Chris Pike and Sarrin Chal

The two foreign languages Sarrin's people speak are -in real life- Dutch and Punjabi. In the context of the story, they are different dialects of Tzenkethi speech. I wish it made sense for them to speak Xavallen. Which is the language Nikita, Elana and the Atraxi Sarrin speak in my D.E.O. stories. Also while I have written the end of the story...decided on it at least, I have yet to type it up. Watned to see if people could guess it/see it coming.

She was staring at him. Reclined on her sofa, hand at her mouth, she stared at him with acute interest as he struggled to break free of his handcuffs.

“Do you enjoy watching people struggle?” He demanded finally.

“When I see a human, they usually do not struggle for long.” She replied easily. The fur around her mouth twitching in delight. She stood up and sauntered closer to his cell. “Human behavior is inexplicable. Even if you get the restraints off you will still be imprisoned by the force barrier.” She rubbed her thumb against her fingers. “Why do you bother?”

“'We can't give up on hope...to do so is to give up on life itself'. Old Mojave wisdom.”

“Mojave, is that a race or a region?”

“A region.” He answered with some surprise.

She sat back on her sofa and began twirling a thin rope, looking not unlike a cat playing with a long blade of grass. “You are a curious one.” She continued lazily. “I've been here 70 years and have never met a human like you. It is a pity imperial law does not allow for exceptions.”

“How do you mean?”

“More inclined to ask questions before punching. More prone to defiance than pleading.”

“I'm not certain why I should be...” She pinched the rope with the flat of her thumb and his body instantly seized, as if someone had taken hold of his back and yanked upward.

“You do not seem to understand much of anything. It is...most curious actually.”

She lifted the rope as if examining the end and he felt dizzy, light-headed, as if floating in the air.

She pressed her claw into the rope and suddenly Chris felt the point of a sword against his throat. He knew that if she dug her claw into the fabric of the rope, he would feel the sword slicing his vocal cords.

“Please...” She dropped the rope. Instantly the pain ceased. To his surprise he wasn't even breathing hard.

“Kochalk Mir-ach.” A harsh voice uttered from behind her. “Are you done playing with your food?!” the voice insisted.

“I'm well aware of my duties.” She snapped, apparently to thin air. “I will leave him for the officers.” Then she was gone.

Chris shook his head as if to clear it. He sat back on the stone ledge that was meant to be his bed. Something was incredibly wrong. He did not know what. One thought troubled him more than anything: How can I tell them what the hell I'm doing here, if I don't even know what the hell I'm doing here?

When next he opened his eyes he had a new visitor. One that was not as clearly female as his prior guard and who quite clearly was a person of authority.

“You've made quite an impression there human.”

“Why do you call me that?”

“It is what you are, for starters. Now tell me who you are.”

“My name is Captain Christopher Pike.” The man said almost professionally.

“A captain? That is unusual. Captain of what ship?”

“The USS Enterprise.”

“Impossible. There has not been a human captain of that ship for decades.”

This female, if it was a female, had darker orange fur on her paws and her face had streaks of black. Her voice was smoother than the other guard, reflecting maturity and experience.

“And what is your name.” Christopher intoned.

“I am Solivar.” The officer replied simply. It could not be doubted she was an officer in whatever star-fleet she served. She stared at him impassively for several minutes.

“What is it?” He asked shortly.

“I'm trying to decide what use to make of you.”

“I take it you're not used to troubling yourself with human prisoners?”

“You would be incorrect. Although I admit I find you more intriguing than most.”

Her lieutenant stepped forward. She raised her hand sharply. “Da, dobro znam što biste učinili s njim. da je bilo po vašem. Ali moja volja prevladava.” Her subordinate backed away.

“That pup had his ideas what to do with me?” Christopher guessed.

“Quite right. But my will prevails on such matters.”

“So what are you planning on doing with me?” 'God this feels freakishly familiar!'

“Bring Sarrin back. See what she can learn. And if she's as ready as she believes ” Solivar turned to the 'pup'. “Stay here until she returns; do not touch him.”

“Why are you bothering to speak in English?”

“I see no reason to hide this part of our intentions from you.” Solivar answered.

“How considerate of you.” He did not say this with sarcasm, simply acknowledging the truth of his statement. These people were thoughtful, in their own way.

Sarrin, as was apparently her name, stared hard at her prisoner. There was a sharpness, a set seriousness to her face. She sipped from an ornate white mug.

“I take it this is not a 'carrot and stick' situation?” The man said from inside his cell.

“Your words make no sense to me.” She replied shortly.

“Are you Sarrin?” The woman nodded. “Is it your function to try to coax answers out of me gently while your superior tries to force them out of my throat.”

“I see your meaning. You want to know if I am being falsely nice, if I am simply playing with you. In other words if my restraint and interest are merely a facade.”

“I wouldn't have put it quite that way, but yes.”

