Scene 1

            With a scream of frustration, Miss Parker gave chase. She hadn’t stopped to consider what would happen if she were caught pulling a gun on a “Starfleet officer.” She had seen him walking past the Jeffries tube she, Sydney, and Broots had been imprisoned in, and all she could see was herself forcing him to get her off this awful ship. Her two colleagues pelted after her, complaining as usual.

            Ahead, Jarod slipped through a door. Before it could close, her hand caught it and forced it open. Behind her Broots stumbled into her, forcing her into the tiny white room. The door slid closed after Sydney. “Jarod—”

            “Miss Parker!” he shot at her with a raised eyebrow, and she realized they were not alone, even as Sydney’s hand closed around hers and forced her gun to her side.

            The small child who had been alone in the strangely small room before four running adults had invaded gave her a sober and strangely evaluating look. Its face was deformed, rounded lumps splitting its forehead.

            It’s another alien! she realized with a chill.

            “Krantregk, this is my friend Miss Parker,” Jarod said with that dark side-glance that was as good as a smirk. “At least she was my friend until she joined the Dark Side.”

            “The Dark Side of what?” the child asked.

            “That’s a good question. What is your dark side, Miss Parker?”

            She glowered at him.

            “Why is she dressed like that?”

            “I think she’s been spending a little too much time on the holodeck. There’s a simulation she likes, called The Centre, but its problem is that it doesn’t look anything like real life. One moment of real life, Krantregk, is worth thirty years of simulations.”

            “You’re speaking metaphorically,” the child said, far too knowingly for a little kid. “But this is my deck. Will you tell me more later, Commander Jarod?”

            “If I can.”

            The doors of the little room opened, and the child stepped out. Miss Parker could have hit herself. An elevator, of course. She glared at the man in blue uniform trying to enter.

            “Taken! Wait for the next one.”

            Startled, he stepped back, and the doors closed. Miss Parker raised her gun again.

            “So, Captain Picard, nice place you’ve got here.”

            “I’m not Picard. You might not have noticed, but I’ve got hair.”

            “Well, then, Commander Jarod Westmore, it’s time to go home.”

            He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. How did he managed to look so amused?

            “I can’t do that, Miss Parker.”

            “You can if you don’t want a hole in your foot.”

            “No, I can’t. I don’t have the recall device. Did you happen to bring it?”

            She glared at Broots, who was trying to make himself very small next to Sydney, as if Jarod were the one with the gun and might eat him besides. “Apparently not.”

            Jarod grinned. Miss Parker wanted to hit him with the gun.

            “Why do you relish getting me into these situations, Jarod?”

            “For the same reason you enjoy thinking about shooting me, Miss Parker. You weren’t supposed to be here in the first place. How did you get here?”

            She gestured at Broots. “Wonderbread here has more brains than you give him credit for.”

            Broots’ eyes brightened. Then the doors swooshed open again, and his jaw dropped. “The bridge.”

            Jarod stepped out, and his three pursuers automatically stepped out after him. With a sinking feeling, Miss Parker knew that once again he had managed to put her at the disadvantage, without even doing anything. All the people in the rounded room were staring at her and her gun.

            “Commander Westmore!” a bald man in red and black snapped in some kind of accent, “what is this? What is that?”

            A man with strangely gold skin took a step toward her. “Captain, that appears to be a projectile weapon much in use in the twentieth century. I am unsure of the particular make—”

            Miss Parker grabbed Jarod and pressed the gun to his back. “The kind of gun is irrelevant! What is important is that I will kill him if one of you so much as blinks.”

            “Why should our blinking cause you to kill him?” the gold-skinned man queried, perfectly calm.

            “Despite Miss Parker’s anachronistic choice of weapon,” Jarod said, “she is correct about its destructive capabilities. Captain Picard, this is Miss Parker and her colleagues, Sydney and Broots. As you can see, they are not Starfleet personnel, but they do work with the project I am investigating. They have been tracking me for several years.”

            “How did you get on my ship?” the bald captain barked.

