Chapter Text

IV – Passion

Nora Laas exited the turbo-lift on deck eight and headed toward the first officer’s quarters.

She had hoped that she could use the time Eagle was sidelined to work on a new drill plan for her security team. Instead, Gene Edison had contacted her and asked to discuss crew evaluations. She couldn’t say that she was looking forward to that. Not because she had a problem with evaluating her people but because the idea of being stuck in a room with Edison all day after he had made his feelings about the direction of their relationship quite clear. Now she dreaded the awkwardness that would inevitably exist in their working relationship.

            She found his quarters and activated the door chime. The panels slid open almost instantly and without giving it another thought, she stepped inside. Not a moment after she had entered, the doors slid shut again.

The quarters were completely dark.

Even the windows had been sealed.

            “Commander?”

            There was no reply.

            “Computer, lights.”

            But even the computer refused to acknowledge her command.

Her instincts immediately told her to call in an emergency and to get a security detail to back her up. But Eaglewas securely nestled inside one of the safest places in the entire sector; there wasn’t much that could warrant an emergency while docked to the starbase.

She spotted a faint light coming from the adjacent room and slowly approached. “Gene, what’s going on?”

            She realized that she had stepped into the bedroom. The light level was just high enough for her to notice something lying on the bed. She looked around once more – not spotting anything else of interest – and then approached the bed. There, on top of the sheets, she found a large bright blue cover and a data padd. She picked up the padd.

            Open it, it said in large lettering.

            Nora turned around suspiciously but found that she was alone. “What is this?”

            Her only reward was silence.

            She sighed and turned back toward the bed. She placed the padd aside and carefully opened the cover to reveal a shimmering black and silver dress.

            Nora was not a dress person.

She had never even owned a dress and could hardly remember the last time she had worn one. She had never had much reason to since her life had been the exact opposite of being glamorous. While other young women all over the galaxy went to balls or formal dinners and dances she had laid in the mud, planning the next strike against the occupiers of her home world.

            Her lack of an elegant lifestyle, however, did not lessen her appreciation for the beauty of the dress that was before her now. The long, strapless gown was made out of several layers of delicate black and silver silks that shimmered excitingly even under the little light in the bedroom.

            Nora couldn’t help herself and laughed.

            The padd on the bed beeped and when she glanced at it, she found that the text had changed.

            Put it on. Promise I won’t peek.

            “You better not,” she said with mock sincerity.

            The doors to the bedroom closed and once Nora was certain that she was alone, she quickly began to strip out of her uniform, all of a sudden quite curious to see what she’d look like in the alien apparel.

            It took her a while to figure out exactly how to put it on but after a few trials and errors, she was satisfied. As she looked down, she discovered a small box at her feet containing a pair of matching high-heel shoes. Like the dress, they fit perfectly.

            No sooner she had slipped into the shoes she heard a soft tune coming from the living room. She glanced herself over in a large mirror in the washroom, quite pleased with her appearance, then took a deep breath and walked toward the door leading back into the main room.

            The doors slid open as she approached and as she walked through the doorframe, she was surprised to find the room quite different than what it had been when she had first come in.

The speakers were playing a familiar flute melody that she recognized as a composition from Verani, a legendary Bajoran musician. The room was illuminated now. But most of it came from a very unlikely source. Several candles had been placed around the room. The brightest ones were lighting up the table at the center that had been prepared for a dinner for two.

            Right by the table stood Gene Edison with a wide smile on his face. He was dressed in an elegant white shirt and black trousers. She found himself admiring him for a moment before she spoke. “What’s all this?”

            “I thought that would be obvious,” he said as he stepped closer.

            “It certainly isn’t the right setup to discuss crew evaluations.”

            Edison reached out for her and pulled her closer, kissing her passionately.

            She went along with it at first but then pushed away, leaving him with a surprised look on his face. “I don’t understand.”

             “What is there not to understand?”

            Nora felt herself becoming angry. Was he playing with her? After all, he had been quite obvious how he felt about their relationship the other day and now he had turned around one hundred eighty degrees. It didn’t seem to make any sense to her. She wondered if all men behaved like that. She could not claim to have exhaustive experience in that area. But she knew that she would not let him use her as if she was nothing more than a plaything he could draw upon whenever he felt like it.

            She defiantly crossed her arms in front of her chest becoming increasingly self-conscious of how much skin she was revealing. “I think I deserve a little bit more of an explanation. You think you can just get me here, dress me up, and play your little games and everything is all right?”

            Edison took on a more serious expression and nodded slowly, clearly chastised. “I’m sorry, Laas, you’re right.”

            She wanted to embrace him but she knew she had to maintain a tough demeanor if this – whatever this was – should ever work. And if there was one thing she knew how to do it was being tough.