“I am trying to study you. I want you to make sense to me. That is my motivation.”

“I am going to assume English is not your first language.”

“What is 'English'?”

“Ah...nevermind.”

“Did they not give you anything to eat yet?” Sarrin inquired. Chris shook his head. She began tapping on her console. “I'm going to give you some lombark meal.” A thick brown mug, wider and taller than her own appeared on the table in front of her. She looked up at him sharply. “You have to get to the back of that cell or I can't feed you.” Chris stood against the side wall of his cell and placed his hands against the back wall. “It'll only be half a day's ration.” She continued as if there had been no interruption. She slid the mug across the floor, it stopped just inside the cell. He picked up the mug and looked at the thick brown liquid inside it.

“You're not drinking coffee are you?” He asked with a light humor.

“No. I'm not sure what you'd call this. It's a drinkable food. Liquid bread?

“Military rations?” Chris guessed. Sarrin did not reply. Chris drank half of the mug in peaceful silence. No small feat when ones hands are bound. “Thank you.” He offered kindly.

“Welcome.” Sarrin returned. She sat on her sofa and began fingering the rope again.

“Why are you doing this?” Chris urged.

“Surely you're intelligent enough to figure that out.” Sarrin answered, almost playfully.

“I don't mean your kind, I mean you personally. Your compatriot was wrong. You are not playing with your food. You don't even want to be doing this. So why are you?”

“I'm not obliged to tell you anything. Although I will admit you continue to surprise me.

Eventually I WILL figure out what makes you so frustratingly unique.”

“Don't you mean 'frustratingly defiant'?”

“That's not the only thing that makes you so..To-Ka!” Sarrin barked, holding her hand out to him, palm flat as if commanding him to stop. Which he quickly realized is exactly what she was doing. “Do yourself a favor, don't try anything.” She told him sternly. She reached to her left, pressing her palm flat against the arm of the sofa. The 'force barrier' was restored.

“Did you do that on purpose?” Chris inquired. “Leaving the barrier down.”

“No.” Sarrin answered simply. “I am surprised you didn't try to escape.”

“I won't lie and tell you it didn't cross my mind. But I was a little distracted.”

“Your honesty is refreshing. It usually requires much encouragement to get a straight-forward answer out of our prisoners.”

“Okay, I'm not kidding here, what do you want from us?!” Chris near-barked.

“ 'Us'?” Sarrin replied.

“Me. What do you want from me.” Chris rushed, covering.

“You said 'us'. Are there more like you? There are. Your concern for them is evident. How many more of you are there?” Chris did not answer. She wrapped her hand around the rope. Still Chris did not speak. “How many humans came with you? Surely you must realize there are things that make this,” She lifted the rope gently. Chris braced himself, but no pain came. “feel like a slap on the wrist.” She pulled gently on the rope until it stretched taunt. Chris's throat tightened as he felt his arms bent backward. All she would have to do was pull a little farther and the tendons in his shoulders would pull themselves apart, as his arms were torn even farther back...As far as his body was concerned. And his mind would agree. Or was it the other way around? As if reading the question from his mind, Sarrin explained. “It's called traumatic hypnosis. Your mind imagines that I hurt you and your body responds to its signals. Quite effective, yes?” Chris didn't respond except to nod. Sarrin unceremoniously dropped the rope again. She leaned to her right. Her eyes closed.

“May I ask you a question?” Chris said with sincere respect.

“You mean beyond that one? You can ask.”

“Is Solivar testing you?”

“In a way. They wanted to see how I would handle an interrogation, what methods I would employ and how long I could stay here. It's more like taking a final exam in order to accept promotion than testing my loyalty. The only thing is, I can't think of any questions to ask you. None that can't wait 4 hours anyway.” She yawned.

“Ne napuštajte svoju stanicu!” A harsh voice said over the intercom.

“Who said I was leaving?” Sarrin replied in English. The doors sealed themselves and the lights dimmed to half their intensity. “TAC: 2-3-9 seventy-four Alpha Orion-3. I set the room at 74 degrees. It's all I can really do to make you comfortable.” Sarrin explained as she stretched herself on the floor her feet toward Chris' cell, her head toward the couch, her left-leg bent so her foot was flat on the tile. “Kether Prax. Nox.” The room went completely dark. Chris lay down with his eyes to the ceiling. His gaze drifted to Sarrin. Is this a test from her? Does she expect me to try to run? She wants to see if I will try to run. Is it a good idea. Probably not. Do I want to get her into trouble? I don't think so. It is strange, I would expect a feline to lie on her side with all fours on the ground, or on her stomach like a cheetah. Not on her back like that. 'she doesn't' live on all fours' his mind answered itself. 'She's sleeping in such a way that she can jump to her feet in an instant if alarmed or startled. She's resting, not sleeping...'at the ready'.

All of this he said in his head and all of which made sense to him.