            “That does not matter,” Miss Parker barked back. “What matters is how we’re going to get off.” She caught a movement to her left and shot a glare at the only person there she recognized, a large figure in black and yellow. “Don’t you move, Turtle-Head, or I’ll kill him.”

            Suddenly Broots laughed. “Westmore! I get it!”

            Jarod glanced back over his shoulder. “Good, isn’t it?”

            Without warning the elevator doors swooshed open. Miss Parker had only time to catch a glimpse of a blue uniform and a pair of impossibly pointed ears and to hear Jarod shout something that sounded like, “Velan totsuky!” before a brown hand fell on her shoulder and everything went blank.

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Scene 2

            Jarod caught Miss Parker’s gun as she fell, leaving her to be caught by the Vulcan medical officer whose quick reflexes and to'tsu'k'hy, the Vulcan nerve pinch, had saved him. “Thank you, Doctor V’Lan.”

            “I am glad to be of service, Commander, and that I happened to have an errand on the bridge. The situation seems to have been tense.”

            Jarod set the safety and removed the clip. “Just for a moment. Lieutenant Worf, your assistance, please.”

            Worf relieved V’Lan of his burden. “This woman is like a Klingon,” he said with something like approval.

            Broots gave a sudden snort or laughter. “Yeah, she is. I never thought of that.”

            Worf glared at him. “A dishonorable Klingon! To shoot a man in the back—”

            “Actually, she mostly just wants to shoot him in the foot, or so she says.”

            “Broots,” Sydney whispered, “perhaps you ought not to talk anymore just now.”

            With a gulp, Broots closed his mouth. Jarod restrained another grin.

            “Let them experience a starship brig, Mr. Worf. Captain Picard, you’ll be wanting explanations.”

            “I certainly will be.”

            Worf and another security officer ushered Broots and Sydney onto the elevator along with Miss Parker’s still-limp body. Jarod quirked an eyebrow after them. Broots looked absolutely excited to be taken into custody by Worf, but Sydney gave Jarod one of those familiar exasperated-but-patient looks.

            In the captain’s ready room, Jarod activated his jamming device and looked at Picard and Riker. “I’m sorry that I can’t tell you a great deal, Captain, Commander, but I will disclose some information. I used to work with these three operatives. We worked for what I later discovered to be Section 31, a top-secret and sometime-rogue section of Starfleet Intelligence. Few people know it exists, and even fewer people believe it. When I discovered that its existence and goals violated the tenets of the Federation, I got out and went to work for its rival branch within Starfleet Intelligence. Our main goal is to oppose and take down Section 31.”

            “And Section 31 is running the Savant Project?” Picard asked.

            “Yes, sir. However, you don’t just leave Section 31. For the last two and a half years, these operatives have been tasked with finding me and bringing me back. If they can, they will hold me captive and force me to participate in their projects.”

            “You seemed to be quite familiar with them,” Riker said.

            “I am. As I said, I worked with them before I learned the truth about Section 31. The woman is dangerous, but conflicted. The two men…they are more dangerous than they look. They know me better than anyone in the universe, and they have nearly captured me countless times. I had no idea they had actually found me this time.”

            “Do you think they know about your mission?” Picard asked.

            “I doubt it. Section 31 operates on a principle of not letting the left hand know what the right is doing. These three are trackers, not mission agents.”

            Riker crossed his arms. “How did they get aboard?”

            Jarod spread out his hands. “My fault. I developed a transportation device with a built-in cloak. I thought I had disabled it before my escape, but Broots—the small man—is a technological genius. If anyone could figure it out, he could.”

            “A cloak?” Riker glanced at Picard. “What sort of cloak?”

            “A fairly average sensor cloak, though in conjunction with the beaming technology, it works the cloak into the person being beamed. A personal shield. It does fade after about a week.”

            “You developed this?” Picard repeated.

            “Yes, Captain. All it took was a little reading on the Romulan cloaking device and advanced transporter technology.” Online technical journals by avid science fiction fans, he thought, restraining a grin. Invaluable.

            Riker pursued his original thought. “And this cloak—does it involve any psychic phenomena at all?”

