpsuit, exploring the feel of him finally.  Frustrated by the design of the outfit and annoyed by the one piece set-up, she simply started tearing the material; her nails digging into the fabric and simply ripping it off of him.  When Kanor pulled her tunic off, and yanked off the undergarment beneath securing her breasts, she groaned as she felt his mouth close around an already taut and aching nipple.  She could feel his roughness with her already creating bruises on her pale, sensitive flesh, but she didn’t care.  It excited her, fueled her own desire.

Slamming Skid against the wall made pain flare up in Kanor’s body from his barely healed wounds, but he didn’t care.  He needed her.  He would have her, finally; enjoy the exciting strangeness of her pale, pale skin with those enticing freckles sprinkled liberally…all over, he was discovering.  Her nails were scraping his flesh as she simply shredded his jumpsuit to get to him, but he found it exhilarating more than anything else.  She was unlike anyone he had ever met before, and certainly anyone he had ever been with.  As he finally removed the barriers keeping him from those incredible breasts, as his eyes got to feast on the breathtaking, glorious sight, he couldn’t resist dropping his mouth down to enjoy them immediately, his hands already working on that annoying belt.

Skid pushed him away, panting already with need, as she removed the last of his clothing hurriedly.  Her hands greedily roaming over his body, his muscles, his frame as she kissed him lustfully.  She would have this man; enjoy and savor absolutely every single second with him without remorse.  She scrambled to help him in removing the last of her own garments; each of their mouths seeking out the other’s skin, their hands desperate to fondle and grope everywhere they could, all at once.  They fell together onto the bed, the fall not even coming close to interrupting their mad flurry.  When Kanor rolled her onto her back, pinned her arms above her head with finality, she growled throatily as she wrapped her legs around his hips, all but begging him to take what they needed him to.  As his mouth clamped down on her neck, his body finally ramming into her, she threw her head back and cried out her approval.

                                                                           *****

Hours later, the room was a mess, and they had finally utterly exhausted themselves with each other’s bodies.  Kanor hissed as he shifted on his back, the bloody trails Skid’s short, blunt nails had trailed down the length during one of her orgasms making their presence felt.  They had snapped off one of the bedposts, knocked over the lamp on the nightstand and broken it, busted the top of the nightstand itself.  One of Kanor’s elbows had punched a hole through the wall when Skid had thrown him up against it, and the bedsheets were so damp with various fluids they were completely sodden.  His body was a writhing mass of aches and pains, his back was on fire, and his torso throbbed in agony.  Skid, too, seemed like she was hurting in various places; he was surprised to see just how easily she bruised.  Were all human women like that?

He felt so spectacularly drained and satisfied, however.  His chest heaved for breath, even though it hurt with each inhalation.  He felt so tired he wasn’t even sure he’d be able to support himself enough to stand up.  He let his head loll to one side towards Skid, whose face broke out into a wild grin as their gazes met, even though he could tell she was just as exhausted.  She reached up to weakly brush a loose lock of that amazing hair that had become plastered to her forehead and was falling down in front of her eyes.  Weak eyes, but happy.  Ecstatic, even.  Even though both of their bodies were dripping sweat, amongst other things, she crawled closer and sidled up to his side.  He groaned quietly, but shifted his left arm around her body, cradling against his chest.  They lay there like that for a few minutes, before Kanor finally broke the silence.

“What changed?”

“What?”

“Between us.”

“What do ye mean?”

He took a moment to gather his thoughts, his breath still ragged, though it was evening out.  He trailed his fingertips along the delightful curves of her body.

“You’ve always been flirty, but…distant.  Mostly kept it professional.  Then, I come back from that mission, and you’re visiting me every day in Sickbay.  Asking me out to dinner.  Sharing…private things.  Taking me to bed.”

His fingers stroking along her side rose and fell a few times before she finally answered, her fingers gliding through his dark, thick chest hair.

“A lot of things, I guess.”

When she didn’t elaborate any further for a few moments, Kanor prompted her.

“Such as…?”

“Munson and I know you have some sort of method of travelling; untraceable, unfamiliar to us.”

Kanor tensed up at that, wondering what it could mean.  He was in a bad situation; if this had been some sort of trap…

“Your biosigns are one of the most unique aboard the entire ship; to say nothing of the fact your Klingon ancestry sticks out like a sore thumb.  We’ve both watched you disappear from your quarters only to reappear at your ship, or vice versa.  We can’t explain it, but we’ve both caught it.  Can’t deny it.”

He wondered if Munson had somehow entered the holodeck during their coupling.  They had been so loud, Skid so…distracting, he wouldn’t have noticed.  This was bad.

“Yet ye didn’t leave down there on that planet.  Everyone was overwhelmed, or at least thought they were.  Munson even told me later he was convinced he was about to die.  He thought it was the Borg, he…he was about to start killing the others.  So they wouldn’t be assimilated, so…so they wouldn’t be turned into monsters.”

Kanor’s eyes widened at that.  If he had been convinced the Borg were about to start assimilating them, he…probably would have done the same thing.  Assimilation was a viciously cruel tactic, and not just because of the physical pain.

“Ye went to Marcie’s side, sought to protect her.  Ya went down in the process.”

A pang of guilt hit Kanor at the thought of Marcie.  What would she think about his sleeping with Skid?  Yet…she had specifically stated they were just friends.  Had even stated she was glad he wasn’t trying to get in her pants, as it were. 