“Captain Pike, are you there?” La'an's voice was barely perceptible in the muffled air. Her voice was coming from somewhere to Chris' left.

“Over here.” He whispered urgently.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes, I'm fine. In a cell, otherwise I'm fine.”

“Do Not. Move.” Sarrin's cold voice rang out.

'Of course. Sarrin was waiting for this. Knowing there were others on this ship with me, they would wait for someone to try to rescue me. And cats see much better in the dark than humans.'

“TAC. Lagan, mekan, ali jasan.” The lights came on. Sarrin was staring hard at La'an, her face impassive as before. “For your own sake human, do. Not. Move.” Sarrin repeated.

La'an followed the woman's very sound advice and held herself still.

“I congratulate you. This was a most impressive trap.” Chris said with a little bitterness.

Sarrin did not even spare him a glance. “Tar-ek dahl. No senta Ca-rine Me-tai.” A few moments later another guard came in.

“Herinner mij eraan om nooit aan jouw wijsheid te twijfelen.” The guard said to Sarrin.

“You might as well speak in their language.” Sarrin said in English.

“Waar sturen ze die idioten heen, naar die bevroren woestenij die is gereserveerd voor hen die hun plichten niet hebben vervuld?” The guard replied.

“Hell. And I take your meaning.” Sarrin answered instantly.

“Translation please?” Chris prompted respectfully.

“He asked what was the name of the frozen wasteland traitors and liars are sent to.”

“Hell isn't a frozen..”

“I take his meaning. Hell would freeze over before he spoke our language for our benefit.”

La'an turned to Sarrin. “What is your name and what have you done to my captain?”

“He really is a captain of a starship. Interesting. Other than arresting his movement slightly, we have done nothing to him.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“No, she's telling the truth. I've been in the cell 3 days and they forgot to give me my ration last night. Beyond that they haven't really done anything to me.”

“Wat zullen we met deze andere doen?” The guard inquired, indicating the female human. Sarrin replied in a long string of her native language, lifting her arm in front of her, with her fingers raised, as if holding a snow globe. The guard smiled. “Duur?”

Sarrin tilted her head, considering the question. “TAC: What is the clock?”

“The time is 0-seven hundred hours.”

“Five.” Sarrin decided. “But not yet. What is your name?”

“La'an.” The human woman answered honestly.

“La'an. That is not a normal human name?” Sarrin pondered. “Not that it matters. How many more of you are there?” Neither human spoke. Sarrin turned to the human she found so fascinating. 

“KRIS! How many more humans like you are there here?”

“My entire crew is 'like me'. As far as I know, La'an is the only one to come with me.”

Sarrin tilted her head to one side. “This I judge to be true. Harsh though we can be, we are not liars. Therefore it is all the harder to deceive us. La'an, my lieutenant is going to take you to a very small room. Resist and you might not see your captain again.”

“You can trust her on that.” Chris advised.

La'an was led away by the guard.

“Are you an exception or a specialist?” Chris prompted.

“Explain.”

“You are more inclined to ask questions before punching. And accustomed to both defiance and pleading. You don't seem to have much of a stomach for outright interrogation or torture. Are you...an outcast among your people or simply of a different caste?”

Sarrin dipped her smallest finger into a bottle of oil, spread its oil under her nose and across her left wrist. “more of the second one. Some aliens respond to force, some to reasoned persuasion and some take some time figuring out to learn an approach that will help. That is my occupation. Studying our enemies helps us to understand them and my superiors understand that. But studying our enemies isn't all we do here.”

“Why do you call us your enemies?”

“I mean studying humans. It's not something that requires particular effort or attention or time. We've had ample chances already and understand them thoroughly. ___ Or so we thought until you showed up. I'm not a wounded heart or anything.”

“Bleeding heart.” Christopher corrected automatically.

“You were right you know?”

“About what?”

“You did not get your ration last night.” She placed her hand on the table, which he noticed stretched the lentgh between her sofa and his cell. “Nosiette. Ca-rinn tomai-dahl.” A large mug of the 'liquid bread' appeared in front of her. This had an aroma of hazelnut to it. She motioned him to back away. He did, his back against one wall, his hands against another, as before. She placed the mug on the floor and stepped back, keeping her eyes on him, more specifically, on his shoulders to his waist. The force barrier was again restored. She put the bottle back on the table and stretched herself on the floor much like she had done, except her feet were toward the sofa, her head was toward his cell and she was on her side.

Almost 40 minutes passed in this way.

“Where did you send her? Please I don't care what recompense you demand for it, just tell me what's happening to her.” Sarrin took a breath and let it out slowly. “I take your meaning. You want me to calm down. I'll try. Please will you tell me what is happening to my second officer?”

“She is being HELD in a very small space where all she can see is the ceiling.” Sarrin held up her hand, fingers apart but pointed upward, elbow bent. Pike now saw the similarity between that pose and holding something in you hand, high above your head.

