Forwarded by the ASC-VSO Posted: 8 Feb 2004 15:37:42 -0800 In: alt.startrek.creative From: djinn@djinnslair.com (Djinn) TITLE: The Lost Years: Bystanders (Slayer Series) AUTHOR: Djinn CONTACT: djinn@djinnslair.com http://www.djinnslair.com SERIES: TOS RATING: PG-13 CODES: Ch, K, U, Others PART: 2/3 SUMMARY: The third in the Lost Years series. The first two parts (and Thanks to Rabble Rouser and Trekki for the beta! Kirk carried his tray through the cafeteria intent on getting back to his office. He nodded to an Academy classmate he hadn't seen in years when suddenly the hairs on the back of his neck went into high alert. As the other man walked off, Kirk looked around casually, trying to determine what was bothering him. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. He was almost out the door when a shiver ran down his spine and he stopped walking, turning to scan the far side of the room. Lori sat grinning in the corner booth. She gestured to the seat across from her. He shook his head slightly. She stood up and walked over to him. "Jim. I need to talk to you. Please?" "Lori, now isn't the time." Her eyes narrowed, and he realized that there was nothing coy in her expression. She gestured to the booth, her eyes boring into his as if trying to send him some secret message. "Please?" She pulled him gently, pasting a smile on her face as she turned. As soon as he began to follow her, she dropped his hand. He waited for her to sit down, then slid into the seat across from her. "Well?" "Hold on." She stared at him, her eyes darkening from honey brown to deep brown to black. She slowly moved her hand, as if pulling shut a sliding door. Murmuring something that sounded like Latin, she closed her eyes and shuddered slightly, then took a deep breath. He felt as if he was in a negative pressure room, his ears tried to adjust as the air became suddenly heavy and close. "What did you do?" She opened her eyes. They were brown again. "Gave us a safe place to talk." "Why?" "Because he won't expect me to do it here." "He? He who?" She seemed to struggle, then spit out one word. "Nogura." "What about Nogura." She was clutching at her throat. "Don't say his name again while we're in here." She breathed deeply, almost hyperventilating. "Lori?" He started to get up but she waved him back down. Her breathing finally slowed. And she closed her eyes as if in relief. "I have to talk around it, Jim." "Why? Is someone listening in?" He looked around the room. Her hand on his arm brought his attention back to her. "No. And that's the problem. I can say anything I want as long as it's within earshot of him. And he hears very well over very long distances. I just hope he's not listening right now, or this much silence from us is bound to get his attention. We'll have to hurry." She hunched her shoulders, moaned slightly as she rolled her head around. "Feels so good. Real privacy." She let her shoulders drop. "Can't stay long though." She leaned forward. "I need to talk to the Slayer. Can you arrange it?" "I suppose so. What's going on, Lori?" "I thought you were just another of the mundanes, one more admiral for me to seduce for him. Until I saw you with her. And I realized that you're different." He nodded. "I help her sometimes." Lori smirked. "Yes, I'm sure you do. Slayers have the most amazing energy, don't they?" He wasn't sure what she meant, was almost certain he didn't want to know. Lori ran her finger over his arm, never touching the skin but following the curve of his elbow. He shuddered, saw her eyes dilate, then she shivered too. "You're brimming with energy, too. Do you even know how to use it?" She seemed to be sniffing the air, as if she was some kind of animal catching a scent on the wind. "Wasted on you, all these years." She threw her head back. "He has no idea what you are. We have to keep it that way." "Nog...that person you mentioned." She nodded. "Can you set up a meeting with the Slayer? It has to look accidental." "I think so." He frowned. "What do I tell her this is about?" Lori smiled. "Everything that matters." "That's a bit vague." "Slayer heaven. And my hell." He frowned. Slayer heaven? Kirsu? Lori suddenly stiffened, "Careful," she warned him. "He's coming." She leaned in, touched his hand. "Try to look uncomfortable. He doesn't expect me to succeed with you. But he knows I'll keep trying." She whispered something Kirk couldn't catch, brought her hand down in a sharp cutting motion. Kirk felt his ears pop hard, as if the pressure had changed much too fast. He resisted the urge to shake his head. She wanted him to look uncomfortable? Between the pain in his ears and the way his skin crawled where she was touching his hand, he didn't have to try very hard. He saw Nogura walk into the