“I…still don’t see how that changed…”

Skid tilted her head up to look directly at him, her face solemn.

“I’m not a one-night stand kinda gal.  After what happened down there…ye weren’t just some…brutish bounty hunter thug trying to get some pussy from me.  For all your…quirks, ye weren’t about to just toss my friends to the dogs to save yer own ass.”  She worried her lower lip for a moment before shrugging her freckled shoulders.  “I thought, for the first time, we could maybe be more than just a quick fuck to each other.”

Kanor‘s eyebrows raised at that last one.  He was attracted to Skid, there was no denying that, and not just physically.  A sharp wit, keen mind, a physical prowess to rival his own, an inner strength and confidence.  A heart of passion.  But he had always gotten the impression that attraction wasn’t mutual.

“I…I’ll be honest with you.  I have not done very well with romantic relationships in the past…”

Skid snorted.

“I didn’t say I wanted to proclaim our undying love and devotion to each other on some mountain somewhere or somethin, Youngblood.  Just…ya know…enjoy each other’s company.  Love each other as friends, as people, not…lifemates or anything.”

“Companionship.”

Skid smiled, her hand flattening against his chest.

“Yeah, companionship.  Nothing…serious, but…still meaningful.  Still…sweet.”

Kanor grinned mischievously.

“I’d have to say that was pretty damn sweet…”

Skid laughed, slapping his side playfully before planting her hand against his torso to push herself up.  The action made Kanor’s body tense, however; made him growl as his lips curled up in pain.  Skid’s joviality turned to concern as she looked at him.

“Are you okay…? What’s…?”

“I…I think I may have rebroken my ribs…”

Once they had all gathered at the landing site, Selorus, who had refused to answer questions until everyone was present, leaned forward, shouting above the sound of the wind.

“Enterprise has raised her shields, and has moved to the far side of the planet.  They will be keeping the planet between themselves and the alien ship.”

One of the scientists spoke up.

“Why didn’t they beam us up as soon as those guys dropped out of warp?”

Selorus shook his head.

“There was no time.  They dropped out of warp practically on top of the ship, Enterprise barely had time to get out of what we estimate their weapon’s range to be.”

Munson raised his voice next to Selorus to be heard.

“All of you know Kaz wouldn’t abandon us down here; if Enterprise had been destroyed trying to beam us all aboard, we’d all be dead.  They have to protect the ship first.”

“Is there a reason we’re assuming these people want to destroy us outright?”

“When you witness them obliterate a pirate ship in the blink of an eye, and apparently somehow follow us here, you don’t assume their intentions are peaceful in nature.”

The scientist who had asked the question looked at Kanor with a frown, but apparently seemed mollified by his reply.

“We are to hold our position here.  Enterprise will be sending shuttlecraft down into the planet’s atmosphere to beam us up, but it will ta…”

“Hostiles spotted, from the southwest!”

Selorus was cut off by the Asian officer’s outcry, and Munson immediately issued rapid-fire orders to his security team, including Kanor.  Kanor cursed; the hostiles were coming in fast, charging at full blast across the terrain as if the ruins, rocks, and debris simply weren’t there.  There was no question it wasn’t an attack, not at that speed.  Marcie and the scientists drew back, letting Kanor and the security officers shift forward.  Everyone had drawn their weapons; Kanor, sensing the inevitable close-quarters combat, drew his Mek’leth with his right hand, taking aim with the Varon-T in his left.  Why hadn’t Munson given the order to fire?  He squinted, realizing even as he thought that, he was having difficulty seeing their opponent clearly…

“Open fire!”

Eight lances of light shot out from the away team towards the onrushing mass.  The eight of them were huddled in the shadow of what remained of a building’s wall; Marcie and the scientists pressed up against it, Kanor and the security officers a few yards out in front of them, ostensibly as a protective measure.  Some of their shots hit, but they didn’t seem to have much of an effect on the…

Kanor’s eyes widened in shock.

“Tholians…?!”

He muttered the word as a curse to himself, even as he took aim at another of the four-legged, crystalline-carapaced aliens and fired; again, with no apparent effect.  He hated the skittering aliens with the mantis-like arms, they made his skin crawl.  Their crystalline hides were apparently resistant to disruptor and phaser fire, on top of everything else.  He heard the male security guard cry out on his left, but couldn’t spare his focus to assist the man.  The Tholian closest to him was leaping up in the air right at him…!

Kanor grunted as the Tholian’s body slammed into him at such speed, sending the two of them sprawling in a tangle of legs and arms.  Kanor had simply dropped his disruptor when the Tholian went airborne, gripping his Mek’leth in both hands.  He had attempted to angle the blade so the Tholian would impale itself on it, but the carapace was simply too strong.  The force of the impact had shuddered up Kanor’s arms; he had managed to keep a hold of his blade, but it definitely hadn’t penetrated.  As Kanor dodged his head out of the way of a down-stabbing pointed Tholian arm, he tried to see if he could spot where the alien’s carapace had been impacted. 