“She is on a pedestal high enough in the air there is little space between her and the ceiling.” Chris reasoned. “And will remain so for at least 5 hours.”

“We will check on her every five hours. But the point of the zero room is that she has nothing to see and nothing to hear. What happens to her after her second check in is up to you. Do you fully grasp my meaning?”

Chris nodded sadly. “Her continued safety is entirely dependent on my continued cooperation.”

"And you don't have to ask. We definitely should take a break."

"For a scientist you're a pretty good diplomat."

"Candor and realism. Make for good tools for a scientist as well. And I deal with as many aliens as a politician would. Probably more.”

"Noted." Chris slid down to the floor and sat with his back against the wall, facing the alien scientist who had very nearly become his companion. The handcuffs still got in the way.

“You were right you before. It would be useless for me to get the restraints off if I'm still stuck behind the force barrier. But that trusts both ways. The handcuffs are unnecessary if the force barrier is activated.”

“Is this 'I speak only as freely as my bonds allow'?”

“If you want to look at it that way. I'm just saying that if you don't need them for anything except to make sure I don't escape...you don't need them.” Sarrin stared at him. “I didn't know if they served any function other than as restraints. If there was some kind of...inflictor.” Sarrin took a small, bullet shaped device from her belt, about as long as Chris' index finger and pressed the tip. The handcuffs released themselves and slid to the floor.

"Again, I thank you.”

“Is there anything else you want...”

“If you are sincerely asking..”

“Don't ev-er doubt my sincerity.” Sarrin barked.

“My apologies. May I have something to drink, something cool to my throat?”

“You know the language of diplomacy. You speak in terms you know I understand.”

“It helps to be talking to someone who's just as good at it.”

“Toren Kall. Notsanta E-Se-kaia nesta-Zaki.” Sarrin said to thin air.

“Which means exactly what?”

“I asked my attendant to bring me a human drink from the cooler.”

Sarrin did not speak and Chris did not speak to her until the attendant came in carrying a purple glass, translucent and cone shaped. She put the cup to her lips. “Dasar bodoh. Keluar dari sini, sekarang! Gėrimas iš vynuogių, o ne iš grūdų. Šį kartą tai padaryk teisingai!”

Sarrin's attendant came in with two cone-shaped purple glasses in his hands. Sarrin took one of the glasses and put it to her lips. “Dasar! Dasar bodoh Keular dari sini, se Karang!”

Her subordinate looked at her with increased respect. Her prisoner looked at her as if she were insane. “Do I WANT to know what you just said?” Chris asked, with a small bit of apprehension.

“It roughly translates to 'You idiot, you brought me the wrong one!' I asked for a drink made from grapes, not one made from grains.”

“You're entire race are truth-speakers, aren't you?”

“Our soldiers are yes. It's part of our military code of honor. And I take it you have a particular question you wish to ask me.”

“Yes. What you're doing with your hand...flexing your fingers, rubbing your thumb against your fingertips. Do all of your people do that?”

“Those who have seen combat, who lived in environments not suitable to our kind. The planetary conditions of most worlds we investigate are not entirely compatible with our biology. After weeks and months of exposure to barely habitable environments our bones... hurt.” Sarrin looked sad for a moment. It was a curious expression to see in her features. “And I really should not be the one sharing information.”

“I understand. But one thing more. 'investigate', you mean for colonization?”

“Yes. Now get some sleep. You will need your strength tomorrow. Trust me on that.”

“At this point it wouldn't occur to me not to trust you.”

Seven decades.” Chris said suddenly. “When we first met you said you'd 'been here for seven decades and have never encountered anything else'. What year is this?”

“By your calendar it would be 2571.”

Christopher Pike swallowed hard.

Jeremiah Gains Wisdom

It was five days later that I started really wondering what was going on. J'onn came to talk to us about once a day. He'd ask a hundred questions, give us lunch and dinner and then leave. This was after 2 weeks of taking one or the other of us away for private conversations that would last for hours. He'd either shove me against the wall or give me a blue jaw when he thought I was lying to him or being as racist as any human, but that was it. Beyond that he, actually took care of us. It was... I don't know what it was.

“I can tell what you're thinking.” Nikita said to me.

“Why do you think he changed tactics?”

“I told him it would be practical and more efficient to talk to us both at the same time. And that it was the only way you could know he wasn't trying anything...stupid. Since I wouldn't exactly admit to you if he were. I mean, I wouldn't. So now he talks to US.

“Why do I get the impression you're making fun of me?”

“I suppose I am...a little bit.”

“You have no idea how happy I am to hear that.”

“Even so, I'm having trouble making heads or tails of him. And I'm pretty sure he's doing everything he can to make sense of us. Or more specifically, of me.”

J'onn comes in, mentions Nikita's human appearance and how well she keeps her temper in check – sincere complimentary observations – gives them large glasses of potato curry soup and leaves.

