Story Notes: This was written for Project S31, but is a companion piece to my earlier story "Before The Ice Age", part 2 of "The Lieutenant" series. It is recommended that you read that story first.

Time Frame: Takes place in the year 2358 (pre-Voyager) after the conclusion of the Icarus mission. Predates the events of part 3 of "The Lieutenant" series, "Aftermath" (which has also appeared under the name "Command Performance").

With many thanks to my beta readers, Seema and m.c. moose.

WARNING: Please note that this story, unlike the others in the series, is rated NC-17.
 

BEST DESTINY

Lieutenant Justin Tighe jockeyed for position around the crowded bar. With three ships and their crews being feted at Starfleet's "Welcome Home" bash, space was at a premium. Through a judicious combination of his natural air of authority and some well placed shoves, he slipped smoothly in front of the bartender and placed his order.

While he waited for his drink to arrive, he considered getting something for his fiancee as well. But Kathryn was still dancing with Admiral Paris and, from the looks of things, would continue to be occupied for some time. Before, evidence of Kathryn's close relationship with the Admiral would have rankled, but Tighe had gotten to the point where he could at least keep his irritation well hidden. Kathryn viewed Paris as a mentor and friend; if the Admiral's own feelings were anything other than platonic, he'd never acted on them.

Tighe leaned back against the bar, took a long swallow of his drink and then sighed. Apparently, it was still impossible to get a decent Deltan Sunrise in San Francisco. Not surprising, as some of the ingredients were on the 'contraband substance' list. He didn't know what had possessed him to even try. Maybe it was just too many years away; over the last decade, he doubted he'd spent more than three months on Earth, all together.

"Perhaps you'd prefer a straight synthale," said a nearby voice. Tighe looked up as a thin, blond man slid onto the stool next to him.

He casually turned away and focused his attention on another part of the room. "Beat it, Sloan. I already gave at the office."

Luther Sloan smiled agreeably. "I heard you were called in this afternoon."

Tighe grimaced. "Imagine my surprise at receiving a summons the minute I walked in my door." He picked up the new glass which materialized in front of him. "You people aren't usually so eager."

"I think we've shown remarkable patience, all in all," Sloan countered. "Considering your mission ended six months ago."

"Icarus just entered space dock this morning."

"I was referring to your 'other' mission."

Tighe swirled his glass, absently watching the liquid slosh from side to side. He put it down, untasted. "Admiral Paris returned to San Francisco within a few weeks of his rescue from the Cardassian prison. He should have been able to give you everything you needed."

"The Admiral was most informative, true. He worked out better than we expected, actually, considering the man was a complete amateur."

Tighe heartily concurred with Sloan's assessment. Amateur indeed, to announce at a general staff meeting that Icarus' mission was more than a simple survey and mapping expedition, that there was a covert element involved. At least Paris hadn't divulged the identities of the operatives onboard, even though he had let their presence be known. In retrospect, Tighe could forgive Paris for the security breach--as it turned out, it hadn't compromised the mission. But he couldn't forgive the Admiral for making the decision to take a young and inexperienced Ensign Kathryn Janeway along on that fateful shuttle mission to Urtea II, as it ended with their capture by the Cardassians.

Sloan gave him a searching glance. "That was a clever ruse, by the way, arranging to send the Admiral back to Earth for 'medical care.' Saved us having to come up with an excuse to cut the Icarus' mission short or extricate him another way."

"It was no ruse," Tighe said quietly. "The man was tortured by the Cardassians, Sloan. You know what those bastards are capable of."

"As do you, of course. Firsthand." Sloan turned so he was facing the dance floor. "Well, the Admiral certainly looks recovered now." He took another look. "The young woman with him--that's Janeway, isn't it?"

"Yes," Tighe said shortly.

"Now she handled herself quite capably," Sloan said approvingly. "Kept her head, didn't complicate matters...she even ended up saving your sorry ass, didn't she, when the rescue went awry?"

Tighe didn't reply.

"And she received a promotion and a commendation for bravery. How fitting. Almost as fitting as her subsequently becoming involved with the dashing Ranger who mounted the heroic rescue operation in the first place."

Tighe felt a surge of annoyance to hear his relationship expressed in such dismissive terms. "You make it sound like such a cliché."

"Your whole life has been a cliché, Tighe. Escaping the poverty of your homeworld and your squalid family life by enlisting in Starfleet, working your way up through the ranks by sheer determination, becoming a member of the elite Rangers..." Sloan laughed softly. "You play the role of Boy Scout so well."

"Still feel the need to stick labels on everything?"

"Why not? Without labels things would be so ambiguous and without form. But you'll agree I'm right about the Rangers--the visible striking arm of the forces sworn to protect the Federation from her enemies." His smile faded. "We all know there's a lot more involved, don't we?"

Tighe looked at him for a long moment. "What are you doing here tonight, Sloan?"

"Oh, just checking up on you, Lieutenant. Nothing official--just making sure that you're all right after your extended deep space mission. And to see for myself if the rumors are true."

"What rumors?"

Sloan gestured at the dance floor once more. "She's not your usual type, is she, Tighe?'

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, physically, she fits right in with your preferred tastes. The hair, the figure...Quite attractive, I'll grant you that." A speculative gleam appeared in Sloan's eye. Tighe fought down the urge, not for the first time that evening, to punch him in the jaw. "But an Admiral's daughter? I never thought of you as a social climber. Though no doubt she'll help you further your ambitions."

Tighe kept his voice level. "You don't know what the hell you're talking about, Sloan."

Sloan smiled. "Just remember, Tighe, who and what you really are. It will help you keep your priorities straight." He stood abruptly. "I know you're expected tomorrow at HQ at 0800 for the first of your official debriefing sessions. Be at the Golden Gate Park an hour earlier, at the northwest corner. Make sure you're on time."

Tighe watched as the man effortlessly melted into the crowd. He turned to see Kathryn standing next to him, a questioning look in her eyes.

"Who was that?" she asked.

He tried to keep his voice light, while wondering just how much of the conversation she'd overhead. "Oh, just a friend."

"Your friend have a name?"

He hesitated. "Why do you want to know?"

"Just wondering." This was said casually, but the look Kathryn gave him was not.

Damn. The last thing he wanted was for Kathryn to suddenly start asking questions. "His name is Sloan," he said, hoping that would be the end of it.

But her curiosity had been piqued and the well-trained mind of the scientist was already working. "Is he Starfleet?"

"Did you see him wearing a uniform?" As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he wished he could take them back.

"No."

"Then why'd you ask?"

Her eyes narrowed for a moment and then she shrugged. "I was just wondering why he left as soon as I approached."

"Coincidence." He drained his glass in one gulp and set it down. He motioned for a refill and only then did it occur to him to ask, "Do you want something to drink?"

She nodded. "I'll have one of those. By the way, you should know you've been granted the official Admiral Paris 'seal of approval.'"

The irritation caused by Sloan's appearance had just begun to subside, but this comment made Tighe's hackles rise once more. "I wasn't aware that I needed his approval, or anyone else's for that matter."

"You don't need anyone's approval, Justin, except for mine, and you've already got that." She gave him another searching look.

He forced himself to relax. "Sorry, I'm just being a little defensive, that's all."

"What's there for you to be defensive about?" The concern was evident in her voice. "Justin, what's going on?"

He hesitated for a long moment. "I don't exactly come from the same background as your family, Kathryn."

"Don't be ridiculous," she said sternly. "You think I care about family, or connections? Justin, it's you that I love. Not an image, not a resume." She put her hand on his arm.

If you really knew me... He squeezed her hand, then lifted it to his lips. "You make it sound so easy."

"It really is."

Tighe had his doubts about that, but gave no outward sign, other than a deep sigh. "I think we've put in enough of an appearance here. Are you ready to go?"

He waited while Kathryn said her final goodbyes, and then shepherded her quickly out of the ballroom.

As Kathryn leaned forward to key in the code of her apartment door, Tighe slipped his arms around her and kissed the back of her neck. "Straight to bed," he murmured.

"Excellent idea."

They quickly pulled off their clothes, almost stumbling in their haste. Tighe had the passing thought that the formal attire, less comfortable to wear than the regular duty uniforms, was also more difficult to remove in a hurry. He kicked away his shorts and turned so he was facing Kathryn. He saw her glance downward, and then she smiled.

"How long have you been keeping that under wraps?"

"Too long."

She started to move toward the bed, but he stopped her. "Stay there." He knelt down and began slowly moving up her legs, caressing, kissing, licking. She shivered. He kissed her inner thigh and felt her hands go to his hair.

"Oh, Justin..."