cafeteria. The admiral stopped at several tables before he got to theirs. Kirk pulled his hand away abruptly and stood up, giving Lori a tight smile. "I've got to be getting back. It was nice seeing you again." He made sure his tone did not agree with his words. Lori looked irritated. Kirk had a hard time determining if that emotion was real or feigned, but he thought it was for Nogura's benefit. "Sir." He nodded pleasantly to his boss. "See you at staff meeting, Jim." "Yes, sir." He hurried away, not slowing until he hit his corridor. As he got to his office, he heard the door across the hall open up. "Jim?" Richter leaned out. "Can you come in here?" Kirk saw the older admiral seem to lose his balance and hurried to his side. "Carl?" "Don't feel so good, Jim." Richter staggered to his chair, sat down hard. "I have to talk to someone about this. I can't talk to Admiral Blowhard, he's already told me to quit asking questions and just follow my orders." "What's going on?" Richter handed him a padd. "We're supposed to be on a diplomatic mission. But my science team keeps making these damn sweeps everywhere we go. And Jim, we go everywhere, our diplomatic access makes sure of that." "Spying?" Richter seemed to be struggling for breath. "I don't think so. It's like we're looking inside subspace itself for something." "For what?" "I don't know. The science department, they're new, most of them. I think they're Nogura's men. I heard one of them say they'd find a portal sooner or later." Richter rubbed his head. "I just don't know what he meant. A portal to what? Or where?" He rubbed his head harder. "Damned headache." "Let's get you checked out at Medical, Carl. You don't look good." Richter seemed to be getting paler by the minute. He shook his head, pushed the padd at Kirk. "Keep that safe, first. I put some other things on it. Things I took from the science files. They looked odd, not sure why, they just don't seem right to me. You look at them. Tell me if I'm crazy?" "Carl, later, we've got to get you to--" "--No, now, Jim. Get it out of here. Put it somewhere they won't find it." Kirk decided arguing would do his friend more harm than the short wait while he put the padd in his office. He was about to lock it in his desk, when he saw the carrying tube holding his sword hanging on the coatrack. He walked over, dropped the padd into the tube. He sealed the container. Then, feeling slightly foolish but also driven to do it, he held his hands over the sealed end of the tube, closed his eyes, concentrated, and whispered, "Protect." He felt a small buzz seem to go through his hands and into the tube. He let go of it, hurried across the hall to get Richter. "Come on, let's go, my friend." He hefted the other admiral out of the chair, supported him as they walked down the hall. Richter sighed. "I don't trust him, Jim," he whispered, as he seemed to put all his concentration into walking. Or her. Not one bit." "Walk, don't waste your breath," Kirk said. But he knew exactly who his friend meant. And he agreed completely. The trip to Medical seemed very long. As Kirk helped Richter through the door, he called to the attendant on duty, "My friend needs help." The attendant settled Richter in a wheelchair and said to Kirk, "That's fine, sir. I'll take it from here." When Kirk didn't move, he said, "No reason for you to stay, sir." He smiled; it seemed a kind, open smile. Kirk left. As he walked back to his office, he felt the hairs on his neck once again standing up. "Lori?" he called as he walked into his office. She was standing at his window. He had the idea that she'd just moved to that spot. Glancing at his desk, he saw that several things were not where he'd left them. He did not look over at the coat rack, or at the carrying tube he somehow knew she had overlooked. "Something wrong with Carl? Captain Sorrel saw you helping him down the corridor." "He's not feeling well. I took him to Medical." "Oh." She walked away, no expression in her face. It was as if their little talk at lunch had never happened. He sat down at his desk, ignored her as the door opened and she stepped out. "See you at staff meeting." "Sure," he said distractedly, as he reached for a padd. He didn't breathe until the door closed behind her. He leaned back in his chair and stared at the carrying tube, which seemed to shimmer slightly as he looked at it. What the hell was going on around here? --------------------------- "So, how are classes going?" Drake asked as she swung a quarterstaff at Christine's knees. Christine jumped over the staff easily, bringing her own around to connect hard with her watcher's shoulder, knocking the other woman backwards a few steps before she recovered. "Classes are fine," she answered. Drake frowned. "And