“Okay, now I'm REALLY confused.”

“This simply cannot continue.” Nikita whispers. She turned to face the wall.

“Come with me, now.” J'onn told Nikita, who stood but did not move. “I'll not ask again.” J'onn insisted, taking a step toward her.

I got in front of her. “Leave her alone!” He raised his hand as if to backhand me, but dropped his arm in the last moment. “Whatever you have planned for her, take me instead.”

“And if I'm about to take her away and execute her. Do you still volunteer?”

“No, but I know you're not going to. Nikita was right if you wanted either of us dead, we'd be dead. If you wanted us hurt, we'd be beaten black and blue. What you want, the only thing you've wanted from either of us, is answers.”

“And it's about time I get them.” He grabbed Nikita by the wrist and started dragging her away. I grabbed his shoulder and pulled him away from her. “Your actions are as heroic as they are unwise.” He warned me.

“You will not hurt her.”

“You care for her?” he said in a strange voice.

“This surprises you?”

“I knew you felt responsible for her. This is...Who or what is she, to you?”

“Someone who was tortured for years by a man more blind than I have the words to express. Hank Henshaw was...not the hard, stern man I saw in him. He was so convinced Nikita was an enemy and a liar. He tortured her to get her to reveal her true appearance and intentions. Basically he wanted her to show him the monster she really was underneath. But there was no monster. It was the most obvious thing in the world that she was a gentle and innocent soul. I'd rather die than let her come to harm again. Sir, I can't pretend to understand you, but I swear on my life, if you let her go you can do whatever you want with me __ in payment of that debt.” This speech, I must admit, had far from its desired effect. J'onn actually backed away from me.

        “I was wrong about you. I'm SO sorry.”

“None of this was needful Sajen.” Nikita interjected. “It never was, was it?”

“No, no there wasn't.” I swear he sounded like a schoolboy getting dressed down for bad behavior. But Nikita wasn't finished. “For someone who can read our minds to determine the truth of our souls, you are surprisingly Deaf!”

“Nikita, help me understand this.”

“I think he was 15 degrees off about me and I'm pretty sure I was at least 30 degrees off about him. But all...you had to do was ask. I would have permitted it.”

“You're a telepath?” I said, turning to the stranger.

“Yes, but unlike her kind I don't pick up continuous transmissions. I can read you mind if I choose. But I do not do so without permission.”

'A comedy of errors with little funny about it.' I thought to myself.

“If this had gone on any longer 'Deimos pah, Tarek Nit-cha.' would have been the next thing out of my mouth. Or are you Phobos?”

“Do you know what they are?”

“I know that -” her voice and face took on an academic look. “- 'in the early days of Mars there were two brothers, Phobos and Deimos. Their rivalry and bloodshed was the reason for the split of the Green and White Martians.' I learned that Phobos were barbaric. Creech-ta if not Crishnaka-Sareth. I just never knew who came from whom.” I must have had a VERY confused look on my face because Nikita turned to me. “Hank was an ignorant arrogant asshole, if not an ambassador of hell. That's what the two words mean, in my language.”

Something seemed to click in J'onn's brain. “How can you be speaking the Enkaren language so flawlessly if you are not yourself Enkaren?”

“Because it's my native language as well.”

“What?”

“Atraxi, Enkarens and Xavallens all share the same language. No more than 3,000 years ago we were the same race!”

J'onn stepped toward Nikita and brushed his fingers over her temples.

“I must humbly beg your pardon.” He said sadly.

“I have 3 questions right now. One of which, you can probably read on my face.”

        “And one of which is not even a question.”

“True. So instead I will simply present an argument. For almost a month now the three of us, most certainly the two of us have been remarkably civil to each-other...given the rest of our situation. You must have seen Nikita was as dedicated to my well-being as I was to her protection.” J'onn nodded agreement. “And it is by that same token I tell you that if you hurt her again, my restraint will go so far out the window it leaves the atmosphere. I would almost certainly die trying to take you down. I have that amount of sense. But if you let her go...” I took a breath and put my arms out in front of me as if being arrested, then pulled them as far apart from each-other, stretched to either side as they could reach. “If you let her go you can do whatever you want to me___in payment of that debt.” I must admit the speech did not have anything LIKE its intended result. Our host cast his eyes to the ground and actually backed away from me. “This surprises you."

“Yes, what is she to you? Who is she to you?”

“Someone as precious to me as my own daughter. I don't expect you to understand; I barely understand. But I would DIE before I let her come to harm.”

Jeremiah and Nikita are held and cared for by an alien who has forgotten how to trust.

“Stop it!” Nikita cried out. The green-skinned alien stopped in his tracks. He turned to Nikita with a prompting look. “He's done nothing to deserve this. I would think if anything you'd be after me.”

“Are you saying you'd rather die instead?”

