The workups Captain Wallace had ordered of the squad of Marines already aboard the station had gone smoothly. At Tarik's request, a cargo bay had been converted to a combat simulation area. It was anticipated that the Son'a were to attack the station; if and when that happened, the Marines would be the first line of defense. And Tarik wanted them to be ready. In another four days the rest of the 28th MEF would be arriving. Tarik hoped these troops lived up to their billing. General Sandoval--the Commandant himself--had promised that these Marines would be the cream of the crop. From a man of Luis Sandoval's reputation, that meant something.
Exactly the third person in the Corps I can trust--I think, Tarik thought. His career had not gone well, mainly due to his having to overcome over a century of prejudice. And fifteen years of battle fatigue.
Tarik forwarded the readiness reports to Captain Wallace. The hour was late, but there were many things going through his mind. Tarik looked over at the household idol he'd purchased from that enigmatic shopkeeper the other night. In retrospect, Tarik thought he'd paid far too much. But somehow the Romulan deity seemed to summon him.
Sometimes we pick our gods; sometimes our gods pick us, Tarik reflected. His family had been almost by necessity secular. There were very few Romulan priests on Vulcan; other than the usual ancestor veneration Tarik couldn't recall any rites or ceremonies being followed by his parents.
I suppose I should pray to it or something. Maybe it will help--many of the humans pray to gods and the Bajorans seek their Prophets, and it seems to help them, he thought as he knelt before the idol and entered a meditative trance.
Tarik had never been good at meditation. He soon fell asleep....
2373
Taos Colony, Federation-Cardassian Neutral Zone
Tarik led his platoon through a heavily wooded area. Intelligence reports had suggested a large concentration of Cardassian forces in the area. Quietly they moved, Tarik in the middle of the column. Suddenly the point man gave the signal for the platoon to drop and take cover. The enemy had been sighted!
Tarik moved up to his point man. The point man signaled that five Cardassians were within 100 meters of the platoon. Tarik's hearing, more acute than the rest of the largely human platoon's, told him that these particular Cardassians had no concept of how to move through undergrowth.
He signalled the platoon to set up an ambush. Tarik himself ducked off the pathway behind a huge rotten log rapidly converting itself to hummus.
The grouping of Cardassians came closer. The lead man was carrying some sort of tricorder and focusing more on his readings than on his surroundings. Tarik watched him intently. The Cardassian was just a glinn--a junior officer, like himself, probably leading his first detail. His fieldcraft tells me he's a rookie, anyway, Tarik thought. He'd been in the field just under two years.
The Cardassian officer shouted something in Cardassian; Tarik caught the words "prisoner" and "up here." A search party! Tarik thought. Someone managed to get away and they're looking for him or her!
Tarik wasn't about to let that happen. Within seconds, the platoon opened fire on the searchers. The Cardassians never got off a single shot. Soon the woods were filled with the scent of burned Cardassian uniform fabric and flesh. Something about the Cardassian uniforms gave off a particular odor when phasers burned them. It was an odor Tarik could never quite get out of his mind. He'd smelled it a lot in the past two years.
Tarik produced his own tricorder and scanned the area. Had his own tricorder been active the Cardassians would have spotted the activity. Sure enough, there was one extra lifesign--human, in the trees directly above him. Tarik looked up.
"Come on down, you're safe now," he said.
The ex-prisoner, very well hidden, clambered out of the tree carrying a Cardassian phaser rifle. He wore the extremely tattered remains of a Starfleet Marine uniform and was half-starved. Tarik could see where several of the man's teeth had been knocked out, and his hands were covered with the reddish-purple of clotted Cardassian blood. "Am I glad to see you guys! They almost had me!"
"Identify yourself," Tarik said. "Name, rank, unit designation."
"Private First Class Johnny Chee, 549526582. I was with Alpha Company, 3rd Battalion, 75th Marine Division until about a year ago, sir. And you are, sir?"
"First Lieutenant Tarik. I command a platoon of the USS Leonov's Marine Detachment."
"Good! There's a whole camp full of prisoners here! They keep it underground and heavily shielded; when I broke out there were maybe a hundred and fifty of us, Lieutenant--Tarik? Begging your pardon, isn't that a Rom name?" the ex-POW replied.
"The term technically is Rihannsu, and yes, you're correct. I was raised on Vulcan by dissidents," Tarik replied, giving the man a lot of leeway considering what he'd been through.
"Ah...my apologies, sir. I don't care if you're a Gorn--I'm happy to see you!"