patrol the past few nights? You haven't given me much of a report." She blocked Christine's staff as it hit her low, then brought her weapon up and to the other side as Christine came at her hard, alternating hits and gaining the advantage. "Patrol was fine." Christine kept her face expressionless as she pressed the attack. Drake finally pushed Christine off her, then backed up a few steps and set her staff upright, leaning on it slightly. Christine eased off, relaxing her hold on the staff but not setting it down. She waited. "What's wrong with you?" Christine shrugged. "I'm fine." "Right." Drake turned and put the quarterstaff away. "If I've done something to irritate you, you better tell me what it is, Christine. Because I'm in the dark here." Christine laughed, knew the sound wasn't a happy one. "Like I'm in the dark about that pendant you found." Drake's look became guarded. "It was a cult symbol, just as I thought. Very old." Christine tossed her staff at Drake hard, turned on her heel. "If you're going to lie to me, Emma, I'm not going to stick around." She grabbed up her pack and headed for the door. "Christine, wait." She didn't slow down. "This doesn't concern you, I swear it." Christine turned around. "Doesn't concern me? Whoever left that there was in the cemetery, probably that night. How does that not concern me?" Drake's face tightened up again, and Christine realized she was going to lie. "Emma, just don't. If you have to make something up, just don't say anything." She turned again. "It's David." Christine stopped. "What?" "The watcher I told you about? The one who was turned?" Christine turned and stared at Drake. "I remember who David is. He's here?" "So it would appear." Drake sat down on the bench, rubbed her eyes hard. "He used to leave a necklace like that behind when he killed one of us. It was his calling card." "You weren't going to tell me?" Christine stalked over to her. "My god, Emma, you left me alone out there with him. A vampire that gutted you like a fish is running around this city, and you didn't even bother to tell me he might be in the neighborhood much less hiding in the damn bushes?" Drake closed her eyes. "You were never in any danger." Christine laughed, then saw the look her watcher turned on her. Frightened. Emma was frightened. Christine dropped her pack, sat down on the bench. "Tell me, Emma. Trust me." "He would never have hurt you, Christine." "But you said he was hunting us?" "Watchers. I meant he hunts watchers. He's never hurt a slayer. In fact, if the stories are true, he's protects them." Christine frowned. "Why?" The idea of a vampire--one without a soul or a handy chip to make him behave--protecting a slayer seemed ludicrous to her. "He blames us. For what happened to Laura. He was obsessed with that, pathological in his grief. Sure that he should have done more to keep her safe. Just as sure that we should have let her go, ignored that she was called, because she was so unsuited. He was turned in that frame of mind and he didn't lose his hatred and guilt. He wants to kill us all, end the watchers' hold on slayers." She shook her head. "They say a demon takes over, but I don't believe it. When I saw David after he'd been turned, that was no demon facing me. It was David." Christine thought of Drusilla. Spike had said she'd been mad when Angelus turned her and she'd stayed mad. She'd certainly been insane when Christine had met up with her. It was increasingly unclear to Christine if there was any demon at all in the vampires, or just the blackness that lived in the hearts and minds of most people, the blackness that was normally pushed down, kept away. "So he's out there? Looking for you?" Drake's expression tightened. "He's obviously found me. Now he's playing with me. He'll take his time before he forces a confrontation." "He's done this before?" Emma nodded. "Oh, yes. It's what made him such a good assassin. He can wait forever. And he could be anywhere. He can fade into a crowd like a cat." Christine nodded. She'd seen vampires with that kind of preternatural grace. "What does he look like?" Drake laughed. "Like the boy next door, like anyone, everyone. He's a master of disguise, Christine. He won't be found until he's ready." Drake let out a long shuddering breath. "He's got you spooked. You're already acting like he's won." Drake ran her hand down her body, following the route of the scar she'd shown Christine. She seemed unaware that she was doing it. "Emma?" Her watcher seemed to shake herself out of the fog she was in. "I'm all right, Christine. It's just a shock. We hurt him so badly; I thought we'd bought more time." She took a deep breath. "Come upstairs and I'll make tea." Her voice was hearty, but there was no invitation in