            Jarod blinked at him. “No, Commander. Why?”

            “Deanna’s ghosts,” Picard said slowly.

            “Ghosts?”

            “Counselor Troi has been sensing echoes of these people. She ought to have felt their presence the moment they came aboard, but they were…cloaked.”

            “Odd,” Jarod said carefully. “An unintended repercussion, perhaps.”

            Riker cocked an eyebrow at him.

            “She needs to know about this.” Picard tapped his communicator. “Picard to Counselor Troi.”

            After a moment a groggy voice responded. “Troi here, Captain.”

            “Deanna, when you are able, go to the brig and interview the three prisoners you’ll find there.”

            “Prisoners, Captain?”

            “Your ghosts, Counselor. Perhaps you ought to start trusting your feelings again.”

            Jarod imagined the meeting between Parker, Broots, Sydney, and Deanna Troi. He restrained another smile. Sydney would be so fascinated… He almost wished he could be there. He shook it off.

            “It is imperative that the operation goes as planned tonight. If I get the information I need, I will be able to proceed with the second part.”

            “Second part?” Riker said sharply.

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Scene 3           

            Miss Parker came slowly out of a deep darkness, light and voices intruding.

            “I can’t believe I just met Captain Picard!” Broots? Was that Broots? “We—we actually held up the bridge! And got taken prisoner by Worf!”

            “Broots, bring yourself to reality,” came Sydney’s slow voice. “This is not a game. No matter whom we have been taken prisoner by, we have been taken prisoner. Is Miss Parker alright after whatever that…person did to her?”

            “Oh, yeah. She’ll be fine. She’ll come out of it any time. It’s nothing like the Vulcan death grip, which,” he chuckled, “as we all know, doesn’t exist.”

            “She’s out of it,” Miss Parker said. She tried to say it coldly, but it came out in a pathetically weak voice. Sydney and Broots moved to her side as she tried to sit up.

            “How do you feel, Miss Parker?” Sydney asked.

            “Like I’ve been run over by a semi. What happened? That wasn’t a Klingon, unless bat ears accompany turtle heads.”

            Broots chuckled again. “No, that was the Vulcan nerve pinch. A flow of energy interrupts the electrical signals in your…” He trailed off as she tried to glare at him.

            “Where are we?” She squinted around at the bright, grey room.

            “Uh—the Enterprise brig. You did try to hold up the bridge, you know.”

            “Great. This fabulous spaceship everyone’s fanatical about, and we get stuck in Jeffries tubes and the brig. Not a very good jail cell. They just leave the doors open?”

            She got up and went to the large open space in the wall. Lights lined it. She shook her head in contempt and stepped through it.

            Tried to step through it and found herself lying on the floor with Broots’ “Miss Parker, stop!” ringing in her ears. He and Sydney helped her up and back to the bunk she had been lying on.

            “It’s a forcefield, Miss Parker. You can’t just go through it.” Broots touched the invisible wall, and it shimmered and rang with an electric sound.

            “I hate this ship,” Parker said between her teeth.

            Broots was backing away from the wall. “Uh—uh—she’s coming. Sydney, Deanna Troi is coming.” He glanced at Sydney. “The empath!” he hissed.

            Sydney rose. “Oh.” He stepped forward as if the beautiful woman coming toward their cell were his subject of study instead of the other way around. “How do you do?” he said before she could say anything. “My name is Sydney.”

            “Hello, Sydney,” she answered with an accent as exotic as her looks. “My name is Deanna Troi. I’m the ship’s counselor.”

            Sydney broke into a smile. “Really? I’m a psychiatrist, too.”

            “Syd, would you shut up?” Miss Parker got up to stand across the doorway from Deanna Troi, hands on hips. The shorter woman’s dark eyes took her in completely, from head to toe and, Miss Parker could almost imagine, from outer image to inner soul. She tried on a smile. “I’m Miss Parker. Why are we here?”

            “I understand you tried to take a Starfleet officer hostage.”

