Forwarded by the ASC-VSO Posted: 8 Feb 2004 15:42:01 -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: 3/3 SUMMARY: The third in the Lost Years series. The first two parts (and Thanks to Rabble Rouser and Trekki for the beta! Christine saw Kirk in the distance, walking a bit carefully as if he'd been in a fight. She hurried to catch up with him. "Jim?" He turned and smiled brightly. "Chris. I was just thinking about you." She caught a whiff of scotch--single malt no doubt. "And drinking too. Aren't I the lucky girl?" She took his arm, steering him in the direction of his apartment. "I'm not drunk." "Did I say you were?" she said, trying to assess just how much he'd had to drink. His speech wasn't slurred and he wasn't unsteady as much as held too tight. As if he'd gone somewhere to relax with a few drinks and came out even more stressed. "What happened?" "Why does something have to have happened? Can't I just go out and enjoy a drink?" "Or five?" She checked to see if he understood that she was teasing. He did. "Four and a half." He grinned at her. "Actually only two. But I was well on my way to a good drunk until I thought better of it." She turned him into his building. The doorman nodded at them both, murmured good evening, and hit the button to open the door for them. Once they were in the elevator, she said softly, "And again I ask. What happened?" He sighed. "I signed up for sorcerer classes. Guy named Weasel. Real prince." She laughed. "You're going to learn magic from someone named Weasel?" "You don't have room to criticize; you slept with a guy named Spike." "Well, there's a reason he's called that." "And I'm sure Mister Weasel has his name for a very good reason." He frowned. "He never asked me for payment." She smiled as they walked down the hall and into his apartment. "Give him time." She moved to his bar, picked up the scotch. "Mind if I have some? It's been a long night." "Help yourself." His voice was right behind her. "You know you don't have to ask." She turned. He was standing very close. "Jim?" He moved around her, poured himself a glass of tonic water. "Spike. And Spock." He chuckled. "Funny that the names are so alike." "But the men are so different. It was easy to keep them straight." From the look in his eyes, she thought he was going to say something kind of dirty, but then all the life seemed to go out of him and he turned away. "Jim, what's wrong?" He shook his head, walked over to the couch and sank down onto it. She followed him, was going to sit across from him but he motioned to the place next to him. When she hesitated, he dropped his hand and looked away. Smiling softly, she sat down in the place he'd indicated. "Tell me?" She leaned up against him, knowing it was unfair to use the connection he seemed to be craving to force the truth but willing to do it. If only to get to the bottom of whatever was wrong. "Is it the Weasel thing? Because as names go, it's not that bad. I mean he could have been stinkball or spells-go-wrong." He laughed, turning to look at her and finally dropping his arm around her, pulling her close. "I'm in over my head, Chris." "How so?" She took a sip of her scotch, then put the glass on the table and let her head rest on his chest. Gods, she was tired. She'd been spending too much time in cemeteries looking for Emma's boogeyman. Too much time with nothing at all to show for it. He put his drink down on the side table and wrapped his other arm around her, rubbing her upper back gently, the touch creating a sensation of total comfort. "Bad night, you said?" "Yes, I did. Now, answer my question. How are you in over your head?" "Something is going on at Command. Something magical--black magic, if there is such a thing." "There's dark magic. Never doubt that, Jim." She frowned. "Why do you think it's magic being used at Command?" "Remember I told you that Carl was ill?" She nodded. "I saw him today. He looks like he's dying. Lori was with him. It was endearing until it seemed like she was keeping him there somehow. She left me alone with him and I tried to help him--magically, I mean, as much as I could anyway--but ran up against something that wouldn't let me in. Something magical, with one hell of a recoil." He rubbed at his temples. "The doctors don't seem willing to talk to me about him. Friends don't rate as high as next of kin, I guess." She frowned. "Do you want me to see what I can find out?" "Would you?" He let go of her and reached for his drink. "I'll go tomorrow. After my final." "That's right. Last one, Chris." He smiled, then his eyes narrowed. "Why are you sitting here trying to make me feel better? You have studying to do, don't you?" She nodded, then looked up at him. He was watching her, a tender look on his face. "I like it here," she whispered. He smiled. "And I like having you here. But I don't want to have to listen to how it was my fault you didn't ace this exam." He pushed her off the couch. "Besides, I'll see you tomorrow night, right? Celebration dinner in Shanghai?" She nodded. It was awfully nice that he had such