There!  A small spiderwebbing of cracks in the crystalline hide, some sort of viscous liquid oozing out slowly.  Kanor swept his legs at one of the Tholian’s, his hands clutching his Mek’leth tightly as he hammered it against another leg on the same side of the alien’s body.  A loud, chittering screech filled his ears as the Tholian’s balance wavered, the leg he had kicked at having been knocked out from under it.  He back swung his Mek’leth, smashing the hilt against the cracked area.  He felt one of the Tholian’s arms (legs?) pass harmlessly near his head, but the alien screeched again as his weapon struck true.  The cracks deepened, spread out; that disgusting orange liquid seeping out even faster.  The thing tried to pull away from Kanor, reassessing the idea to pin him to the ground.  He didn’t have much room to draw his arm back and put a lot of force behind the blow, but Kanor swung the hilt of the Mek’leth against the weakened area again while he could still reach it.

He roared in triumph as his fist burst through the crystalline outer shell, orange alien ichor exploding over his face and upper body.  The Tholian emitted a wail of sheer agony that made Kanor’s ears ring, but a feral grin split his features as, with closed eyes, he shoved the dying quadruped off of him.  He quickly wiped a hand off on his trousers, then swiped off the filth that had splattered over his face, his eyes flying open.  The Tholian’s six limbs were twitching and spasming in the air as it died, two of its legs smacking uselessly against Kanor’s side before growing still.  The glow of the creature’s triangular eyes faded even as Kanor got to his feet, his gaze sweeping around to quickly assess the situation.

The Tholians were everywhere, engaging everyone from the Enterprise.  He ran over to scoop up his Varon-T, the constant wind making that Tholian ichor trickle over the outerwear he had on over his armor, as he tried to find Marcie.  Something was nagging at the back of his mind, but he pushed it aside as he saw the Doctor struggling beneath one of the chittering creatures up ahead.  Holstering the Varon-T, he ran for where Marcie was, withdrawing his D’k tagh as he moved.  The shorter, sturdier blade would be better at piercing the crystalline carapace of the Tholians.

For whatever reason, the Tholian didn’t seem to be hurting Marcie, simply attempting to keep her pinned down.  Though she had lost her phaser somewhere, Kanor was proud to see the Doctor had managed to withdraw her laser scalpel, and was attempting to cut her attacker with the device.  Her aim seemed to be horribly off, but it was still forcing the Tholian to keep moving.  Kanor slammed into the distracted Tholian like a torpedo, roaring at the top of his lungs to keep the thing focused on him, not Marcie.  Marcie’s laser scalpel must have struck true a few times, as a yellow-ish hued liquid dotted the Tholian’s body.  Kanor’s D’k tagh added even more, the momentum of his charge having knocked the Tholian over onto its side and presenting an easy target.  The creature’s mantis-like arm whipped out at Kanor, ripping into the material along his right side; but he used his Mek’leth to parry the flailing limb away.   Eventually, with a weak-sounding harmonic hum of pain, the Tholian’s body sagged under Kanor’s assault, the yellow and orange Tholian “blood” creating a miasma of color all over him.

Leaving the dead Tholian behind, he went over to Marcie, who had recovered her dropped phaser.  He crouched beside her, looking her over for injuries, even as she fired towards a group of Tholians swarming around Selorus and one of the other scientists.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.  For whatever reason, he didn’t really seem interested in attacking me, just…you don’t know them, do you?  Why aren’t you helping the others?!”

The wind shifted, making something on the ground beside Marcie’s left hip shift, catching his eye.  He leaned closer, only to see the crystalline-looking sample Marcie had gathered from the subterranean room.  In her struggle to get the scalpel out, she must have dislodged the sample container and knocked the thing loose.  Kanor frowned, reaching out to pick it up with the hand holding the D’k tagh.  If they made it out of this, they needed to have something important to show for it.  The Tholians were crystalline; maybe there was some sort of connection?

“Had to ensure you were…”

His back stiffened, an involuntary gasp popping from his chest as his eyes widened.  Marcie, intent on trying to help her shipmates and with the moaning of the never-ending wind, didn’t notice.

“I’m fine, go help them!  Scientists can’t fight Klingons!”

Kanor was unable to respond; that poking sensation in his head he had felt before when opening the hidden room was even stronger this time.  Paralyzing.  This wasn’t a poke, it was a STAB.  His jaw worked silently, pain rushing through his skull like nothing he had ever felt before. His focus seemed to abruptly dilate; his brain kicking into some sort of overdrive of processing as everything around him seemed to slow down to a crawl.

Marcie was firing her phaser, her eyes widened in a distraught, tightly wound bundle of fear he hadn’t seen on her face before.

Her phaser was…hitting nothing.  He watched Selorus and one of the other scientists roll and twist on the ground, their fists clenched, their arms outstretched, the cords in their necks straining, their teeth showing in a grimace.  They were fighting no one.

The Tholians were gone.  The two Kanor had personally killed were nowhere to be seen.  The blood, the multi-colored ichor he had felt splash over his fists, his very face, the two blades he had stabbed through those crystalline carapaces of theirs with such force and coated with the stuff-wasn’t there.  The blades practically gleamed in their unstained state, no different than they had been when he had slid them into their sheathes before leaving the Enterprise.

The tear in the outerwear along his right side the Tholian’s arm had created-looked brand new.

He saw Munson flying through the air towards one of his fellow security guards, arms outstretched.  They closed around nothingness, Munson rolling a few yards.  The security officer dodged his head to the left as he scrambled to his knees.  His chest heaving, he threw a brutal punch downwards…and stopped, seemingly of his own volition, in mid-air.  Hitting nothing, fighting…no one.