            “I made a mistake,” he said and turned away.

            “What?” she said with surprise. That had not been what she had wanted to hear. She stepped up behind him. “Listen, I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t think that this was exciting. I mean look at me.”

            He turned around.

            “I’m wearing a dress for prophet’s sake,” she added with a smile.

            “You do look breathtaking in it.”

            She tried hard not to blush. “So what are we going to do about that?” she said with a smirk.

            Edison remained serious. “A few days ago, after Lutira Rei died in my arms I felt as if being with you would be a grave mistake. I didn’t see a future for us.”

            Nora’s face visibly dropped at the sudden revelation.

            “Nobody knows what these times will hold except for the fact that all our lives could end at a moment’s notice. I thought that being with you, right here and now, could become too great a risk for the both of us. That the only choice we had was to maintain a professional relationship and keep our feelings aside.”

            “What do you think now?” she said, somewhat afraid of the answer.

            “I realized that I had it all wrong.”

            “How so?”

            “We’re all living on borrowed time but if I died tomorrow I would want to spend the last night of my life with you. I love you, Laas.”

            For a moment her heart stopped beating and the world around her stood still. No man had ever uttered those three words to her. She had sometimes imagined what it would be like to hear them, to hear them from him. She had thought that she would know exactly how she would feel. Now she suddenly realized that she had been utterly unprepared.

            “I love you, too.”

            They kissed again but this time neither one of them stopped. Dinner was forgotten as they drifted toward the bedroom.

*        *        *

Most of Eagle’s crewmembers who were not involved in the repairs or the large-scale cargo loading effort had taken the first officer’s advice and retreated to the starbase or the more than pleasant planet below. This way they could not only take full advantage of the many recreational opportunities available, they would also be out of the way of those who remained behind, trying to get thousands of tons of cargo onto the ship in very little time.

            The schedule for getting the cargo for the outpost in the Ligos system on board was very tight and Commander Xylion had been forced to improvise to meet the deadline. His solution had been to utilize not only shuttles and transporters but also to have crewmembers load the cargo manually, using antigrav units to move heavy crates across the gangway that connected the ship with the base. Many of Eagle’s once spotless and spacious corridors were now littered with containers of all shapes and sizes, effectively transforming them into obstacle courses.

            So’Dan Leva uttered a curse under his breath as he tried to get from the main bridge to a cargo bay. A journey that was supposed to take no less than two minutes had already consumed nearly a quarter of an hour as he had to avoid not only immovable objects but also several crewmembers who kept adding to the chaos by moving cargo in and out of the corridors. If there was a system to the way they worked, Leva could not see it.

He had been trying to fix a glitch with the main torpedo launchers that had started to act up ever since the Klingon’s unconventional use of the navigational deflector. Both systems were closely integrated and damage to the dish had caused a malfunction with the launchers. Not only was he annoyed that he had to replace the torpedo guidance system because of a maneuver he was sure could have been handled more gracefully, he had also found that Xylion had reserved all transporters for beaming aboard cargo.

With the guidance system weighing in at nearly three tons, transporting it manually was out of the question. Especially now that all the corridors had become close to impassable. Eagle could not leave the starbase without a fully functional weapons system and Leva was determined to find the Vulcan science officer and demand a solution.

            He rounded a bend and was almost able to spot his destination. Just as it seemed that the worst of the obstacles lay behind him, he ran right into a young Tellarite crewman who was attempting to lift a good-sized box onto a staple of crates.

            The man immediately lost his balance and the box slipped out of his hands only to smash open and scatter hand phasers all over the deck.

            “Sorry, sir,” the Tellarite apologized gruffly even though it had clearly not been his fault.

            Leva stared at the weapons for a moment before he met the Tellarite’s glance. His large eyes and his snout-like nose showed defiance but when he saw the chief tactical officer’s determined visage, he quickly backed up and began to pick up the phasers.

            “Just watch what you’re doing next time.”

            The young crewman hardly even acknowledged him as he continued to pick up the scattered weaponry.

            “Lieutenant Commander.”

            Leva turned and quickly wished he hadn’t. The voice belonged to D’Karr, the Klingon exchange officer and the one person on board he had no interest whatsoever to speak to. The broad-shouldered warrior seemed unperturbed by his heavy sigh as he approached.

            “I recommended several improvements to the ship’s main phaser emitters. Chief Engineer Hopkins advised me to speak to you.”

            Leva scrutinized the large Klingon for a few moments, considering how to answer him. He then thought better of it and turned to leave. “I don’t have time for that.”

            D’Karr almost leaped after the tactical officer which caused Leva to whip around suddenly as if to brace himself for an incoming attack.

            The Klingon recognized Leva’s confrontational pose. He barred his teeth and his body tensed, readying for battle.