her eyes, just a kind of dark brooding. Christine shook her head. "I have studying to do." She wished there was something she could do for the other woman. "Unless you want me to stay here with you." "Oh, no, dear. He can't come in here, after all. And I won't be inviting him in." "Good." Drake pulled herself up, smiled gamely. "You run along, dear." Christine felt as if she was six years old. Or would have if Emma's tone had been at all convincing. "I won't let him hurt you." Drake turned to look at her. "You'll stay out of this, Christine. Do you hear me?" Her tone was harsher than Christine expected. "But--" "--No! You stay out. His quarrel isn't with you." "He's a vampire. And I slay vampires. Remember?" Drake took her hand, held it tightly, almost too tightly. "No. This is my problem. Mine and Kevin's and the rest of the watcher's. You keep clear of this." She practically pushed Christine up the stairs and out the door. "Now, go study." When Christine hesitated, she said heatedly. "Christine, just once, do what I say." Then she closed the door, rather hard. Christine sighed, looked around the street. It was dark; David could be out there, watching the house. She wouldn't let him hurt Emma. But how to stop him? She mused on ways to smoke him out of hiding as she walked. As she got closer to the cemetery, she found herself more skittish than normal. Any stray sound caused her to turn quickly, sure that she would find the vampire. She passed the cemetery gates and looked in, then stopped as she saw someone with black hair sitting on the bench. The man was asking to be killed. Christine stomped down the path. Thompson turned and gave her his slightly tremulous smile. "Hi. I was hoping you'd show up." "What are you doing here?" He smiled again. "Waiting for you?" She sighed loudly. "How many times do I have to tell you that it's dangerous out here?" He reached down his jacket sleeve, pulled a stake out halfway, then pushed it back in. "I'm ready for trouble." He moved his arm and the stake fell out, clattering on the path. "Oh, yeah. You're ready all right." "You don't look so good." He studied her. "Why don't you sit down?" She didn't want to sit. She wanted to walk, or even run. She felt a pent up energy that was screaming to get out. Wharton was out in the night somewhere. She didn't have time to waste. "I don't even know your name." "And that's how I'd like to keep it." "Oh. Okay." His smiled faded, and everything about him seemed to sink inward. "Sorry I bothered you." He stood, picked up the stake and walked away, into the depths of the cemetery. She sighed again. Just her luck he'd get killed by Wharton and she'd have that on her conscience the rest of her life. "Bob. I'm sorry." She ran after him. "Come back." He turned around. "You know, I don't need you to be mean to me. I get that every day in class and at lunch and at drill." He wrapped his arms around his body. "I hate it here." She gently steered him back toward the gates. "I know it's hard. But you'll get used to it." "You did?" She shook her head. "I'm medical. Didn't have to go through the Academy." "You're lucky." He studied her. "So, you're a doctor?" She smiled. "I was a nurse. But I'll be a doctor very soon." His smile was openly admiring. "So you save people all the time. By day, as a healer, and by night, in the cemetery with those pointy wooden things I'm not supposed to talk about." He frowned. "That doesn't give you much time for life, does it? For play?" She shook her head. "I'm a little old for play. And I know where I want to be. It's hard work going to school, but I'll get there." "You must have studying to do. Why do you come out here at night? Are you moonlighting?" She laughed. "They pay you well, right? For putting your life on the line?" She laughed even harder. "It's a hobby." She stopped when they reached the gates. "Bob, I want you to listen to me carefully, all right? There is a very dangerous"--she leaned in--"vampire in the city." At his look, she nodded solemnly. "Yes, you were right." "Are you going to fight him?" She didn't answer. "I don't want you to get hurt, uh..." he trailed off, clearly searching for what to call her. "My name's Christine." He smiled gratefully. "That's a pretty name." "Thanks. Now, go home. All right?" She shook her head. "And get yourself a cross to go with that stake. It's a lot easier to use." He nodded. "I knew I forgot something." He gave her a long intense look. "I don't want anything to happen to you." "Go home, Bob." He nodded. Turned and walked away. She waited until he was a safe distance from the cemetery before heading back in for a quick sweep. Wharton had been here once, he might show up again. And this time she'd be ready. -------------------- Kirk eyed the seedy