A shining black…something was stalking towards them.  It was moving casually, slightly hunched over.  Though there were next to no facial features-no nose, no hair, no…no eyes-Kanor felt a malevolent presence seem to shift from Marcie to focus on him.  Felt that change of its gaze, though there was nothing to see actually doing the gazing.  Even as he looked at it, DIRECTLY at it, he couldn’t make sense of what he was seeing.  It stopped in its tracks, and he got the vaguest impression of some sort of tail twitching and whipping around behind the creature, though he never actually SAW one.  The pressure inside his skull suddenly went off the scale; torpedoes seemed to explode within his vision, he felt a jagged tearing in his throat and realized he was screaming at the top of his lungs.  And that thing, the…sentient malevolence, opened its mouth in a hissing snarl he couldn’t hear, even though he could feel it in his body.

It had been meters away when he had first seen it, when he had first touched that crystalline-like sample of Marcie’s, when his brain had become a playground for an army of clumsy, infantile giants wearing cleats.  It was closing that distance now, nothing casual in its incredible speed, moving so quickly he had barely registered it was zeroing in on him before it was nearly on top of him with no signs of slowing down.  No time for him to move away, no time to even initiate a bodyslide; he felt like he was moving in slow motion in comparison to this…indefinable force of nature.  He planted his feet, tried to angle his blades across his torso, realized he was still clutching that sample around the grip on his Mek’leth.

Realized that what had been nagging him was the simple fact that Tholians would never, ever be able to survive on this planet; it was far too cold for them.  And that Marcie had referenced the scientists fighting Klingons, when all he had seen were Tholians.

Pain slammed into Kanor’s body and went right through it, leaving its caress from front to back and everywhere in-between.  He felt the wind whipping around his body, across his face, and realized he was airborne.  He felt the tang of blood in his mouth, saw speckles of bluish brown trailing from his lips, realized it was his.  His hands were empty; his blades apparently having been knocked out of his grip, along with Marcie’s sample.  A pair of blocky shuttlecraft was flying by overhead, low in the atmosphere, as if to avoid a dangerous threat from up above in space.

That…thing better not have harmed Marcie.

                                                                           *****

“I don’t like this.  At all.  If it wasn’t for all the biological redundancies Klingons have, he’d probably be dead or paralyzed.  And he’s only half Klingon, if you’ll recall.”

“I wouldn’t do this if it wasn’t an emergency.”

He heard Marcie sigh. 

“He should be coming around any second now.”

He tried to say something, move, but found his mouth felt like it was sealed shut, his body unresponsive.  He must have accomplished something, though, because he felt a familiar touch to…well, somewhere.

“Kanor?  It’s Marcie; we’re back aboard Enterprise, in sickbay.”

His entire body was numb, yet he felt like he was immersed in an ocean of pain.  A warp core had exploded in his skull.  When he cracked his eyes, he saw the explosion, felt its agony stab into his head, saw…saw a blurry swish of black hair.

“Don’t try to sit up.  I’ve got you pretty drugged, I need to get you into…”

“Doctor…Marcie…”

“I know, damn you!”

Marcie never cursed.  And the vehemence in her voice was...very uncharacteristic.

“Hurry the hell up so I can take care of him, okay?”

He forced himself to widen the explosion, light pouring into his eyes, making him groan.  How was his head still in one piece?  Or was it?

Had to focus, try to make sense of what was going on.

Marcie stood on his right, her arms crossed over her chest; her jaw was set, making her lips a hard, thin line.  She was glaring across his legs at Skid, on his left.  Skid was biting her lower lip, her eyes gazing down at him.  Her brow was creased, her hands clutching her elbows.  Was that concern on her features?  Her flame-red hair was a mess, her face smudged with who knew what.  She looked amazing.

“Hey, Youngblood.  It’s Skid.”  She cracked a small, half-hearted smile.  “You’re a stubborn ol fart, you know that?”

“Skid!”

Skid shot Marcie a murderous glance, as filled with fire as her own hair.  Marcie returned it with one just as lethal.

“I’ll make this quick; the Doc really needs to help you out, but…we really need your help too.  We’re tryin to figure out what the hell happened down there, boyo.  Nothin makes sense.”

He tried to say something, but was having trouble forming the words.  His tongue felt heavy, thick…awkward.  What was he going to say?  Oh yeah-hot.  Skid was hot.  The way she could hold her own in a fight; that was damn sexy.

“I doubt he even knows where he is…I told you this could wait.  His mouth is all crusted with blood; let me clean it off…”

Marcie reached for something outside of his line of sight, then he felt moisture on his face.  She leaned in close, worry etching her features, her gaze softening as she glanced up into his eyes.  Why was she so worried?  He’d be fine.  She was fine.  That thing hadn’t hurt her; that was good.  Skid was talking.

“…one saw something different, no one seems to be able to agree on what was going on.  Selorus saw Romulans, members of the Tal Shiar.  Munson saw Borg, Ichers saw Gorn, Masuka saw Jem’Hadar.  Hell, even the Doc says she saw bloody Kling…”

“Would you just get to the point?”

Skid shot Marcie another withering look before sighing. 

“The only thing everyone agrees on is you screaming then getting knocked back like a bloody fookin kiddie toy.  No one saw what hit you, and right around the time you took a nosedive into the ground, everything vanished.  What did YOU see, Kanor?”