            “What exactly is your problem, Lieutenant?”

            D’Karr took a step closer as though expecting the other man to be intimidated. Leva refused to yield. “What is your problem, Romulan?” He almost spat the last word. He didn’t give the now obviously disgusted Leva a chance to reply, however. “You think I enjoy working with you? A Romulan?”

            “Half-Romulan.”

            D’Karr continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “If I like it or not, we are allies and that means that we have to work together. I have enough honor within me to overlook your heritage. You on the other hand don’t even seem to grasp the concept.”

            “Honor?” Leva said and uttered a cynical laugh. “You Klingons throw that word around as if you invented it. I’m yet to meet a Klingon that would bring justice to the term.”

            D’Karr grunted with anger. “If this were a Klingon ship –“

            “It isn’t,” leva said before he could finish. “And you would do well to remember this.  We do not prescribe to your ridiculous and barbaric traditions. For the time being you’ll be serving among civilized people so you better get used to the idea. And as your superior officer, I shall dictate the terms and times at which you may confer with me. Right now, I have neither the time nor the inclination to do so.”

            D’Karr and Leva stared into each other’s eyes, neither one willing to break contact first. It was the Klingon who ended the silence. “You are a true credit to your race,” he said with noticeable repugnance in his tone. “It does not surprise me in the least that your people decided to stay out of this war, preferring to sit back and watch it from a safe distance instead.”

            D’Karr seemed to realize that he could not allow himself to attack a superior officer while he was serving on a Starfleet ship. But that didn’t mean that he couldn’t try to provoke Leva to make the first move.

            “You’d be wise to remember one thing,” Leva said calmly. “The Federation and the Klingons are allies. The two of us are not. Dismissed.”

            D’Karr didn’t budge. Not right away. Instead, they exchanged another icy glare before the Klingon finally turned and headed back the way he had come from.

            As Leva watched D’Karr leave he couldn’t help but experience an undeniable feeling of satisfaction. He had not yet won this fight but the first round had most clearly gone to him.

            He noticed that the Tellarite crewman had stopped cleaning up the corridor and was now glancing right in his direction, clearly having overheard most of the argument

            “What are you looking at?”

            The crewman shrugged his shoulders.

            “Carry on,” he said sharply and turned to head toward the cargo bay.

He couldn’t care less what the crew thought of his behavior. As far as he was concerned, he was entirely justified in treating D’Karr the way he had. He hadn’t exaggerated when he had pointed out that he considered Klingons to be an uncivilized people, stuck in a society of hopelessly archaic customs.

D’Karr would have to learn that he was entirely out of place on Eagle and if necessary, he would be the one to teach him.

*        *        *

Owens squeezed past several large crates to get into the transporter room. Inside he found Xylion delegating crewmen to pick up even more crates that had only just beamed onboard.

            “Commander.”

            Xylion turned to face his commanding officer. “Sir, Ms. Tren stands ready to beam aboard as soon as we have cleared the transporter room.”

            Owens nodded slowly, trying hard to keep a calm and collected appearance. Under the surface he was anything but. He had not been able to stop thinking about Jana Tren since Xylion had announced her visit earlier. Eighteen years was a long time and he did not know what to expect. He did not know what she would expect.

            A sudden thought shot through his head. “Ms. Tren?”

            Xylion raised an eyebrow, a sign that he did not understand what the captain was implying.

            “She isn’t married?” he said, regretting the words the instant they had come over his lips.

            “I am not aware of Agent Tren’s marital status,” Xylion said. “Are you acquainted with Agent Tren?”

            “No,” Owens said and then quickly shook his head. “I mean, yes. Once. Some time ago.” He forced a painful smile at his clumsy explanation but Xylion did not appear irritated.

            A crewman cleared the last crate from the transporter pad.

            “We’re ready for transport,” said Chief Yang Sen Chow from his station behind the control console.

            “Sir?”

            He looked at Xylion as if noticing him for the first time. Only then did he realize that everybody was waiting for his command. “Of course. Commander, is there a chance you could give us a moment of privacy?”

            Xylion nodded and without hesitation stepped out of the room.

            Owens turned to Chow. “I’m sorry chief, please proceed.”

            The bubbly man nodded with his typically wide smile. “Energizing.”

            Owens took a quick breath and braced himself.

            As the light and energy came together to assemble the figure of a woman, Owens couldn’t help but start feeling extremely self-conscious. Did his hair look all right? How about his breath? Was his uniform correctly aligned? He couldn’t remember having felt this nervous since he had been a cadet at the Academy. He was utterly unprepared for this meeting and had the sudden urge to bolt out of the room. It was way too late for that.

Jana Tren appeared in front of him.