He cupped her ass in his hands and buried his face in her warmth, breathing in her musky scent. He could tell she was excited, and that aroused him even more than he already was. His tongue darted out and he slowly, teasingly, licked the outer surface of her lips. Her grip on his hair tightened, and he heard a soft moan. His tongue continued roving, exploring every fold and crevice, now touching lightly on the hard round nub of her clitoris, now sucking deeply. She was responding more avidly, her body already shuddering lightly as she approached climax. He paused to gulp in more air and then increased the tempo until he felt a gush of moisture from her as her body rocked.

He smiled at the look on her face. She pulled him impatiently onto the bed with her. "I want you. Now."

Oh, yes. With no further ado, he slipped inside her, felt her warmth enclose him fully. He held her tightly in his arms, enjoying the silky smoothness of her skin against his chest, the feel of her rounded breasts. He pressed his lips against her shoulder for a moment, and found himself submerged in a strawberry-scented cloud of hair. The perfume was intoxicating; she was intoxicating and he felt as though he could never get enough of her.

She rolled her hips seductively beneath him and he lifted himself up on his arms so he could watch the interplay of emotions along her wonderfully expressive face. He began moving back and forth, each time plunging deeper and deeper, her whispered encouragement spiraling him to new heights.

He held back as long as he could, even as he felt her convulsively spasm around him. Not yet. He wanted this moment to go on forever, looking down into her light-filled eyes and knowing that he was her entire world. But he was swept forward on an irresistible wave, and all too soon came tumbling back to earth.

He collapsed on the bed next to her, trying to catch his breath.

She nestled against him and sighed contentedly. "God, I love you."

He picked up a long strand of hair that had fallen across his shoulder. "I love you, too, Kathryn." Remembering their earlier awkward conversation at the bar, he added, "I don't want you to ever doubt that."

"I don't have any more doubts where you're concerned."

"Good." He hesitated, thinking of some of their past difficulties. "I know a lot of our problems--"

"Shh," she said, laying her fingers on his lips. "I know you're trying." He was silent. She raised herself up one elbow, to better see his expression. "Justin, I grew up in a very different environment than you did. When you told me about your past--"

He shifted uncomfortably. "Please, Kathryn."

"All right." She hesitated for a moment. "Justin, can I ask you something?"

He was suddenly wary. "Yes?"

"Why did you ask me to marry you?"

Tighe almost laughed, his relief was so intense. Of all the things he'd been afraid she'd ask--he didn't want to lie to her, didn't even know if he could for fear she'd discover it--this was so innocuous. "What kind of a question is that? Because I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you." He did chuckle then. "Why else do people propose?"

"I just want to make sure you really meant it, that you weren't just doing it because you were afraid of losing me," she said quietly.

Damn. He was silent for a few moments, considering his reply. "I admit that may have been a factor--a very small factor." He met her eyes squarely. "But Kathryn, I don't have any regrets, and I don't want you to think I didn't mean it."

"As long as you don't feel like you were forced into this--"

Tighe silenced her quickly with a kiss. "My God, Kathryn, how could you ever think that? Let me show you just how much I really care." He reached for her again.

She pulled back. "You've shown me quite nicely, thanks. But how about accepting love, Justin? You have to be comfortable with that as well."

"You seem to have this need to make up for everything bad that's ever happened in my life, Kathryn," he said somewhat irritably. "Almost as if you felt personally responsible."

"That's not what I meant, and you know it."

He did know, but felt compelled to add, "I don't need mothering."

Her worried frown was replaced with a look of amusement. "That wasn't quite what I had in mind." She pushed him back against the pillow, and kissed him hungrily, her lips parted and her tongue seeking entry. He responded with alacrity, and attempted to roll them both over. She stopped him. "My turn."

"You expect me to just lie here passively?" he asked, his brow raised.

"No one would ever accuse you of being passive," she responded with a playful grin.

At a few minutes before 0700, Tighe stood under a tree in Golden Gate Park, clad in a T-shirt and shorts. The sky was a clear blue and the early morning freshness of the air was still evident. At this hour, the park wasn't crowded, although there were several joggers on the footpaths, as well as a handful of people out walking their dogs. As a pair of runners passed to his right, Tighe bent down and retied his shoe. He slowly straightened up, keeping the northwest entrance in his direct line of vision at all times.

There was no one there.

He began a series of stretching exercises. Besides helping him look inconspicuous, he found the exercises relaxing and oddly soothing. His mind was still in a whirl from the events of the past twenty-four hours.

Everyone had heard of the Starfleet Rangers. They were considered the "Elite of the 'Fleet"--roughly equivalent to the ancient U.S. Marines. When there was a dangerous mission, they were the ones sent in. They were known for their high success rate, for their heroism. And if a certain amount of secrecy was involved concerning their exact identities, well, that was all right. It helped to protect their privacy as well as limited the number of complicating factors that could arise. There was nothing sinister about it.

As opposed to Section 31.

Section 31, whose very name was shrouded in mystery. Although the Section traced its beginnings back to the original Federation charter, very few people were even aware that it existed, let alone what its purpose was. The Section had been given a broad mandate, "To protect the interests of the Federation." Throughout history, unscrupulous men and women had learned to twist the interpretation of similarly worded statements to their own ends.

Tighe was not blind to the fact that his Rangers unit answered to a Section 31 operative. And along with their more straightforward exploits, his team had more than once been involved in what was once euphemistically known as "wet work." Both elements had been present in the Urtean mission. Tighe's team had seen to the rescue of the hostages as well as the destruction of the Cardassian surveillance equipment and hidden base on the Urtean moon. They'd also taken care to leave as few Cardassians alive as possible. Tighe was only sorry that he hadn't been the one to personally take out the base commander, Gul Camet--as payback for what he'd feared had been done to Kathryn. As it had turned out, the Cardassians had concentrated most of their efforts on Admiral Paris, who after all was a bigger prize than a simple ensign, female or no. But Tighe still wished he'd had the chance to snap the Gul's neck.

And now Section 31 felt he could best contribute as a full-time member of their ranks, leaving the Rangers behind. The "suggestion" had been made at the meeting he'd been called to yesterday afternoon, and reinforced by Sloan's appearance at the Starfleet gathering last night.

Ever since his relationship with Kathryn had turned serious, Tighe had begun to have second thoughts about his professional role. Part of it was seeing how she viewed Starfleet and her career. He knew he'd never been that young, or that idealistic, but listening to her, he found himself entranced by the vision. A vision she embodied. The best and the brightest, going off to seek new worlds and civilizations. For her, Starfleet was the road to discovery, not an avenue of escape.

He also knew, that in her eyes, he embodied the ideal of a hero. The knight in shining armor who'd swooped down and extricated her from the pits of a Cardassian hell. Despite her assurances that she loved him for himself, he wondered sometimes if her feelings would remain unchanged if she knew the truth. He couldn't face the thought of losing her--still shuddered at how close he'd come to losing her just a short time ago.

From the beginning, Kathryn had been concerned that he wasn't open with her, rarely if ever expressed his feelings, allowed her to know his innermost thoughts. Part of it had been due to his harsh and uncompromising upbringing, where to admit to weakness was to die. The lesson had been reinforced throughout his years as a covert operative.

Just let me in, Justin. Her words echoed in his mind. Such a simple request, but for him it was sometimes the most difficult thing in the world. The last thing he needed was to keep more secrets from her.

It hadn't been easy to leave her this morning. Fortunately, she hadn't questioned why he'd risen so early, although she'd 'persuaded' him to delay his departure by another fifteen minutes. In his mind's eye, he saw her as she'd been when he left, her long auburn hair fanned out on the pillow, her face flushed in the afterglow of their lovemaking, a look of total trust and love in her eyes.

"I'll see you tonight?" she said, in that seductively husky voice he'd always found so compelling.

"Count on it," he answered, straightening his tunic. He bent over to kiss her goodbye. Her arms reached up and tightened around his neck. "Kathryn..."

"I know, I know." She sighed, and then brightened. "Just a few more days, and then we'll be free of all the bureaucracy, all the red tape. Free to go off and enjoy our leave and not have to think about anything else in the world."

Free.

A quick glance at the chrono told him it was now precisely 0700. No one was in sight, other than a young woman and a large, beautiful collie. She laughed as she tossed a blue rubber ball for the dog to retrieve. The graceful animal leaped into the air, catching the ball in its mouth and bringing it back to its mistress so it could be thrown again. Tighe watched the game idly, then steeled himself not to react as the throws brought the dog closer to his position under the tree.

The Toskanar snarled, baring a double row of giant fangs, which no doubt were just as lethal at its razor sharp claws. Tighe watched in horror as the Cardassian guard released the animal, saw it leap onto the hapless prisoner and sink its fangs in his throat. Blood spurted forth from the punctured artery, and sprayed the Toskanar's coat. It licked its chops and then turned and fixed its gaze on the other human in the pit.