“...Yes.” Nikita answered her voice low but distinct. “I would rather be killed than let him die. I would think if you'd be angry at either of us it would be a freak of nature like me. Not quite literally the best human I have ever known. So if nothing else at least that would make sense!”

A single look told Nikita the outburst had hit home. The man, the alien, instantly dropped his arm and released her friend. “There was no need for any of this Sajen. There never was, was there?”

“I...I misread the situation.” The alien said as if he were a schoolboy getting dressed down for misbehaving. A feeling that would only deepen as the conversation continued.

“And that's the worst thing about all of this. All you had to do was ask. I would have told you. Hell you're a Martian you could have read my mind. I would have permitted it! How quickly we become the things we hate and we don't even realize it.” Nikita walked to the far edge of the room, sat down with her feet tucked behind her and turned away from her host. A universally recognized 'I don't want to talk to you' attitude.

“She's comparing you to Hank Henshaw.” Jeremiah explained. “Someone who treated her like an enemy for absolutely no reason and literally tortured her to convince her to reveal the truth...what ever that was. But there was no truth to be found. She wasn't a danger to anyone. And if Hank had looked at her for 5 seconds and seen anything other than a human-looking alien...he would have seen what was right in front of his face: seen her for the innocent person she was. But Hank didn't bother to look. He actually got off on hurting aliens...even helpless ones like her.”

“And you broke her free.” Realization blanketed the strangers face. Followed quickly by a look of unmitigated shame. “You broke her free from the D.E.O.”

“ I couldn't stand by and let her get tortured for information she didn't actually have. I released her from...well she was propped up for enhanced interrogation and I shut off the device. I knocked Hank out and put him in that chair, which I kept turned off. She asked me if I wanted to come with her. She said I didn't deserve to be trapped in the D.E.O any more than she did. So we made our escape together.” He turned and squarely face the man. “You are the third alien and the 14^th face we have seen in the 8 weeks since that day. And she is quite right. All you had to do was ask. She would have told you anything. Force, much less pain was never needed. And in fact got in the way. I say this with as much experience as she has. She actually literally laughed at Hank for making that assumption. It was the last thing I expected. Making both of you equally blinded by your own prejudicial assumptions as far as she's concerned.”

“You escaped. You both escaped.”

“Yes...I thought we had established that.”

The alien, the Green Martian stared after Nikita. “So that's why she still didn't stand up for herself. Well, she probably didn't think she could reach me, any more than she could have gotten through to that thick-headed human you keep talking about. But she stood up for you. I was right about that part..”

“Okay, I'm a little lost. And I don't mind saying so."

“Everything that lives has an instinctual fear of dying. But only humans have such a strong sense of self-preservation. There are those who selflessly help and protect others. Who would also literally do anything to protect and preserve their own life and well being. It's human nature. But it's also human thinking. Most of the time, self-improvement and self-preservation drown out all other considerations just as a matter of cause. She is different. If I was examining her on such a thing – and I swear to you I was not – she would get a lower grade in self-preservation than she does in protective instincts. Extremely rare in the galaxies.”

“Well that makes sense” Jeremiah said without thinking. “She told me her race was rare. Not like superior or of a rare quality but few and far between. There aren't many of them left.”

Understanding blanketed the man's narrow face. “She's Xavallen. That explains a lot.”

“Would I seem like a jerk if I insisted you elaborate on that?” I said shaking my head as a man I had assumed was a dangerous closed-minded fool and someone I needed to protect Nikita from spoke fo her with admiration and perception. Indeed I couldn't help feeling a bit awkward as he stood and spoke to me as if we were university students comparing notes on a lecture.

“Enkarens and Xavallens are sibling races. I don't know enough to tell the difference between them at a glance. Enkarens have intense emotions, they are as you would say 'hot blooded' as a species. They are generally compassionate and reasonable, just quick-tempered. Xavallens are quiet, philosophical and barely even argue with anyone. They are said to have a quieter power, drawing strength from their convictions alone. But until now no one has known enough about her, or her convictions, to know for sure.”

Oliver's Truest Friend

 The Start of Something Wonderful

Oliver Queen stared at the young man, a look of utter confusion on his face. It seemed like a better option than absolute incredulity. He'd seen this man before...in the bunker. Officer Lance and John Diggle stared mildly as this kid who looked like he should have been in high school walked up to them, apologizing for being late to a crime scene.

“Great, who the hell are you?” Officer Lance asked the kid.

“And do your parents know you're out here?” Oliver said with a sarcastic edge.

“I'm Barry Allen I'm from the Central City Police Department I'm from the Crime Scene Investigation Unit. We're working on a case over there with a few similar qualities to this...rather unusual robbery. So my captain sent me down here to see if they might be connected. And you're wrong by the way, this wasn't a team, it was one guy.”

“You mean one man tore through the door, ripped this outta the ground like tin foil?”