            “No, we were trying to do you people a favor. Look, you’ve got a dangerous lunatic running around your ship!”

            “You don’t really believe that, Miss Parker.”

            Miss Parker recoiled a little. “What?”

            “You don’t believe Commander Westmore is a dangerous lunatic, nor a criminal, nor anything else you may come up with to try to get me on your side. You know very well he is doing what is right, which makes what you’re doing wrong, as much as you try to convince yourself otherwise.”

            “Uh—Miss Parker,” Broots whispered, “don’t try to lie to her, OK?”

            Miss Parker turned around and snarled in his ear, “I thought you said she was like Angelo.”

            “No, I said she wasn’t like Angelo.”

            Miss Parker stalked away and sat down, crossing her arms and legs and glaring at Deanna. The counselor turned to Broots.

            “What’s your name?”

            “Um—um—Broots, Counselor Troi.”

            “Don’t be nervous, Mr. Broots. I’m not going to hurt you. You seem to know a lot about me.”

            “Well—” he squeaked, “I’m—uh—a big fan of Star—of starships and their crews and especially this ship. A big fan. It’s kind of—you know—a dream come true to be here.”

            “In the brig?”

            “Well, it’s a nice brig. And, uh—talking to you is a—uh, great honor.” He laughed self-consciously.

            “If that is so, why did you sneak aboard this ship to take one of our officers hostage?”

            “Well—uh, that was an accident, and he’s not really one of your officers.”

            “He’s on loan, yes, but that is beside the point.”

            “No—I mean—”

            “Broots, stop talking.” Miss Parker rose and came to stare down her nose at Deanna Troi. “You will not learn anything from us.”

            The counselor did not seem easily intimidated. There was also anger at the back of her dark eyes. “On the contrary, Miss Parker, I have already learned a great deal from you.”

            Sydney leaned forward. “I would be interested to know what you have learned and how, Counselor. Broots has told me about your abilities, but I’m not sure I completely understand them.”

            Deanna gave him a long look. “I can feel you, Doctor Sydney, and a person’s feelings tell a lot about him. It is a very rare person who will act against his emotions.”

            “Jarod does. Sometimes. When it really matters.”

            “Jarod does what is right, despite his feelings, doesn’t he, Doctor?”

            “Yes, he does, Counselor.”

            “But you three are the opposite. You carry out your jobs despite the sense that what you’re doing isn’t quite right.”

            “What we do, Counselor Troi, we do for the good of society.”

            She shook her head, dark curls bobbing. “No, Doctor. You try to convince yourself of that, and you bury the truth. But you all operate out of very confused motives. Miss Parker is driven by anger, Mr. Broots by fear, and you by…intellectual curiosity? And guilt, too. But even now you’re not so much listening to me as investigating me. Is that what you did to Jarod, Doctor Sydney?”

            Miss Parker elbowed up to the forcefield. “You leave Sydney alone. Syd, don’t play her mind games.”

            “I know all about mind games, Miss Parker,” he said quietly.

            “Why are you so angry, Miss Parker?” Deanna asked.

            Into Miss Parker’s mind flashed all the reasons she had to be angry. Her mother’s death, leaving her alone as a child without guidance. Finding out so late her mother had been murdered by someone within the Centre, all for trying to help little children… Timmy and Jarod. Jarod! The Centre dragging her back into fieldwork after she had advanced out of it. Chasing Jarod fruitlessly for two years, with him continually taunting her with his clues and his revelations. Oh, she had plenty to be angry about. “I’m stuck in your brig!” she snapped. “What do you expect?”

            She felt Sydney and Broots staring at her, and she walked away from them. Broots’ liquid nicotine patch was wearing off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Scene 4

            Once again Deanna sat in Picard’s ready room with him and Riker. “Well, Captain, they are definitely the ghosts I felt. I should have recognized them as real intruders instead of echoes!”

            Picard shook his head. “Don’t blame yourself, Counselor. Strange things have been happening in this area of space. Unfortunately, we’ll have to be here a while longer than anticipated. How was your meeting with the prisoners?”

