Date: Thu, 20 May 1999 21:08:16 -0500 From: "hlfreem@ibm.net" X-Mailer: Mozilla 4.05 [en] (Win95; I) To: sqfanfic@onelist.com Mailing-List: list sqfanfic@onelist.com; contact sqfanfic-owner@onelist.com Delivered-To: mailing list sqfanfic@onelist.com List-Unsubscribe: Reply-to: sqfanfic@onelist.com Subject: [sqfanfic] Proudest Wounds 0/0 From: "hlfreem@ibm.net" DISCLAIMER: I do not own SeaQuest or the characters, settings, circumstances, or conditions created created within. Those belong to Amblin, NBC, Steven Spielburg and whomever else has legal claims to the show. I am making no profit and am putting this story out bona fides that I will not be sued. I *DO* own Kirkland, Ryan, D.B. Seth, Red Blade, Grusum, Grimm, and Growtesk, I also own any characters that did not appear in the series. They are MINE. I hold any and all rights and privilages reguarding this story as the sole author and the sole copyright holder of this story. . The pieces of song you see in the [...] are from "The Exit Exam Song", which I wrote and I hold all copyrights to as well. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Are you hogging all the fun? http://www.onelist.com Friends tell friends about ONElist! Date: Thu, 20 May 1999 21:05:25 -0500 From: "hlfreem@ibm.net" X-Mailer: Mozilla 4.05 [en] (Win95; I) To: sqfanfic@onelist.com Mailing-List: list sqfanfic@onelist.com; contact sqfanfic-owner@onelist.com Delivered-To: mailing list sqfanfic@onelist.com List-Unsubscribe: Reply-to: sqfanfic@onelist.com Subject: [sqfanfic] Proudest Wounds 1/8 From: "hlfreem@ibm.net" Proudest Wounds By: Dagger Apprentice Part One: Out of the Shadows, Into the Night Outside Patio Hanky's Bar and Grill Doskrian, Alaska Drunk was one of the good feelings, and with Lucas being twenty one finally, and legal to drink, drunk was also a fun emotion. Maybe it was the buzz, or the slightly hazy vision, or the way the waitress, Corriane seemed to like him a bit better when he was teetering on blitzdom. Then there was the girl sitting across from him. She had the most up-tight, most defensive arse he'd ever seen. Her name was Sarah Ryan, she was a navy trained psychic, mostly used for finding weapons (she wasn't very good) and occasionally she could show bits of empathy. She had slightly red hair, mostly brown with reddish glints, and she would never admit to being anything but a red-head. Her eyes were the most closed off, stormy grey that could be imagined and they were no where close to captivating. Yet, somehow she had got into the UEO early. Sarah was not actually old enough to drink, but per her request, Ortiz had given in and got her a few beers (she wasn't driving and she reimbursed him). Ryan had a way of getting on Lucas's nerves, but had her redeeming moments. He didn't even call her Sarah after a while, just Ryan. Not that it really mattered. What did matter were the four bikinied blondes right behind Ryan, who were looking at him with sexy eyes that pleaded 'money, money, money'. One of them was moving her hips in a manner that might have actually been illegal, but what male cop could arrest her? He'd have to be old, gay, or blind not to just drop to his knees when she did the leg-showing dance she did. Somehow black high-heels, skimpy bikinis and bleach blonde hair did something for Lucas. "Is that, er, legal?" Tim O'Neil asked, looking over at Ortiz and Bradley-David Seth, or B.D. Seth as everyone called him. "Well if it is, she's a death row convict, and I'd sure like to pull her switch." Ortiz mumbled, not really noticing O'Neil, but the tallest one, who was currently assuming one of those very, very compromising situations that made girlfriends haul their boyfriends out of places like this. B.D. Seth was as well soaking up the gorgeous sight. Who ever thought of doing _that_ with *those*? "The tall one is mine." B.D. Seth claimed, and he noticed that his mouth was quite watery, and it wasn't the steaks. "No way. I call the tall one, she is mine." Ortiz protested, looking at B.D. Seth. The two grown men had the eyes of two teenagers about to get in a cat-fight. "There's only one way to decide." resolved B.D. Seth. Ortiz nodded. "The honourable art of Rock, Paper, Scissors." Both bowed like Japanese ninjas about to plunge into battle for a desperate cause. "Rock, paper, scissors." They both huffed and each eyed the other before signalling which weapon he had chosen. "Rock." B.D. Seth called, and the look in eyes that would put the cat that ate the canary to shame. "Scissors." Ortiz lowered his head. His leggy, tall, faux blonde was lost for want of paper. "Oh yeah, and don't worry Ortiz, I'll get you her sister's phone number!" B.D. Seth taunted, walking victoriously over towards her only to be stopped by a large man with a tattoo that read 'I luv my mudder' in a heart with a knife that seemed to have claimed the tall blonde. "I don't think he's gonna play rock, paper, scissors." Of course, Sarah Ryan found it all very grotesque and chauvinistic. Lucas seemed to have had more beers than she, and therefore she was winning the arguement. Usually Lucas's intelligence put any rebuttals she had to rest, with a bit of an edge. "I really could out do you in the Stinger, any day, Ryan. I created the Stinger!" Lucas dared with a very dull, calm, drunken smile that made Ryan angrier. She hated not being able to make Lucas mad. He was a calm, peaceful drunk that would give anyone money for anything. "That is such a sexist name! The Stinger. Were you trying to imply something by it?" Ryan retorted, agitatedly taking a swig of her beer. The buzz was doing nothing for her but making her mad. Ryan was an angry, petty drunk however it was impossible to tell whether or not she was drunk or not. Lucas raised an eyebrow cockily, "Are you implying you're curious?" "No, I'm just saying that it refers to -- well -- you know what it refers to!" Ryan sputtered, and the wind was taken out of her sails. If she got mad and showed no interest, she'd look really stupid, if she showed interest she'd look a bit fast. "What? Say it. I dare you. Say it." Lucas laughed, leaning back in his chair. "Not to save your life. Besides, with your driving I could outdo you on a bike!" "You that poor? What, did Hudson not up you when the minimum wage got raised?" "No, you're just that bad." "You're just jealous cause you know I'm a bad mother--" before Lucas could finish he fell over in his chair and caused everyone at the bar and grill to stare at him. Lucas laughing intoxicatedly, not caring that his clumsy arse was waggling in the breeze. "I gotta pee, so I'm gonna walk to the harbour." The buzz was nice and so was the night air as he left Hanky's with most of his money having gone to Corriane the waitress, with her honey coloured hair and liposuctioned thighs. He knew that the hangover in the morning was really going to pay the piper, but at the moment he did not care. He was going to enjoy the laughter of other drunk people on the street, the music emanating from various clubs and shops that were still open and the come on from the women on the street. Getting where it grew darker, Lucas noticed a lot of grunting and slamming coming from a particular alley, in between Windikirie's and The Animal Club. There were two males slamming it out for something. He could have walked away, and just let them scrap it out. No, he had been taught too much just to let someone get hurt, because somebody was going to lose. He was going to be a hero tonight. "You know where the UEO operative is! Tell me!" Red Blade shouted, and slammed the other man into the wall, earning only a slight grimace out of the well controlled shorter man. Somehow the frown outdid the gash that ran down his torso, in a curved diagonal line, and the knife that was clutched absently in the hand of his aggressor. "Never." The second, Roland, hissed back. He seemed fully prepared to die for his decision, but not ready to die for anything at all. He was torn between duty and self preservation. "Macronesia will not get this!" "Who? Roland, just say it, who is the operative?" Red Blade was beginning to choke off Roland's air supply. Neither noticed the skinny blonde kid that watched in a drunken stupor as the drama, that took so many lives and so many secrets, unfolded. "No." Roland resigned, and understood by the look in Red Blade's eyes that he had just signed away his life. A gun shot shocked Lucas for a moment and he watched as though he were watching a movie. Red Blade scrounged through Roland's pockets and things but found nothing to satisfy his murderous wants. He fled and Lucas scuffled up to the dead man, touching the blood as if to see if it were really blood. It didn't mean anything now, but it would. In the morning, the blood, the corpse, and the knife would fit together in his mind as though he were Sherlock Holmes, but for now he had to content with Watson's limited view. [Fire's been burning for such a very long time] [I'm asking Winter, "Why are you so cold?"] Sirens. Sirens meant police and even in this late stage of being bombed out, Lucas understood that if the police found him drunk he'd be in trouble. "He's dead." Lucas confirmed to himself, and ran the other way. He passed the blur of streetlights and neon signs all adding to the urgency that seemed to be invading his foggy buzz. He could no longer be a happy go lucky drunk. Time and tide and death wanted to play and he hadn't been ready. Now he just wanted to be safe. With the police on his heels, he could feel doom closing in. The voices of his friends echoed, not too far away. There was refuge and hope after all. He stopped thinking, stopped reasoning, and just started to run towards those nice familiar sounds. He could hear Ortiz and B.D. Seth arguing over the blonde, and O'Neil asking if it was legal, and under that he could hear Ryan start to tell them how sexist they were. Ah, familiarity and relief. "Lucas? What the -? I thought that you'd gone back to the harbour!" Ryan exclaimed seeing the blood before she saw the lack of wounds. "Police..." Lucas puffed, "gonnashootme." He collapsed into oblivion, with Ortiz and O'Neil barely catching him before the ground did. "This isn't good." O'Neil reminded them, as if anyone might have taken the sirens as a positive omen and his prognosis of the situation was a sudden and needed revelation. "No it's not. Uh, where are we gonna put him? We can't just leave him here and we can't take him back to Hudson." Ryan said, running through a mental list of people that could help. "Wait! We can take him to Kirkland's place, she's got a place around here." "Where's that?" O'Neil asked, as the three of them hoisted him up on their shoulders. "Sweet Mary he's heavy!" "Just follow me!" Ryan took the lead and began to race through the city but kept the four behind her at a safe distance. Apartment 46 3rd Floor Henedaro-Smith Building Doskrian, Alaska The radio poured out soft instrumental music as Savannah Trishna Kirkland laid in the reclining chair, uncaring of the world around her. She let things drift in and out of her mind without an effort to capture them and control them and contain them. Here she was safe, not like on _SeaQuest_ where she was forever having to make herself as small and unnoticeable as possible. Here she could exist without worrying that someone might learn something secret or might find out something just by looking at her. Here she could let things float freely. Peace was interrupted and a loud noise came up the stair immediately catching her attention. She needed to go check it out, because somehow it was relevant. She stared down the hall and three people with one on their shoulders came, following a girl with brown hair with a red tint. For a minute they were strangers, but recognition was swift. D.B. Seth, Ortiz, Ryan, O'Neil, and Wolenczak. What were they doing at her apartment? "Kirkland!" Ryan hollared, racing to her door where she stood trying to make a conclusion from the mess that had been made. "You have to help us. Lucas is dead drunk, and the police are after him." "Can we come in? Thanks." Ortiz asked as they barged in, and dumped him on the sofa. Kirkland didn't actually protest. She could smell something more sinister than a dirty couch and a drunk ensign. They hadn't come knocking on her door for some hangover medicine. They were looking for help that they couldn't go any where else for. "We're really sorry." O'Neil said, a bit sorry to see that Lucas was going to mess up a fairly neat apartment. "Lucas is drunk, and we need to stow him somewhere. I hope you won't mind." Ryan repeated herself, and the scent of alcohol was on her as well. The story began to fit together all to well in Kirkland's mind. "You said that. I'll take care of it." Kirkland responded with an air of annoyance. She wanted them all out, especially Ryan. Ryan had so rudely invaded her time of being open and alone. Now she had to closed and it was so sudden that it almost hurt. They herded out, tired and ready to go back to the motel. They seemed to have no problems leaving Lucas with Kirkland. "Not only are you drunk m'boy, but you're a fugitive. Some people really over do the twenty one years old thing. You cannot stay here, love you, but you can't. To the _SeaQuest_ with you. Let's see what Hudson does with the drunken sailor, early in the morning." Kirkland smiled and laughed at the blonde boy who didn't hold the smell of liquor very well. She got close to his skin as she picked him up and she smelled what seemed to be a mix of cologne and natural scent. His natural scent was like that of saltwater and wind and of grass and metals and a bit of fire. [And still I'm getting there, so grey and thin] [I'm asking Time, "Why are we growing old?"] END PART ONE ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Campaign 2000 is here! http://www.onelist.com Discuss your thoughts; get informed at ONElist. See our homepage. Date: Thu, 20 May 1999 21:05:49 -0500 From: "hlfreem@ibm.net" X-Mailer: Mozilla 4.05 [en] (Win95; I) To: sqfanfic@onelist.com Mailing-List: list sqfanfic@onelist.com; contact sqfanfic-owner@onelist.com Delivered-To: mailing list sqfanfic@onelist.com List-Unsubscribe: Reply-to: sqfanfic@onelist.com Subject: [sqfanfic] Proudest Wounds 2/8 From: "hlfreem@ibm.net" Proudest Wounds By: Megan Freeman Part Two: Like Wine to Water Corridor SeaQuest Kirkland seemed unconcerned with the fact that Lucas's weight was resting on her right shoulder alone, in fact she seemed very comfortable with it. She leaned over to her left to keep her balance, but other than that she seemed to be oblivious to the added 100+ pounds that was on her. She felt him wake up and shift around, but she still progressed down the corridors towards Med Bay, the only place befitting a sailor as drunk and troubled as Lucas Wolenczak. "Humm...what...huer..uhuhu?" Lucas moaned, making words that weren't words and trying to decide what exactly was happening to him. Either the floor had suddenly shifted into conveyor belt mode, or he was moving. Moving however would coincide with walking, which he was not doing. "Hey, a few more vowel sounds and you might have made a word." Kirkland laughed from beneath him, and halted for a moment. Ah ha! So, he was moving, but he was being carried. Then the inevitable flood of questions came, why was he being carried? How did he get there? And what the heck was going on? "Lemmedown...lemme...down." Lucas managed to let those words fall out of his mouth, but he hadn't the strength for true agression or protest. "Very well, your hineyness." She shot back with a bit of salt. Usually, Lucas would have proceeded to give her a lopsided look and stare at her with those burning blue orbs of his. However, he hadn't the coordination to really justify that. He still really wanted to know the hows and the whys of the entire situation. Kirkland dropped him to the floor, feet first and he steadied himself with a bit of wobbling around on uncertain legs. "How in the -- what's -- why -- wait a minute! I was in the alley and he got killed..." Lucas rubbed his eyes to clear the film that was over his eyes. "Listen to me, Lucas." Kirkland said, taking his attention with well defended green eyes that had no intent of letting him earn any information but that which she allowed him. Kirkland was quite aware of the fact that Lucas was still decently intoxicated and would probably being to get sick and panicking him by telling him that a man really was dead wouldn't help. Murder was something that only the sober could reasonably contend with. No, Lucas would have to find out when he returned to the land of detoxicfication. "Yeah?" He kept his eyes on hers and the blue reflections that caught the light every time were still absent. "It was a dream. You see, we're going to Med Bay, and in a dream that symbolises that you feel broken and need to be fixed. This is a dream, and it doesn't make sense, but it isn't supposed to." Kirkland turned her eyes away for fear that at any moment the light would again mirror out of his irises and capture her. He was not to be touched or taken, not by her at any rate. They were crewmated and would remain *distant* crewmates, fate willing. "But I know that a man was killed, Kirkland. Can you tell me if I killed him, even if it is just a dream, I need to know if I killed him." Lucas's voice was something bordering on despairing and curious. Kirkland kept walking, weighing in her mind the pros and cons of laying down an answer. She *knew* who killed Roland, and it was no question. Lucas Wolenczak was an unfortunate idiot, but no where near a killer. Still, to lay down an answer would reveal that she knew. "No." She decided with a quiet breath. "You were never a murder, and I'll prove it. Remember Wolenczak, you never will be and never were a murderer." She stopped talking to him, "No, the killer is too close to laying me into my grave to be you, Wolenczak." The next thing Kirkland heard was the sound of a function that usually accompanied drunkenness. He was right on schedule. In the frantic that accompanied the moments before nausea exploded Lucas opened a random door and finished it. "I really hope that we don't know them." Kirkland thought randomly before turning back to Wolenczak. He seemed okay, shaky and hurting, but okay. The poor kid was not the kind of man who could readily handle liquor and therefore he should have stayed away from it. "I feel so...drunk. Did I drink beer in this dream?" Wolenczak asked Kirkland. She stymied a harsh snicker. He was still buying the dream explanation! For every point in his IQ he hadn't yet figured out that it wasn't a dream. Didn't he know that she wouldn't be in his dreams. Even scarier, he looked to her as a guide, as though she would know. "Yes you did. In fact, a good bit of it. Just try to refrain from yammying in anyone else's cabin until we get to MedBay." Med Bay, SeaQuest Crewman Dagwood was groaning and moaning, gritting his teeth with each tug. Dr. Perry tried to keep a hold of the large dagger, but it was no good. Getting fibreglass shards out of the large, elementary fingers of Dagwood was a large task to undertake. "That hurted Dagwood's finger!" He wailed, taking his hand away from her, with the fibreglass still imbeded. Her tweezers and her stinging ethyl alcohol did nothing to soothe the throbbing digits. "It's not hurted, it's *hurt," Dr. Perry growled, grabbing his hand again and concentrating with the tweezers on the clear bits that protruded out of the multicoloured skin, "and I haven't even done anything yet!" "It still hurted Dagwood's finger." He whimpered, pathetically, closing his eyes. He couldn't bear to look at the wounded hand. "If you hadn't stuck your hand directly into the filter, this wouldn't have happened!" Perry fussed, pulling out another tiny piece of fibreglass, earning a yelp from Dagwood. "But Hudson told Dagwood to remove it anyway that Dagwood needed to." Dagwood explained, turning away from the procedure. "We all know what part of Hudson made *that* executive decision...couldn't wait to hit the clubs..." Perry complained under her breath, and concentrated on another shard, she raised her voice to Dagwood, "Hudson is an idiot for letting you do this, Dagwood, and idiot, and I will have a few words for him. I can't believe he let you do this! If the tools don't work, get more tools, don't make the doctor get up at all hours of the night! Hudson is an idiot, and a brilliant one at that!" Perry looked up and saw Wolenczak and Kirkland entering the MedBay. Wolenczak was all over the place, holding a bag, and Kirkland's face seemed to identify her as the 'designated walker'. "Crewman Dagwood? What are you doing here?" Kirkland asked, a bit suprised to see the puppy dog like GELF there. He seemed to also need the doctor's attention. "The brilliant idiot told Dagwood to get the filter out, and since the pliers didn't work, Dagwood had to use his hands, and it hurted." Dagwood explained, and for once didn't notice as Perry yanked another offending sliver from his palm. "Dagwood, they're made of fibreglass, it'll hurt your hands." Lucas scolded lightly, but only lightly, "Don't worry, though, it's just a dream." "So Dagwood has not really hurted his finger?" Dagwood asked hopefully. Kirkland was praying to keep the snickers from building to laughter. "Wolenczak, go lay down. You'll feel better later." Kirkland directed him to a bed. "What does Dagwood represent? And by the way, why did Roland get killed if I was looking at pretty girls and arguing with Ryan." Lucas babbled, lying down and closing his eyes. Dr. Perry stared at Kirkland questioningly, before returning to remove the last few splinters from Dagwood's hand who was not near as squeemish about the proceedure as he had been. "Drunk?" She inquired, indicating him with the tweezers. "Off his cute little arse." Kirkland answered with a sly smile. She walked off from the MedBay, as secretively as she had come. She had a mission now. She had things that she had to do. She looked back at Lucas, lying there, helpless, drunk, babbling out intimate secrets in some disorented desperation. She wished for a moment that he were telling those things because he wanted to share them, not because he was intoxicated. Kirkland stopped herself from going any farther. Lucas, was like a wild animal, beautiful but not for her to touch. [Forgive me, I don't know where I am going] [Excuse me, I don't know what I am doing.] The Offices of Growtesk, Grusum & Grimm A tall, deceptively lean man walked into office of Brutus Grimm. The look on his face looked as though he were the cat that ate the proverbial canary. His height was almost irregular, and at moments he bordered between being six feet five inches tall and six feet seven inches tall. He was decidedly taller than Brutus Grimm who, despite his administrative brilliance and grotesque breed of genius, was stretching to get to five foot eight. On the shoulder of the taller man were the words 'Red Blade'. He threw down a small, square data-containing disk on Grimm's desk. It was quite clearly of government origins, particularly the governement of the UEO. Grimm smiled, handling the disk gingerly and carefully. He'd found his golden oyster and didn't want to damage it. "Well done." Grimm replied, and proceeded to store the disk in a locked box and then he put the key into his desk drawer and locked it. "Thanks. So?" Red Blade waited for Grimm to say the words that he needed to hear, "Do I get to go after my prize yet, or what?" "The president does not want to wait while you go after some petty child aboard an obsolete submarine. Those are my orders." Grimm answered, with a tone that sounded as though he didn't like what he was doing any better than Red Blade did. "I care not a whistle for your orders or your thundering President, nor do I care a whistle for his agendum." Red Blade shot back, angry. He had not gone and committed murder for free. He was not a Macronesian by birth and at moments couldn't even sympathise with their cause. He did what he did because there was money and power involved. There were three things that Red Blade really loved, and only one was a woman. "You will, Red Blade. One day you'll turn your face to our flag, and you'll know what we're dying for." Grimm spun around in his chair, and the look on his face was sheer ignorance and patriotism. "Sentimental, but inefficient. You are dying for him, but you do not realise his inefficiency. I am asking for my fee, in full. I have not asked anything that you can't pay. So?" Red Blade now wished he hadn't turned over the disk. He had very little leverage left in the situation. If the Macros were trying to get a freebie out of him, they'd have to think again. He could easily murder Grimm, steal everything of value in his office and squeal to the UEO and the Chodai like there wasn't going to be a tomorrow. "Patience. I have been told that once this gets to our mutual friend, then you'll have all you need for what you want. You do realise that if you screw up, then we will kill you. If you suceed, you've bought the ultimate bargaining chip. She won't sail without him." Grimm thought. How befitting that the son of the man whom they had bought so many technological advancements from would be the one that would bring the house of cards down upon the UEO. "You act like he's part of the ship, as if the ship had born the child herself." Red Blade sat down and slouched in the chair. "You neglect his history, and that is dangerous in and of itself.. You neglect the fact that he is the mascot, the embodiment of the ship and her crew. They would risk life and limb, if only for his sake. All others have fled but him. When the he came to her arms, she was a beautiful beautiful ship. She sailed the waters, strong and fast. However, she's aged. She isn't as powerful, and so she'll drown the oceans that she used to own." "How dramatic." Red Blade commented, sarcastically. "I was seen, by somebody, though I did not get time to take in who he was. When I was killing Roland. I almost miss my old opponent. However, the boy is now the suspect for his murder. He even put his hands in the blood. Quiet convient." "Good work. Red Blade, you have outdone yourself. Roland was a hard man to take down." Grimm praised, still looking at the key to the desk drawer. As soon as Red Blade made tracks, he could enjoy the juicy information that was stored on that disk. "He wasn't a challenge at all." Red Blade was disappointed. He sighed, "There's only one *real* opponent for me." "And who might the unfortunate man be?" Grimm asked, with an eyebrow raised. The number three ranked menace of the UEO wasn't a challenge? The man could hit quarters from four hundred yard away with a gun. He could run the mile in four minutes! And he wasn't a challenge? Red Blade was either really good or really bragging. "No man. No man could ever match me. Only a woman is capable of bringing me down. Only one woman on the face of Earth could do it." Red Blade seemed lost in fantasy for a brief second. He seemed to want an opponent he couldn't defeat. "Who?" Grimm asked. This was quite interesting. Grimm himself knew that women possessed certain abilities that men couldn't begin to understand. "You know." Red Blade answered dismissively, and left Grimm to savour his blood-earned disk. [And the fire's been burning for so very long] [I'm thinking, the prarie must be almost gone] WATCH FOR PART THREE ------------------------------------------------------------------------ With more than 17 million e-mails exchanged daily... http://www.onelist.com ...ONElist is THE place where the world talks! Date: Thu, 20 May 1999 21:06:34 -0500 From: "hlfreem@ibm.net" X-Mailer: Mozilla 4.05 [en] (Win95; I) To: sqfanfic@onelist.com Mailing-List: list sqfanfic@onelist.com; contact sqfanfic-owner@onelist.com Delivered-To: mailing list sqfanfic@onelist.com List-Unsubscribe: Reply-to: sqfanfic@onelist.com Subject: [sqfanfic] Proudest Wounds 3/8 From: "hlfreem@ibm.net" Proudest Wounds By: Dagger Apprentice Part Three: What Leaves You Trembling? Apartment 13 Katbrow Building [The prarie's been ravaged by fire and ice] [I'm pretty sure that it's getting ready to go this time] Deep African eyes stared at hers with relentless scrutiny. Every breath she took told him more and more of what he wanted to know. He could have easily squashed her, just by the sheer force of his demenour, yet somehow she knew no fear of him. He was smoking a cigarette, well rather a nicotonic inhaler that was designed to look like a cigarette. He did not care for tar, but the nicotine was wonderful. Kirkland waited for him to finish inhaling before she sat up and readied herself to speak to him. "Russell." Kirkland said, quickly and sharply. Her patience had been worn thin. There were more desperate matters at hand. Yes, the practise of sitting and waiting and the protocol that she used when dealing with Russell were time honoured, but Wolenczak didn't have the time left to honour those things. "You have very few manners, Savannah, darling. I am appalled. You know how things are done. The navy has ruined you." Russell's steady tempo and Kenyan-aristocrat accented voice held tinges of both amusement and disappointment. Russell was without a doubt a mild sadist. "To think I spent five years schooling you. They would never know that you were my handiwork." Ah. The punishment. With Russell there was a system of justice. First the offense, then the judgement, and then the punishment. Always in that order, with proper time given to each. "Russell, sir, I need you to spare a few moment, please. This is urgent." Kirkland repaired her tone accordingly and it hurt that her teacher, mentor, and friend could sound so regretful of teaching her. "Even with your fine talk, and that lovely lack of accent you have, your approach disappoints me." Russell's humour was acidic and cruel. He knew that stung Kirkland, but Kirkland knew it was for the best. Nobody else in the world would be allowed to hurt Kirkland but Russell, but when he did damage he did it for the better good. "We can drop the formalities. I know you're here because of the murder." "Most people don't even know there's been a murder. Not that I'm surprised." answered Kirkland. It was no coincidence that Russell just happened to be renting an apartment in this town, or that he just happened to have sources. Russell knew what would transpire, and he knew where he needed to be, which was about four or five steps ahead of the world. "What is the murder of this man to you?" He inquired, starting the inevitable investigation of motives that accompanied Kirkland getting information from him. While he knew all the hows, whens, wheres, and whos, he had trouble getting the whys. Russell looked for the reasons before the facts. "Don't ask." She put him off, immediately notifying him in a code that they shared that this was not something she could share openly. "Don't tell." He said back, signalling that they were now in something of a game. It was his sign to her that if she wanted to get information or send it, would have to be between the lines in fine print. "I need to know what happened. Any information you can give me, I need it." Kirkland requested, first wanting the information that could be given in the open. "How much do you know about Project Dying Sands?" He asked. "Not much. It sounds grotesquely Macronesian though, tell me more." "Late in 2030, the Macros got the idea to start sending undercover spies to infiltrate low level UEO bases, and then to control the small ones and slowly to work their way up until they controlled the UEO, and the world. However when the UEO re-released _SeaQuest_, the Macros were terrified. They'd been playing a bluff all along. The facade of being more advanced than the UEO was eventually going to fall through." "The _SeaQuest_ wasn't re-released." Kirkland interrupted. Russell blinked at her. "What?" "From what I know, and believe me I *know*, the _SeaQuest_ was truly gone during that time. I saw the reports as a child, and I knew that Hudson was searching in vein. I knew they were false. You understand this." It was not a question, it was a fact. Without the details, Kirkland had revealed a secret that few others were privy to. It was her payment for the information she was about to recieve. "However," he continued, "The Macros knew that the immediate withdrawl of all ops would result in disaster, so they took a chance and continued. The return of the _SeaQuest_ boosted morale and more and more got caught. Now the cleaning process is alsmost complete except for a few bounty hunters chasing after a few scattered good ones. Roland was a loyal UEO bounty hunter. He went after Red Blad and he lost." "Red Blade, I knew it! I could smell him a mile away. I know he's not a Macro lover. What's the pay check bringing in?" "There's something on the _SeaQuest_ that he wants. Someone, rather." "Who? It isn't me, I know that." "Don't ask." "Russell, this isn't the time to start keeping your mouth closed. Damn it, you've known me longer than anyone, and you know that if anyone can get this done and done right that's its me." "Cursing is vile." Russell deadpanned. "I don't like them anymore than you do. You know my hands are tied. I too have to eat." "You know it isn't going to come back to you." "What is it to you anyway? Have you got a personal stake in it?" "We've established that I'm here for a reason. Yes, I do. I'm telling you, if you don't tell me then there's going to be blood on the wrong hands." "Who's hands besides Red Blade's? Don't tell me you're protecting him after everything that happened. After what happened to Michaela." "Don't even speak her name, Russell. I've survived that, so don't make me do it again. A kid. He's a damned kid. I know you detest cursing, but he's innocent, and he's young. He's a teenager practically, and this isn't his fight. He got drunk, he did something stupid but being blonde isn't a punishable offense!" "What child?" "A barely grown baby boy of a hacker named --" Russell gasped in a sort of happy, unbelieving shock, "Wolenczak? Lucas Wolenczak!" "You never cease to amaze me." Kirkland replied with borderline sarcasm. "Ah, so daddy isn't there to save him is he? How fun." "Don't get clever with this. You know what I can do, and you know that I'll do it. He's in trouble." "Let me guess, you've got a think for this barely grown hacker? Kirkland, going for younger men. I'd've never guessed." Russell taunted, laughing. He was enjoying this far too much for Kirkland's liking. "No. He's pretty much marked by Sarah Ryan anyway." "I know, I know," He was laughing now as saying things as if he were guessing at charades, "You're doing the whole anonymous-guardian-angel routine, aren't you? If only your name was Athena!" "It's not funny. Listen to me, if he gets caught he'll never survive the court. He'll be like a chicken caught in KFC! Nobody can prove he didn't kill that man. His hair, his prints, and Roland's blood were there. He was drunk, and he had his gun out that night!" "Oh I get, we're on a sense-of-justice superherione thing aren't you?" "*We're* not on anything believe me I've got good reason for saving him." "Must be the whole anonymous lover and benefactor angel. Wow, that is progressive. Do tell, what's your excuse for saving him?" "No excuse. I'm saving his arse because I have reasons." "Do have a thing for one of his friends? I'm telling you the save-a-friend-to-get-in-bed-with-one isn't all that original, but sure to work." "You're not getting anything to blackmail me with, Russell. However, I've got plenty from you." Kirkland pulled out a small recorder from underneath her watch and lays it in front of Russell. He took it, knowing there was a second one on her. She was being fair to him by giving him a copy. He looked hurt for a moment but then laughed. Kirkland closed her eyes, because each laugh hurt more than the last. Rental Van License Plate Number: 324KHJ Old Medine Road Doskrian, Alaska "No sir, Commander Ford, we didn't see it." O'Neil said to commander Ford on the vidlink in the rental van. Ortiz and B.D. Seth were in the back seats and Ryan was. She had insisted on driving. O'Neil briefly thought that it might be so that she felt she had some control. Ryan had so many abilities and so little control over herself. She was young, and unfortunately not intelligent enough to learn things the easy way. Ryan was destined to learn things the hardest way possible: pain. Ryan was going to have to suffer through the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune that she brough upon herself until she learned. "*Did* Lucas murder that man?" Ford asked O'Neil, out of morbid curiosity. He wanted to know if he was harbouring a criminal or not. O'Neil couldn't answer, and the frustration grew on Ford's face. Ryan could see that Ford really wanted some good, solid answers. O'Neil just couldn't produce those answers. So she swung the screen over to an angle where she could see him herself. "Commander Ford, Lucas is too scrawny to kill anyone. He was too drunk to walk straight, much less maul a man like that." Ryan said, and she conviently missed the annoyance in Ford's eyes. She conviently missed the signs that a lot of people were fed up with her. The only time she was tolerable was when she was knocked out by the flu, and even then she managed to be a pain. "Lucas could very well kill somebody." Ford said in his defense. Then he thought about it. That really wasn't something that you wanted to say about a man accused of murder. "Ryan, I want all of you back on the ship. I'll call Captain Hudson. We'd better get this straightened out before Lucas ends up in jail. He's got a lot of explaining to do about Henderson's cabin." "What?" Ryan gasped, "He's at _SeaQuest_? We left him with Kirkland, we were just going to pick him up." "Kirkland obviously had other plans. Dr. Perry says she dropped him off and left." Ford explained, not ready to delve into the complicated timeline that had taken place over the last eight hours on _seaQuest_. A drunk Lucas using the vocorder on Dagwood and Dagwood trying to become a dolphin, all chaos had broken loose. Ford, though at moments he hated Tony, wanted to kiss him. If it hadn't been for Piccolo none of this would have been straightened out. "Well, I don't blame her. I'd ditch him too." Ryan thought, speeding up a bit in the van. She also missed the angry looks on the face of D.B Seth and Ortiz. "Well, he'd come after you if you were in trouble, and let me tell you that's more than some people would do for you!" D.B. Seth shot at her. He and Lucas had become friends and for someone to say something like that about him was just outrageous. It had been Lucas's good nature that allowed her to come with them. "D.B., shut up. Who's driving the van -- who paid? Now shut up!" She looked back at D.B. Seth. "Okay, Commander -" She took a good look at the vidlink and discovered that it was blank. Commander Ford had hung up. "Shoot." Ortiz couldn't help but snicker in the back. Ryan had just had a lot of wind taken out of her sails. D.B. Seth joined him, with small little cries of 'roasted' and 'busted' and 'ooh'. Roo-Roo's Boom Boom Room Doskrian, Alaska Captain Hudson watched the girl on stage sing her song, dancing in something provocative, trying to arouse the customers. She was doing her job fairly well. She was the standard blonde bombshell, but she just wasn't real. He could sit there, trying to act as if she were a human being, but she wasn't. She was a doll, a puppet, just a pretty face. She wasn't supposed to mean anything to anyone. Maybe that's why Hudson saw a lot of discontented, drunken men there. They wanted something that meant something, but they didn't want to have to put anything into it. So they went here, where everyone said 'I love you', without meaning it of course, the beer ran cheap, and there was no need to become emotionally attached. Male sensitivity, Hudson thought, that strange breed of male sensitivity. Maybe that's why Hudson was there. On _seaQuest_, he was the strong, unfeeling, clear headed Captain Hudson. He could have no real attachments, only his music and his memories. Here, he didn't have to be Captain, he could be anyone he wanted, he could be as attached as he wanted, and it was generally a safe place to play. He could be a distraught, emotional mess like everyone else here and never face any consequences for it. [The pyramids in Egypt still stand in the breeze] [The humans are still spreading their disease] "Sir, you have a call on the vidlink." The waitress said, coming over to him with a tray carrying only a message. Her name tag read 'Lisa'. Hudson could bet money that wasn't her real name. She was slightly classier than the woman on stage, and had coloured red-hair and pretty brown eyes. She was short but shapely, and was wearing the standard 'anti-imagination' outfit. Hudson scowled unhappily. He knew in the pit of his stomach that either Wolenczak, Ryan, D.B. Seth, or a combination of them and anyone else on leave had got in trouble. Only Commander Ford knew that he was going to be at Roo-Roo's Boom Boom Room (under the premise that he was meeting a perverted arms dealer on a UEO side mission, which Ford took at face value). Nobody knew that he was here to safely sink into depression and emotion. "Make it good, Commander. I was in the middle of negotiations." Hudson lied, keeping up the facade. He wasn't wearing his uniform, but rather long khaki shorts, a white shirt, and short sleeved bahama shirt over that. He looked almost human. "Lucas murdered a man." Ford replied, with eyes that never flinched. Hudson's steel face didn't break either. Yet it was evident that there was some shock in it. "What? Lucas did what?" Hudson asked back, immediately chucking away all hopes of finding emotional refuge. He'd have to wait until next leave to find a nice nudie bar to go and tell his troubles to. Oh well, the girl on stage couldn't sing anyway. "Well, technically he hasn't been accused yet, but we can't prove he didn't do it." Ford answerd back, crossing his arms. "Was he drunk?" Hudson asked, and could hear the 'yes' on Ford's lips before he spoke the word. "Quite drunk, sir." "Was Ensign Ryan with him?" "Yes, sir. D.B. Seth, Ortiz, and Mr. O'Neil were all there." "Figures. Not a logical, decent one in the bunch," Hudson said to himself, under his breath. "The police haven't actually issued warrants yet." "No, Mr. Ford. I'm not going to pit the UEO against a police department, and I don't want to get docking orders, either. Where is Lucas?" "Lieutenant Kirkland dropped him off here at MedBay for detox and then left, we don't know where to find her." Ford said, and prayed that Hudson was not going to ask for details. He'd had enough of having to explain why Dagwood was trying to wake himself up when he was already conscious, and why Darwin had learned a few 'choice' words. "At least someone had a brain last night." Hudson said, again, under his breath, "Okay, I want you to keep Lucas there and keep tabs on the police. We aren't legally required to turn our drunken sailor in yet." "I've already called them all to _SeaQuest_, do you want me to keep trying to find Lieutenant Kirkland." "Leave her be. It's her reward for having the good sense not to harbour a fugitive. I hate having to deal with it, but it's nice to know that somebody onboard that whale can think." "Aye, aye, sir." Ford signed off and Hudson paid the waitress and took care of his tab. "I can't leave them alone for five minutes! Next time, Oliver, tie them to the godforsaken boat!" [The fire keeps burning, whether we like it or not] [The Earth and Ocean don't really get a choice.] ['Cause the Sea and the Land have no real voice.