cushy transporter privileges. "Go on," he said. "I'll be fine." "I'll see you tomorrow." She turned and headed for the door, turning around just before she got there to say, "If there is something going on at Command. We'll figure it out." He nodded, took another drink of his scotch. She could tell he wasn't convinced. "Jim, I mean it." "Uh huh. And how close are you to finding that watcher turned vampire?" "You don't normally get mean when you drink." He motioned her out. "I'm sorry. Just go, go study." When she didn't move, he stood up and walked over to her. She stared up at him, deliberately made her lower lip tremble as if she was going to cry. "Chris?" he said in a worried tone, then his face lightened. "Faker. You are a great actress." He touched her lips, which were both trembling now from trying not to laugh. "Pretty lips," he said so softly she barely made out the words. He slid his finger across her lower lip then pulled away slowly. "Go." His eyes were soft, calm. She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and left before she could say anything else that would get her into trouble. ---------------------- "How long will you be gone?" Uhura sipped at her water as she watched McCoy pack. "A few weeks this time. Then I may sign on for longer tours." He held up one of his t-shirts. "How many of these do you think I need?" "They don't have refreshers on this world you're going to?" "We'll be lucky if they have potable water." He shook his head, his expression grim. "Four decades of war, Nyota. Forty years of non-stop conflict. They finally made peace and when the dust settled, they realized that there was nothing left of their infrastructure. People sick and dying and no hospital system left to support them, just a handful of doctors trying to do their best with little in the way of medicine or supplies. They need our help. They need my help." "Len, I applaud what you're doing. I didn't mean to be flip." She looked down. "It's just that I'm going to miss you. I've gotten spoiled having you within reach." He walked over and kissed her. "Just consider it practice for when you're back on the Enterprise and I'm down here." She smiled sadly. "I don't have to do this. It's not too late to ask for planet duty." "Yes, you do have to do this. The same way I have to take part in this relief mission. When M'Benga told me they were in desperate need of volunteers for the medical section, I jumped at the chance to make a difference again." She hugged him close. "You make a difference to me." "Oh, darlin', I know that. But you aren't here all the time. A man can only sit daydreaming in the sun for so long. Even if the locale is as glorious as Savannah. "You're pulling away." His hold on her tightened. "No, I'm not. I love you. I plan to keep on loving you. You've become a large part of my world. And that's why I have to make sure that when you leave, I'm not stuck with a Nyota-sized hole in my life. I need to know that I'll be busy, not just sitting here missing you." She looked up at him, touched at his words. "You're so sweet." He gave her a pleased grin. "That was good, wasn't it?" She nodded. "I do love you." She kissed him. "I know you do." She let him go. "Finish up and I'll walk with you to the transporter station." She sat down on the window seat, only partially paying attention to Len. She had several meetings scheduled the next day with the engineers who were refitting the Enterprise. She couldn't wait to see the latest configuration of the comm station. It would be her design. Something she could look at every time she sat at her station and know that she had a hand in making it work and work well. She wondered when Decker planned to approach Christine. Hoped he wasn't going to take too much longer. Christine was in demand other places, and Uhura wasn't sure which offer she would choose at this point. "What do you think Christine should do when she gets done with her residency?" McCoy didn't hesitate. "Nothing better than being on a ship. Lots of variety. You know you make a difference. And you never have to attend long, boring meetings." She laughed. "Why? You think she is going to choose research? Or accept a position at Starfleet Medical?" "I don't know. Decker is thinking about her for sickbay." "Well, tell the damn fool not to take too long. Once Christine's made her mind up, there's no changing it." Uhura nodded, knew they were both thinking about Spock. "I wonder how he is," McCoy said softy. Emotionless, she wanted to say. That was what Christine had said he would become. But Uhura couldn't believe the Spock she knew could leave behind all his emotions. She'd seen them come to the surface too many times, knew he had a depth of feeling that most people didn't realize. To purge them, wouldn't he have to destroy everything that made him special? "Christine all right about that?" McCoy closed up his bag. "She doesn't talk about him much anymore." "Why not? Spike coming around again?" Uhura shook her head. "Pity. I liked the kid." "The kid is over 400 years old." McCoy laughed. "I