lodging with distaste. The small motel--rat trap was more like it--was situated about three blocks from the main part of town. Judging from the couples that were coming in and going out, sex was a popular pastime here in one of San Francisco's seediest parts. He'd never known San Francisco had such seedy parts until he'd started to hang around with Chris. He might have been happier not knowing, living his life like the rest of the residents who went blithely about their business, sure that they lived in a civilized--and therefore safe--world. He took a deep breath. This had to be the place. Tolvar had been quite clear about the directions. He'd said that this was where Kirk could find the best possible person to teach him about the power he had inside him. Power he had no idea how to use, even though he was trying to--trying to wing it. Tolvar had guessed that Kirk had been experimenting. But he hadn't specifically mentioned Kirk's attempt to protect the carrying tube the other day, and Kirk didn't fill him in. The less people who knew about what was inside the tube, the better. Better for him, but more importantly better for Carl. His friend still hadn't been released. In fact, the infirmary had transferred him to another part of Starfleet Medical. Kirk had gone to see him in the private room that Nogura had insisted he have. Lori had been there when he'd arrived. She'd looked up from where she was sitting with a padd, the bulky chair pulled up close to Carl's bed. She smiled, got up to leave them alone, and Kirk had the irrational thought that she was there more in a jailor capacity than as devoted colleague. "Lori," he said, his nod tight. "Jim. I'll be right outside." She brushed against him. A wave of revulsion ran over him. He tried to hide it, nodded cordially when all he wanted to do was knock her away from him. "Jim?" Richter's voice was broken. Kirk turned, ignoring Lori as he walked over to his friend. "I'm here, Carl," he said, as he took Richter's hand in his. He schooled his expression into something normal, didn't want Carl to see how shocked he was at the way his friend had wasted away in the few days since he'd last seen him. He turned to Lori, but she was gone. He eyed her chair, decided he didn't want to sit in it, had no rational reason to distrust it, but everything in him told him to keep away from it. "Jim, did you--" Richter was overcome with a fit of coughing. "Shhh. Lie still." Kirk leaned in. "It's safe, Carl. I've kept it safe." He'd kept it safe but he kept forgetting to look at it. He might have overdone that protection spell--he seemed to forget about the case the minute he walked into his office. Richter seemed to relax. "Good. So tired, Jim." "Sleep, old friend." Kirk let go of his hand, silently watched him as he fell asleep. Kirk suddenly felt that he needed to protect Richter. He'd done it for the carrying case, why not his friend? He put his hands on either side of Richter's face, closed his eyes and concentrated. Then he whispered, "Protect." This time the energy going out of his hand was much more focused. It trailed out his fingers and got no farther, buzzing around him, like mosquitoes trying to get through a forcefield. He closed his eyes and concentrated harder, building the power into something more forceful than a bug. He pictured a photon torpedo and filled it with his energy, with protection and safety and health. In his mind, he sealed it then visualized a torpedo launch bay and a big red launch button. He hit the button as he said, "Protect." The power flew out of him, hit whatever kind of barrier that was covering Carl and came ricocheting back at him. The impact left Kirk gasping; he pulled his hands away, put them to his own head, trying to shake the pain away. The door opened and Lori came barreling in. "Is everything all right?" He forced himself to ignore the pain in his head, dropped his hands and met her gaze unflinchingly. "Why wouldn't it be?" Her eyes narrowed; her nostrils flared. A long silence stretched between them. "He's not getting better," he finally said. "No." He wanted to ask her if that was her fault. He might not know much about magic, but he knew that Richter was surrounded with strong magic--and she was the strongest magician he knew. Granted, he didn't know any others. He turned away from her to look at Richter. His friend looked worse. He touched his face, felt a lingering trace of something. Something dark and evil and twisted. Was it possible to poison someone with magic? He had turned on his heel then and left the room without another word to Lori, had headed straight to the piers, searching for the Andorian who Chris seemed to trust, who her watcher had told him would be able to suggest a teacher. And Tolvar had sent