The apartment seemed hollow and empty as the four women trooped single file in through the front door, Max in the lead, Carter bringing up the rear. The hardwood floor in the entryway clattered under their heels and echoed through the large living room until they reached the carpet ten feet inside the entry.
The layout and decor of the rooms were designed for comfort -- being a fighter pilot was a high-stress profession, after all. The downstairs served as a common living/dining/kitchen/recreation area. There were big chairs and sofas, game tables, reading spaces, a wet bar. A great place for throwing parties. Upstairs were the personal quarters for the individual Banshees.
It had been a nerve-wracking day and they all needed sleep desperately. Since Sam vanished, none of them had gotten much rest. Single file, they tramped up the spiral staircase to their bedrooms. Carter bid her friends good night and watched as they disappeared, then she slipped silently into her own room, shutting the door behind her with a soft click.
Her own apartment was decorated in warm wood tones and beiges. A few pictures of nature scenes and shelves loaded with old books adorned the walls. A dim table lamp whose base was shaped like a duck lent its meager light to the area right around her bed, leaving the rest of the room in shadow, but at the moment, it was enough.
Carter went directly over to the bed, sat down, and pulled off her boots. She slapped the duck's off-switch with the palm of her hand, and fell back onto the pillow, never mind the rest of her uniform. Seconds later she was asleep.
She dreamed of dark alleyways, somewhere in the city, but somehow transformed, threatening, unfamiliar. Someone was chasing her but she couldn't see who. She ran through the strange byways trying frantically to escape her pursuer but knew beyond doubt that there was no escape. In seconds he'd be upon her.
The alley twisted around in impossible, warped contortions, but she ran on. No one else was anywhere to be seen -- no one to turn to for help. Every shadow reached out to grab her as she ran past, every corner and hidden alcove ready to disgorge more enemies.
Then she heard the slithering noise, and thump-thump-thumping. There was something ahead of her…!
...She awoke with a strangled scream caught in her throat, soaked in sweat, and bolted to an upright sitting position! Her fists were clenched, ready to fight off the imagined attackers, her heart raced and pounded in her chest, thumping in her ears, and her breath came in short gulps.
Just a dream, she realized, trying but failing to relax her fists and calm her breathing and runaway heartbeat.
No -- not all a dream! The slithering had been real. There it was again! It was coming from her bedroom door. As she looked on, a small slip of paper slid under the door, making a soft hissing sound as it rubbed across the carpet. Someone was out there!
She was across the bedroom in a single bound. The door swung open, but no one was there, just the darkness.
She stepped cautiously into the hallway and moved to the landing at the top of the stairs. Below, all was quiet and swathed in the night's shadows. Whoever was there couldn't have gotten away that quickly; must still be lurking in some particularly dark corner, ready to leap from his cover and kill her. She suddenly wished she had taken the time to grab her phaser from the nightstand.
"Lights," she commanded the room's A.I. Immediately, the shadows were dispelled, melting instantly away into the comforting familiarity of the Banshees' living area.
Still no one there.
Carter leaped down the steps in three bounds and dashed over to the front door. Ripping it open, she peered out into the cool night air. A pair of Starfleet engineering techs were sauntering by on their way home from a late shift, deep in a discussion about the proper use of self-sealing stembolts.
"Hey! You see anybody come out this door just now?" Carter blurted.
Startled out of their debate by Carter's unexpected appearance and query, they just stared for a second. Then one of them replied unhelpfully, "You mean aside from you?"
Carter frowned in annoyance and stepped back inside, letting the doors swing shut on the two perplexed engineers.
Impossible! How had the intruder gotten away so fast?
By this time, the ruckus had awakened the others, and they were coming out of their rooms, bleary-eyed and disheveled.
"What's going on out here?" demanded Jo crankily as she reached the bottom of the stairs.
Carter ignored them for the moment though. Retracing her steps, she retrieved the small scrap of paper the intruder had slipped under her door upstairs. She unfolded it and read the contents. The others gathered around when she returned to the living room, and at Max's puzzled frown, she handed her the note.
"What does it say?" asked Alex, trying to get a look.
Max read the scribbling on the paper out loud:
"If
you ever want to see Sam Beckett alive
again, meet me at the Salty Spittoon in
Serenity City at midnight. Don't be late."
There were a few moments of stunned, disbelieving silence; the only sound was the ever-present almost-subliminal roar of distant spacecraft landing and taking off from the spaceport. Jo recovered first and stated the obvious. "We have to go."
"Sounds like a ransom note to me," said Alex. "You can almost hear the 'or else' after 'don't be late'."
"Sounds like a trap to me," stated Max darkly, automatically suspecting the worst.
"So you're sayin' we shouldn't go?!?" exclaimed Alex, the excitement bringing out her country accent. Sometimes she just couldn't understand Max's coldness. "This is Sam we're talkin' about! You've known 'er longer than any of us--"
"What I'm saying--" interrupted Max forcefully before Alex could say something she'd really regret "--is that we have to be extra careful when we do go."
At the mention of going, three heads turned to their leader for direction.
Carter met their stare with resolute determination. Without flinching, she said, "What are you waiting for? Get dressed -- we have an appointment to keep."
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