"I wil inform my company commander; Captain Sandoval and Commander Osagawa will want to debrief you as well. Corpsman, get Private Chee to the Leonov. Compliments to the company commander. Platoon, stay on station. The Cardassians will no doubt come looking for their friends..."
The night had come quickly. Sure enough, another Cardassian detachment--this one platoon-strength--had come searching for their fallen comrades. These were no run-of-the-mill prison guards. These were Obsidian Order troops!
The two platoons played a cat-and-mouse game in the woods for hours, each dodging the other. Occasionally someone would take a shot at someone else, and both groups would go to ground for several minutes. Finally, all Hell broke loose. A Cardassian atmospheric shuttle filled the air with a low vibration.
Tarik couldn't contact the Leonov--the communications signal would allow the Cardassians to pinpoint his position. A transporter signal would only invite the Cardassians to attempt to scramble the signal, killing them all. "Everyone take cover! We're the subject of a fire mission!"
The platoon scattered. There was no time to dig a bunker; the best Tarik and a few others could do was to pile some rotten logs into a barrier and hope the blast went the right way. Working as quickly as possible, the Marines stacked the logs as high and as deep as possible. A phaser blasted through the woods, setting trees on fire and spraying dirt and moss everywhere. One of the Marines didn't make it to the bunker in time. "Corpsman! My leg!"
Tarik could have left Corporal Sutter to die. He could have detailed the platoon corpsman or someone else to fetch the man who'd broken his leg. But no--Tarik didn't want to expose his people to any risk he wasn't willing to take himself. Tarik ran out to get Corporal Sutter. He managed to get Sutter...
...just in time to see the Cardassian shuttle blast apart the makeshift bunker with the rest of his command inside. Of sixteen men, only four survived...
2377
Starbase 207
"Okay, Marines, listen up!" Tarik ordered the company. "Our search subject is Darryl Shockley, prisoner number 7790. He is a convicted serial sexual predator and murderer with ties to the Orion Syndicate. Our sources indicate that he may have arranged with the Orions to be beamed off of Alcatraz," he said, referring to the barely habitable planet housing the Federation's most dangerous criminals. Starbase 207 orbited in a geosynchronous orbit between Alcatraz and its equally despicable twin, Attica.
"After killing two dirtside security personnel, Shockley is believed to be heading north of the facility to an area where the geomagnetic storms are less intense. Our task is to beam down, seach for, and apprehend Shockley. He may be wearing a guard uniform and is most definitely armed and dangerous. Set your phasers for heavy stun and stay alert! All right, now fall out and prepare for transport!"
Moments later, Captain Tarik had beamed down to Alcatraz in a rocky, desolate area twenty kilometers north of the prison facility. His tricorder immediately picked up the escapee's implanted transponder. Less than 100 meters away! It looks like this is going to be a short job, after all!
Tarik moved quickly toward the source of the signal. The perennially high winds on the planet's surface dimmed his hearing significantly. He made the same mistake a Cardassian officer chasing another escaped prisoner had made four years earlier. Tarik was looking at his tricorder and not the terrain. Shockley jumped him.
Darryl Shockley was very strong by human standards; Tarik was only just able to meet his match between the high gravity of Alcatraz and the fact that Shockley jumped him from behind. Tarik finally planted a knee in Shockley's back and forced him to the ground.
Shockley's leg was bleeding profusely; a quick scan of the surroundings revealed that the man had cut the transponder out of his own body and placed it several meters away. The man was just sick enough to pull it off, Tarik thought disgustedly. He frisked the prisoner and found a large knife and an old-fashioned Type I phaser--just small enough to fit in the palm of the hand.
Tarik tried to use his communicator to contact the warden. No luck--the electromagnetic storms were creating too much interference. His orders under these circumstances were to stay on station with the prisoner until the storm weakened.
Spending the next twelve to fifteen hours with a convicted and confessed rapist, child molester, and serial killer didn't exactly strike Tarik as a good time. He mulled his options.
"You're just like me, you know," Shockley said. "They give you a uniform and call it heroism. Without the government's sanction, though, you're no better than I am."
"Even in uniform what you've done would have been despicable," Tarik replied. "Especially if you were in uniform. I know about you--it isn't about sex, or about thrills. It's about power. You want the power but not the responsibility. That makes you a coward."
"Hero, coward, they're all just labels. Why don't we dispense with the niceties and call it what it is--our baser instinct come to the forefront," Shockley said.