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ What was YOUR favorite part?! http://www.onelist.com Tell other Star Wars fans at ONElist! Date: Thu, 20 May 1999 21:07:01 -0500 From: "hlfreem@ibm.net" X-Mailer: Mozilla 4.05 [en] (Win95; I) To: sqfanfic@onelist.com Mailing-List: list sqfanfic@onelist.com; contact sqfanfic-owner@onelist.com Delivered-To: mailing list sqfanfic@onelist.com List-Unsubscribe: Reply-to: sqfanfic@onelist.com Subject: [sqfanfic] Proudest Wounds 4/8 From: "hlfreem@ibm.net" Proudest Wounds By: Dagger Apprentice Part Four: The Ice is a Little Thin Doskrian Police Department Crime Scene Alley off of Pledge Street and Griffin Detectives Carlisle and Favara stood beside a corpse, writing details into small black notebooks, ocassionally nodding or shaking their heads. Favara was a tall Inuit woman, lean, with long jet black hair and a tan. Carlisle was a short, stock, greying man with a face like a pit-bull and bulldog's attitude. He had steely grey eyes and looked as though he could have torn a full grown ox limb from limb. "Damn, this guy was mauled. It was a beautiful lookin' angle, though. Close but not too close. Sure but unsure." Favara said, looking at the corpse, using every inch of her half-completed med-school training to get details off of him. "You really ought to get out of this business. You belong with the nerds in the forensics laboratory." Carlisle replied, without breaking his stare at the body. Favara may have had med-school training, but he had a deeper, darker kind of intuition. He could understand murder and violence and death with a disturbing sort of ease. Sometimes he didn't even need the forensics, because sometimes the entire scene played itself out in front of him like an interactive movie. The blood, the angles, the weapons, the corpse all fit together like a puzzle. "So what do we have?" Favara asked, and her med-school training had done nothing for her. She still relied on Carlisle's instincts. Bright as she was, she couldn't put things together like that. However, she was able to make connections between things that nobody else could. She could see the correllation between a cow and the stars and then related it to a mugging on third street. It was something that Carlisle envied in his own way. "No give this time. Prints are partials. Nobody walked through the mud, however there was a kid here and we think that he was a street punk who wanted some cash." Carlisle's brain, while understanding what had happened, couldn't put together what went into it. If a murder was a painting, then Carlisle could tell how the artist did what she did, what colours she used, but Favara could tell you why, what the finished work meant, and what to do with it. "Do we have the kid?" Favara asked, "This must've been a beautiful lookin' scrap." "Take a wild guess." Carlisle said, as that phrase was an understood 'no'. "However, there was a waitress at the bar and grill not too far away, Corriane Black, who says that a guy matching our very composition description came in. Says he called himself Lucas Wolenczak. It just doesn't meet the typical street punk persona. However, we know he was pretty buzzed out by the time he got here." "It was probably some beautiful lookin' beer, too." "You're in 'beautiful' mode aren't you." "So lemme guess, we get an APB on this guy, look up records, do paperwork and then see some more beautiful lookin' shots?" Favara said, still new the homocide routine. She'd only been on the division for a few weeks. However, Carlisle had managed to teach her a lot in that time. "Not to bad, kiddo." Carlisle laughed. Only Carlisle could laugh at a murder scene. Carlisle was a man with such a strong stomach that he could eat a burger while watching someone get an appendectomy. "Don't flatter me." "I'm not, but next question why did Lucas Wolenczak kill this guy. Nothing was actually taken. Money was there, wallet, cards, everything. This confuses any cop. Quick lesson, sport, we cops hold it in highest logic that if you're gonna kill a guy, then at least take his money, because you know he isn't gonna need it. This way we can substitute that in for a real motive. Motive is a real pain in the arse. So how's about you using that brain of yours and coming up with a motive." "Well, there is one possible connection, and it's a beautiful lookin' connection, too." "What? What?" Carlisle was really eager to hear this. The sooner he could plug the motive into the 'murder' formula, the sooner he could solve the equation. "This guy had UEO tags. If Wolenczak turns out to be a sailor, then it's quite possible that we've got a beautiful lookin' motive going here. Wolenczak might be Macro, even. You know the hostility betwee those two." "Very good, Sherlock. Now, to the Batmobile." Favara and Carlisle got into a 2029 model Ford Taurus. Carlisle looked at Favara with a slightly annoyed look on his face. She had broken the sacred 'driver rule'. It was well known who drove when a rookie and a veteran were working together. "Favara, you know the rule." Carlisle said, pointing to the door as if to indicate that she was to go out of it. Favara sighed. "How come you always get your way?" Favara argued, unhappily. She was not liking the idea of Carlisle always making her change seats. "Because I'm senior detective here. When you've been on the force as long as I have then you can make the newbies change seats." Carlisle answered, and they exchanged sides of the car, with Carlisle now in his rightful position, and Favara in hers according to seniority. "C'mon, this once. I swear from now on I won't ask again, please? Please?" "I reserve the right to put my feet down. No." "But I don't *wanna* drive!" "To use your terminology, it's a beautiful lookin' steering wheel. Drive." Ward Room, SeaQuest It was what they called 'angry lecture mode'. It was the natural, inevitable reaction of any captain when his crew did something that was stupid or dangerous, or both. The fact that they'd gone to a bar and grill, had a couple of beers and enjoyed the entertainment didn't bother him at all. Most sailors did it, and it was legal. However it did irk him that Ortiz was stupid enough to let an underage sailor have beer. True, she was 19, but that was still underage. Sarah Ryan was beginning to cast serious doubts in Hudson's mind as to the advantages of having an on-board military psychic. So far she had caused nothing but trouble. All that was overshadowed by murder, a murder that Lucas could very well have committed. For all of his anger and all of his need to preach, Hudson was going to have to bury it and try to get Lucas out of the mess that he had got himself into. "You weren't even on leave a full day! What were you thinking?" Hudson stared at Lucas harshly. It was the only look that was ever on his face, but it seemed to have been doubly accented by the outrage in his eyes. "I honestly don't know, sir." Lucas admitted, with the resignation of a man who knew that he had no where else to go. Lucas wanted to sink to the floor with each moment that Sarah Ryan's delight grew. She was loving every moment that he was in trouble. Hudson turned to her, and her unholy glee turned into defensive fright. It honestly scared her just know how much emotion was inside of this man and how much control it took to contain it. Yet her personality would not allow her to just be scared and back down. She would have to go into battle against him, an all out fight, and lose the stupid, but dignified way. "What, may I inquire, is so humourous about Lucas possibly murdering a man?" Hudson glared at her, as if he were about ready to stuff her into the missile doors and shoot her out of the boat. "Lucas is too skinny and too weak to murder a person. He can barely stay on a Kawasaki when he goes over fifty, sir." Ryan smarted back, and it would have been a punishable offense but she said sir. So of course he couldn't just throw her in the brig. "A man is dead, Ryan. I want you to imagine something for me," Hudson's voice was sickeningly calm and grave. It was scary to Ryan, because now he had a tactic prepared. "Imagine a man, who is so far alive, walking down that alley. Hoping to get home, he's got drunk enough and just wanted to endure the hangover. Imagine that this man is jumped, he feelt the bruising force of the attacker's hits. He fights back, but a piercing pain penentrates his belly and goes deep. He sees the wound and knows that he's been stabbed, fatally. A searing pain rips through every nerve in his body. He falls to the concrete, praying that each breath is his last. He looks up at his assailants face. Now look at Lucas, Ryan. Maybe that's the assailant." Hudson stopped his story, when he realized that Ryan was quite close to tears. He had done his job, he had made her scared and upset. He'd shaken her, broken her down, and made her shut up. [Fire is dancing on flesh and in blood] [Flames are dancing on skin and bone] "I did *NOT* murder that man!" Lucas exclaimed, with hurt and conviction. How could Hudson sit there and say such things about him! Hudson wanted to back off, and assure Lucas that he didn't and that dear old Captain Hudson would get him out of this mess. He couldn't do that. "Do you know that you didn't? How many beers did you have? Was it enough to make you forget everything but the sticky, red stuff on your hands? Can you really prove to anyone else, much less yourself, that you didn't? You had your gun out that night, Lucas." Hudson answered. The digust and shock on Lucas's face actually hurt. It hurt to see Lucas so pained. It was a necessary evil. "Lucas! You idiot! You idiot! You may have killed that man! You idiot!" Ryan screamed at him, in her own breed of anguish. At the base of thier long, complex relationship she had feelings for him. For her to even for a moment face the possibility that he was a murder shattered her inside. "I know that _I_ didn't kill that man! I know I can't prove it, but I know it didn't! Why would I kill him anyway? I had money, I was going to the harbour, I had no reason to!" Lucas shot back, trying to get the horror out of the faces of his friends. He was begging them not to think he did it. How could he sit there and watch that? Ryan began to look at him with a deep, probing stare. His pain and confusion beame hers, as it became dreadfully clear what she was doing. Her emotions and her words are no longer her own. "What are you doing? Sarah! Sarah!" Ryan broke her stare, and closed her eyes tightly, as if to keep something out and something else in. The emotions around the table were mixed. O'Neil was as nervous as a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs, D.B. Seth was trying to keep his cool, aloof demenour, because he never wanted to be this emotionally moved or involved. Strangest of all the reactions was Ortiz's. He felt a certain pain of his own. He was staring at the table in a desperate attempt to avoid an issue that was growing large by the moment, but now it had got to the proportions of being a large ship, impossible to turn around. "Drunk, confused. There were voices, and hitting. Should go and stop it, but just want to watch. Blood. Stabbed. Hitting, struggling. Much too late. Shot, shocking, upsetting. Blood, hands, two faces. Roland dead, dead, dead. Sirens, police, blood on hands. Drunk, just run to safety. There's Tim and Miguel. Too drunk, just get to Tim and Miguel, they'll know what to do. Too late, blood on hands." Ryan said, trying to sort through the tangled, blurry mess of Lucas's memories on that night. He was too drunk to really give an accurate picture, but it seemed as though he was just watching the fight, not actually in it. Still, he was too drunk to really know. [I think it's time to say all our goodbyes] [The prarie might be gone next year at this time] Hudson's face didn't move at all. Yet there were flickers of emotion dancing in his eyes. He knew that what she had done was driven by emotion, not by thought. He also knew it was dangerous, illegal, and