            She looked almost exactly the way he had remembered her.

Her brunette hair still just about past her shoulders, her dark eyes intensely focused and shimmering with the brilliance of a pair of stars. Her tanned skin seemed as smooth and soft as back when he had first met her. There didn’t appear to be a single additional gram to her athletic frame.

There was a noticeable difference to the young Cadet Tren he had once known so intimately.

She looked more serious, more professional, accentuated by the formal, gray two-piece suit she wore.

            She looked human in all respect but Owens knew better. She was a Betazoid quite able to sense people’s emotions, making this reunion that much more challenging.

            She managed one step before she froze in her tracks. Utter surprise both on her face and voice. “Mike?”

            He had never been very fond of that name. Tren and his late brother had been the only people he had ever tolerated calling him that.

            “Jana, welcome. You look great,” he said, already admonishing himself for his own words.

            “This is your ship?” she said, still not moving.

            He smiled, trying to defuse the increasing tension. “Hard to believe, I know.”

            Tren didn’t speak. Her black eyes simply stared at him. For a moment he feared she would simply turn around and demand to be beamed back to the starbase.

            Chow cleared his throat. “I hate to interrupt the happy reunion,” he said with a growing smirk. “But I still have three hundred tons of cargo to beam over and time is not on our side.”

            Owens turned to the Chinese man behind the controls. Deep down he couldn’t deny the impulse to want to rip off the noncoms large bald head for that comment.

            Tren stepped off the platform. “Yes, of course,” she said, sounding far more graceful than his thoughts had been. “Please, go ahead.”

            When Owens turned to face her again, she stood just centimeters away. He immediately noticed that she had changed fragrances. He wanted to say something but his mind would not come up with any words that seemed appropriate.

            Tren made the decision for him. She reached out and gave him a surprisingly tight embrace. “Mike,” she nearly whispered. “It’s so good to see you again.”

            “It’s been a while,” he said cautiously as they separated again. “How have you been?”

            “Well,” she said and took her time to look him over from top to bottom. “And you. Finally made, captain, huh? I’m glad for you. It’s what you always wanted,” she added.

He couldn’t be entirely sure but he thought he noticed the slightest hint of malice in her tone. Perhaps it was something else.

            “I see you decided to give up on Starfleet.”

            The transporter whirled back to life, beaming additional cargo and personnel onboard.

            “I realized a long time ago that there are other ways to serve the Federation than by being in Starfleet.”

            Owens nodded slowly even though he did not know what she was referring to. He didn’t have the slightest idea who she worked for and why she was on board but for the moment he didn’t care. He focused on her voice, her faint smile, her pleasant smell, and her powerful eyes. All the things he had been so much in love with once.

            He hardly even noticed the crewmen swarming into the room, past him and Tren, beginning to haul the cargo off the transporter dais. It seemed as if the world around him did no longer exist. His mind was being flooded by the memories he had shared with her. They were good memories.

            “But enough about me,” she said, focusing him back into the present. “You look remarkably well yourself. The years have been good to you.”

            “A proper diet and regular exercise can do wonders.”

            One of the crewmen nearly collided with Owens as he tried to get a heavy crate past him. “Sorry, sir,” he said and hastily walked by him.

            “Not a great place for a reunion,” he said. “Let me show you to your quarters.”

            Tren nodded and let him lead her out of the transporter room.

*        *        *

“We are receiving a message from the starbase,” said Lieutenant Trinik from the tactical station.

            Deen, sitting at her usual post at operations, turned to see if perhaps a more senior officer had returned to the bridge but found none. She did not relish being in command, but as a senior officer, this task occasionally fell to her. She hadn’t expected to have to play captain while at the starbase and had opted to stay at operations instead of taking the center seat.

            She stood, took a couple of steps toward the command area, and then faced the main view screen. “Put it on, please.”

            The screen shifted to show a middle-aged admiral, sitting behind his desk. A flag with the Starfleet emblem and one with the Federation seal adorned the wall directly behind him. The admiral had long black hair and a full face. Deen figured him of Native American descent.

            “This is DeMara Deen, presently in command of Eagle. How can we be of assistance, sir?”

            A small smile crept onto the admiral’s lips upon seeing Deen. “Admiral Wambleeska here. According to my records are expecting to take on board three hundred mission specialists. Is that correct?”

            She nodded. “I believe it is. Is there a problem, sir?”

            Wambleeska’s expression hardened. “I’m afraid the shipment will not arrive in time and you will have to proceed with your mission without them.”

            Deen felt somewhat irritated by Wambleeska’s instance to call three hundred people a shipment but decided to keep those feelings to herself. “I will relay your message to Captain Owens. May I ask what the nature of the problem is, Admiral?”