“There's only one set of prints in the floor, other than the victims and the bruising on the guards neck is consistent with manual strangulation. It's like he held the guy's neck with one hand and snapped it. Which is a lot harder to do than a lot of people realize...medically speaking I mean.” Barry said in a rush.

'Who is this guy. He's not wrong; whoever did this is juicing steroids on crack. But...”

“What do you think Oliver?” John Diggle said suddenly. “Oliver?” He repeated.

“I think things are getting interesting. I'd like to hear more about what is going on here.”

“I'm sure we all would.” Felicity said casually. “And I can tell the gers are turning, I will leave you to that.” She turned away.

“Ms. Smoak, a word?” Officer Lance said in his quiet but urgent tone. She walked a few steps away with him. “Any word from our green-hooded friend?” Lance asked in a low whisper. Felicity was forced to smile. It hadn't been so long ago Detective Lance had been pursuing the vigilante as a threat the city needed to be rid of and had had no clue who she was. And now Officer Lance was helping her and the Arrow catch the bad guys. And while he didn't realize it, 'the Arrow' was already aware of the crime, solving it on scene with them.

“You're right, this is something he'd be interested in. I'll 'get word'.”

Meanwhile Oliver was having almost as interesting a conversation with Barry Allen. “Is this why you're here? And what the hell is going on?”

“I don't know what the hell is going on. And figuring that out is why I'm here, yes.”

“We have a very pointed conversation in our very near future.”

“The kind at the end of an arrow or the more colloquial kind.” Oliver started to glare at him. “I didn't mean that as a threat. I'm just a little nervous, sorry.”

“Well that's fair enough. And no, I'm not threatening you. But I am curious.”

“Understandably. I just don't thing this is a particularly good time to have this talk.”

Oliver looked around the room and realized in an instant that the guy had a point. “Alright, but soon. Maybe tonight, Verdant, 9 pm?”

“Yeah I'll...I'll be there.”

“You're going off to have a drink with that guy?” Officer Lance said casually.

“Just thought that maybe he won't be so weird in a non-crime-lab setting.”

“That guy oozes weird Oliver.” Quentin Lance said with a shake of his head.

“...Don't disagree.” Oliver replied. "But all the best people are at least a little weird." Quentin nodded his acceptance and went back to examining the crime scene. keeping a weather eye on the young scientist.

Oliver turned to leave and found John Diggle beside him. “You know that kid?”

“We've Met. Something tells me I'm going to be seeing a lot more of him too.”

“Someone we need to keep our guard up around?” Diggle guessed.

“At least until we can figure him out.”

Barry Allen had been in town for 2 days. In that time he had managed to save the Arrow's life, show up at Queen Industries with a lot of good answers for everything, and fanboy over all the cool gear at the bunker. He had also managed to introduce himself to John, Felicity, Quentin and Laurel Lance and give very different impressions to each of them. Oliver had to admit, that was probably because each of his friends would look at a person differently, and be looking at different markers. Officer Quentin Lance hadn't noticed anything particularly wrong with the guy, except that he was one weird kid. John had kept his opinions mostly to himself but agreed they needed to keep their guard up around him for now. Laurel had laughed at his cuteness of which he had plenty, and Felicity was glad to finally have someone to speak geek with. After calling Captain David Singh of the CCPD and confirming Barry Allen does in fact work for him as a part of the Crime Scene Investigation Unit, Oliver was willing to give Barry the benefit of the doubt. Especially after Barry had given him leads on where to find several of the criminals involved in various heists around town, an analysis of the DNA of the man who had left him flat on his back. Oliver had a feeling that Barry showing up at the bunker, learning who was under the hood, appearing at a crime scene where something impossible happened was simply too coincidental to be a coincidence. For him the only question was whether Barry was trying to be an actual cop and solve these crimes himself or was involved in them. 'Barry is not good at answering questions. I am good at finding answers.' He mused.

So when a call came up about a group 'lifting' an industrial complex at Polk and California, he left to find the truth as much as to stop the thieves. Except the kid wasn't anywhere around.

The Flash was. Taking down the Dragons of the South Side. Oliver couldn't hear a word come out of the young man's mouth as he literally sped around bashing guys on the top of the head or nailing them square in the back. Some of the most efficient non-lethal force he had ever seen. Then Oliver drew his bow. “Slowly turn.” Was all he said.

The Flash turned slowly around, hands up and apart. “You are unmistakably the one they call The Arrow.” The Flash said in a disguised voice. “Starling City's silent Guardian.”

“You are the hero of Central City. The speedster they call The Flash. And now that we've gotten introductions out of the way, tell me what you're doing here in my city?”

“I'm helping out a friend and he's helping me.”

Oliver relaxed his grip on his bow. “Barry Allen. That's why he's here? To help you?”

“Barry Allen.” The Flash said fondly. “He wants to do good and I trust him. When I work with the cops it's through him and Detective Joe West. When I need a cop's help, I go to him specifically.”