know. Vampires...who can figure out that lifestyle?" "She's hanging around Jim a lot." He turned to her as he swung his bag over his shoulder. "Do you mean...?" "You are such an old biddy, Len." She walked with him to the door. "Would it be a bad thing if it did mean that?" "I'm not sure." McCoy locked up his place and waved at his neighbor as they set off down the street. "They've both been to some dark places lately. That can bond people." She waited. "It can also make them fall back into those places faster." "She seems to be happier. Not so dark." It was true, not just something she was saying to mollify Len. Christine did seem much happier lately. Uhura thought it was as much due to Christine's new watcher and their therapy sessions as the fun her friend seemed to be having with Kirk. "But what about Spock? I can't see Jim poaching." He shook his head. "Maybe you'd have a better feeling for that if you'd talk to him instead of just talking about him..." She saw his face and stopped talking. A moment later, she couldn't stand it and tried again. "He was your best friend, Len. He and Spock. Spock is gone, out of reach. But Jim is still accessible, if you'd just reach out." "No sense in reaching out if no one is reaching back." She shot him an annoyed look but he didn't waver. Knowing she was fighting a losing battle, she changed the subject. "Call me while you're gone?" He stopped just short of the transporter station. "Of course, I'm gonna call you. You'll get sick of how often I call you." She nodded, kissed him, it was a sweet kiss. "I'll miss you." "And I'll miss you. Every single day." He pulled away, looked at the station. "I guess it's time." She nodded and followed him into the station, surprised at how bereft she felt at the idea of him leaving for just a few weeks. How much worse was it going to be when he was gone longer or when she shipped out for good? -------------------------- "Will Decker came to see me today." Christine busied herself with her chopsticks, not wanting to see Kirk's face. Afraid to see his expression. "He wants you." His voice was glum, but matter of fact, as if he'd never doubted that Decker would follow-up on his recommendation. She sneaked a glance at him. His face was tight, nearly as expressionless as Spock's on a bad day. "Yes, he wants me for a position in sickbay." "You should accept his offer." He took a deep breath, then dug into this food. He didn't look up at her for a long time. She sighed. Why couldn't she have waited to tell him this? They were in Shanghai, for cripe's sake. She had to tell him now? "I'm sorry, Chris." He put his hand down, reached across the table. She reached back, felt his fingers clasp hers tightly. "I could have found a better way to say that." "And I could have found a better way to hear it. It's good news. Another thing to celebrate." He lifted his beer. "To you. To success and a new life." She clinked her glass softly against his. He smiled, but the expression didn't quite make it to his eyes. He looked so sad, even as he tried to be happy for her. Tried to be supportive. "I haven't decided yet what I'm going to do." He just nodded. "I don't really even know this Decker." She could see that he wasn't going to let her get out of it that easily. "Will's a good man. I recommended him for that posting." "He told me that." Kirk sighed. "Jim, I'm sorry. I--" "Chris. Please. There's nothing for you to be sorry about. If you want to be on the Enterprise, then accept. It will be great for your career." He smiled ruefully. "When I told Decker about you months ago, I had no idea what it would mean for me if he took you away." He looked away, then back at her. "You realize you're my closest friend now?" "I feel sorry for you then." Her attempt at humor fell flat. She squeezed his hand. Too hard. Saw him wince. "Sorry." They sat in an odd silence. One that seemed to hover on the edge of disaster...or of discovery. "You're my closest friend too." She saw his look and tried again. "You and Uhura and Emma." She made a face at the idea of her watcher being her friend, but it was true. "But you and I have come the farthest, don't you think? We never really had much to do with each other, except as far as ship's business went. But now...now I think about you. All the time." It was a dangerous admission. Did he understand what she was saying? He seemed to, his hand tightened in hers. "I think about you too." He took another sip of beer, then pulled his hand away gently. "I shouldn't though." She waited for him to continue but he didn't, just stared at her, his expression half wistful, half resigned. Then he seemed to shake off whatever he was feeling. "I have my first class with Weasel this morning at oh-dark-hundred." "Are you a morning person?" "I seem to wake up early these days. Can't get back to sleep." "That's stress, Jim." He laughed. "What have I got to be stressed about? Cushy desk job, nice standard of living. Women at my beck and call." He shot her a look at the last part. It was full of things unsaid. Again the silence stretched