            “It appears we have lost contact with the vessel transporting the shipment. We received a distress signal indicating an attack in the Celes Sector shortly before we lost all communications.”

            She took a step closer to the screen. “If you provide us with the last known coordinates we could mount a search and rescue mission immediately.”

            Wambleeska shook his head. “That won’t be possible, I’m afraid. Your orders are quite clear and allow for zero flexibility.”

            “Are you launching other ships?”

            “We have no other operational ships in the vicinity. A search and rescue mission has been assigned to the Starbase 49.”

            Lif Culsten looked up from his station. “How about the Sovereign, sir?”

            Wambleeska uttered a sarcastic laugh. “The Sovereign wouldn’t go anywhere if we tractored her all the way out there.”

            “I do not understand,” said Deen.

            “The Sovereign has been having problems from the day she came out of the shipyard. She’s been bogged down by system bugs and random malfunctions ever since,” he said. “They call her a lemon. Her sister ship has been in operation for two years and performed admiringly,” he added more to himself than anybody else. “Very strange.”

            Deen was in no mood to contemplate the design problems of Starfleet’s pride and joy. Lives were on the line. “How quickly can Starbase 49 get a ship out there?”

            Wambleeska grimaced, clearly not appreciating being interrogated by a junior officer. “I’ve been advised that the Caledonia is due to arrive here in two days to spearhead search and rescue operations.”

            “Two days.  Sir, with all due respect, we are ready now. I cannot believe that this mission is important enough to possibly sentence all these –“

             “Your orders stand, Ensign, and I’m not required to justify them to you. Inform your captain that your departure remains on schedule. Wambleeska out,” he said sharply and then disappeared from the viewscreen.

            Deen was upset and not because Wambleeska had gotten her rank wrong. It was a common mistake after all there weren’t many twenty-three-year-old full lieutenants in Starfleet.

            “If you were holding out for that quick promotion, I think you may have just kissed it goodbye,” Culsten said.

            “I don’t care about promotions,” she said. “You’re the ambitious one, remember?” she said and sat in the center chair. “Perhaps we should switch. See how you like the heavy burdens of command.”

            He smiled. “You know what? I really enjoyed the way you handled the admiral. I didn’t know you could be this stubborn.”

            She sighed. “Didn’t do me much good, did it?”

            “Well, I’m sure he won’t forget you for a while.”

             She nodded absentmindedly. It was probably true. But people forgetting her had never been one of her problems. Her physical appearance and her attractive aura made her stand out and people tended to remember those who stood out. It was not always a blessing and in this particular instance, she wished she would be remembered as the person who had convinced the admiral to launch an immediate rescue mission. Instead, all that Wambleeska would remember from their short encounter was her blatant defiance.

            Her eyes caught the sleek and aesthetic lines of the Sovereign on the viewscreen. She could not help but notice the all-too-obvious irony. A striking exterior and yet utterly useless. She thought she could emphasize.

*        *        *

Owens led her into one of the spacious VIP quarters on deck eight.

            “I hope this will be to your satisfaction,” he said when she had stepped inside. “My quarters are just a few doors down if you need anything.”

            Tren took a quick tour of the quarters and then turned back to him with a smile on her lips. “You say your quarters are close by?”

            “Coincidence.”

            “Of course.”

            “I’ll have somebody fetch your belongings and bring them to you.”

            “Thanks.”

            He stepped to the computer alcove embedded in the wall. “This can get you anything you need. All you have to do is–“

            “Mike.”

            He turned to face her. “I know how to work the replicator.”

            He nodded. “Can I ask you something?”

            She gestured for him to go ahead.

            “You looked so surprised when you came onboard. You didn’t know that I was on Eagle?”

            She shook her head slightly as she stepped closer. “Believe it or not, I didn’t bother to check crew complements. I asked for a fast ship with a reliable crew and they gave me you.”

            “I see.”

            “You wonder if I would have declined if I knew you were here.”

            He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer to that question. “It’s just such a strange coincidence.”

            “You know I don’t–“

            “Believe in coincidences,” he said. “Yes, I remember that.”

            She smiled. “I wonder what else you remember.”

            Owens didn’t miss how close they suddenly stood to each other. He stepped around her to sit in one of the chairs. “Eighteen years is a long time, Jan.”

            She turned around and he thought he could spot something in her eyes. Disappointment, perhaps? “Are you saying you didn’t think about me all that time? Not even once?” she said in a tone filled with mock sincerity.

            “Of course, I’ve been thinking about you.”

            “Well, you have a funny way of showing it,” she said her voice now lacking any humor. “Eighteen years and you haven’t even bothered trying to get in touch with me once.”

            He didn’t know how to reply to that. She was right of course. They had lost touch after they had broken up and he had made no effort to reconnect. He had been too preoccupied, focused entirely on his skyrocketing career.