him here. To this disgusting no-tell motel. To find someone named Weasel. Kirk opened the door. A tall, thin man looked up from a padd. His hair was shaved close to his head, the color ranged from dark red to white. His arms were covered with tattoos of symbols that Kirk didn't recognize--the colors were faded, as if the tattoos were very old. He had stubble on his face, and his clothes looked like it had been some months since they'd seen the inside of a refresher. Kirk inhaled gingerly but the room didn't smell sour or rank. In fact, it smelled a lot like the Enterprise had: slightly stuffy, but clean. "You forget something, Mac?" He put down the padd. "Like your better half?" Kirk could see the man had been working on a crossword puzzle. "I'm looking for Weasel." "Yeah? Well, imagine that." The man looked down at his padd. "What's a four letter word for oaf? Ends with 't'" "Lout," Kirk answered quickly. "Yeah. That's it." The man bent back down to the puzzle. "So what do you want Weasel for?" "That's between Weasel and me." The man looked up, his eyes were deep gray, seemed to penetrate straight to Kirk's core. Then he looked away. "Lots of power you got there, Mac. Too bad you don't have a clue how to use it." "You're Weasel then?" When the man just stared at him, Kirk said, "Tolvar told me you could train me." "You're a little old to begin an apprenticeship." Weasel smiled; it did nothing to make him look friendlier. "Tolvar, huh?" Kirk nodded. "Give me your hand." Kirk just stared at him. "I don't want to go steady, Mac. I need to read you." Kirk held his hand out. He felt a shock as Weasel took it. Power, he realized. Weasel was filled with enormous power. He felt something inside him resisting the power. Weasel looked up at him in surprise. "Shields down." At Kirk's look of confusion, he said, "You're blocking me. You shouldn't be able to do that; I'm one hell of a powerful sorcerer. This intrigues me, which is good for the odds that I'll say yes to teaching you. Now, drop your damn shields." Kirk tried to relax, could tell by Weasel's expression that he wasn't succeeding. He remembered how a meld felt, tried to relinquish control the same way so that Weasel could read him. "Good. Hold that thought." Weasel's eyes became unfocused for a moment, then he dropped Kirk's hand. "Impressive. And scary that you're trying to use this with no training. You're lucky you haven't hurt anyone." "So you'll train me?" "I didn't say that, Mac." Kirk felt a rush of frustration. The next time he saw Tolvar, they were going to have words. "I have a name." "No. You don't. You're Mac and I'm Weasel, and that will be safer for both of us." He handed Kirk a keycard. "I work nights. You, I imagine, work days. Early morning is the only time we can do this if you're so dead set on learning?" "I am." Weasel shrugged. "I used the term 'dead set' on purpose." He smiled mockingly. "Though maybe I should have said 'undead set'? Fits you better." Kirk didn't look away, felt it was important that he not let Weasel see that his comment bothered him. "A little vampire blood never hurt anyone. I'm still human." "Yeah, you still are." Weasel nodded slowly. "Okay then. It's your funeral, Mac. I get off at five am. Can you be here then?" Kirk nodded. He'd begun to wake up at four every morning anyway, his thoughts spinning so badly that he couldn't get back to sleep. He gestured at the key card. "Then I'll see you in room thirty-eight." "Thirty-eight," Kirk said, wondering if there was some magical significance to the number. "But not tomorrow. I have something else to do. The next day, you can come the next day." Kirk nodded, wondering if the man really had something to do or if it was just his way of keeping control. "Now get out of here. You're scaring off my regulars." Weasel turned back to his puzzle. Kirk turned and hurried out of the office. He headed back to his part of town, back to the safe part. He saw the officer's club and decided to go in, suddenly desperately in need of a taste of his old, sane world. End part 2 of 3 -- Stephen Ratliff ASC Stories Only Forwarding In the Pattern Buffer at: http//trekiverse.crosswinds.net/feed/ Yahoo! Groups Links To visit your group on the web, go to:http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ASCL/ To unsubscribe from this group, send an email to:ASCL-unsubscribe@yahoogroups.com Your use of Yahoo! Groups is subject to the Yahoo! Terms of Service. From ???@??? Mon Feb 09 00:41:22 2004 Status: U Return-Path: Received: from n5.grp.scd.yahoo.com ([66.218.66.89]) by swallow (EarthLink SMTP Server) with SMTP id 1aQ49yz03NZFkN0 for ; Sun, 8 Feb 2004 21:40:16 -0800 (PST) X-eGroups-Return: sentto-1977044-13159-1076305199-stephenbratliff=earthlink.net@returns.groups.yahoo.