unethical. Yet she had done it not for malice, but in the deepest kind of affection. "That's illegal, Ryan." Hudson reminded her, not so harshly as he could have or should have. Andrea snapped, "Indict the hell out of me! I don't care, Lucas didn't murder that man!" "That's enough, Ensign." Hudson said in a cautionary tone. He could respect emotion driven people, but he wouldn't tolerate them for very long. "You're just going to let it go? Do you even care that Lucas is facing a capital offense for something he didn't even do! Do you ever care that he doesn't stand a chance?" If it was possible at that point, Ryan grew angrier. "Ensign, you're out of line." warned Hudson, who was quite close to rolling his eyes. This was getting quite stupid. What Ryan didn't realize was that he knew what he was doing, and that whether or not she was there didn't matter. She seemed to think that her judgement was *the* judgement. "I don't care, and you don't seem to either. I'm doing what I can for Lucas. I'm actually going to risk something and take a chance that he's innocent, which is more than you seemed to be prepared to do!" Ryan accused Hudson, and then stomped to the door, dramatically. Ford, who had stood silently like an obedient dog, looked at Hudson. Hudson didn't move, and his eyes said 'stay'. "I didn't dismiss you, Ensign." Hudson said, daring her to defy him. "Confine me to quarters, whatever you feel like doing! Go ahead, worry about formalities while Lucas hangs! Just make sure that we all die according to protocol, _Captain_ Hudson." Ryan spat out the word 'captain' with such contempt that it made everyone wince, but Hudson of course. He'd endured worse temper tantrums than this. Ortiz looked at Hudson, his face was still it's usually stony, book-of-rules self, even though Ryan had taken her dirty shots. "Permission to speak, sir." Ortiz asked, not making Ryan's mistakes. "Granted." Hudson sighed, sitting down. Ryan was one of those rare ensigns that actually made him tired. "I know that Lucas didn't kill that man, and I think we need to try to get Lucas out of this." "Okay, Mr. Ortiz, I want you to go find Ryan and try to keep her from tearing the bio-skin off. Make sure she gets to her quarters and stays there." Ortiz jumped up with unchecked glee, a little *too* happy to get out of there, saluted and left. "D.B. Seth, I want you to talk to the Police Departments, see what *evidence* you can give them and get from them. I hope you can read between the lines, because if asked, I never gave that order." "Yes, sir." D.B. Seth responded, he too saluted and left the room in a hurry. After what he'd just gone through, he was in no way eager to stay there. "Mr. O'Neil," Hudson turned to him, and O'Neil shrank to about four inches tall. "Get anything you can on the corpse, the policemen, and the murder scene, use any resources you need. Dismissed." "Yes, sir." Following the suit, he saluted and got out of the room as though there were a bomb in it. "Mr. Ford, you're dismissed." Hudson said and Ford left, slightly faster than usual. Even Ford, his best commander, was not happy about being there. "Lucas, after the murder what happened?" "I passed out. I was drunk. I remember being slung over Lieutenant Kirkland's shoulder. It's fuzzy. I wanted to panic, but she just didn't let me. She was calm, and she knew what to do." Lucas recalled, remembering just how her eyes seemed so distant and aloof. "How?" "She convinced me it was a dream, and that it was all okay. Then she told me to remember that I wasn't a killer." "Anything else?" "She said she would prove my innocence. She said, 'no, the killer is too close to laying me into my grave to be you, Wolenczak'." [Might as well say goodbye.] [Longevity isn't an option.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Looking to expand your world? http://www.onelist.com ONElist has nearly 150,000 e-mail communities from which to chose! Date: Fri, 21 May 1999 08:55:28 -0500 From: "hlfreem@ibm.net" X-Mailer: Mozilla 4.05 [en] (Win95; I) To: sqfanfic@onelist.com Mailing-List: list sqfanfic@onelist.com; contact sqfanfic-owner@onelist.com Delivered-To: mailing list sqfanfic@onelist.com List-Unsubscribe: Reply-to: sqfanfic@onelist.com Subject: [sqfanfic] Proudest Wounds 5/8 From: "hlfreem@ibm.net" Doskrian Police Department Doskrian, Alaska D.B. Seth walked into the busy, bustling police station. There were police, prostitutes, petty thieves, and other assorted riff raff all about. He felt slightly out of place, and understood that it was because he had a natural discomfort around those who so openly committed violent acts. From the earliest days of childhood, criminals had been D.B. Seth's second greatest fear, and his biggest fear was becoming a criminal or getting into trouble. He approached the desks of Detectives Favara and Carlisle. One of them was a tall, pretty woman and the other was a short, stocky man with a face like a book of rules. "Um, I'm here to inquire about a murder." D.B. Seth said, getting thier attention. He felt his discomfort skyrocket as soon as they turned to him. "What's it to you, kid?" Carlisle asked, and then turned back to his papers, disinterested with the nervous UEO sailor with brown hair and brown eyes that stood about six feet tall and had the body of a basketball player. "A man was murdered." D.B. Seth stated again. Carlisle rolled his eyes. "We get that a lot. Which stiff you lookin' for?" Carlisle asked, still not paying much attention to him. "If somebody died I'd remember it." shot back D.B. Seth, appalled at their lackadaisical attitude towards murder. "People die everyday, yadda, yadda, yadda...which body you wanna identify? We got eight Jane and John Does, and three so managled we don't know the gender. Which one is yours?" Carlisle asked, looking at him as if to say 'so?'. "None. You've already identified the man, I believe. He was found near Hanky's Bar and Grill." D.B. Seth said, and Carlisle sat up taking attention. At last he was being taken seriously. "I know that one. Hey, Favara, he's inquirin' about your beautiful lookin' stiff." Carlisle said, and the lady raised her head from her paper work. "Are you sure that it's my beautiful lookin' stiff?" Favara asked, with a mischevous glimmer in her eyes. "Well, you ought to get down to the nub and see." Carlisle replied, equally as impishly. It was starting to become an understood exchange of innuendoes. "Getting down to the nub of a stiff that soon could be dangerous. Just how beautiful lookin' is that stiff?" Favara asked, earning a chuckle from her partner. "He's the one inquiring about a stiff." Carlisle replied, earning a snicker from her. "Inquiring about a stiff? You sure he's safe? If I had a stiff, I wouldn't be inquiring." "Keep in mind that it's a beautiful lookin' stiff, and I prefer the beautiful lookin' stiffs myself." "Let's hope he's not inquiring to get a stiff." "At least he's only inquring at this point. There are a lot of stiff inquirers out there, be careful." "Okay, sir, you came to inquire about your stiff?" Favara asked with all seriousness. Her partner however, didn't take it quite so seriously and began to laugh loudly, his belly jiggling fiercely as he struggled for air. D.B. Seth turned bright red, praying just to get through this. Carlisle left for a minute, leaving Favara to deal with D.B. Seth. "Um, yea, this stiff, I mean this man, was murdered near Hanky's Bar and Grill. May I ask if you've got any suspects?" D.B. Seth said. "Are you one of those reporters who tells about dead folks in the paper?" Favara asked suspiciously. "No. I'm Ensign D.B. Seth of the _seaQuest_." "We can't tell you that, sir. I'm sorry." Favara answered, sitting back. Carlisle returned to the desk, and obviously had recovered from his fit of laughter. "What if I were in a position to inform you about something?" "I'm sure that with a stiff there are certain positions you'd like to be in, but we don't need to know anymore about any stiffs, sir. There are enough right here." Favara said, with all solemnity, and her partner, Carlisle, could no longer restrain himself. He began to laugh almost hysterically, unable to help himself. It was then that Favara realised what she said and couldn't help but snicker herself. "I apologise for my partner's behaviour." Favara said, shooting a look at Carlisle that meant 'quit'. "Make sure he doesn't get stiff with you!" Carlisle said before resuming his belly-laughs again. Favara stopped herself from laughing by thinking sad thoughts and then looked to D.B. Seth. "I might be able to inform you about the whereabouts of your suspect." D.B. Seth was hoping to get the misinformation in before Favara lost self-control. "Which one, the blonde kid? We know where he is." Favara answered, noncommitally, and Carlisle's giggling began to subside. "Oh." D.B. Seth said, quite disappointed. Carlisle sat up in the chair, composed and in order. His face went back to it's normal composure. "Is that all? If it is, then I'm afraid we can't help you with your stiff." Favara answered, and Carlisle lost every bit of composure and put his head on the desk with tears of laughing running down his face. His face inhumanly red from laughing so much. D.B. Seth left the police department and swore off any stiff dealings with cops ever again. [It might one really big, huge joke] [A prank put on by the heat and smoke] Ensign Sarah Ryan's Quarters B Deck, _seaQuest_ Tony Piccolo was sitting with Ryan in her quarters, per Ortiz's request, as he had to answer a call of nature and wanted a break from watching her. There had been a neutral silence between the two, but Piccolo understood that she was a burning inferno inside. Her blood must have been hot as lava. It was quite apparent that she was not a happy bunny. "Um, uh, you seemed kinda mad at Hudson." Tony approached the subject cautiously. She huffed for a moment, and then thought. "Sometimes I could swear that he doesn't care about anyone." Ryan growled, still in her brooding mood. "Sarah, you weren't here when Hudson and Lucas first had to go head to head. Lucas had a tough time with it and for a while they had a 'Jerry Springer' type relationship, but in the end he isn't the bad guy. He's going to make sure Lucas gets out of this." Piccolo tried to stand up for Hudson, because not only did he like Hudson, but Hudson treated him decently. "Could've fooled me." Ryan rolled her eyes immaturely. Piccolo recalled with some irony how Lucas used to maintain the 'eye rolling champion of the world' title. He used to huff, roll his eyes, and sometimes fling his hair back in disgust. "You know, he does that for a reason. It's not that he doesn't care, it's because he knows something that a lot of people here didn't when Bridger was captain." Piccolo thought back to the days when it was quite normal to have Lucas go crying to Bridger for a father figure. True, Lucas had security back then, but he wasn't as strong or capable as he was now. It was for the best, Piccolo supposed. "What? Never care about people who could possibly die. Wow, Bridger sounds like a real idiot to me." Ryan's sarcasm was its peak. She snorted, looking down at the floor. Piccolo was visibly upset by her sarcasm. He was frustrated by the wall she had built around herself. He knew that psychic couldn't be easy, but even psychics could be civil. He began to wonder if it was worth his effort to even communicate with her. "Hey, wait a minute, that wasn't fair. Bridger was a good captain, but you can't run a boat by what you fell. The UEO didn't hire him to feel, they hired him to think to be in command." Piccolo explained. Bridger was quite capable of clear though and reason, but at moment his heart got the better of him. He was more scientist than captain. "This isn't about the UEO anymore, Tony. It's about Lucas. I don't want to see him punished for something I know *damn* well he's not capable of." Ryan fired back with the usual fire restored in her eyes. The angry, dispassionate flames had been replaced by the usual flames. "What, because he's too scrawnified." Piccolo answered with uncharacteristic acid. For a moment she looked hurt. Then the barriers went down. He had finally got through the shield that she had held in front of herself for so long. "No. He wouldn't be able to kill someone like that. He didn't even know that man. I care about Lucas, believe it or not!" "I don't deserve that, Ryan. Lucas and I have been through a lot together, and I'm the last person who's going to walk away. I know he didn't do it, but I know that right now you telling him he's too scrawnified isn't going to help! Did you ever consider that maybe for once you could be consumately wrong about something? This isn't about you anymore, and for once your feelings aren't the issue!" "And I don't deserve *that*! I'm sorry, I was wrong. I know I was wrong, but I don't want to lose him! He's going to get the injection if we don't do something. I hate him sometimes, but I don't want to lose him!" The truth was exploded out at Piccolo before they both realised that Ortiz was at the door, to relieve Tony of his duties. Something on his face looked hurt. Something in his eyes looked dismayed. [I hope you were ready, I know I'm not] [But it's like chariot racing, just hold on.] "Hey, Tony. You can go now. I'm back." Ortiz swallowed everything inside of him, and sat down on the chair that Tony vacated. For a long while he sat there looking her over. Maybe she was just a brass playing brat, maybe she wasn't worth his time, but something deep inside those grey eyes seemed to have captured him. There was something beyond the walls, the facade, the sarcasm. There was a woman underneath, but she was well hidden. Ortiz wanted to find that woman, but no. Firstly, there was too much of that brat to ever get to what lay underneath, and secondly, even if he did, getting involved with a crewmate was not an option. It had destroyed his relationship with