"That's my boy! Catch!" shouted the woman, her short curls waving in the breeze. The collie darted in front of Tighe, catching the ball in its mouth, even as a silvery sphere flew on a parallel trajectory. Instinctively, Tighe reached up and grabbed it. The woman whistled to the collie, and the two of them went further down the path.

Tighe pocketed the small object and headed for the park exit. There would be time to analyze it later. Now he had to change and get to HQ in time for his debriefing. Starfleet brass never liked to be kept waiting.

The woman known only as Chloe stood in the center of the elegantly appointed room. The finest tapestries, made from rare Dolevian silk, graced the walls along with Andorian sculpture. Earth's own art history was not neglected: a large Picasso hung on the far wall. Not the type of room in which one expected to find one of the more powerful puppetmasters of Section 31. Not the master, of course; the identity of the true head was perhaps the most carefully guarded secret of all.

Chloe herself could have been anywhere from 30 to 60 years old. Her unlined face--now serene and guileless but capable of becoming harsh and cunning within the blink of an eye--was framed by perfectly straight white-blonde hair that just grazed the tops of her shoulders, left bare by the short dress which clung invitingly to her every curve. Her dark eyes, which bespoke her Betazoid heritage, fastened on his face for a long moment. Neither of them spoke.

"How nice to see you again, my dear," she said at last. "You're looking well. Obviously the way you've spent the last six months agrees with you."

Tighe didn't acknowledge her statement, or the innuendo behind it. "You ordered me to come today, Chloe. I'm here. What do you want?"

She glided over to him. "Such impatience," she said softly and brushed her fingertips lightly over his face in what was almost a caress. Almost. One didn't have to go far to find the iron fist within the velvet glove. "There was once a time, Justin, when you enjoyed spending time with me."

"Once. But as you yourself are so fond of pointing out, things have a way of changing."

She laughed. "Oh, but your latest fancy must have you on a tight leash. I hesitate to call her a conquest, when you appear to be the one who's been vanquished." She circled about him, invading his personal space, and laughed again. "Justin Tighe, domesticated at last."

He held himself completely still, willing his body not to respond even though he knew she was aware of his thoughts.

Satisfied, she perched herself on the edge of her desk and crossed her long legs. "Don't think I'm displeased, darling. Of course, I'm delighted to see you so...content. And the situation may work out to our advantage."

"What do you mean?" he said, a sudden edge to his voice. His relationship with Kathryn had nothing to do with the Section, and he was determined to keep it that way.

Her eyes narrowed for a moment, and then she smiled. "I understand you and your beloved are planning a romantic getaway to Risa."

"That's right."

"Risa is such a delightful place, don't you think? One has the opportunity to meet the most interesting people." She poured herself a drink from the crystal decanter nearby. She took a sip, and then put down her glass. "Did you get my little bauble?"

"From the park? Yes."

"I'm sure you've thoroughly analyzed it by now."

"I have." He didn't keep the sarcasm out of his voice. "I thought we were a little beyond playing Junior Spy with secret decoder rings."

"Or maybe I've overestimated you, Justin dear. Obviously, your analysis hasn't been thorough enough."

"Oh?"

She slipped off the desk and came over to where he was standing. He could smell the perfume she usually favored, something light and tinged with cinnamon. Placing a hand on his shoulder, she leaned forward and murmured into his ear, "I think I'll let you discover its further mysteries on your own. But as for the mission, this is what I want you to do..."

Kathryn stood in front of the open sliding doors of their suite, attired only in a light shift that left her legs bare to mid-thigh, watching the waves roll in to the shore. The Risan sun shone brightly, and birdsong filled the air. The air itself carried a tang of salt mingled with the heavier scent of the creeping flower vines which grew everywhere, even spilling over into their bedroom.

She sighed with contentment. "Everything is so beautiful. You were right--this is probably as close to paradise as we'll ever get."

"I'm glad you like it," Tighe said, observing her from his position on the bed. "I think the view is pretty great, too."

"It certainly took us long enough to get here, though," she said, ignoring the suggestive note in his voice. She turned away from the enticing scenery and picked up her hairbrush from the vanity table. "Those post-mission debriefings at HQ seemed to go on forever."

"That's Starfleet for you," he answered, reminded once again that the Icarus had been her first deep space posting. He propped himself on one elbow so she would remain in his direct line of vision. "Not much you can do about it except grin and bear it."

"Fine, but five days? That's pretty excessive, considering I was just a junior officer. And I don't understand why they spent so much of that time discussing the incident at Urtea II. For goodness sake, it happened months ago."

Tighe was all too aware of why Urtea II was so important. The mere presence of a Cardassian installation within the boundaries of Federation territory had been disturbing enough, but the actual base had been much larger, and the scanning equipment more sophisticated, than any of the preliminary reports had indicated. An omission that had nearly cost the lives of the rescue team, not to mention the hostages. There could be no more slip-ups; every scrap of information that could be gleaned from eye witnesses, no matter how minor, might very well prove to be significant later on.

"I thought this was supposed to be a vacation, as in not thinking about anything work related," he reminded her.

She paused in the act of pinning up her hair. "I know," she said somewhat ruefully, "But I've never been able to just turn off my thoughts."

"No kidding," he murmured to himself and let his head drop back on to the pillow.

She shot him a look, then nodded as if she'd thought of something else. "And besides, it looks as though there're going to be a lot more debriefings in my future. As soon as we get back, I'll be applying to command school...." Her voice faltered for a moment. "Or submitting my name for consideration for another science posting."

He stifled a yawn. They'd been having this discussion for seemingly ages, ever since Admiral Paris had put the idea in her head of switching her specialty from science to command. Although usually decisive, Kathryn didn't seem to be able to make up her mind as to what she wanted, continually wavering between the two career tracks. Or more specifically, between the two male authority figures whose opinion meant everything to her. From Tighe's perspective the choice was obvious, but he wasn't about to tell her what she should do.

He chose to focus solely on the last part of her statement. "You could always stay on the Icarus."

"No, I don't think so," she said thoughtfully. "It just wouldn't be the same, on the one hand, and on the other, maybe it would be too much so."

"That doesn't make any sense at all."

"What I mean is," she said, coming over to the bed, "So many people who were there on the last tour would be gone. You, Admiral Paris..." she forestalled his next comment and hurried to add, "At any rate, they're still top-heavy in the science department. It's a research vessel after all. On another ship I'd have a better shot at a more senior position."

"I suppose," he said noncommittally.

She leaned over him. "Or maybe I should forget about both science and a possible switch to command track and just apply to the Rangers instead." She waited for his reaction. "What do you think?"

He reached up and pulled her down to his level. "I think," he whispered against her neck, "That you'd look wonderful in black leather."

"Is that the only requirement?"

"It is in my department," he answered, his lips moving downward. One hand undid the belt of her shift while the other loosened her hair.

She attempted to twist away. "Justin! I just finished putting my hair up!"

"So? You can always do it again later," he said, looking up momentarily. Despite her annoyed tone, there was a definite smile in her eyes.

She sighed, obviously reconciling herself to the inevitable, and shifted her body closer. "You do realize that we're never going to get out of this room. I can see it now, an entire two weeks, and I'll have seen no more of Risa than these four walls."

"Is that a problem?" he inquired, his hand moving lower in slow, languorous circles.

"I suppose not," she whispered.

The rest of their vacation passed like a dream. Tighe felt more relaxed than he had in a long time. Though she made an occasional comment about wanting to see some of the famed Risan shops, Kathryn was more than happy to spend most of their time on more private pursuits.

The sun was sinking slowly into the sea and the first stars were beginning to appear when Tighe and Kathryn came strolling down the boardwalk hand in hand. A light breeze had sprung up, rifling their hair and causing Tighe's open vest to swing back.

He glanced over at her, then touched her face gently, careful not to dislodge the flower she wore tucked behind one ear. "Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?"

"Thank you," she said, stopping and turning toward him. "You look pretty good yourself." She ran her hand lightly over his bare chest and then reached up to smooth back the wayward lock of hair that continually drooped over his forehead. "All except for that beard."

He grinned, amused. "You mean to say you don't like beards? Or just this one?"

She paused for a moment, considering. "Oh, I don't have anything against beards in general. But this one's so scruffy."

"I see." He dipped his head lower and brushed his cheek against hers.

"And scratchy."

He laughed and ushered her into a nearby restaurant. "I don't know why you suddenly decided to grow one," she said, as they seated themselves at the bar.

"Symbol of vacation, no rules, no regulations..."he said evasively. He motioned to the bartender and spoke rapidly in a low voice. "Here, try this," he said, indicating the drink that appeared in front of her.

She looked at the golden liquid, tinged with purple and crimson, that seemed to ripple in the dim light. "What is it?"

"A Deltan Sunrise."

She wrinkled up her nose. "I had one of those once before. I can't say I was very impressed."

"Where was this? On Earth?"