between them. Desperate to break it, Christine said, "I told Emma who you were going to be training with. She said not to sign anything in blood." Again the joke fell flat. Although Emma really had said that. "Sometimes, I wish I didn't know what lurked under the bed." He looked away. "Sometimes, I wish it could all go back the way it was, that we were never called to Alpha Nu-M." She nodded, felt a sting at his words. Sometimes he must wish he'd never met her, not as the slayer anyway. "I'm sorry." He nodded, put down his chopsticks. "I'm not very hungry." "Me neither." She tried to swallow the last bite she'd taken, found it had stuck in her throat. She chased it down with beer. "Jim, please don't shut down on me." "I may have to, Chris. This is hurting. And that's...unexpected." He looked away for a moment. "It shouldn't hurt. You're Spock's girl." "I'm not his girl anymore. And you know it. We both know it." "I'm not sure he knows it." He finished his beer in one long draught. "You ready?" She nodded miserably. Her celebration was ruined, and she had only herself to blame. "I'm sorry." "Quit saying that, Chris." She followed him out of the restaurant, wondering if she had ruined more than just her little party. ------------------------ Waking in pitch blackness, Kirk turned to look at the chrono. Four o'clock. Of course. At least this time, he had somewhere to be in an hour. He pushed himself out of bed, making some coffee and eating breakfast before heading for the shower. The hot water felt good, and he tried to lose himself in its soothing sensation. Tried not to think about how he had ruined Chris's celebration dinner by sulking. He should have been more supportive. He should have hidden his own disappointment. He shouldn't have been thinking about pulling her into his arms and kissing her until she promised not to go...not to leave him. He closed his eyes and let the water run over his head, washing away the shampoo but not doing anything for the morose thoughts that plagued him. He wanted her. He couldn't have her. Maybe her leaving was the best thing? Maybe in the long run, it would hurt less? He got dressed quickly, heading out the door. The sun wasn't up, wouldn't be up for some time, and he touched the stake he'd jammed into his jacket pocket, the stake he now carried with him everywhere he could. He hadn't been lying to Chris when he'd said that sometimes he wished he'd never found about this seamy underbelly of life. He'd been happier not knowing. Although that was probably unfair. He'd been happier on the Enterprise--it was unfair to blame Chris and the underworld she'd brought to him for the pain he felt at losing his ship. That was just the normal progression of a Starfleet career. She and her demons and vampires hadn't had anything to do with that. But it would be easier to blame her, than to accept that he had brought himself to this dismal state of affairs. Easier to say his life had become hell, not that he'd chosen it for himself. He turned off the main drag, heading for the motel. It wasn't a long walk, but it was a dangerous one. He saw several men eying him from an alley, knew somehow that they were vampires. One of them started to walk toward him and he drew his stake. The other vampire pulled his buddy back. "Magic," Kirk thought he heard him whisper. The two vampires faded into the shadows. Kirk jammed the stake back into his pocket as he walked a little faster, adrenaline already flowing. He'd been looking forward to a fight. Needed it. He pulled out his key card. Thirty-eight. The number of his destiny. He walked past the entrance to the room, opened it and was met with a surge of energy as he tried to walk over the threshold. Weasel came up behind him. "It's called a Caverimics shield. Go ahead and try to break through it." Kirk pushed at the energy, and it surged back at him in equal measure. He touched it lightly, and it flitted back at him. "I take it I don't want to punch it?" "Not unless you're into pain." Kirk nodded. "How do you get past it?" "Consider that an extra credit problem, Mac." Weasel muttered a few words and the buzz of energy faded. "Easy for me, since I created it. It's supposed to be impermeable to the average person. But you aren't the average person." "So in time, I'll be able to get past it?" "If you're any good, you will be." Weasel motioned him into the room. "If you're not any good, I won't be training you." He closed the door, turned on the light. "This part, Mac, it's not training; it's testing. To see if you're worthy of my time." "Worthy of a guy named Weasel?" "You think it's a stupid name? One that doesn't command respect? Well, good." He moved past the bed, opened the closet and said a few words in what Kirk thought was Greek. The closet disappeared, was replaced by a set of stairs leading underground. "Come into my parlor," Kirk muttered as he followed Weasel down. "You have any idea what it's like to be a master sorcerer, Mac? Every young buck with an ounce of magic wants to take you on. You go through life with a name like "The Great