Lonnie, and he wasn't going to let it destroy what could be a nice friendship. "Hey, Ortiz, I've got an idea." She said to him, lacing up her shoes. Ortiz got just a tad worried. This idea probably involved them leaving her quarters, which was a direct violation of orders. "I can't just sit on this boat and wait until they arrest him. I've got to find out. We need to get off this ship." "No can do, Sarah. We are not under any circumstance leaving these quarters. Hudson put his foot down." Ortiz immediately said no. He wanted to go with her, and do whatever crazy thing she had in mind, because he knew it would at least for a few minutes make her happy. However, to violate Hudson's orders would make everyone unhappy, mostly him, but everyone. "He's all talk, anyway. Just tell him I forced you against your will to help me." Ryan said, as though she understood what she was saying. Ortiz's right eyebrow reached for the ceiling. "What?" "If you're going to do that, raise both eyebrows, it's uneven. C'mon!" Before he could protest, she yanked him up by the arm and pulled him away from her quarters. [If you're still breathing, you'll be alright.] WATCH FOR PART 6 ------------------------------------------------------------------------ ONElist: where real people with real interests get connected. http://www.onelist.com Join a new list today! Date: Fri, 21 May 1999 08:57:23 -0500 From: "hlfreem@ibm.net" X-Mailer: Mozilla 4.05 [en] (Win95; I) To: sqfanfic@onelist.com Mailing-List: list sqfanfic@onelist.com; contact sqfanfic-owner@onelist.com Delivered-To: mailing list sqfanfic@onelist.com List-Unsubscribe: Reply-to: sqfanfic@onelist.com Subject: [sqfanfic] Proudest Wounds 6/8 From: "hlfreem@ibm.net" Proudest Wounds By: Dagger Apprentice Part Six: Keep Running, Keep Hiding The Offices of Growtesk, Grusum, and Grimm Brutus Grimm at his desk, listening to another surveillance report by his operative, Red Blade. Red Blade held a thick bunch of papers in his hands, absently rolling them up in the style of a newspaper that was to be used to smack a dog. He had the eyes of a man eagerly dreaming of battle and of blood and iron with which to enforce his will. Something in those blue orbs was enough to terrify Hitler, Napoleon, Alexander the Great, Genghis Khan, and any other great dicatator who had used force to inflict the wills upon the world. Somewhere deep inside lay a monster, sleeping, who was slowly waking up for the battle that lay ahead. "So, we've got something interesting?" Grimm said, sitting back in the chair, waiting for Red Blade to continue. "Quite interesting. She's almost recordless, the ever illusive Wildcat." Red Blade was smiling reminiscently. "She was deceptive. When she fights she lets you hit her and strike her as much as you want. Then she smiles and leaves four bloody claw marks across your face and then it's over. She's got a secret weapon. She calls it the 'Malungeon Eye'. She can kill you or heal you she can restore peace or drive you insane. So much power and she doesn't even use it. She just sits in our trap, like an obedient dog." "You sound so disgusted. If she's made herself vunerable, then defeat should be easy." Grimm advised him. He truly didn't understand Red Blade. Red Blade was always looking for the most difficult means to his end. There were easier ways, but somehow he always had an old debt to repay or a deep, ancient code to follow. He was like an ancient warrior. "I don't want to defeat her easily. I want to fight her, make her fight me. I want to go up against every ounce of power she has and win." Red Blade replied with a hint of aspiration in his voice. "Once she is defeated, I won't need to fight anymore. Once I defeat her, I've defeated the most powerful being on Earth." "Don't you think that's over doing it just a tad, Blade? I don't think that she's the most powerful being on Earth." "She is. The things she can do just by the sheer force of her will, the things she knows just because she knows them. If she wanted to she could probably conquer the world. She could defeat anyone, but me. But she hasn't because she's got a far deadlier intellect than I do. Dear, sweet, Wildcat. All the world's her plaything and she wants to go save it." [Remember the past, the past remembers you] [Fire recalls everything, and the ocean forgets] "Well, if you could get her to switch over to our side, I'd be much obliged. Anyway, what did the _SeaQuest_ dock for." "Apparently a change to the air filters and a few housekeeping chores." "Is that the truth, or a PR statement made to assure the good citizen of the UEO that they're safe from President Bourne?" "Actually, it's the truth." "I'm so shocked. The UEO told the truth for once. They might be getting all goody-goody on us as we speak. I do hate destroying people who have turned over new leaves." "This is perfect timing for me. They won't leave port for another two days. So long as that pesky little urchin doesn't find what I'm doing, it would he a straight shot." "What pesky urchin, Blade, have you grown a tail on you so early?" "An amateur, really. I don't know who they are, but they do know enough to cause problems. In any case, it was luck of the draw so to speak as how they got my name. The informants out there just sell information. I guess out of a million suspects given to a million cases at random, one had to match." "I'll ask Grusum to send her task force after them. I should be able to arrange something _tasteful_. Would you like the urchin dead or alive?" "Alive, please. I'd like to know what sort of talent I'm dealing with. It could be useful and in any case good for a few scraps of intelligence." "Go on, as for _SeaQuest_, she is ready, right?" "Yes. Her captain is running around like mad, and we don't know why. Our officer aboard the _SeaQuest_ isn't clear with the information." "Is our ensign doing as they're told?" "Yes." "Don't suppose you've happen to know who the ensign is." "No. I don't even know the gender. If they capture us, they'll have to spend months and months weeding through each person, one by one. After that time we should have got them out quietly." "Good. Talk with them, tell them I want to find out what's keeping dear old Huddy so busy and the aggravate it as much as possible until we get there." "It's aggravated enough." "It's not enough until we have the _SeaQuest_. It's never enough until we control the waters and the land." "I have no love of the UEO, but I doubt that they'll let you have the flagship. However it will be interesting if he does take her in battle against the UEO." "Why's that?" "Imagine what the UEO's going to have feel like, Nathan Bridger and Lucas Wolenczak namely when the ship they lived and almost died aboard is blasted to hades. They won't build another _seaQuest_. "For someone who isn't Macronesian, your thinking is quite convoluted. I like it, good Blade, I really like it." "Don't get too cocky. The _SeaQuest_ is still enough to bring the house of cards down on our heads." Doskrian City Morgue Doskrian, Alaska Kirkland was as silent as a thought as she snuck into the Doskrian city morgue. She was dressed in all black, and moved like a small, sleek cat. Her black anorak and skintight black pants aided her in staying hidden in the shadows. Yet with each moment the fear grew. What if she got caught? What if she didn't make it out? What if something went wrong? The rookie thief fears nothing, the experienced thief fears their own shadow, she thought. She heard a noise, a bump rather and crouched below a table in a corner, leaving just enough space to slip behind a shelf and later climb up to the window. "Ow! That's my foot you idiot!" A voice screamed out, and a shh followed it. Someone else was breaking into the morgue. Panic flooded her thoughts. It could have been just a few stupid locals trying to do something to fit into a group. Dares to go to the morgue were common. No, to get past the security would have required at least a knowledgeable hoodlum. They walked over to the 'filing cabinet of bodies' as it was once called. She could see them by the light of the large, bright flashlight they took with them. That was a mistake as well. When breaking into anywhere, do not take anything bright or big. If someone outside the window was observant enough the police could have been called. Kirkland continued to study their actions, and she tried place the voices. She knew they originated from somewhere familiar. The second person opened the cabinet while the first held the flashlight. "Oh, this is pleasant, dead bodies." The second said, with an air of disgust that had to be faced. "What if they come back from the dead, like a curse or something?" The first asked, and the second made a gagging sound. "You just had to say something!" Exclaimed number two, huffing in distaste. "Well, I was warning you. Look if the come back, they'll want you first. I'm too much of a smartass to eat." For a moment Kirkland thought she knew who it was, but that was impossible They wouldn't have the resources or the permission to do something like that. "I dunno. I'd gladly bite your head off." "Very funny." "Would you hurry up and get the sample already?" "You mean I've got to touch it?" "No, you've got to sing Kumbaya with it and tell it think happy thoughts and fly! Yes, you have to touch a dead body." "Fine." The horror was vivid enough on the face of the first person to be seen by Kirkland in the dark. The face was all too familiar, but Kirkland still couldn't be certain. The person carved into the soft upper arm of the victim. "Let's get out of her." The second person got close to Kirkland as they left and stepped on her toe. Kirkland immediately bit down on her hand, and told herself to ignore the two hundred pounds of muscle now weighing down on her foot. "I just stepped on something." Person two squashed down on the foot, trying to see what it was. Kirkland stopped breathing, and held her breath for as long as possible. Yet the pain was growing by the moment. "Step on it again and see what it was." Before the second person could squash Kirkland's sensitive digits she managed to knock the feet from under the person. The person fell to the floor with a gasp as the wind came racing back into his lungs after being taken out. He got up and left, and Kirkland smiled like the Cheshire Cat in the shadows. "Ortiz and Ryan." She snickered, leaving. She no longer needed what she came for, the work had been done for her, at the price of a sore, throbbing toe. [I'm sure the guillotine makers in France make a killing] [And the shovels of the world are beginning to dig in.] [HEY TIME! Look it's all starting to happen once again!] Apartment 13 Katbrow Building This was all too familiar for the both of them. They thought they would never have to get out the old equipment, and put on the form fitting black outfits and take the weapons and become creatures of the night again. These were things too close to the past to just be put away. There was the radio that had been chewed on by Kirkland while waiting for Russell to emerge from so many dangerous situations. She could see each bite mark and could almost tell which night and what situation. She remembered waiting in the bushes near a UEO base while Russell stole documents that could clear a friend's name. Her mind drifted back to a time where Russell and she were stuck in a trench for eight hours on a cold night in Russia, with only their wet clothes on. She remember the delirium, but also how gentle Russell was though he could have left her. "Channel 4 if I'm not mistaken, Rus?" Kirkland asked, switching it to four. Actually the dial seemed to go there on it's own, naturally. Everything was like a comfortable old shoe. She was in her element of night and of trickery and yet of security. As long as Russell was with her she was secure. "Dear Wildcat, you have forgot nothing. Look at you. I didn't realise it until now, but you have grown up to be more than I'd ever expected. You're quicker and brighter and more shocking than lightning. I found you at your lowest and now you are at your peak." Russell said with a certain sadness inside of him. His eyes were like those of a parent who was watching a child graduated. She had never seen such tenderness and such overwhelming grief in his eyes. "Don't get mushy on me now. We'll have plenty of time for sentiment later once we've saved young Wolenczak from the fire." Kirkland evaded the subject, because it scared her. Russell was strong and sharp and unfeeling. It was the reliable brick wall in her life. Whatever happened, however bad she felt, she could go there and know that one thing in life was solid and stalwart. "There's something in my desk drawer that I want you to take with you when you get back. The label says it all, and I think you'll be able to figure it out." Russell said absently as he velcroed something onto his uniform. "When we get in there we need to take a file from Grimm's office. That's where it'll be." "What makes you so sure?" "I *know*" Kirkland said, in that special code that only someone with the bond that she and Russell shared could understand. "It's good to know that you remember what I've taught you. So shall we go and rescue this poor fellow?" "Let's." With that, they slipped into the night, each following the other's shadow. They moved in a form that was so familiar that it was instinct. Each understood where and when and why before they even had to ask it. Kirkland closed her eyes and breathed out. [Our life lines are shattering away now] [We've got to find a way out, somehow] WATCH FOR PART SEVEN ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Having difficulty getting "in synch" with list members? http://www.onelist.com Try ONElist's Shared Calendar to organize events, meetings and more! Date: Fri, 21 May 1999 09:01:12 -0500 From: "hlfreem@ibm.net" X-Mailer: Mozilla 4.05 [en] (Win95; I) To: sqfanfic@onelist.com Mailing-List: list sqfanfic@onelist.com; contact