"No, Starbase Four."

He shook his head. "Same difference. You didn't have an authentic Deltan Sunrise. I'm not surprised you didn't like it."

"How do you know it wasn't authentic?" she countered.

"Because the authentic version contains some, shall we say, 'contraband' ingredients."

She raised one brow questioningly.

"Deltan spices--aphrodisiacs." He laughed at her expression. "Not that I think the two of us need any help."

"I should hope not," she said with a smile. She lifted her glass. "Cheers."

"Cheers." He watched as her eyes widened in surprise.

"You were right. It does taste different."

"Feeling any effects yet?" he teased.

"Dinner first," she said firmly.

"And then?"

She smiled mischievously. "You'll just have to wait and find out."

After dinner, he suggested they take the long way back to their hotel, away from the noise and lights of the boardwalk. Kathryn bent down, slipped off her sandals, and followed him onto the sand, so white by day but a faint silvery gray in the moonlight. The waves broke gently on the shore, their roar muted. For a long time neither of them spoke, simply enjoying the stillness and beauty of the night as they made their way across the beach. An occasional wave came close to their feet. Kathryn paused, and for a moment Tighe thought she was going to wade into the water. But she took his hand, and tugging gently, led him away from the waves and behind one of the dunes.

He watched as she loosened her hair, then pulled off her top followed by the rest of her clothes until she stood before him naked. He smiled appreciatively. She wasn't usually this uninhibited.

Waiting to see what would happen next, he said, "I love you, Kathryn."

"And I love you. Being with you, hearing you say my name...you take my breath away." And as if to prove her point, she pressed herself against him, and he bent his head down to hers.

Her lips were soft and enticing. They parted slightly under the pressure of his and he tasted the sweetness within. He turned her slightly so he could kiss her jaw, her throat, the spot just behind her ear that made her moan with pleasure, but always coming back to her mouth. Though already fully aroused, he resisted the urge to hurry. They had all the time in the world.

It appeared she was the one feeling a sense of urgency. Her hands were busy, stroking over his back, his shoulders, then moving down to the front of his trousers. She slipped her hand inside and he couldn't hold back the groan when he felt her take him in her hand and begin to rub gently.

His voice was hoarse as he said, "I'm not going to be able to hold back till we get to our room if you keep doing that."

"Then don't."

"You mean you want to make love right here?"

"Yes," she said softly. "Now."

He quickly stripped off his vest and pants and spread them out on the sand, more than eager to accede to her request. In the back of his mind he wondered if her behavior was the result of the Deltan spices or simply her previously voiced comment about wanting to see more than just the four walls of their room. He didn't really care. Anyway, anyplace, just as long as they were together.

He had just started to lower her onto the pile of clothes, when she surprised him again. "No." She laid her hand on his chest and pushed him downward. He lay back, ignoring the rough feel of the sand beneath him, and smiled in anticipation.

She got down on her knees, leaned over him and kissed him, her hair swinging forward and brushing his skin. He shivered at their silky caress. She moved until her breasts were poised right above him. He couldn't resist. Lifting his head, he took a breast in his mouth and began to suck, feeling the nipple harden beneath his tongue. She gasped and pulled his head closer; he switched to the other breast, then allowed his tongue to linger tantalizingly in the hollow in between.

She closed her eyes for a moment, then slipped her leg over, straddling him, and in one abrupt motion impaled herself on his hardness. He stopped straining upward to reach her breasts, instead gripped her tightly and concentrated on matching her rhythm. She was so wet, and she was riding him with long, firm strokes. He didn't know how much longer he'd be able to control himself, hold back his rapidly approaching climax.

He looked up and saw her face, intent on her task, framed by the starry night sky behind her. In all his life, he'd never seen anything more beautiful. She moved faster and faster, propelled by the need to reach completion. Suddenly she called his name, her voice husky with feeling. He scarcely heard her, caught up as he was in his own release. I love you, Kathryn. He didn't know if he'd cried aloud, or if the thought only echoed in his mind.

At last, they were both still, their passion stilled to silence. The only sound that could be heard was the distant roar of the waves.

She dropped down next to him on the ground, still trembling slightly. He pulled her over on to his chest, brushed off the grains of sand clinging to her damp skin. He could feel her heart beating in rhythm with his own. For a timeless time they lay there, then picked up their clothes and made their way back indoors.

Kathryn put down her empty coffee cup and looked at him across the remnants of their breakfast. "I can't believe how quickly the days have gone by. Do you realize our time is almost up?"

"I take it you haven't gotten tired of me yet?" he said teasingly.

"Not at all," she said firmly, getting up from the table. "It's been wonderful spending so much uninterrupted time with you, with no obligations, no duties...Are you positive you don't want to come with me today?"

Tighe shook his head emphatically. "No thanks."

"The Risan mud baths are famous," she reminded him.

"I'd be more inclined to try mud wrestling," he said, laughing. "Seriously, go ahead without me."

"Are you sure you don't mind? I almost feel like I'm abandoning you. What will you find to keep yourself occupied while I'm gone?"

"I don't think that will be a problem," he reassured her.

Kathryn paused, her hand on the door control. "On the other hand, I don't want you to find anything too interesting to do."

He grinned. "I promise I'll behave myself. Go on, have a good time. I'll see you later."

"Bye." She blew him a kiss and left.

As soon as she was gone, he began changing his clothes, putting on garments considerably different from those he'd been wearing up till now, both in color and style. He considered the array of toiletries Kathryn had left in the bathroom, then picked up a tube of gel and used it to slick his hair back. He took a long look in the mirror. Despite Kathryn's comments, the beard had grown in nicely. All told, he presented a very different image from a proper Starfleet officer or even the carefree lover and companion she'd said goodbye to just a few minutes earlier.

He went over to the closet and retrieved a case from the back. Opening it, he felt around the inner lining and pressed a certain spot, indistinguishable from the surrounding area unless one knew precisely where to look. A small keypad appeared. He tapped in a code, revealing a hidden compartment, and removed several items. One of them was a small silver sphere. Flinging a leather jacket over his shoulder, he left the room and headed to the area of the resort where the casinos were located.

He paused briefly outside one particular establishment. The name on the sign proclaimed it to be 'The Latinum Leopard', but to the locals it was better known as 'The Fat Ferengi' after its owner, Daimon Moq, who was rumored to have ties to the Orion Syndicate. One thing which was known for certain was that Moq was a successful businessman. The commodities in which he traded ranged from precious metals to weapons to information, all of which he sold to the highest bidder with no regard to planetary allegiance or loyalty. With a quick glance to make sure he wasn't being followed, Tighe stepped inside.

He was greeted by a blast of music, and harsh lights that seemed to pulse in the smoky atmosphere. Although it was barely noon by local time, the activity within the casino was in full swing. Most of the patrons were freighter pilots or crew, docking at Risa for only short stopovers as opposed to lengthy vacations, and found it more convenient to remain on their own ship's times.

Games of chance from a variety of worlds were set up within the vast room--Dabo wheels, dom-jot tables, Terran poker and black jack, tongo, Rigelian craps...something to suit the tastes of almost every individual. Without appearing to look, Tighe noted the presence of the corpulent proprietor, Moq himself, in a far corner. The Ferengi lazily kept an eye on the proceedings, while one of the scantily clad, green-skinned Orion women at his side stroked his ears in languorous fashion.

Tighe sat down at one of the Dabo tables. Instantly, a dark-haired Bajoran woman approached, her feathery costume revealing an ample figure and deep cleavage. She bent over him in an exaggerated manner, her breast brushing his arm as she did so. "Ready to play?"

He smiled. "Don't mind if I do." He put a single strip of latinum on the table. "Double down."

At her nod, the wheel spun, and the lights began to flash. After a minute or two, the wheel slowly came to a halt. She sucked in her breath in surprise, then placed his winnings in front of him. "Care to try again?"

He pretended to hesitate. "It may have been just beginner's luck..."

The woman leaned hard against him. The scent of her perfume was very strong. "Try again. I have the feeling you're the type to be successful at just about anything you do."

He leaned back casually, and added another two strips of latinum to the pot. "When you put it that way...triple over." Unobtrusively, he fingered the small sphere in his pocket.

He played for over an hour. Sometimes he won, others he lost, but the pile of latinum at his elbow steadily increased. By the end, he had attracted a small crowd, including other Dabo girls, one of whom he'd seen by Moq's side when he came in.

"Last wager," Tighe said finally. "Pass five."

The wheel flashed and spun. "The gentleman wins again!" the Bajoran woman cooed.

Tighe stood up, dislodging the girl on his lap, and accepted his winnings to scattered applause. He turned to go and found himself face to face with Daimon Moq. At a gesture from the Ferengi, the crowd melted away.

"Leaving so soon, hew-mon?" Moq asked with a toothy grin. His eyes, however, were rock-hard.