            “What about you? I don’t recall you sending me any postcards either.”

            Her facial features hardened. “You’ve got to be kidding me? You broke up with me, remember? You left me.”

            “It’s not like you gave me a choice in the matter. And when the Fearless left Federation space, we were out of comm range for four years.”

            “You didn’t have to go on the Fearless. You could have accepted a position on Jupiter Station but that wasn’t good enough for you, was it?”

            He could feel his anger rising despite himself. He stood to be on equal footing. “You suggested that I wouldn’t be happy on Jupiter Station. I remember it like yesterday, Jana. You wanted me to take the starship assignment.”

            “I can’t believe you. You haven’t changed one iota, have you?” she said, raising her voice. “I told you what I thought you wanted to hear. I cared for you and I held out a tiny hope that maybe you cared more for me than you did for your career. But you were so focused on seeking fame and adventure out in the galaxy, you were oblivious to everything else around you, including me.”

            “That’s nonsense and you know it,” he shot back. “I was willing to come back to you if only you had been willing to wait for me. You never showed any interest in working things out. You didn’t fight for us, Jan.”

            She took two steps toward him. “You’re such a self-absorbed chump, you know that? It wasn’t my place to fight for us. You should have fought for me.”

            Owens uttered a sarcastic laugh. “Yeah, who’s self-absorbed?”

            “Shut up,” she said, reached out for him, and pressed her lips hard against his.

            He was caught completely off guard but any resistance melted away within a split second and he allowed her to take the lead.

            Moments later his uniform jacket was on the floor and Tren was working on opening the crimson-colored shirt he wore underneath.

            “This is not exactly what I expected,” he said

            “It’s what you hoped for.” She nearly ripped the shirt off his body and pushed him toward the bedroom.

            “I wouldn’t say that.”

            “Liar,” she added with a vicious smile and dropped him onto the bed.

            “I thought it was morally apprehensive for a Betazoid to read somebody’s mind without their permission.”

            She removed the top of her suit. “Which part of this situation makes you think I’m bound by moral restrictions?”

            “Good point,” he said as she hiked up her skirt and sat on his legs. “I take it you’re not married then?”

            She laughed out loud and leaned down to kiss him again.

            “You know,” he managed to say. “I always thought that I had perfected my technique of shielding my thoughts.”

            Tren moved down his body and began to tug at his pants. She looked up. “Your technique has always been lousy.”

            “Oh?”

            “Lieutenant Commander Xylion to Captain Owens.”

            “Ignore it,” she said as she tried to pull down his trousers.

            “I really need to get that.”

            Tren got frustrated with working the pants and slid back up to get in more kisses. “No, you don’t,” she said and slipped her tongue back into his mouth.

            “Captain Owens, do you read?”

            Owens moved his hands on her bare waist and with a quick, strong heave, flipped her off of him and onto her back. Tren yelped with surprise.

            He looked down at her with a satisfied smirk on his face.

            “You always did prefer being on top.”

            He lowered himself to kiss her.

            “Captain, please respond.”

            He withdrew causing Tren to scowl at him angrily. She sighed. “He sure is tenacious.”

            “You have no idea,” he said and then looked up at the ceiling. “This is Owens, go ahead.”

            “Sir, the embarkation is now complete and we are ready to depart,” he said, his voice not betraying any irritation due to the delay.

            She had slipped out from underneath him and moved behind his back instead. She put her arm around his neck pulling him toward her, and then started nibbling his ear.

            “Stop that, you know I don’t like it.”

            “I’m sorry sir, I am unclear as to what you are referring to.”

            “Hold on, Commander,” he said and tried to free himself from her embrace. “Let me go.”

            “You know you want me.”

            “Not right now.”

            “Sir, are you all right, do you require assistance?”

            She laughed. “He might.”

            “No.” Owens barked. “Inform the bridge, get permission for departure, and get us underway. Owens out.” His words were practically flying out of his mouth to terminate the connection as swiftly as possible.

            As soon as the comms link was closed, she managed to press him down onto the bed again. “Now, where were we?”

            “I think I had you pinned.”

            “Really?” she said and shifted all her weight to keep him in place. She moved back in to kiss him but she froze just a few before she met his lips.

            “What’s wrong?”

            She sat back up. “Did you say we’re leaving?”

            “Yes, we loaded all the cargo and are ready to get underway to the Ligos system.”

            She looked straight into his eyes. “We can’t leave,” she said and jumped off the bed. She grabbed the top part of her suit, slipped it on, and headed straight for the exit.

            He crawled off the bed. “Wait, don’t tell me you get space sick.”