sqfanfic-owner@onelist.com Delivered-To: mailing list sqfanfic@onelist.com List-Unsubscribe: Reply-to: sqfanfic@onelist.com Subject: [sqfanfic] Proudest Wounds 7/8 From: "hlfreem@ibm.net" Proudest Wounds By: Dagger Apprentice Part Seven: At One Dark Window Offices of Growtesk, Grusum, and Grimm Doskrian, Alaska Two dark figures snuck upon the office of three sinister partners like the night creeps upon the day. It could not be caught in an instant, but bit by bit it came closer until it was there. The office looked dark and by all appearances it was closed and emptied. The shadows knew better. They knew that they were seeing on the illusion they were meant to see. The first shadow made a move to the back door, with the second trailing at a few meter's distance. They embraced each other for a moment. "I'll be back." The first shadow, Kirkland of the green and white eyes and mottled brown/blonde hair said. "I am proud of you, Savannah Trishna Kirkland. Remember everything, because even the days end sometime." Russell said, taking in one sharp sniff of her. She still smelled like the moist earth after a spring rain and the cold winter wind. The scent of grasses and of vanilla clung to her. Nothing had really changed since he first took in the scared, frightened teenager that could see things far beyond the range of regular people. She still hugged as though she was ready to find the best in a person. "I love you, Russell." She whispered before heading off into the night. Russell closed his eyes for just a second, to take one breath before he resumed his task. He took out a tool that he had used so many times in his life that it perfectly fit hand. The door opened for Russell and he stalked in, keeping close to the wall, watching the floor for signs of security and knowing that this was too easy to be true. Something had seen them coming. A third shadow, one born of evil and malice and callousness stalked toward Russell, and the scent of prey reached his nostrils with unholy glee flaring his eyes. The third shadow faced Russell, who immediately panicked but after years of being caught he knew that it was best not to run. The tall, muscular, brutish shadow smiled at Russell and then the dim light from the window revealed the tattoo on his arm. Doom, dismay, and fate displayed themselves in that black lettered tattoo that read: Red Blade. "Who are you?" Red Blade demanded. This was not his beloved Wildcat. This was not the opponent he hoped to face. Had his one dear opponent sent a puppet to taunt him? "Err, I be um, Russell, Russell Canaday." Russell said, immediately adopting a hoodlum's accent and form. Hopeful Red Blade hadn't noticed the well-schooled behaviour on his face just moment before. "What are you here for?" Red Blade demanded and narrowed his eyes. "You done caught me, g-man. Got dem dere big mooscles." Russell laughed nervously, giving the impression of fear. "Ooh. I done smoked mahseff reta-ded, you know how dat be. I want ta get sum stuff so I could affo'd dem twists, you know how dat be. Dood, I just leave ya alone." He began to back up, hands up, with more jittery giggles. "So you're just a street punk?" Red Blade tried to peer through the act, but somehow it was illusive. "Oh yeah, dood." "Cut the act, you're a pro. No hoodlum could afford the silent lock busters outside." "Okay, you've caught me." "I know you don't I? You're here with that corpse aren't you?" "Kirkland?!" Russell grew alarmed. Had he killed her, had he slaughtered his one dear friend, his student, the only person he loved unselfishly in life? "Thank you. You're most helpful." Red Blade whistled, "Hey, girls, dinner's here!" Out of the shadows stepped three extremly built women, resembling Amazon warriors in their way, fully armed, and headed towards him. One of them had cords for tying him to something. "You know if I didn't know I was about to suffer, I'd enjoy this." Russell though, resigning to the duty of being tied up by three women. Doskrian Police Station Doskrian, Alaska [It's the fire's job to destroy, burn and burn] Ortiz and Ryan vs. Carlisle and Favara. Each team was fully prepared to hammer through the other for control of the fate of Lucas Wolenczak. Favara had shouted at Ryan for an hour that there was a legal warrant and not all the pleading in the world could save Lucas. Ryan had argued back for that hour that Lucas hadn't run from the authorities in quite sometime. "Look here, sport, I know you navy types have this 'protect-our-own' type deal going and all, but that kid is wanted for murder, we're hauling his butt in. A man is dead and I'm pretty sure your friend is responsible for it." Carlisle said, intervening before Favara could escalate things into a catfight. It wasn't that he was worried for Favara's safety or anything, but he was worried for the girl that was stupid enough to stand there and challenge a frustrated, determined rookie cop. Not that Carlisle wasn't considering strangling the girl with his own bare hands, but if she was going to get killed by a cop, he wanted the honour of ramming her into the ground. "He isn't a killer! The evidence is circumstancial. What basis is there for a warrant?" Ryan shouted back before Ortiz put a hand to her shoulder to restrain her from getting at Carlisle. He had a gun, and he could fight. If Ryan did something stupid she was on her own. "Enough to indict him." Carlisle revealed with an angry glare at her. They both gasped. For the first time, the consequences of trial were truly being fleshed out before thier eyes. "You can't possibly! He didn't do it! You've got to let him go!" Ortiz protested, with more shock and dismay than anger. "We haven't actually caught him yet, son." Favara reminded Ortiz, with a no-nonsense look that cut Ortiz. These people are far too prepared to get into some melodrama, Favara thought, biting on her knuckles in thought. "He's innocent!" Ortiz pleaded, tightening his lips and widening his eyes as to look his most appealing. Something about those black curly-cues and those brown eyes cracked Favara's resolve. "We'll cut you a deal. Twelve hours to bring me something to prove it or else we're coming after Lucas Wolenczak with all the kings horses and ALL the king's men. Now you and baby doll the wench here get out of my precinct before I have you charged with obstruction of justice!" Favara said, pointing the pen accusingly at Ryan before slamming it down and pointing towards the door. They headed towards the door, satisfied. "Go be all that you can be and whatever!" Carlisle shouted after them, trying to make up for his partner's rude but brilliant manuever. "THAT'S THE ARMY!" Ryan screamed back, annoyed. She stomped out to the rental van, into the chilly night. "Twelve hours is better than nothing, Sarah." Ortiz said to her as sat there trying to contain herself from returning to the precinct and blowing any chances that she had of ever freeing Lucas. "Not enough! Where are we gonna get conclusive evidence from? *We* can't even conclude this one! We can't prove he didn't do it!" Sarah Ryan said back, more frustrated with herself and the situation than she was with him. He saw what it meant to her to free Lucas. "They didn't say we had to obtain *legal* evidence, just conclusive evidence." "Miguel, you're brilliant! This is goint to get Lucas freed, I jsut know it! Lucas is saved! Lucas is saved!" Ryan said, hugging him and kissing him in unwitting glee. She didn't know what she was doing, but she was happy that she could see the light at the end of the tunnel at last. "Yay for Lucas." Ortiz deadpanned as Sarah rounded the van, hopping into the driver's side. [But you can't appreciate that when it hurts] Offices of Growtesk, Grusum, and Grimm [I've come to a pay road and don't have the toll] The noise got closer and closer and with a hunter's skill she found the shadows that would best protect her from whatever made the noise. She could see the door and in front of the door passed three women and following them, being dragged really was her friend, Russell. He had been caught by these wild animals and was being lead away like a lamb to the slaughter. "Oh gawd, Russell." Kirkland breathed out, dreadfully. She closed her eyes. She wanted to go out there and destroy those monsters, to slaughter each and every one for their atrocities. The fury that built inside of her was painful. Yet she knew that if she were to do anything but stay in those shadows that every drop of blood, every tears that had bought her this precious time and space would be null and void. She knew they had a pact, and after they parted it was every one for themselves. Kirkland continued, and opened the door labelled V. Grusum. She entered and found what was the perfect illusion of an everyday office that an everyday businesswoman would use, complete with family pictures on the desk. This woman was no mother, she was a killer. She was the antithesis of someone who brought life. Kirkland did not buy into the illusion. She opened the cabinets to find everything *but* average business. She found things that the UEO would die to get their hands on. Lists of operatives, hot sites, weapon codes, computer codes, virus plans, everything. Every scrap of gold, every precious paper must be left behind because like the cave of Aladdin's lamp, only the lamp could be touched. The lamp, the holy grail, was not here amongst the treasure. Project Dying Sands was buried elsewhere. [I've come the Dead Sea and haven't found a scroll] "They saw this coming." She says to herself, leaving everything as it was, and going towards the office of J. Growtesk. Before she could break the lock she heard a vehicle outside on the road and then a bang and a fizzle. Her eyes grew wide for a moment, she gasped silently in horror. By ill luck alone they had stumbled upon the one clue that the case lacked, but in doing so had bought themselves a long and hard and almost impossible fight. Outside the Offices of Growtesk, Grusum, and Grimm "Just great! Just great!" Sarah Ryan exclaimed, with a groan of frustration as they backed away from the van. Ortiz could see the flames and understood that they were in jeopardy of the fuel tank catching fire and exploding. "There goes that plan." Ortiz muttered, running a hand through his hair. The car was in his name, too. His insurance just died, he could feel it. Somewhere, on the seat of his pants, his wallet was hurting deeply. "We are never gonna get Lucas off!" She screamed stomping her foot as though a temper tantrum would straighten anything out. "What's in the building, maybe they know what to do. We've got to get back to the _SeaQuest_." "Fine." Ortiz agreed, and just as they began to approach the building behind them the van gave off a minor explosion. The fuel tank had exploded. Ortiz felt a pang of despair in his pocket as his wallet breathed it's last. The found the back door ajar, and forcibly opened. "Think we should?" She whispered. "I don't think so. If we're caught, then we hang for it because we aren't supposed to be here, we've got no reason to." "What do you mean? Our van just blowed up, of course we've got a reason." "We could have blown it up after the fact. It's just not a good idea. And besides, what if the alarm is still on?" "If someone else got in it must not be working correctly." "And what if we set it off?" "If we do, I'm disavowing you." Ryan teased, as they tip toed down the hall. "You can't disavow me." He jested back. "Why not?" She joked, and thought that a playful banter was beginning betwixt the two. "You just can't." He answered, his tone becoming heavy and serious." "STOOOOOOP!" A man screamed from down the hall and ragged, choked sobs were heard echoing through the still night air. It made Ortiz wince to hear it. "That didn't sound good. I say we leave." Ortiz began to turn the other way, but Ryan caught him by the arm. "No. That man's in trouble. We have to stay and help." Ryan put her foot down. She was determined to the play the consumacious white knigt. "It's not worth it. We get out of here, and we're safe." Ortiz argued. He had no stomach for a fight, not tonight. They were just supposed to help Lucas. "They are in trouble, and we will help!" Ryan urged and tugged at Ortiz's arm unyieldingly. The Office of Brutus Grimm Red Blade understood that the carnage he had inflicted upon Russell Canaday was immaterial. True, he might never be the same again, but he would survive well enough. He had not killed Russell, though he had every intention of doing just that. Kirkland watched in the shadows, horrified. She felt like a small, scared child watching Russell become Red Blade's plaything. As long as he did not see her, then Russell had a chance. His eyes and his attention were too focused on Russell to notice the swampy green circles that stood out in the darkness. "Don't go blacking out yet, sweetie." Red Blade mocked, patting Russell's face. The eyes of the man Russell faced were cold and dead with only a few flickers of sadism and evil. "What do you want?" Russell managed to say before the waves of pain ran anew in and over his body. "It seemed that she is eluding me, avoiding me, making me wait. Has she left?" red Blade asked. "She has." He confirmed. Each breath of his prayed that she had retreated and gone for help. Yet every muscle knew that she had stayed to help him. "I don't believe you. Where is she?" "I don't know." "That is not the answer I wanted!" Red Blade slapped Russell, enraging him more than hurting him. "Do what you want. You'll get what you're seeking, but not from me. I don't know where she is. Do you think she's that stupid?" "No, but she has one fault." "What's that?" "She still has a heart and a soul, and must live accordingly. I do not know good or right and I do not know justice or mercy. Therefore I am freed from all restraints." "But you ignored the rules, and the piper will collect his payment. You know that. Kirkland might well be the one to