Marcie had cleaned off the crusted blood over his lips; the moisture felt nice.  Skid’s words brought back the planet’s surface, crystallized it in his mind, at least temporarily.  The way the Tholians had seemed to swarm all over them, how he had killed two of them; how…how?  It hurt to think, but he needed to focus.  He tried to force out words again.

“Tholians.”

“You saw fuckin Tholians?  Why the hell did everyone see...”

He tried to hold up a hand to silence her, only to find he couldn’t.  She must have sensed his desire to interrupt, though; she stopped, the hands she had thrown up into the air returning to her shapely hips.  He was having trouble thinking, verbalizing words.  He needed to make this succinct. 

“Telepathy.  Strong.”

Skid’s eyes narrowed, her expression puzzled.

“Those rocky critters aren’t telepathic…”

“Doughnuts.”

Skid’s eyes widened, taken aback.

“One.  There.”

“But…but there was no transporter activity, no…the shuttlecraft pilots confirmed during their approaches there were no other lifeforms present other than the away team’s…”

“Powerful.  Telepathy.”

“Bloody fookin marvey…”

“Are you done, yet?”

“Why you?  Why did it attack you, how come you could see it, especially after you saw Tholians…?”

“Okay, Skid, you’ve had plenty of time.  I need to get my pat…”

“Sample.  Marcie.”

Marcie, who had been walking around the biobed he was on to force Skid out of her sickbay, froze in her tracks, her gaze shifting to look at Kanor questioningly.  She was still outfitted as she had been on the planet with him; covered in grime and dirt, blood he recognized as his darkening the cloth of her tunic.  The medical kit she had brought down with her was still slung over her shoulder, resting against her hip.

“Sample.” He repeated.

Marcie frowned, looking down at the kit she had on her side startled, as if she had forgotten it was there.  Her fingers moved to open the battered casing.

“What…what does that have to do with anything?  The sample I collected from the walls?”

Kanor didn’t respond as Marcie started rummaging through her kit, her frown deepening. 

“It’s not here…I…I must have…knocked it out when I was fighting that…when I was fighting.  The container is even…”

“Stolen.”

Skid looked from Marcie to Kanor.  He could see the conduits firing in her head.

“If she had it, why didn’t it attack her?  How did it get it from her without her even knowing?  Was that fuckin telepathy too, wiping her memory?”

“Dropped.  Picked up.  Me.”

Skid’s jaw was clenched, her eyes looking at nothing as she processed all of that.  Kanor felt exhausted; that was too many words at once.

“I need to sedate him so I can take care of him.  You got what you needed, now let me do my job.”

Skid nodded, her eyes returning to look at him as she straightened up.

“Hang in there, boyo.  We’re not done with our crew inspections, ya know.”

Skid flashed a smile that was so fake it was painful to see, then looked over at Marcie as she turned from the bed.  Kanor saw a red strobing light set into the wall flashing behind her.

“Thanks, Marcie.  Keep us updated of how he’s doing.”

Kanor’s eyes drifted up towards the ceiling, an involuntary sigh escaping him.  Sedation.  He hated being sedated, but he welcomed the idea of sleep right now.  He felt so…empty.  Marcie’s face swam back into his field of vision, her expression soft.  She looked pained.

“I’m sorry I had to do that.  I need to put you under, you’re a mess.  But I promise I’ll take care of you…”

Somewhere during her diatribe he had closed his eyes, and he heard the hiss of a hypospray. 

Ahhhh.

                                                                           *****

“You know, for some great Klingon warrior, you sure end up in the sickbay quite a lot.”

Kanor’s lips pulled away from his teeth in a weak snarl as he opened his eyes, grunting as he lifted his head up to look at the speaker near his feet.  Kaz was striding into the curtained-off alcove Kanor’s biobed was situated in, the Metron’s hand reaching up to unclasp the maroon uniform flap across his chest, exposing the white undertunic beneath.

“I never said I was a ‘great Klingon warrior’.”

“Isn’t that what all Klingons think?  That they’re some kind of mythical warrior of epic proportions?”

“If that were true, then Klingons would rule the galaxy.  Clearly, we do not.”

Kaz pulled up the chair Marcie had vacated a few minutes ago.  She had told him how she was going to release him today, that he seemed to be recovering rapidly.  Kanor couldn’t be sure, his bouts with consciousness had been sporadic at best, but he was fairly certain she had been in the vicinity of his biobed the majority of the time he had been here.  When she wasn’t, it had been Skid in her place.  Nurses had tended to his care here and there, but Marcie and Skid had seemed to be there to simply be there.

“You know, it could be said you saved my people from being hurt down there.”

Kanor shrugged; his body still ached, but at least he could feel things again.  He was horribly stiff all over, however.  He couldn’t wait to get all of the kinks out of his body with a good workout.  He adjusted the biobed so he could be sitting up as he talked with Kaz.

“There’s no telling whether or not it would have attacked anyone.  I think the only reason it did strike me was because I saw it.”

Kaz had withdrawn one of his cigarettes as he listened, nodding his head.  He didn’t light it, just held it in his hand.

“Possibly.  Still, I’d like to say thank you.  From what the Doc tells me, you probably wouldn’t have survived that tossing about if not for your rather unique constitution.”