"'For all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God'," Tarik quoted. "Words intended for the ears of one race but true throughout the cosmos, as far as we've seen. I know what I am, and what I do. I don't enjoy it, though. I do what's necessary. That's the difference, Shockley."
"Oh, but I bet you do enjoy it! You enjoy seeing your enemies go down. You enjoy victory, don't you? And how do you know it isn't necessary? How do you know you can't resist the call? Have you ever been in that position?" Shockley continued, taunting Tarik
Tarik knew what Shockley was doing. In a sick sense, Shockley was right. Tarik couldn't resist. He drew the Type I phaser and shot the prisoner.
You weren't worth it. But somehow I feel better doing this. I'd trade ten of you for even one of the Cardassians I've killed. Most of them, at least, were guilty of nothing more than being the enemy.
Tarik's report would later reflect that Shockley had suicided rather than allow himself to be captured; he had been bleeding too heavily from his self-inflicted explant of the transponder to have survived, anyway. Nobody ever asked again what happened to Darryl Shockley.
She had been asleep, Kassia thought as her consciousness slowly came to her. She had been dreaming . . . of some world full of waterfalls, lush forests and birds . . . she remembered birds . . . It had been such a peaceful dream . . . But something had awoken her. As the dream drifted from her consciousness, slowly other images and thoughts entered it. Something strongly pulled at her mind . . . It was Tarik, she realized as she woke up further. As she focused on him, she sensed his distress. He was in the midst of a nightmare, but it was filled with intensity. She made up her mind swiftly. She would go to him and try to help.
Not wanting to take much time dressing, she threw on a pair of black pants and a black camisol. She grabbed a black, long sleeved shirt and wore it like a jacket. She was walking out of the bedroom, trying to put her shoes on, when suddenly she spotted Troy. He leaned in the doorway to his room, watching her, with his arms folded in front of him casually.
"You're going to him, aren't you?" he asked. His dark eyes filled with concern.
"Who?" she asked innocently, as if being dressed and ready to leave in the middle of the night was perfectly normal.
"Kass," he said, "You might be the psychic, but I'm not blind and I'm not stupid . . . You're going to see Tarik . . ."
"Yes," she replied, standing up tall as she finished adjusting her shoes. " I need to be with him . . ."
"Well, I know you two have been spending a lot of time together over these last couple of days . . . Dinners together . . . where you don't come back for hours . . ." He said.
She could sense that he wasn't angry. He was just concerned. He wanted to protect her . . . She went to him and caressed his cheek. "Troy, I can't explain it, but Tarik and I have this connection that goes beyond understanding . . . Its as if we're a part of each other . . ."
Troy sighed, and embraced her. "I just worry about you."
"I know," she replied, "But try not to . . ."
"Okay," he said, gently caressing her face. " But if he ever hurts you, I'm going to wipe the bulkheads with him . . ."
"It will never happen," she responded, giving his cheek a peck. "Now go back to sleep, dear brother of mine."
With a sweet smirk on her face, she left their quarters.
She walked through the quiet station. Though not everyone was in bed, since the station itself never slept, there were no hustle and bustle of crowds. Just a few people here and there. Her mind wandered as she walked, over the time they had shared together so far. No matter what they did, it always seemed right. As if every moment they had free they were meant to be with one another. When they spoke, hours seemed like minutes. When they touched . . . it sent fire through her veins. And she noticed that the more time they spent together, the stronger their bond grew.
She had been so lost in her own thoughts that she was startled to find herself in front of Tarik's quarters. She wasn't even sure how she had found them, since she had never been there before. But there she was. Knowing the door was locked, she gently probed his mind for the code. Pressing it in, the door slid open. She entered quietly.
The lights were on full. As she looked around, she saw that the place was barren of any real personal items. This didn't surprise her. She walked on, until she came to his form kneeling before the idol he'd purchased from her, asleep. She could see his nightmare in all its intensity as she closed her eyes. There was pain and fear and anger. . . She knelt down beside him, to try to touch him and use her abilities to settle his sleep . . . But just as her fingertips brushed the skin on his face, his eyes snapped open and he grabbed her arm roughly. He wasn't fully awake yet, so she remained very still.
Tarik drew his arm back to strike, then woke up and saw Kassia. Immediately he stood down. "What are you doing here?" he asked, both curious and shocked.
"You were having a nightmare," she tried to explain. "It seemed pretty bad. I . . . wanted to ease it . . ."
"How did you know? I had just sat down before the idol, and suddenly....you don't suppose it's connected, do you?"
"I suppose there is a possibility," Kassia replied.