Xalliostro" and you're sure to be challenged--most often to the death. It gets old." "Old facing death?" Weasel snapped his fingers, and torches flared down the stairs and along the corridor that led off from them. "Old getting rid of the bodies. I'm a very good sorcerer, my friend. I don't lose." He opened a door with another set of murmured words. Torches were already burning in the large, sparsely furnished room. "Welcome to my workroom." Kirk looked at the herbs and potions carefully lined up on the worktable, at the old-fashioned books that lined the wall--and the more modern terminal at a small desk, padds surrounding it. He saw a large wand with a huge sparkling blue stone. It looked like the transmuter that Sylvia and Korob had used to make their illusions come to life. Had there been any magic behind their parlor tricks? Or only technology amplifying simple will? Sylvia had told Kirk that he was different. Had she meant because of the magic inside him? "Pick it up if you want. Just don't break it." "It's your source of power?" "No, it's just pretty. That's a real sapphire in it. You have any idea what it costs to facet one that big?" "No, I don't. But I'm sure you'll tell me." Kirk picked it up. Weasel lit a long rod of incense and the essence of patchouli and some deeper, more heady scent began to fill the room. "The wand is a way to focus power, but it's not the source of my power. That comes from in here." He tapped his head, then moved his hand down to lay on his chest. "And in here." "I don't hold with mumbo-jumbo." It seemed a stupid thing to say but Kirk didn't try to take it back. "Hey, neither do I. Who needs to make things all complicated? If you ask me, the ritual is just there to make it look harder to outsiders. Or to give the insiders something to share. But you don't need it." He took the wand from Kirk. "Hold your hands out." Kirk did as he said. Weasel suddenly began incanting in a strange language, his voice going up and down in a series of tones that seemed designed to appear random when they were anything but. He made a low bow in four directions, then held his hands up high, as if drawing down energy before snapping the wand at Kirk. An apple appeared in Kirk's hand. Weasel set the wand down on the table. "Pretty impressive, wasn't that? Lots more than if I'd just done this--" He snapped his fingers and said, "Apple," and an apple appeared in Kirk's other hand. "More impressive, yes. But..." "But?" "But a waste of energy." Weasel smiled. "Right. First test passed. No disappointment at loss of mumbo-jumbo." He pretended to check something off a list. "Now let's see what you've got, shall we?" He led Kirk to the side of the room. "Sit down." He began to rummage through a box next to the door, pulled something out and tossed it to Kirk. Kirk caught it. It seemed to be a plain rubber ball. "Hmmm." "Hmmm?" Kirk said. "Is that a good hmmm or a bad one?" "Just hmmm. It's a plain ball. You'd be surprised how many people try to act as if they feel something from it though." Kirk tossed the ball to him, and Weasel put it back in the box. Then he turned away, seemed to be doing something but with his back to Kirk, the result was impossible to see. Then he turned and tossed another ball at Kirk. This one glowed the way Alma had when she was on the verge of anger. Kirk tried to catch it, felt it make contact with his hands, then it exploded into a shower of sparks that fell harmlessly against him, not burning him. "Well, fire likes you. Not surprising, I guess. I did some checking. Tolvar said you were involved with a fire demon?" Kirk nodded tightly. "Don't like to talk about her, eh? Fine by me." Weasel held his hands out, said, "Let's try water," as a ball of water seemed to form in his hands. He tossed it to Kirk. The ball broke up into a thousand drops, all of them hitting Kirk's hands and beading off, leaving him dry. "That's damned odd." Weasel walked over, checked Kirk's clothes. "Dry. That makes no sense if you gravitate toward fire. You ever had your chart cast?" Kirk shot him a look. "My what what?" "Have Tolvar do it the next time you see him. Tell him I need it." "My chart?" "Your natal chart, yeah. Tell him I want the full read. He doesn't need to dumb it down for the tourists." At Kirk's blank look he shook his head. "Your horoscope, Mac. I want that chart." "Okay." Kirk tried not to roll his eyes. If you asked him, astrology seemed to fit into the mumbo-jumbo category. Of course, Weasel wasn't asking him, he was telling him. "I'll get the chart." Weasel took Kirk's hand, laid it on his arm. "Tell me what you feel as I work on this one." Kirk waited, then felt something forming, an energy that somehow reminded him of his boyhood on the farm, rich deep soil being turned by his uncle's hoe, the smell of growing things, alive, fecund. Earth. He didn't realize he'd said it out loud until Weasel said, "Right, earth." Weasel shook his hands out. "I didn't even get to the manifesting part and you knew. You're a very interesting man, Mac." "I guess that leaves air?" Kirk