            He sighed when he heard the doors slide open and then shut again. “Great,” he said, “that went really well.” He reached for his clothes and scrambled after her. He didn’t find time to properly adjust his uniform and ran after her still fidgeting with the zipper of his jacket.

            He didn’t pay attention as he stormed onto the corridor and promptly ran right into a crewman carrying a box. The small crate fell out of the other man’s hands and landed on the floor.

            Owens looked down at the phasers by the crewman’s feet. He then looked up.

The Tellarite seemed annoyed until he noticed that he had collided with the captain. “I’m sorry, sir.”

            Owens was suddenly very conscious of the fact that he was still trying to adjust his uniform and that seconds earlier, the same crewman he had collided with may very well have witnessed the half-dressed Tren coming out of the very same quarters.

A suspicious look crossed the Tellarite’s features.

            “It was my fault, crewman,” Owens said. “And it’s not what you think,” he added quickly but then decided that he did not have the time to explain himself. Without another word, he followed her down the corridor.

            He caught up with her just as she was about to enter the turbo-lift.

            “You know you just single-handedly destroyed my reputation on this ship,” he said and finished zipping up his jacket.

            But Tren, who had already readjusted her clothes, seemed to be too preoccupied with her thoughts to pay attention to him. “Bridge.”

            The lift set in motion instantly.

            “Are you going to tell me what this is all about?”

            “We have to stop the ship.”

            Owens did his best to straighten his hair and jacket, trying to avoid anyone else on board drawing the wrong conclusion. Or even the right ones, for that matter.

            The lift stopped and the doors opened. She stepped out and he was just one step behind her.

            The viewscreen gave proof of the ship’s departure, displaying the quickly approaching and fully opened space doors of the starbase.

            Tren headed straight for the center of the bridge and found Deen standing from the command chair as soon as she spotted them.

            “We have to turn around, now.”

            Deen looked at her with puzzlement and then turned to Owens. “Sir?”

            “Dee, meet Agent Jana Tren,” he said slightly out of breath, and then considered the Betazoid. “Jana, this is Lieutenant DeMara Deen. She works for me. I’m the captain. Which means if you want to turn around, you should probably start by talking to me.”

            “I’m sorry Mike but we have to turn the ship around. We have to take my people aboard. We cannot leave without them.”

            “Excuse me,” Ddeen said. “Are you referring to the mission specialists?”

            She nodded.

            “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you, but it appears that their ship has been attacked. Starfleet lost contact,” she said and looked at Owens. “I haven’t had a chance to let you know yet.”

            Tren silently sat in the seat next to the command chair, seemingly stunned by the news.

            “Do we have their last known coordinates?”

            Deen shook her head. “We can’t go after them. Admiral Wambleeska made it very clear that we’re to proceed with our mission with no delay.”

            “But that doesn’t make any sense,” Owens said.

            “It makes perfect sense,” Tren said and looked up.

            “Those are your men out there how can you say that?” Deen said

            “Don’t you think I know that?”

            Owens could not remember ever having seen Jana Tren filled with that much anger before. Granted, they had been together for only four years. He had met her in San Francisco during his first year at the Academy and two years before she had joined. But in all that time she had always been a steadfast idealist, someone who had the highest regard for life in all its forms. Eighteen years was more than enough time to turn idealism into strict pragmatism, he realized.

            “We are now clearing the starbase,” Culsten said from the helm.

            Owens turned to look at the viewscreen that now showed nothing but the void of space. He glanced back at Tren. “It’s your mission. Your call.”

            She did not even take time to contemplate. “We go ahead without them.”

            It was not the answer he had hoped for but he gave her a curt nod nevertheless. “Dee, set a course for the Ligos system and engage at maximum warp as soon as we have reached the outer marker.”

            She nodded.

            “Agent Tren, may I speak with you in my ready room?”

            Tren stood and followed him into his adjacent office.

            As soon as they had left the bridge Culsten swiveled his chair around. “What do you think their story is?”

            “I don’t know,” said Deen, her eyes still fixed on the doors to the ready room as if she could see right through the solid panels.

            “You’re the captain’s closest friend and you don’t know about her?”

            Her eyes took a moment to find Culsten. “It might be hard to believe, Lif, but the captain had a life before I met him.”

            He nodded. “You’re right. That is hard to believe,” he said and turned back to his console.

Deen was well aware that Owens had had relationships in the past she didn’t know about. Over a year ago she had found out that he had been romantically involved with Amaya Donners when they had been at the Academy together.

Something had gone very wrong between them, however, creating an animosity that had lasted for years. That had changed suddenly when they had traveled back in time and Owens had managed to change the past somehow.

But she had never heard of Jana Tren. Owens had never confided in her about the women he had known in his past and of course, there was nothing to say that he had to.