"There's an old saying, that one has to know when to go with one's luck and when to fold."

"Fold? Ah, yes, Mr....."

"Tyler, Jose Tyler."

"Mr. Tyler. Perhaps instead of continuing at the Dabo wheel you'd prefer to try your luck at cards? I believe there's an opening at the dom-jot table."

Tighe smiled politely. "I don't think so."

The Ferengi was not one to be easily dissuaded. "Or perhaps I can interest you in another type of game, higher stakes than anything you see here."

Tighe raised a brow. "Sounds interesting. Perhaps we could discuss this somewhere a little more...private?"

Moq's grin broadened until it was positively feral. "Of course. Come with me."

Tighe was back at their suite, lounging on the bed with a towel wrapped around his waist and idly flipping through one of Kathryn's books when she returned. "Enjoy yourself?"

"I certainly did," she said, her face still flushed from the experience. "In fact, the mud baths were so relaxing, I decided to go for the whole body treatment."

He cast a critical eye over her and smiled. "I must say I like the results."

She leaned over him. "Would you care to make a closer examination?"

Half an hour later, Kathryn lay peaceful and sated in his arms. "You know, I never asked you how you spent your day," she said drowsily.

He smoothed her hair back where it was tickling him. "I went to that casino we passed the other day and did some gambling."

Her voice suddenly sounded much more awake as she asked, "How much did you lose?"

He laughed. "Lose? I can't tell you how hurt I am at your lack of confidence in my abilities."

"You mean you won?" she said incredulously.

"I don't know why you're so surprised. It was a very successful venture. In fact," he added, more to himself than to her, "Now I can afford this vacation."

"All set, Kathryn?" Tighe called out as he gave his uniform tunic a final tug. "The off-planet shuttle leaves in a hour."

"Just about," she answered. She came into the room carrying her bags and stopped abruptly when she saw him. "You shaved."

He bent down to take the larger of the two cases from her. "Like I said, the beard was a symbol of vacation. And now that we're heading back to civilization..."

"Not to mention the fact that Starfleet has rather stringent regulations regarding personal grooming," she finished. She cocked her head to one side, studying him. "Still, now that it's gone I think I'm actually going to miss it."

"Enough to suggest I grow it back at the earliest opportunity?" he asked with a smile.

"Not that much," she said quickly. She patted her satchel. "Anyway, I've got a few holoimages if I ever have the urge to see you that way again."

He picked up his own luggage and headed toward the door. "We'd better get going, if we don't want to miss our flight."

"We still have some time," she said calmly. "I just checked the newsnet. Due to an ion storm in the neighboring system, the shuttle will be delayed a bit."

He halted, but didn't quite turn around. "Still, I'd rather wait in the spaceport, than here. Just to be sure."

She looked at him questioningly, but made no argument.

As they stepped outside, he asked, his voice casual, "Anything else important happen in the news?"

"Not really," she said, hurrying to keep up with his longer strides. "Well, just something of local interest. A Ferengi by the name of Daimon Moq, who had some business interests on Risa, is dead."

"Oh?"

"Yes. He was found in his space yacht by his pilot early this morning. Apparently, he was alone and suffered a heart attack."

"A pity," he said quietly. "Come on, the transport to the spaceport will be leaving in a few minutes."

Tighe seated himself in one of the leather armchairs and looked around the room appreciatively. Edward Janeway's study was furnished in a lavish, if old-fashioned style, as was the rest of the house. Kathryn had warned him several times that her parents were Traditionalists, and nothing he'd seen this evening had contradicted that statement.

"Can I offer you a drink?" The Admiral paused in front of the minibar set up in the corner. "Synthale? Or would you prefer Scotch?"

Tighe's eyebrows rose. "The real thing?"

"Of course." The older man grinned. "There are advantages to being a Traditionalist, you know."

Tighe laughed and gratefully accepted the glass his future father-in-law handed him. He took a sip. "That's very smooth."

"Twelve years old. Nothing but the very best."

Silence fell as the two men considered each other. The evening had been pleasant enough up till now, for all that it was the first time Kathryn had brought him home to meet her parents. She'd expressed surprise on their way over that he wasn't nervous at the prospect. He supposed he should have been, but truth be told, his mind was more on the meeting he'd just left--the meeting that had almost made him late for this trip to Indiana--than on making a good impression on the Janeways. But now, alone in this quiet room with the father Kathryn worshipped, he began to feel a faint uneasiness.

Admiral Edward Janeway was the head of the Department of Starship Design and Fabrication, a position he had held for many years. His security dossier indicated he had a brilliant mind and possessed outstanding engineering skills. Under his leadership, increasingly sophisticated and versatile vessels were being produced. The new Galaxy starship, slated to replace the Ambassador class, was his brainchild. Although due to other, more pressing concerns, Janeway had been compelled to delegate much of the implementation of his pet project to his subordinates.

'Pressing concerns' was a polite euphemism for the current state of relations with the Cardassian Empire. Despite the misgivings of the higher ups in Special Ops, Admiral Janeway had been increasingly included in sensitive security briefings, on the theory that the best way to make sure Starfleet would be able to meet the Cardassian threat with the ships and armaments it needed was to let the designers be aware of those needs. Before the situation became critical.

There were some who doubted the necessity, or even the wisdom, of allowing access to such high level data outside of the military arm of the 'Fleet, and indeed, Janeway's service record included no actual service in the field. Since his graduation from the Academy thirty-odd years ago, Janeway had been involved solely in the development of various craft and weapons, never their implementation. Therefore, according to some, he lacked the 'practical' outlook. Tighe permitted himself a small smile. Given a choice, he'd take the theoreticians over the Section any day.

He became aware that he was being studied just as carefully in turn. Startled, he raised his eyes and met the Admiral's guileless, yet penetrating gaze. They were Kathryn's eyes--not so much the color, but there was something about the expression that was the same; scientist's eyes, straightforward, seeking to understand, and not giving up until the goal was achieved. Tighe looked away.

"At ease, Lieutenant," Janeway said. He ran a hand through his hair, seeming somewhat nervous himself. "You probably think I brought you in here for some thorough grilling, to deem your worthiness to be a member of my family." He smiled gently. "But traditions only go so far."

"Is this the part where I'm supposed to ask for your daughter's hand in marriage?" Tighe asked dryly.

Janeway laughed. "The only person you need to ask is Kathryn, and I'd say from the looks of things she's already given her assent." He put his glass down. "Seriously, Justin, my wife and I trust our daughter's judgment. It goes without saying we'd approve of whomever she brought home."

Tighe shifted in his chair. The tone of the Admiral's voice conveyed the mutual respect and deep feeling Kathryn and her father felt for each other. A faint pang of regret hit him, thinking of his own messy family, and of the secrets he carried. He crushed those thoughts with speech. "And your other daughter?"

"Phoebe?" Janeway sighed. "Much as I love her, I will admit that I don't have the same degree of confidence in her, at least at this stage." He brightened. "But she's still young; give her a few more years 'til she's as level-headed as Kathryn."

Privately, Tighe doubted whether Kathryn's younger sister would ever be like her. He thought back to the introductions earlier, to her behavior throughout dinner. He knew her type all too well. Beautiful, young and spoiled, bluntly speaking her mind with no regard to the proprieties, convinced she was always right. In fact, that was very close to his first impression of Kathryn herself, a misconception that had been (mostly) corrected even before the Urtea II incident. But Phoebe didn't seem to be cut from the same cloth as Kathryn.

In a way, it had been amusing to see Phoebe bait her older sister--obviously following a pattern laid down years ago in childhood--and to see Kathryn's automatic reactions, probably because he so rarely saw Kathryn at a disadvantage. That is, he had been amused until Phoebe had gone too far.

Toward the end of the meal, the family dog had entered the room, and inadvertently brushed against Tighe's leg. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't keep himself from flinching nor suppress the images that flooded into his mind.

The Toskanar's smell was overpowering, even from several meters away, and it was rapidly gaining on them. He could almost feel its hot breath on the back of his neck. He cursed his broken leg. Not that it made a difference--he'd never be able to outrun it. But maybe he'd be able to slow it down so that Kathryn at least would manage to get to the beam out point and escape from this miserable hell hole. "Go!" he shouted at her. "Get away while you still can!"

"I'm not leaving you!" she insisted. And then, in a blur of fur and teeth and claws, the Toskanar was upon them.

Tighe threw himself into the beast's path, shielding Kathryn from the attack as best he could. The cruel claws slashed across his body; he could see the blood spurting out. And was aware of pain, excruciating pain. Instinctively, he raised his arms, trying to shield his head, and screamed in agony as the fangs sank deep within his shoulder. He twisted desperately; any moment now, it would reach his throat---

He was only dimly aware of Phoebe's taunt of being afraid of a harmless pup, and of Kathryn's answering furious defense. He shook himself. He needed to get Kathryn's attention, tell her it was all right, that Phoebe didn't know, didn't mean anything by it, and it wasn't worth making a scene on his behalf.