was glad he'd paid attention to Alma when she'd talked about the elements. "Let's do something different." Weasel moved his hands around Kirk's hand. "Close your eyes and think of air. How would you build it if you had to?" Kirk closed his eyes, imagining the wind on the coast, the feel of it blowing through his hair, whipping up the waves and the sand and the flames of his bonfire. "Just air, Mac. Leave the others out of it." Kirk thought he heard some kind of admiration in Weasel's voice. The man must not have expected him to try to work with all of them. Kirk wasn't even sure why he had visualized that. Except that it was hard to visualize air except by seeing its impact on other things. "Try to focus on the air. You can use the others, but don't give them the same weight. See the effect on them if you will, but let air be primary." Weasel's voice was calm. "And save the whys for later." Kirk considered the wind again, felt it blow against him. He thought of the sound of the breeze blowing through the dead corn in the autumn fields, or how it whipped through the palm trees in the California deserts when the Mexican monsoons roared up the interior. The corn sounded like waves crashing, the palm trees like spears rattling. "Yesssss," Weasel said. "Keep going." He saw himself leaping off the side of El Capitan, a wing harness secured on his back. He fell until he caught an updraft, then he flew, safe and free and alive. He heard hawks cry as they soared above him, saw a falcon diving down, down, down. "Yes. More." He heard the roar of decompression, thought of the airlocks, the hiss as oxygen flooded the compartment. The way the shuttles shook as they went from vacuum to atmosphere, the sound as the door opened and the pressure stabilized. "Open your eyes--slowly." Weasel's voice was very soft. Kirk did, tried not to react to the orb that hovered above their clasped hands. It was clear and inside air swirled and rushed and created eddies, wonderful, controlled shifts and bends. "I made that?" "Yes. You did." Weasel let go of his hands and the ball started to shiver. "Hold it." The ball shivered more, the air rushing around, the movements no longer calm, not longer so pretty. "Focus on it." But the orb disintegrated. Wind whipped Kirk, then all was quiet. "Sorry." Weasel shrugged. "You got too excited. It's to be expected. First time and all." He nodded, smiled and for the first time it seemed an open expression. A welcoming one. "You'll teach me then?" Weasel smiled. "Oh, yes. I'll teach you." "And the payment?" "I haven't decided yet." "I need to know up front. And I won't sign in blood." Emma's warning had sounded more dire to him than he'd wanted to let on to Chris. "It won't be that bad, Mac. I don't need credits, or anything really. But I might someday need a ship, or your help. Promise me that you'll help me if and when the time comes." "If I can, I'll help you." "That's not quite what I asked." "If I'm under orders to be somewhere else, somewhere halfway across the galaxy, I won't be able to help you no matter how much I might want to. If it's in my power to help you--and not evil--I will. That's the best I can do." Weasel finally nodded. "It'll do." He began to rummage in the chest again. "And we don't need prying eyes, or any other senses, knowing you are doing this. So the first thing I'm going to teach you is to shield completely--not that you aren't damned good at it already." Kirk smiled. "Oh, don't get cocky. You've been lucky so far, using the magic by instinct instead of training. And I can't promise that I can teach you as much now as I could if you were young. Some magics, once they become ingrained in instinct, become out of reach." "I don't understand." "Picture you're an archery fanatic," Weasel said. "Been shooting bows and arrows all your life. And you're quite good at it. But your form is all wrong. How hard would it be to correct that? The better you are, the more resistant you'll be to change. Magic is like that. You've woven protection spells and never even realized you were doing it. I'm not sure I can undo what you know, enough to teach you how to do it right. I can enhance some things though. And it will be a challenge to see how far we can go with this." He smiled again. "Tolvar knows I love a challenge." "Sitting at the desk of this fleabag motel isn't your idea of a challenge?" "Hey, I own this fleabag. It provides very good cover. And anyone can come here--even an admiral in Starfleet--and not raise a lot of comment." "So you do know who I am." Weasel shrugged. Kirk smiled. "So about these shields?" Weasel first began to show him exactly how he was already protecting himself, then moved on to building up that protection, making it more intentional, less instinctive. As Kirk worked, he realized he was enjoying himself. Truly enjoying himself. And other than when he was with Chris, he couldn't say that about most of his life. Maybe things were looking up? FIN -- 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! 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