There was a silence that hung in the air for a few moments, punctuated only by the sounds of Kanor shifting uncomfortably on the biobed.  Why was everything on this damn ship so soft, so…plush?  He glanced over at Kaz, who seemed to be simply watching him, holding the cigarette between his lips.  Kanor was surprised he hadn’t lit it.

“How’s the ship?  What’s our condition?”

Kaz’s brow twinged slightly as his head tilted to one side, a surprised, pondering look coming over his features.  He finally shrugged, breaking eye contact as he pulled the cigarette from his mouth, holding it between two fingers.

“We left the system, trying to keep our distance from that damn thing.  I’ve had us randomly cruising along at warp six for the past couple of days while we try to go over everything.”  He got to his feet, walking back and forth along the left side of the biobed as he talked, his hands making meaningless gestures occasionally, that unlit cigarette jostling around.  “We’re fairly certain they’re following us; tracking us from that package, I guess, though how we still haven’t been able to figure out.  We’re faster than they are, though we’re not sure by how much.  Skid and Selorus recommend we destroy all the contents of that package since we’ve got all of the hard data copied and stored, but…at least this way, I know where they’re at.”

Kanor had to agree it was a sound strategy, if…a slightly suicidal one.

“Were we able to learn anything from going to that planet?”

Kaz shrugged.

“Not as much as I wanted to.  Based on the reports of the team, what you and Marcie uncovered seems to be the most promising.  But without anything to study, it’s purely conjecture.”

“Why don’t we go back, then?  I’m sure we could find that room again, get another sample.”

Kaz shook his head.

“I’m not sending anyone else down there until we’ve developed some sort of plan to deal with their telepathy.”  He paused, glancing at Kanor.  “You’re positive that’s what it was?”

Kanor shrugged.

“It’s the only thing that makes sense.  Selorus and I postulated that the original inhabitants of that planet communicated telepathically, since there were no traces of a written language anywhere.  I know we haven’t run into any hard evidence, but it does seem like the two races are connected.  That massive ship comes around again while we’re planetside; next thing we know we’re under attack, only…we’re not really.  We all see different things, none of us saw that…that thing, at least not at first…”

Kaz nodded.

“And you’re telepathic, so when you…”

“Wait a minute, what do you mean, I’M telepathic?”

Kaz frowned, pausing near the head of the bed as he slipped the cigarette in-between his compressed lips again, talking around it.

“You’re part Vulcan, Vulcans are telepathic.”

Kanor held up a hand, shaking his head.

“Full-blooded Vulcans are TOUCH telepaths, key aspect there on the ‘touch’.  Some who have dedicated their lives to study can surpass that little requirement, but I’m certainly not one of them.  I’m part Vulcan, sure, but I’ve never been…telepathic, in any form.  My mother tried teaching me some Vulcan disciplines.  Unsuccessfully.”

“Marcie stated you were the one that instigated the doorway opening to the secret room; said you had a pain in your head?”

Kanor frowned.

“I just touched the right spot on the floor, that’s all…”

“And it was you, not Marcie, that saw the alien.  You were the one able to see through the illusions, or phantoms, or whatever they were.”

“Not until I had picked up that artifact, the crystal-like material.  Which seems like what the creature was after.”

“Still.  Marcie didn’t feel a damn thing when she collected it.  And you’ve admitted to touching both things that had some sort of reaction from you, so…”

“It still seems…rather circumstantial.”

Kaz reached up to pluck the cigarette from his mouth again, reclaiming his place in the chair.

“Of course it is.  It’s also all I’ve got to go on at the moment.”

Kanor’s eyes couldn’t look away from the cigarette Kaz was waving around in his fingers, still unlit.  The paper at the end was soggy with saliva; Kanor wondered if it had ruined the thing.

“Why aren’t you lighting that?”

Kaz followed Kanor’s gaze to his hand, his eyebrows rising as he eyed the object of Kanor’s question.

“Ahh.  It’s Marcie’s rule; no lit cigarettes in sickbay.”

Kanor arched an eyebrow.

“Isn’t it your ship?”

Kaz grinned, his eyes crinkling in amusement.

“Of course.  Still, she’s been with me a long time; she’s a good physician.”  He looked around the sickbay, gesturing with that unlit cylinder.  “This is her domain, her…command, as it were.  I can respect her wishes while I’m here, and in turn, it earns me more of her respect.  Plus, she can then focus on doing her job better.”  He shrugged.  “Besides, I’m hardly ever down here anyways.”

Kanor was glad he wasn’t having to deal with the cigarette smoke, at least.  The habit bothered him.

“So…telepaths.  As in not me.”

Kaz slipped the cigarette between his lips as he resumed talking.

“I’ve got Drei going through the personnel files to highlight all the telepathic species we have aboard.  Marcie and Selorus have been going over the data the two of you collected from the room, especially what she was able to scan about the crystal thingie before she lost it.  She’s also going over your medical readings from when the shuttle team picked you all up.  You had drastically elevated neurological activity.”

Kanor was stubbornly silent to Kaz’s continued implication.  When he didn’t respond, Kaz continued.

“Blame it on the crystal thing, that you sneezed at just the right time…I don’t care.  We’re exploring the possibility that your Vulcan genes’ propensity for telepathy had something to do with your altercation and interaction with the Benders.”

“Wait, the ‘Benders’?”