bring you to justice." "No. She is powerful, but I won't be brought to justice. I don't think I'll get that far." Ortiz and Ryan approached the door way and only too late understood what horrible things were taking place in the office. Before he could think, Ortiz stepped in front of Ryan, fiercely protective. "Hey! I can kick butt too!" Ryan slapped his arm, fed up with the entire chivalry act. Red Blade and the female fighters stepped towards her. The women held their weapons and smiled at her like savaged beasts grinning over their prey. "Okay! You can defend me!" "Ladies, remember what I said concerning the patience of a spider?" Red Blade, asked, his gaze still fixed upon Ortiz and Ryan. "We do." They answered unison. Each of the three well muscled blondes also set their stares upon the two. "You have made excellent black widows. You have caught the golden flies, the bargaining chips. Shall we go for the jugular now?" Red Blade asked, taking out his knife. "Let's do." They hissed like asps, drawing closer with a venomous gleam in their blue eyes. Without a struggle they bound them both with black cord and sat them in chairs. "You my lovely young lass will coerce your captain into submission." "Not in this life!" She shot back fiercely. She expected him to retaliated with quick physical violence. He did not such thing. He instead drew a long wand looking device and pointed it at Ortiz. Volts of electricity surged through Ortiz's chest and he let forth a howl of pain that Ryan had never heard before. He fell to the floor, wiriting, trying to make it stop, but each heartbeat hurts yet they won't stop. His black curls were wet with perspiration. It was just enough. Kirkland could watch no more, she could no longer stay in the shadows and hope they let their guard down. She would once again have to become her alter-ego, Wildcat. Wildcat was a long gone reminder that at one time her name invoked fear, and that her screams caused terror in the very core of a person's being. Wildcat was their only chance. Kirkland was sitting in the shadows, and Wildcat was clawing at her for a fight. "Red Blade, stop! Leave him alone." Kirkland growled, stepping from the shadows to met Red Blade. She saw Russell's head drop. "Savannah Trishna Kirkland. Oh lovely, lovely woman, you came. You can't stop yourself can you? You have to know just what I have to know." Red Blade smiled and somewhere deep within his eyes a flicker of delight and joy started dancing and started growing until his eyes were those of a man in sheer ecstasy. "It ends here." Kirkland told him, without anger. It was a true statement. From the moment they had met, they knew that they would not survive as enemies. One of them would eventually destroy the other. She eyed him, making sure she still knew all of his weak spots and strong points. The form before her was familiar and she knew he was doing the same. This fight had been long awaited, each had practised for it in their own way. Now it would be Kirkland on the side of the angels vs. Red Blade with all of hell behind him. Red Blade had secrets and power and money resting on the outcome, but Kirkland had the lives of her crew, and her dear Russell on her good shoulders. [Fought the fight of a woman today] [Much too late to throw it all away.] WATCH FOR PART 8 ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Looking to expand your world? http://www.onelist.com ONElist has nearly 150,000 e-mail communities from which to chose! Date: Fri, 21 May 1999 09:02:09 -0500 From: "hlfreem@ibm.net" X-Mailer: Mozilla 4.05 [en] (Win95; I) To: sqfanfic@onelist.com Mailing-List: list sqfanfic@onelist.com; contact sqfanfic-owner@onelist.com Delivered-To: mailing list sqfanfic@onelist.com List-Unsubscribe: Reply-to: sqfanfic@onelist.com Subject: [sqfanfic] Proudest Wounds 8/8 From: "hlfreem@ibm.net" Proudest Wounds By: Dagger Apprentice Part Eight: Cures You Whisper Make No Sense Office of Brutus Grimm Somehow Red Blade couldn't just have one of the girls hand him a gun and shoot her. He needed to challenge her to a fight. He needed to feel the clash of skin and the fire in her eyes when Wildcat was ignited. He wanted to see her make her dreadful roar and close in for the kill with those symbolic four claw marks to his cheek. "I've missed you, Savannah." Red Blade said in a moment of softness that came unawares to both him and the rest of those in the room. "I've missed you, too, Jeremy." Kirkland answered, swallowing hard. When had it gone from two mischevious lovers playing pranks to two enemies now firmly fixed on the battlefield, and one of them had to be utter defeated. "You could come with me. We could take what we wanted, do as we pleased. You know what I can do. You know what I'm offering you." he enticed her with that offer. She could leave the constraints of _seaQuest_, forever forget that she had to save Wolenczak. She looked at Russell, just trying to survive each second, and Ortiz, barely breathing because it hurt so much. She could no become part of that. "No, I can't do that." "But, Kirkland, I need you." "There was a time that I would have accepted that offer, but I can't. You wee going to get an innocent boy killed, and you've killed other people. You killed Roland, but never again. You not kill another person." "You talk of love, but you're ready to fight. I hate contradictions. Either fight me or join me. We can't have it any other way." "It all ends here." [The valleys are charred and the mountains burnt] [I'm thinking that all that's left is scorched earth.] It started. Both Kirkland and Red Blade exchanged a series of jabs, neither very effective at hurting the person, but quite effective at making the other angry. Blade pushed her to the wall, but she kicked him the stomach. He then returned with a right cross to her mouth. "LEAVE HER ALONE!" Ortiz screamed, seeing Kirkland getting hit. For a moment Red Blade contemplated telling him that Kirkland was doing it on purpose, but he was too involved in the fight. He began to let loose the fury of a hundred Spartan warriors. Yet Kirkland recovered in time to trip him, but he took her with him on the way down. They jump back in 'ninja-style' and resume their stances. They mirror each other. Then they began dodging each other, testing the other's speed. It hadn't really escalated into a fight yet, Blade was merely testing her before he brought out Wildcat. "C'mon, Kirkland, take this guy." Ortiz cheered. Kirkland stayed absolute to Red Blade's delight. She was giving him the moment he needed to weaken her, to conquer before she could summon the far greater, angrier spirits within. Before she bring forth Wildcat, he would disable her. She was on her knees, letting him in as Ryan and Ortiz were struggling to get free, shouting at her to get back up. Why was she letting him conquer like this? It had no logic to it. "Before I kill you, I will confess. I killed Roland. I did. I had the gun and the knife, and I did it all. Wolenczak will fry for this, and I did it. God bless the UEO, eh?" Red Blade smiled and turned from Kirkland, who was almost at the edge between herself and Wildcat. He looked at Russell and plunged the knife in two times, rapid fire. Russell drooped even farther. It was there that the fatal flaw was seen, and the deadly mistake was made. In those two mortal wounds lay Red Blade's defeat. A scream that was so inhuman that it frightened those in the room to hear it was emitted from Kirkland. It was the scream of a woman injured, of a fighter with nothing else left to lose, and of a furious being that hid within the calm demenour of Savannah Trishna Kirkland named Wildcat. [The fires are so quickly burning down everything] [So quickly that there's no time to salvage anything] [Everything must be burnt but me and my flesh...] She slashed at his face quickly, leaving four marks. He touched the marks, they were indeed bleeding. She had marked him for defeat. The knife dropped from his hand and she stared him down for a minute. He began to tremble, and then fell to his knees. With one moment's concentration she levels him to the ground. She growled, Wildcat still in control. She turned to the three guards, each one of them terrified of her. They sank to the ground, and she turned to Russell. The screaming, terrifying monster was gone. Kirkland had returned to control of herself. "It's a scratch, but it's enough." Russell said, once he had reached the ground, too weak to stand. Every breath became more and more precious, each second slipped away from him faster and faster. Death was lingering at the doorway. "You weren't supposed to die for this, I was." Kirkland told him bitterly, but he shook his head. "Anything is worth dying for, but somethings are so right and so dear that they're worth living for. Was it worth it?" Russell asked her, his breath becoming more and more shallow. "Yes it was." "Then I was happy to die for it." "Listen, you're not dying." "Kirkland, you know what to do, my desk drawer." He paused to take a painful breath, his lungs were filled with fluid to the point where death was immenient. "Of all the things I've have ever done, I loved you best...and I am proudest of you." It was finished. All the years had drifted by, and it now came to this. She had never even taken a picture of him, they'd never sent Christmas cards to each other, but he was the dearest thing she had. He was gone. [Everything is getting burnt away this year.] "Kirkland, I'm sorry...I mean...it's just that..." Ryan tried to speak words once Kirkland had freed them both. Kirkland stared her in the face. "Just shut up, Sarah. For once in your life...shut up." Kirkland said to her acerbically. She stared back down at Russell's body. "Ortiz, call someone." Ward Room, _SeaQuest_ Wolenczak was exonerated. With blood and guts he had been freed from a crime that he could barely recall. Ortiz and Ryan sat next to him at the table, supporting him morally. Hudson was at the other side, facing the vidlink like everyone else as they talked to Detectives Carlisle and Favara. Kirkland silently sat there. She had earned the right to watch this, but it didn't help heal the pain that refused to be ignored. She could not grieve here. She could not show her human side to these people. She had to wear her shield around them, and keep herself away, at a distance. "We've got a confession from this guy. Doctors say that it'll be a few weeks before he can stand trial, though. We owe you people a bit of an apology it seems." Carlisle, the man with the bulldog's face, seemed considerably more agreeable. He was not so stubborn or bull headed that he couldn't apologise. "That's not necessary, Detective Carlise. My ensign got himself into this mess and I'll make sure he doesn't do it again." Hudson gave Lucas one of those 'kiss shore leave goodbye' looks. "You wouldn't happen to know about the fire at the Katbrown building, would you? It seems that someone set apartment 13 on fire." Carlisle inquired at random. "Was anyone killed?" "No, but someone reported that a UEO sailor was evacuating the people before she did. We couldn't get a discription, though." "By the way, ballistics came back and the shot didn't match Wolenczak's gun. Well Goodbye, Captain." Favara reported, holding the papers in her hand that had been purchased at the highest expense. "Yeah, so I guess you're all a few good men." Carlisle said, trying to make a pun. "That's the army!" Ryan shouted at him before Hudson cut off the vidlink. "Dismissed." Hudson announced to those in the room, and they began to leave. Kirkland was ready to get to her quarters and let her emotions take a breath. It felt as though her feelings were in a tight corset. "Stay for a moment." Lucas told her, hooking her arm. She blinked at him for a moment. "Yes, Wolenczak?" Kirkland answered. "You saved me. You saved Ortiz and Ryan. You lost a friend, and got yourself thrashed around. Why?" He asked her, and the reflection that she wanted to avoid was burning bright in his eyes. "It was the right thing." "They had a reason to do this for me. You didn't. Why?" "Wolenczak, sometimes the past compels us to change the future." She left without explaining herself. She went away, leaving him to try and make sense of it all. Why had she done it after all? He could so clearly see the purple bruises highlighting her green eyes. Even under the injuries, he could see a deeper pain. Yet she seemed to show nothing of it. Lieutenant Kirkland's Quarters, _seaQuest_. She sat on her bed, with Russell's only legacy, his only memory in front of her. In the manilla folder were the only remnants of someone that had raised her from the ground and taught her to fight. With apprehensive respect she opened it. Within were two mini-disks, some papers, a cheque for more money than she'd ever need, and a letter. "No...this isn't true..." She cried, throwing the letter down on the ground. The secret that he kept from her for so many years was in the open. She knew the truth that she was never meant to know. [Cried the tears of a woman today.] [I didn't want to throw it all away.] Yet she had to finish reading the letter. She was desperate to know why. Russell had spent his life trying to figure out that one question. [The prarie really is gone now] [This year just burnt it away so fast.] 'Savannah, by whatever name you'll be known in the end, listen to me. Many a soldier and warhorse will show you the scars they've got from battle. They'll wear the crimson ribbons with glory and pride. I know you get no satisfaction from the injuries, but dearest student, wear you medal with your head. For you must have the proudest wounds of all.' [All years do that, but this one most of all] [The fire has been burning for so very long] [It's out, and everything is black and grey] [I know now, my prarie really is gone.] THE END. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ It's finally here! 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