            “Interesting. I could feel them each clearly, and I was even able to interpret quite a bit of what I felt. They’re all very intriguing people. Three very strange types to put together into a manhunting team, but they have worked themselves into a great deal of respect and even care for each other. The woman, Miss Parker, was very protective of the other two, though she tried to hide it. She is the leader of the team, a very aggressive woman ready to push over anything in her way.”

            “Worf did say she was like a Klingon,” Riker said.

            “Did he? That’s very insightful. She is. But despite their aggressive nature, most Klingons don’t operate on anger and fear all the time. Miss Parker does. She is deeply, intensely angry about something that happened a long time ago, and it has developed into a hard shell that hides a small, hurt thing inside. Much of her aggression is directed at Commander Westmore. I would say she has misdirected all her rage on to him. Perhaps he has a capacity to reach inside her that she resents.

            “Her partner Broots is both terrified of her and fascinated by her, perhaps even attracted to her. His motivations are complex. He is terrified of the repercussions that leaving his job would entail, and he’s genuinely interested in his work. Plus they need him, and there’s nothing so heady as being needed, for some people. He’s fascinated with Jarod, and tracking him is like a great game which he really doesn’t want to think about very deeply. He also knows a great deal about this ship, Captain, and he’s as interested in it as Jarod is, in much the same way, with a child’s delight in a wonderful toy. That puzzles me the most.

            “And Doctor Sydney the psychiatrist—”

            “Psychiatrist?” Riker interrupted. “That’s a strange person to set on the track of an intelligence operative.”

            Deanna grinned at him. “It’s a very logical person, Will, particularly when the psychiatrist knows the operative as well as Sydney knows Jarod. He is the most interesting of all of them because his motives are so obscure. He is a scientist, an intellectual studier. He tried to study me while I was studying him. He probably learned nearly as much as I did. His emotions about Jarod are very complex. He feels guilt for some past association, something he did to Jarod. He feels pride whenever his team fails to capture Jarod—pride in Jarod’s ability to escape them. He is overwhelmingly fascinated by Jarod’s mind and abilities—what psychological professional wouldn’t be?” She laughed quietly. “And then there’s part of him that longs equally to have Jarod near him and to see Jarod escape for good. He hides far away inside him a deep love for Jarod, hides it so well he fools himself into thinking he can’t feel it—like a Vulcan, perhaps. He thinks he wants what is best for Jarod, but he’s no longer sure what that is.”

            “Do you think we could turn him?” Riker asked eagerly. “Maybe a double agent, working against them from the inside?”

            “I don’t know, Will. He has quite a loyalty to his work. He loves and hates his work at the same time. I don’t know if he could bring himself to give it up. Anyway, he is the enemy. You see, he’s the one Jarod is afraid of. Jarod loves him and hates him; he leans on him and pushes him away. If Jarod went back to this organization he told you about, it would be for Sydney, and he would hate himself when he did. Sydney is dangerous because he is temptation. It’s only a guess, but I think Jarod came to the organization very young, perhaps at a time of personal loss, and Sydney was his trainer and mentor. Then when he found out what the organization stood for, he felt betrayed by a friend and father-figure. He is angry, but he still needs Sydney, as we all need our fathers even if they let us down. There’s more—there’s much more between them, but I don’t know what it is.”

            “Counselor, do you think this is what you sensed Commander Westmore withholding from us?” asked Picard.

            “Some of it. Until these three showed up, it was irrelevant to his work here.”

            “Well, it looks like we’ve stumbled into a much bigger situation than anticipated. Can we hold these three until the Commander’s mission is accomplished without alerting their superiors to their disappearance?”

            “We’re going to have to try,” Riker said grimly. “I for one can’t wait to get them off this ship and into Intelligence custody, but it can’t happen until Westmore is done. Nothing can look unusual, especially not to his suspects.”

            “The first operation is tonight,” Picard said. “If it goes well, the next will be in only a few days’ time. Then we can put this all behind us.”

            Deanna wondered. Could you be emotionally connected to the inner soul of a man like Jarod and then simply put it all behind you?