Kaz waved a hand dismissively, crossing his left leg over his right as he leaned back in his chair.

“Somebody coined the term for these fuckers after their little display down there; we’ve got nothing else to call them, so it’s the operative name for the time being.  ‘Mind Benders’.”

“That’s…cute.”

Kaz shrugged, plucking the cigarette from his lips and flicking it absentmindedly with his thumb.

“Yeah, well…better than ‘Doughnut Guys’, ya know?”

Kanor couldn’t argue that point, at least.

“Anyways; best we can tell, based off of what you and the rest of the away team described, a single Bender was able to telepathically manipulate the minds of eight individuals into believing eight separate, in-depth, complex illusions.  They were also able to cloak themselves from the minds of all eight individuals, still maintain the ability to move, and even physically attack.  All while maintaining previously mentioned illusions.”

“Skid mentioned everyone stated the illusions all disappeared once I was hit, though.”

Kaz nodded.

“They did.  However, I think that was more convenience than anything else.  It was still able to remain hidden from everyone, including the shuttle pilots, even their sensors.  Not a single person saw what hit you; Marcie said she was looking right at you when you went flying back suddenly, because you started screaming at the top of your lungs right beforehand.”

Kanor felt his flesh prickle as the memory flashed back through his mind.

“I was staring at it, right at it, and I…I couldn’t make sense of what I was seeing.  All that seemed…solid, clear, was its face.  There was a…impression of a tail, but…”  He shook his head in frustration.  “I never actually saw one.”

Kaz leaned forward in his chair, his eyes narrowing, that cigarette dangling carelessly between his fingers.

“Go on.”

Kanor hadn’t mentioned the appearance of the Mind Bender in detail to Skid or Marcie when they had asked; he felt sure he must have remembered it wrong, blamed it on the drugs, the recovering.  He had to accept the reality of what he had seen, however.

“It didn’t really even have a face, just a mouth.  With sharp teeth.  It didn’t have any eyes, but I could feel it when it turned to look at me; in my mind, in my body.  I felt it when it realized I could see it, it was furious.”

“Hair, flesh, scales…?”

Kanor shook his head, his eyes tightening, trying to describe what he had seen, however briefly. 

“More like…chitin, carapace or something maybe.  It was black, shiny…smooth.”

“Chitin, carapace…like an insect?”

Kanor shook his head again.

“No, it didn’t really seem insectoid at all.  More like armor.  I can’t really say, I mean I couldn’t really see the damn thing well.”

Kaz lifted the unlit cigarette back to his mouth, his lips pursing around the device for a moment, pulling, as if it were lit.

“So it sounds fucking scary-looking, and it has terrifyingly strong mental abilities.  Yeah, no one is setting foot back on that planet until we’ve come up with something that might help us in another encounter.”

“What might that ‘something’ be?”

“Skid’s looking around in the database for some sort of telepathy shielding devices out there; there’s gotta be something we can use.  Though short of…well, a small little planet in the middle of nowhere that time has forgot, I don’t think this neighborhood of the galaxy has encountered telepathy quite like this before.”

“I can’t begin to describe how quickly the thing moved.  It was meters away when I first saw it- twenty, twenty-five or so-and closed the distance before I had a chance to do much of anything.  Granted, I wasn’t…at the top of my game, was a bit distracted.  A physical altercation with the Benders, if they can all move similar to that one…I’d advise against it.”

Kaz snorted, leaving the cigarette in his mouth as he got to his feet.

“Mister Kanor, there aren’t many people aboard this ship that would think engaging in a physical fight against a monster like what you describe would be a good idea.  But I’ll make sure to pass your advisement along to Munson.”

Kaz seemed like he was getting ready to leave; Marcie had insisted he try to stay largely inactive for a couple of more days, but he was ready to climb the walls now, let alone two more days.

“I’d like to discuss some security matters with Munson once I’m out of here, tomorrow if I can.”

Kaz’s eyes narrowed only slightly, but Kanor noticed.

“Pertaining to?”

“Some…concerns I noted down on the planet.”

Kaz studied Kanor’s expression for a few moments before replying.

“I’m sure you’d understand my own concerns with the two of you meeting, given your…history.  I’d have to insist on Skid being present.”

Kanor had figured that would be the case.

“Of course.  I’ll consult with her to set up a convenient time.  I’d also like to be involved in coming up with some innovative methods to counteract the Benders.”

“You’re in a biobed, Kanor.  Didn’t Marcie state she wanted you to remain relatively inactive for a couple of days?”

“I am, as you noted, mostly Klingon, Kaz.  Talking and reading, not fighting, practicing, IS remaining relatively inactive.”

Kaz reached up to pluck the unlit, rather worn-looking cigarette from his mouth, a grin lighting his features as he turned to slip out of the curtain.

“Then by all means, Mister Kanor, involve yourself away.  With Skid’s assistance, of course.”

A few more minutes passed after the Commodore’s departure before Marcie reappeared.  Her eyes swept over him with a critical eye as she glanced at his vital signs on the screen behind his head.

“Are you finally going to clear me to get the hell out of here, or not?”

Marcie’s features became mischievous for a brief moment as she smirked down at him.

“Why Kanor, I’ve never known you to be so eager to leave me behind before.”

“You’ve never confined me to bedrest for three days in a row, either.”