Fortunately, Kathryn had retained enough control of herself to pull Phoebe into the kitchen. Where even though the argument continued, at least the rest of the family could maintain the pretense of not hearing what was going on. Gretchen Janeway had sighed, and then turned to her husband and suggested the men adjourn to the study.

The Admiral stood abruptly and motioned toward his desk, his demeanor business-like. "Well, now that the conventions have been satisfied, let me show you what I've been working on." He touched a few controls and the screen sprang to life. "With your background, you're in a unique position to appreciate this little beauty of a ship."

"What would that be, sir?" Tighe asked, although he already had been informed by the Section.

"Hold on a minute." Janeway entered a decryption sequence into the computer. He made no attempt to shield his movements from Tighe's view. With dismay, Tighe noticed the code was based on a relatively simple algorithm, all too easy to break. "Here we are." A small winged craft appeared on the screen. "Introducing the Dayan class of fighter vessels. Designed to hold a crew of up to three, though easily handled by a single pilot. State of the art transporters, as well as shields and weaponry." Inexplicably, his lips tightened. Tighe was struck by the familiarity of the gesture. "Intended for use in the Cardassian conflict that all the Intelligence analysts fear is coming."

Tighe let that comment pass, and moved in closer to get a better look. Despite the briefings he'd received, he was surprised by the overall appearance of the craft. "Those don't appear to be the usual thruster housings you'd find on a ship this size."

"That's one of the modifications we've made to the old Patton class it's intended to replace." Janeway touched a control, bringing up a close-up of the schematic of the internal relays . "See this?"

Tighe whistled. "If I had to hazard a guess, I'd say more than the impulse engines are involved."

Janeway gave him a penetrating look. "Yes. These are directly tied in to the warp drive."

"That would give you a significant increase in maneuverability. But why not locate them here?" Tighe leaned forward and indicated a spot on the diagram.

"The Dayan is designed for deployment within a planetary atmosphere as well as space, and it's necessary to compensate for the abrupt changes in pressure and gravimetric forces."

Tighe found himself increasingly impressed as Janeway continued his technical lecture. Finally, the older man looked up. "So what do you think?"

"This is going to be a very useful addition to the 'Fleet."

Janeway smiled. "I'm glad to hear you say that, as the Rangers are intended as the primary pilots for these ships." His expression faded to a frown. "If it becomes necessary, that is. Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

Tighe glanced at him sharply. The Admiral correctly interpreted his expression. "I'm not one of those pie-in-sky dreamers, Lieutenant. I'm all too aware that I'm designing instruments of war. But while I deplore their use, I still recognize the necessity."

Tighe nodded slowly. "Of course, sir." He hesitated. "But if I may bring up another point..." His voice trailed off, not sure of how to proceed.

"Yes?"

"Aren't you concerned about security breaches, sir?"

Janeway looked at him in surprise as he continued, "The Dayan class blueprints are very sensitive documents---"

Janeway held up a hand. "Ah, I see what you're getting at. Let me assure you that this console is under the same type of security lock and authorization codes as my office at the Utopia Planitia shipyards. Don't let appearances fool you--this building is well-shielded. It would be virtually impossible for a spy beam to penetrate."

Though slightly relieved, Tighe couldn't resist adding, "Don't underestimate the skills of a dedicated hacker."

"Believe me, I don't," Janeway said. "At any rate, the prototype, the Terra Nova, is already built and will begin undergoing preliminary tests within the next two weeks."

"I see." And indeed he did. Any attempts at espionage or sabotage would be directed toward the prototype itself--which was doubtless under guard at the shipyards, or in an undisclosed location.

Janeway deactivated the console. He drummed his fingers on the desk surface for a moment, obviously deep in thought. He then turned to Tighe abruptly, as if he'd come to a decision.

"You know, Justin, you made several insightful comments when I was showing you the plans. I'm quite impressed."

"Well, as you said, sir, my background helps me appreciate the intent behind the design," Tighe said modestly, though he was pleased at the compliment.

"Because you're approaching this as both an engineer and a covert operative."

Tighe's eyes met those of Kathryn's father. That was a pretty leading statement, but how much did the other man know? Was he referring to the Rangers, or to Section 31? There was an awkward silence. Recovering his composure, Tighe then said, "And of course, I've done a fair amount of flying, so I can see this from a pilot's perspective as well."

Janeway nodded a little too quickly. "Piloting, eh? Is that also included in your repertoire of skills?"

"Quite honestly, I've probably done a little bit of everything over the years," Tighe said with what he hoped was a disarming smile.

Janeway gave him a level look. "I'm sure that's most likely true."

Two hours later, Tighe keyed in the entrance code and stepped into his darkened apartment. He was alone, as Kathryn had elected to stay overnight in Indiana. Truth be told, he was more than a little disappointed, as he would have liked some tangible reward for what he'd gone through that evening. But Kathryn had seemed eager to speak with her father and he wasn't about to interfere. Or attempt to compete, he admitted ruefully. He preferred battles he was sure of winning.

He opened his mouth to order lights on, and suddenly froze. There was someone in the room with him. He strained his eyes in the faint illumination filtering in from the window, but could see nothing. All he had to guide him was the sound of faint breathing. He silently moved forward.

A voice spoke in the darkness. "That's close enough, Tighe. Computer, lights."

Tighe blinked in the sudden onslaught of light. "Sloan. What the hell are you doing here?"

"That should be fairly obvious," Sloan chided him. "I'm here to speak with you."

"And that necessitated breaking into my apartment? What if I wasn't alone?" He added, "Your flair for the dramatic nearly got you a broken neck."

Sloan smiled. "Better luck next time, my boy." He rose from the couch. "And as far as privacy is concerned, your fiancee remained behind, didn't she?"

"How did you know? Have you been keeping her under surveillance?" Tighe demanded. "Or me?" If so, they'd managed to do so without his being aware of it.

"Both of you." Sloan moved over to the replicator. "Can I get you something?"

Tighe fought to keep his voice level. "Why don't you just get down to business?"

Sloan turned around. "Of course. Simply put, the Section wants to know if you learned anything further about the new vessel, the Dayan class fighter."

"Admiral Janeway showed me a schematic of it this evening."

"We thought he might," Sloan said. "How close is it to completion?"

"The prototype will be ready for testing soon."

"That would be the preliminary stages..." Sloan's face held a look of concentration. "Did he happen to mention where it's currently being kept?"

"No."

Sloan sighed. "At least he had the sense to keep his mouth shut about that...What did you think of it?"

Tighe let the slur against the Admiral go. "The craft would be best employed as a major component of a planet-to-space based defense system."

"Defensive--not as an attack vessel?"

Tighe shrugged. "It seems as though it could be used that way as well. But the Admiral emphasized its defensive capabilities."

"Did he tell you anything about shields? Weapons?"

"No. Other than to mention that they were 'state of the art.'"

"I see." Once more Sloan appeared to be deep in thought.

Some of Tighe's irritation faded as his curiosity was aroused. "Can I ask what this is about? Surely the top brass have been kept apprised of the progress on the Dayan fighter throughout the various stages of its development."

Sloan hesitated. "We're concerned the Cardassians have gotten wind of at least some of the design details. Needless to say, we don't want them to know the extent of Starfleet's technical advancements." Abruptly, he turned to leave. "Keep this little visit to yourself, Tighe. You'll be hearing from us within the next few days." With a sardonic grin, he added, "No, don't bother, I'll see myself out."

Tighe bent over his computer, frowning as he wrote a routine report on deuterium consumption and Bussard collector maintenance. Officially, he was attached to Headquarters in an administrative capacity, while he awaited his next ship board assignment. Only he and the Section knew, however, the full extent of his duties while he was planet-side.

"Hey, Tighe."

He looked up to see Lieutenant Jerry Kagan, his office-mate, standing next to him. "Morning. How's it going?"

Kagan shrugged. "The same old business, at least for me. But I hear you're moving on to bigger and better things."

"What are you talking about?"

Kagan made a show acting surprised. "You mean you don't know?" He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "The entire floor has been buzzing since we heard the news. Are you telling me you didn't know about your new assignment!"

Tighe ignored him and touched a control, automatically saving his half-finished report. What was Kagan babbling about? Barring Sloan's nocturnal visit, he hadn't had any contact with the Section for days. Had some ignorant bureaucrat transferred him to a new posting without their knowledge? If so, there'd be hell to pay getting out of it without arousing any suspicion...

He called up "Staff Assignments-Recent" and scrolled down until he found the listing. "Lieutenant Justin Tighe, reassignment, Department of Starship Design and Fabrication." He was instructed to report to the office of Admiral Edward Janeway at the Utopia Planitia Shipyards by 0800 the next day.