And yet she couldn’t help wondering how she felt about any of it.

*        *        *

“Take a seat,” Owens said and then stepped right up to the replicator. “Tonic water and a raktajino, hot.”

            The machine immediately came to life and produced the requested beverages. Owens took the tall glass and mug and placed them on his desk; the Klingon coffee in front of the now-sitting Tren.

            She looked at the mug and then at him. “I don’t drink raktatjino.”

            “Since when?”

            Tren was about to respond when he cut her off. “Never mind. You want something else?”

            She shook her head.

            He sat down in his chair, opposite Tren. “Talk to me, Jan, what’s this all about?”

            “I’m afraid the details of this mission are strictly need-to-know,” she said in what sounded like a well-rehearsed line.

            “You’re using my ship. I think I deserve to know what my crew is in for here.”

            “All I can say is that this mission is vital to Federation interests and that should be enough for you to do your job.”

            “I’ll do my job no matter what. What I’m asking is for you to put a little trust in me.”

            She looked him right in the eye as she considered his request. “I’m sorry, Mike but I cannot do that. Believe me, it’s better that way.”

            “I’m sick entirely of people asking me to hand over my ship and the lives of my crew and then claiming that the less I know the better for everyone. Doesn’t anybody ever think that the more knowledge I have about what I might be facing the greater the chances for success?”

            She matched his confrontational tone. “Your mission is pretty simple. Just get the damn cargo to the Epsilon Twelve outpost and you’re done. What else do you need to know?”

            He uttered a sarcastic laugh. It was always pretty simple up to the point where everything went wrong. “You could start by telling me what you’re doing on Epsilon Twelve and why you need three hundred men to do it.”

            She jumped to her feet. “I cannot reveal that information. In case you hadn’t noticed, there’s a war going on and the enemy has ears everywhere.“

            “Trust me I had noticed,” he said, unable to mask his irritation over her condescending manner. Chances were that he had seen more combat since the war had started than she had in her entire lifetime. “If you don’t believe me, why don’t you bother looking up our casualty reports?”

            She shook her head in disbelief. “You think you’re the only one who’s been suffering? You think you’re the only one who had to make tough decisions?” she seemed to catch herself then, her tone becoming steadier as she continued. “You have no idea the kind of decisions I had to ponder, how they could affect the lives of thousands.”

            He didn’t miss the hardness in her eyes. She had always possessed a remarkable intensity but this was like nothing he had seen in her before. She had seen things, done things that he could not even begin to imagine. There was no other way to explain her astonishing transformation. He knew that the Jana Tren he had loved was still there somewhere. He had seen her just a few minutes earlier in her quarters. But now that part of her personality was entirely overshadowed by something much darker.

            Owens was not, could not, give up on this. “I want to know why I risk the lives of my crew on a cargo mission,” he said albeit in a much softer tone now. “If we should have losses, I want to be able to tell their families what they died for.”

            “Ensuring the survival of the Federation,” she said without missing a beat. “You can tell them that and nothing would be closer to the truth.” She continued before he could object further. “We all have our orders, Captain. You, me, everyone, and that cannot be changed. You can ask me all you want but I cannot tell you more than I have. So do us both a favor and stop wasting your breath,” she said, turned, and without uttering another word left the ready room.

            Owens maintained his calm demeanor for about five seconds after Tren had left.

Then he angrily struck out, wiping his computer clean off his desk. It went flying through the room, impacting loudly against the far bulkhead and then breaking into two pieces before it landed on the floor.

            Owens didn’t even pay attention to the damage he had done as he sat back down in his chair. He wasn’t quite sure what he was angrier at. The fact that Tren had been so completely uncooperative or that he had just managed to destroy any chance he might have had to get back together with the woman he now knew for certain he was still in love with.

            Moments later the sound of the door chime took his thoughts off the subject.

            “Come.”

            The door panels parted and Deen carefully peeked her head inside before she came in. “Are you all right?”

            “Never better.”

            “It sounded as if something–“ she stopped herself when she spotted the victim of his outburst on the floor. “Now I know that didn’t just happen to fall off your desk.”

            He looked at it for the first time. “I honestly don’t know how that happened.”

            She walked over to pick up the pieces. “I take it you don’t want to talk about it.”

            He said nothing.

            “That’s what I thought,” she said, put the broken computer on his desk, and headed back for the exit.

            “You usually don’t give up this easily.”

            She stopped and turned. “And you usually don’t express yourself quite this forcefully.”

            He managed a small smile. “Perhaps a smooth drink down in the Nest might calm my clearly aggravated nerves.”

            She nodded. “But only if you promise you won’t smash anything else.”

He got up from his chair and walked her to the exit. “I’ll try but they do have a lot of fragile things they keep down there.”