“Fine.  Next time you get knocked around by an alien, suffer multiple lacerations, broken bones, and a concussion, I’ll let you wallow in painful agony and bleed to death.  How’s that sound?”

“Splendid!”

Marcie withdrew the tricorder she had tucked into her belt pouch, pulling the bio-scanner attachment from its top.  Studying the readouts on the tricorder as she ran the separate, more sensitive bio-scanner along Kanor’s length, she shook her head, grinning. 

“You’ve got a great recovery rate, I have to say.”

“One of the few benefits, I suppose.” 

He reached up to run his fingers through his long, loose hair, watching her work.  It had been…somewhat strange, seeing her so much outside of his quarters these past few days.  In her uniform.  In her element, her sickbay.

“Clean bill of health?”

She frowned at him as she finished, putting the scanner back in place and returning the tricorder to its pouch.

“I guess.  No sparring with Skid for the next couple of days, though.  Ease back into it, don’t go leaping.”

Kanor rolled his eyes.

“I’ve been barely moving, let alone leaping.  You keep me in here any longer, I’m going to jump up onto the biobed and start doing calisthenics.”

She snorted, punching a fist against his shoulder without much force at all.

“Yeah, get outta here, then.  Maybe then I won’t have to worry about walking in here to find one of the nurses helping you with your ‘calisthenics’.  I swear, I’ve never seen Ensign Clarke take so much interest in a patient before…EVER.”

“Forget the nurses; if I want help with that, I’m going straight to the top.  Give me the doctor!”

She laughed at his comment as he swiveled his legs off the side of the biobed and stood up.  He couldn’t suppress a grimace, but it wasn’t overwhelming.  All of his previous excursions from the biobed had been with assistance.

“Get out of here before I lodge a formal complaint for harassment, mister!  And don’t forget your personal belongings!”

She leaned over to tap in an entry code on a panel beneath the biobed, the panel sliding aside to reveal a couple of shelves that held all of the belongings he had on him when he’d been admitted.  He was surprised to see not only both of his disruptors, but his Mek’leth and D’k tagh.  His wrist gauntlet, earchit, belt, and a cleaned version of the jumpsuit he had been wearing were also there.

“Munson let you keep my weapons here, too?”

Marcie smiled knowingly. 

“Let’s just say I made sure they were here, under lock and key only accessible to me.  I knew you wouldn’t leave them behind.”

Kanor snorted as he reached down and started pulling everything out.

“So…leverage.  In case I wanted to leave earlier than you were pleased with.”

Marcie shrugged, clasping her hands behind her back and swaying her arms back and forth a bit, a particularly smug look on her face.

“Hmph.  Well, I do appreciate you retrieving them; thought I had lost the blades.”

Marcie’s nose wrinkled a little in disapproval.

“They’re heavier than I like, though surprisingly light.  Was expecting them to weigh a ton.”

Kanor started unfastening the medical trousers and tunic he’d been put in; now that he thought about it, Ensign Clarke had usually been the one involved in changing his clothes every day.

“I wasn’t aware you were…proficient with bladed weapons, that you had a preference.”  He paused as he was pulling off his tunic, looking over at her.  “A little privacy?”

“Pssh…please, nothing I haven’t seen before.  Even from you, specifically.” 

Kanor noted the way her eyes sparkled with mischief as she looked at him, a corner of her mouth tugging upwards with mirth.  He fought back a grin as he shrugged and continued to change in front of her.

“I’m clueless when it comes to weapons, bladed or otherwise.  Just saying I’ll take the weight of my scalpel, tricorder, and hypospray any day.”

Kanor chuckled as he started pulling on his jumpsuit.  He felt a slight tug of disappointment in her answer.

“Ahhh.  Well, the blades are custom-designed for me; so they shouldn’t feel quite right in your hands, I suppose.  I could make some for you specifically, teach you how to use them?”

“I’ll…pass, but thank you.  I’ll use a phaser if I must, but that’s about where I draw the line.”

Kanor shrugged as he fastened his jumpsuit, picking up the earchit and placing it into his ear, where it self-adhered.  He longed to speak to Cypher.

“What’s that for, the ear thingie?”

“Oh…computer access.  It’s…easier to have information relayed to me privately when I’m out in the field.  I usually work alone, you know.”

He hated lying to Marcie, though it was technically true.  Cypher was a computer, and relayed information to him.  Still; he didn’t feel comfortable sharing Cypher’s existence just yet, not even to her.

“Well…you used to.  Not anymore, though.”

He looked up at her questioningly as he refastened the gauntlet, replaced his weapons in their various holsters and sheathes.  She met his inquisitive look with one of those bright smiles of hers.

“I was right about us being great friends, right?  I know what I’m talking about.  And don’t forget what I told you, when we first met.”

Kanor couldn’t help but smile a bit.

“That….I should say ‘yes’, and that you love…chocolate.”

She grinned from ear to ear.

“That you should take it, and MILK chocolate.”

Kanor laughed as he finished up, moving towards her, feeling almost like his normal self now that he had all of his regular accoutrements.

“You never did say what you meant by ‘take it’, how ‘it’ would benefit me so much…”

Marcie’s expression turned sly, incredibly amused.  She moved aside the privacy screen around his biobed as she stepped aside to let him pass.

“Have a good day, Mister Kanor.  Remember, doctor’s orders-no overexerting yourself!”