"And they say nepotism is dead," grinned Kagan. "Working for your future father-in-law sounds like a cushy posting. If you get along with him, that is. Still, it's got to be better than grinding away down here."

Tighe made no reply, his mind busy considering the implications of this new assignment. He didn't like where his thoughts were leading him.

Six hours later, Tighe boarded the Mars shuttle. In his satchel was a padd containing his orders. His official ones, at any rate. His unofficial ones had been delivered via coded beam and no permanent record remained.

"Fortunately for us, Janeway personally requested that you be assigned to the Dayan project for the testing phase of the new prototype," Chloe had said. "As the primary test pilot, you'll have nearly unlimited access to the ship. Your task is quite simple. Despite Starfleet Security's best efforts, we have reason to believe there's a serious leak in that department. You are urged to do whatever is necessary to prevent the Cardassians from learning anything more about the project. At any cost."

The stars sparkled like jewels within the velvet sky. Tighe dipped his wings, then banked sharply to port. Although he itched to put her through some more complicated maneuvers, this was only a short-range outing for the Terra Nova, within the relatively small confines of the restricted testing zone beyond Pluto's orbit.

The comm signaled. "Ranger One, do you read? This is Top Dog."

Tighe reached over and activated the unit. "Roger, Top Dog. Go ahead."

"Looking good, Ranger One. But playtime is over."

He snorted, but had to admit that was a pretty accurate way of putting it. "Acknowledged, Top Dog. Coming in."

Five minutes later he guided the ship in to a smooth docking within the heavily armored transport's shuttle bay. He did a final systems check, then opened the hatch and stepped out. He gave the ship an affectionate pat, and nodded to the guards who took up their positions outside.

He checked his chronometer. The transport would dock at Utopia Planitia in just under half an hour. Previously, the Terra Nova had been kept at a small underground airfield near the testing zone; now in preparation for the upcoming long-range flight tests, the ship was being brought back for a final series of diagnostics.

He spent the time pacing, occasionally pausing to look out the viewport at the familiar 'landmarks' of the Sol system. He was keyed up, exhilarated by how smoothly the ship handled, yet at the same time frustrated he'd been out for so little time. There was something about soaring through the limitless expanses of space...Soon, he told himself. In just a few more days, he would be behind the controls of the Terra Nova once more, conducting maneuvers over Tau Ceti Prime. And this time there would be no limits.

He came abruptly out of his dream when the transport docked at the station. Stepping through the airlock, he saw several department personnel waiting, as well as additional security officers. Mentally, he checked off their names and faces. No one new, which was good, as well as two guards whom he suspected were Section agents. He craned his neck to watch them board the transport. He turned when he heard his name.

"How did it go, Lieutenant Tighe?" The speaker was Captain Laurel, one of the more senior members of the department.

"Like a dream, sir," Tighe replied.

"That's what we like to hear," Laurel said approvingly. He, too, passed through the airlock.

Laurel's aide, Lieutenant Michaels, lingered. "I could tell that from the grin on your face," he said in a low voice. "Most guys don't look this happy after sex."

"Tell you a secret, Donny," Tighe said with a smirk. "This was better than sex."

Michaels laughed. "If anyone has a basis for comparison, it's you. Still, it takes guts to say that when you're engaged to the Old Man's daughter." He sobered for a moment. "Speaking of the Admiral, he's on the observation deck and wants to see you ASAP."

Tighe frowned. He was anxious to get back to his quarters to check the shuttle schedules, then call Kathryn and tell her when she could expect him back at their apartment in San Francisco. "Thanks, Donny." He bit back a sigh and headed toward the observation deck.

To his surprise, Admiral Janeway wasn't there.

But Kathryn was.

She laughed at the expression on his face, then moved into his outstretched arms. Later, he considered it fortunate that no one else had been present to see how they had just thrown military protocol to the winds.

"Whew!" Kathryn said. "Do you know how much I missed you?"

"I think you managed to convey the idea, in not so many words," he said teasingly. "This was after a separation of only two weeks--what're you going to do for eight months?" After much debate, Kathryn had decided to remain in the science track and had secured a spot on the Hyperion, which was slated for a mission in the Beta Quadrant.

"I'll manage," she said quietly. "But I'm not exactly looking forward to it."

"Me, neither." He looked at her quizzically. "Kathryn, it's great seeing you, but why are you here? I was going to call you and let you know I'll be home tomorrow."

"My ship launches in 48 hours, and I wanted to spend all the available time I have with you." She reached up and smoothed back the lock of hair on his forehead, then slowly traced the angle of his jaw. "I just wish it could be longer."

He caught her fingers in his and raised them to his lips. "Actually, the timing works out pretty well, as I'm also scheduled to leave in two days."

"Yes, I heard you're going to the Tau Ceti system then," she said, straightening her uniform and otherwise making herself more presentable before they went out into the corridor. "But I still wish we had more time."

He stiffened and then, his voice casual, asked, "How did you know that, Kathryn? That's classified information."

"I have my sources," she said coyly.

He attempted a smile, but couldn't help but wonder how many other people knew about the tests, or their location. It shouldn't be common knowledge...but he reminded himself that the Admiral's daughter wasn't just anyone. God, if he wasn't careful, he'd end up as paranoid as one of the Section spooks.

He hated the automatic suspicion that came with the territory, that made him eye everyone around him askance, wondering if they could be trusted. One of several issues that had been bothering him for a long time. Added to that was the increased pressure he was feeling from the Section. They'd been demanding daily reports from him since he had come to Utopia Planitia, and were less than pleased that so far he'd come up with nothing.

Kathryn and Tighe began the walk back to his quarters, so he could change and pack. Perhaps sensing he didn't feel comfortable discussing the test flight, Kathryn began talking about her upcoming tour of duty. Tighe made sure to nod at frequent intervals and otherwise indicate that he was paying attention, but he wasn't really listening. Instead, he was thinking once more about the Section, and contrasting its mindset with the work atmosphere he'd encountered here at Utopia Planitia.

There was something to be said about working with colleagues you respected and who respected you in turn, all of you striving for a common goal. Tighe had been a little apprehensive at first, wondering how the rest of the department would view him. To his relief, he had been accepted on his own merits. "We'd always planned on bringing in a test pilot from the outside," Admiral Janeway had told him, and he was glad to find it so.

Additionally, he found he enjoyed working on the technical systems. He'd begun his career in Engineering, and had been recruited later by the Rangers. During his time as a covert operative, he'd only rarely been called upon to put his technical expertise to use--which was one of the main reasons he had enjoyed his posting to the Icarus. Other than Kathryn, of course.

During his first week at Utopia Planitia, Tighe had been working late one evening, running through several advanced sets of simulations. He was scheduled to take out the Terra Nova on the first of a series of short-range maneuvers the next day. The rest of the lab was deserted, the other engineers long since departed for the night.

"Still at it, Lieutenant?"

Tighe looked up from his console to see the Admiral leaning casually against the doorway. "Yes, sir." Feeling the need to explain further, he added, "I'm a little concerned about the hull stresses."

Janeway gave a brief smile. "So I gathered, from the staff meeting earlier. Your comments made even Commander Quinteros sit up and take notice, and believe me, it takes a lot to ruffle him."

"I hope I wasn't out of line," Tighe said quietly. He watched the Admiral carefully to see his reaction.

Janeway waved his words away. "Not at all. You brought up an issue which you felt required further review, and you did so in an appropriate manner and setting." He leaned forward, to better see what Tighe was working on. "So, what have you come up with?"

Tighe showed him and spent the next fifteen minutes expanding upon the results of his research.

At last, Janeway nodded. "You've certainly convinced me. We'll make the appropriate modifications." He lightly clapped the younger man's shoulder. "Good work, Justin. You've got a knack for seeing beyond the obvious. A very useful skill for an engineer."

The Admiral's attitude had led him to think perhaps he had a future here. Or if not specifically in the Department of Starship Design, at least he had more options than he had previously thought.

As they entered a turbolift, Tighe abruptly came to a decision. He wanted a normal life and he wanted it with Kathryn. And that would never be possible as long as he remained at the Section's beck and call.

Unlike the other times he'd been summoned into her presence, Chloe was not alone. Sloan was a silent witness to the proceedings, but Tighe didn't let that deter him. He'd always considered the man as little more than an annoyance, a mere errand boy. Chloe was the only one who mattered; he focused all his attention on her. After delivering his report, he flatly announced his intention to resign, effective immediately.

Chloe waited until he was finished before she spoke. "You can hardly quit in the middle of an assignment," she pointed out.

He strove to stay calm. "Oh, I'm still going to be involved in the upcoming test flight. I'm just not working for you anymore. I'm through with you, the Section, the Rangers, the whole damn covert business."