"I thought meditation was supposed to calm the mind, not stir it up!"
"It depends on your method. Meditation can backfire sometimes . . . making one deal with things they haven't yet dealt with."
"I was afraid you were going to say that. These things in particular I've not wanted to think about, either when they happened or now." Tarik sighed. "But I suppose they were bound to catch up with me at some point. They couldn't have picked a worse time, either."
"Why?" she asked, her green eyes filled with curiosity.
"I know you saw my dreams, or else you wouldn't be here. How much did you see?"
"Most, I believe," she answered. "I saw your men killed, and I saw the prisoner you caught . . ." Her appearance softened more as she reached to touch his face. "It's all right . . ."
Tarik continued. "The Cardassians were mean sons of bitches, but most of them still had some principles deep down inside. I'm not talking about the Obsidian Order, of course--I'm talking about line grunts. They were brutal but predictable. You could deal with them. The Son'a, however, are more like Shockley. They're monsters. There was an Earth philosopher named Nietzsche who said that if we kill monsters long enough, eventually we become the monster.
"In order to deal with the Son'a, we may have to become like the Son'a...and that's what I'm afraid of. A fight like this isn't going to be pretty and we aren't going to be pretty afterward. And I'm beginning to wonder how much of a monster I'm becoming."
Kassia's eyes misted. "You are no monster," she replied. "And you won't become one . . ."
Tarik took a breath. "Sometimes I wonder. The last couple of times I've been up against the enemy I wanted nothing more than to make them suffer, and to make it personal. Those two Son'a I killed at New Canada? I could have just as easily shot them and gotten it over with. But I took them on hand-to-hand instead. That was not only irresponsible but also very telling. I wanted it to be personal, Kassia! I wanted to see them suffer!"
"But that doesn't make you a monster . . . " she replied. "Yes, maybe it was irresponsible . . . But you were angry. You wanted someone to pay for what had happened. That's not unusual when horrendous things happen . . ."
"I don't want anyone else to get hurt on account of my lack of control. I've thought about resigning but that's not addressing the real problem," Tarik replied. For the first time in his adult life, he felt vulnerable before another adult.
"And the real problem is. . ." she said asking. She knew what it was, but felt that he had to voice it aloud to himself.
"...is my own conscience. Have I made this too personal? Have I crossed the line from warrior to killer?"
She sighed. "I don't think so. Killers are a different breed, Tarik. They take lives without thought. Without emotion. They do it for fun . . . And from what I have witnessed, you do not enjoy taking life. Maybe you make it personal. But you don't take joy every time you take a life . . . Do you?" She could sense how vulnerable he felt before her. And all she wanted was to hold him in her arms. To somehow show him all that he was and that he would be . . .
"No, not particularly. Shockley's the only person I've ever killed who wasn't trying to kill me at the time. In an earlier time on Earth a man like him would have been executed. If he'd been a Romulan he most certainly would have been executed." Tarik took a breath. "But even then I felt no satisfaction. I felt release, but no satisfaction."
"Then you are no killer . . . You don't fit the profile," she said, with a soft smile.
Tarik grinned. "I had a drill instructor tell me that once, only his language wasn't quite as sophisticated. I believe what he said was something like, 'Tarik, it's no wonder the Romulans didn't want you! You couldn't kill the bacteria that causes tooth decay!'"
With that, she laughed and looked into his eyes. "So I gather you feel a bit better . . . ?"
He laughed. "After that they called me Toothpaste. And yes, I am feeling better. You know, there's something about you that seems to bring out a side of me I like."
"I'm glad," she replied with a smile that could outshine the stars. There was a subtle change in the atmosphere around them. Purely out of impulse Tarik took her in his arms and held her tight.
KrystalKatKrys: She melted into his embrace. It was as if she belonged in his arms, against his body . . .
And suddenly Tarik pulled back. "I'm sorry, ma'am; I should not have been so presumptuous."
"No . . ." she said, gently laying her fingers against his lips, "Don't apologize . . . not for that . . ."
"I don't know what it is about you, but there's something you have that I need."
"All that I have . . . all that I am . . . is yours," she said, allowing herself to be vulnerable. She needed him with every fiber of her being. She knew this from their bond . . .
Electricity seemed to fill the air as she caressed his face again. "And all that I am, such as I am, is yours," Tarik replied.
For years afterward they would debate who initiated what would happen next. They were drawn together, as if by a force outside themselves, as they met in a kiss. Within moments, it had grown into passion. They both knew this was only the beginning...