She tried another tactic. "And you'll spend your time doing what, exactly?"

"Being a Starfleet officer. I'll apply for a posting as an engineer, a pilot...it doesn't matter. I'll take any job as long as it doesn't involve keeping secrets from those around me, or from the woman I love."

Her eyes never left his. "Leave us, Luther." Wordlessly, Sloan complied.

As soon as the door closed, Chloe came closer, until she was standing just inches away. She searched his face carefully. "You're serious about this, are you? Despite everything you know about us--you think you can just walk away, whenever you please?"

"I've through doing your dirty work, Chloe," he said heatedly. "I've lied, cheated, stolen--I've even killed for you. But no more."

"Not for me, Justin," she whispered. "For the good of the Federation, remember?"

He didn't bother to conceal his contempt. "Cut the crap. For the good of the Section. You never gave a damn about the greater good."

Her expression didn't even flicker. "Come, come, darling. If we're going for total honesty, everything you did was for yourself. So you could advance in rank more quickly than the bastard son of a drunken miner could ever hope for. And so you could rid yourself of the pain---and unleash the feelings you try to keep bottled up deep inside." Her lips were at his ear. "I know you, Justin. I know who you are, and what you really want."

His nostrils flared at the sudden scent of cinnamon, evoking memories of long ago. He felt her warm breath on his skin, felt the sharpness of her nails as she turned his face to hers and kissed him, hard. For an instant he responded; then he grabbed her wrists and savagely wrenched her away.

"Not this time, you bitch! I'm not interested in playing your little games any more." His hands were still on her arms in a bruising grip. His breathing sounded heavy in his own ears.

"Aren't you?" She didn't fight him, instead snaked her hands down his arms, down his chest down to his crotch. She fondled him for a moment, then quickly knelt in front of him and began undoing the opening to his trousers.

He grabbed her head, intending to push her away, but instead gasped as she took him into her mouth. He moaned as she began working around the head of his cock with her tongue, her hand cupping and stroking his balls. She was an expert at this, and despite himself, he found himself pulling her closer, writhing with guilty pleasure, submitting to and enjoying her ministrations. I know what you want. He hated her for what she was doing, but not as much as he hated himself--God help him, he wanted this, wanted her, wanted her enough to throw her down on the floor and take her right there and then, forgetting everything else but the burning desire growing within him. With a strangled groan, he came, spurting deeply into the back of her throat. With his last bit of resolve he roughly threw her aside.

Her eyes were blazing with triumph as she calmly picked herself up off the floor and wiped her mouth on her sleeve.

He shoved his still hard member back inside his pants. "God damn you, Chloe."

He turned to go, couldn't leave that room fast enough. The last thing he heard was her mocking, "Give my regards to Kathryn."

Sloan was waiting for him right outside the door. Tighe attempted to brush past him, but Sloan blocked his path.

"I don't know how you left things in there, but I'm here to give you a little friendly advice."

Tighe's lip curled scornfully. "Since when were we ever friends?"

Sloan let that go. "You're still expected to see this mission through, Tighe. Security for that fighter vessel is of the utmost importance. Especially now. Edward Janeway hasn't been as careful as he should have been; he's been too free with information, and has ignored reports of a possible mole in his department." Sloan's voice increased in intensity. "No matter how you feel about the Section, you know that it's in no one's best interest if the Cardassians get their hands on the new technology."

Tighe looked at him for a long moment. He didn't know what Sloan's true motivations were, and frankly, he didn't care. "I'm a Starfleet officer. You don't have to worry about me neglecting my duty." He shouldered his way past and nearly missed Sloan's final comment.

"That's not what I'm concerned about," he said quietly.

Tighe paused outside the apartment, feeling vaguely soiled, his mind in turmoil but willing himself not to think about what had happened. He had to compose himself before going inside. He took several deep breaths, then keyed in the code.

Kathryn looked up from the old-fashioned book in her lap and smiled when he entered the room. "Hi, Justin. How was your day?"

The pounding in his head intensified as he realized, once again, the extent of his betrayal, but he forced himself to return her smile. The last thing he wanted to do was rouse Kathryn's suspicions. "The usual. And you?"

"Fine. In fact, better than fine."

"Oh?"

She put her book down and glided over to him. "The Hyperion's launch is being delayed three weeks. Do you realize what that means? I'm free to accompany you and Dad on the Terra Nova's test flight." The excitement in her voice was palpable.

He tried to muster up some enthusiasm. "That's great."

She took a step back and gave him a searching glance. "You don't sound very excited."

He mentally cursed himself. "No, really. I'm sorry, I'm just kind of tired." He exhaled. "I'm sure I'll feel better after a shower."

"Want some company?" she asked with a suggestive look.

"Not that kind of shower," he said, more sharply than he intended, then instantly regretted it.

"All right, then. Suit yourself." She shrugged and turned to go back to her seat.

He touched her arm. "Kathryn..."

"Yes?"

"I really am happy that you'll be coming with me to Tau Ceti." Her face softened and she moved closer to him, laid her head against his chest. His arms tightened around her and he buried his lips in her hair. "I mean it when I say it's the best news I've had all day."

The large vidscreen seemed strangely at odds with the elegant furnishings in the room, nestled as it was in between two rare pre-Reformation Vulcan sculptures. The contrast was almost as great as between the two people who stood watching it.

"...You are looking at the main crash site of an experimental Starfleet fighter craft, the Terra Nova, which unexpectedly and spectacularly failed in its initial test flight over Tau Ceti Prime three days ago. The wreckage was strewn over eight square kilometers, with most of the components destroyed beyond any hope of salvage. A spokesman from the Department of Starship Design and Fabrication has stated that careful examination and re-enactment of the crash revealed that the new design still had too many flaws which hadn't been adequately addressed before the flight. It was further stated that these flaws are endemic to the entire class of vessels and plans for further developments along these lines have been scrapped.

"The Terra Nova's designer, Admiral Edward Janeway, died in the crash along with test pilot Lieutenant Justin Tighe, who was engaged to be married to the Admiral's daughter, Lieutenant Kathryn Janeway, j.g.

"Department spokesmen have stated that it was usual procedure for the Admiral to personally go along on the shakedown flights of his creations. His daughter, Lieutenant Janeway, was also on board the Terra Nova and even though she survived the initial crash, sustained severe life-threatening injuries as a result. Her condition is still being reported as critical, although we are given to understand that she regained consciousness late this evening. Further updates on our top story will follow..."

At Chloe's nod, Sloan reached over and turned off the screen. Chloe studied her nails critically for a moment, then looked up and smiled. "Two birds with one stone. I believe that's the expression." Her long fingers idly caressed one of the exquisite objets d'art on her desk. "The Cardassians are now convinced that all their information on the Dayan series is worthless, the technology dangerously unstable. And poor, dear Justin...always searching for his best destiny, and never quite able to realize what it was. But now he has the peace he could never find in life."

"And Janeway and his daughter?" asked Sloan, his voice carefully neutral.

"Collateral damage," Chloe said crisply, dropping her sympathetic manner of a moment ago. She gave him a brilliant smile. "Regardless, it's always gratifying when a mission succeeds. Don't you agree, Luther?"

Sloan turned away, a pained look upon his face. He didn't answer.

Gretchen Janeway went to answer the door, determined to slam it shut if it turned out to be another reporter. Even before the memorial service, her family had been badgered unmercifully. Thankfully, in the last day or two, the steady stream had finally trickled to a halt.

A thin blond man in civilian clothes stood on the doorstep. "Mrs. Janeway?"

"Yes," Gretchen answered coolly.

He didn't seem offended by her manner; it was almost as though he understood. "I'm not a member of the press, ma'am. I--I was a colleague of Justin's and worked with him for many years."

Gretchen's stance softened. "I'm sorry. Would you like to come in?"

"Thank you." He followed her in and glanced around the living room curiously, his glance falling on the pictures displayed prominently on the mantelpiece.

"May I get you something to drink?"

"No, thank you. I don't mean to intrude on you at what I know must be a most difficult time for your family." He hesitated. "I would like to speak with your daughter, if she is available."

Gretchen shook her head regretfully. "That won't be possible, I'm afraid. Kathryn..." she swallowed. "Kathryn is indisposed at the moment." Without knowing why, she found herself adding, "All of this has been quite a blow for her."

He nodded. "I'm sure. I can imagine how difficult it must be for her right now."

"Would like for me to give her a message?"

He hesitated again. After a moment, he said, "Yes, I suppose that will do just as well. Tell her, please," and Gretchen could have sworn she saw a look of deep regret in his eyes, "Tell her that I am truly sorry for her loss."

"I'm sure she'll appreciate that, Mr.--"

"Sloan, ma'am. Luther Sloan."
 

FINIS

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