“You don't do a very good job of protecting your friends.”

“He's proud of it. Of being able to help more than just official cases that come across his lab desk. And considering how he never shuts up about you. I doubt he'd mind.”

“How well does he know me? And how far.”

“He wouldn't even tell me your name. And he's pretty good at investigating and solving any problems that are as impossible as I am. Can I put my hands down now?” Oliver lowered his bow and pointed it to the ground. Flash dropped his hands and a small smile appeared on his face. “Look, I realize he can be pretty fanboy. But he's a good kid. Don't shred him okay?”

“A man in a mask and voice changer asking me to give someone else the benefit of the doubt is kind of a stretch.”

Flash's face hardened, and if possible his eyes narrowed. “Then how bout figuring him out first, passing judgment on him later.”

“...That I can do.”

“Listen whoever you are...Barry Allen is a science genius and a loyal friend. He can help. If you're worried he told me who you were...he didn't. If you're worried he's secretly a criminal, he isn't. He's as honest as they come. Otherwise I wouldn't keep him around.”

“That doesn't exactly inspire my confidence about you. But I take your point about him.”

“Why no mask?” Barry said offhand. “Not to tell you how to do the vigilante thing, but the grease paint you use is a poor identity concealer.”

“So find me a mask which conforms perfectly to my face and doesn't effect my ability to aim while I'm on the run.”

“You should look into a compressible micro-fabric. It could be great.” Barry said with his charming yet infuriating grin.

“Flash was right, you do know your stuff.”

“You're not the only one who thinks of me as a baby-face. Almost everyone at CCPD thinks I'm too young for the job. If I wasn't so good at it I wouldn't have it.”

“Who is Detective Joe West?”

Barry let his jaw go slack. “How do you even know that name?”

“The Flash told me when he needs a cops help he goes to you and Detective Joe West. So who is Detective Joe West.”

“He's the man who raised me. We are now Deep in 'too personal for comfort' territory.”

“I don't disagree.” Oliver replied. Then gave a small chuckle. “Someone telling *me I'm getting too personal for them. That's a switch.”

Oliver looked at Barry from across the bunker. There was something about him Oliver just didn't like. The Flash had vouched for him which had been more than enough to kill any thoughts he had about Barry being a criminal. But something was still off about the guy.

“Barry, can I take to you for a second?”

“Yeah sure.” The two of them walked off about 12 paces. “What's up man?”

“I'm not the most trusting person in the universe as you might have noticed.”

“Yeah, I noticed.”

“I have a hard time trusting anyone who keeps themselves so closed off. Who shs so little of themselves. I need to know...Why are you doing this?” Strangely Barry Allen showed no signs of offense or injury. He merely slumped his shoulders a little bit and said. “Wait 3/10's of a second.” And ran away. And in one-third of a second the Flash was standing in front of him. The man didn't say a word. Instead he pulled his cowl back revealing...Barry Allen. “Everything I told you before was true. Both as the Flash and as myself. Well, obviously Captain Singh did not send me here on official business that was made up. But you already knew that.”

“You saw something 'meta' happening outside your town, decided to investigate?”

“Well...yeah pretty much.”

“I don't understand, why reveal yourself?”

“You mean other than you of all people understood what it meant to live a double life?” You were right. I can't ask you to trust me if I don't trust you. And one thing you'll probably learn about me pretty fast is that I'm as trusting as you are cynical.”

“Yeah that part I already knew. But it honestly still doesn't answer my question..”

“Yes it does. There's a kind of weirdness happening here that I thought only happened in Central City. I was thinking some meta creeped there way over here. But whoever is responsible for this isn't altered in that way more - whacked out.”

“The world is a more complicated place than people are comfortable believing. So what do you say the two of us figure out the story of this whacked out nut-job...together.”

“I'm agreeable. In fact I have a science friend who could probably help with that.”

“Another adorable nerd like yourself?” Felicity Smoak said from Barry's left. The both turned to look at her. “I'm sorry you guys 'covert argue' very noticeably.”

“This has been an interesting day.” Oliver said under his breath.

“Harrison Wells.” Barry said comfortably.

Felicity smiled. “What, The Harrison Wells? I mean THE Doctor Harrison Wells?”

“He's the reason I'm any hero at all. He gave me my powers...Yes Dr. Harrison Wells.”

“He gave you your powers, how the hell did he do that?”

“Remember the Particle Accelerator?” Felicity and Oliver nodded. “Well apparently it actually did do something. It broke a barrier in reality and let exotic particles into our world. Including dark matter. People who get infected by that stuff, become meta-humans, like me. Before we do anything, I have another question to answer... who Detective West is.”

“You already answered that one Barry.”

“But I think you should hear the whole story.” Oliver gave a respectful nod and put his hands at his sides. “My parents were murdered when I was 11. Joe adopted me. I was a kid who loved math and chemistry growing up and not very physically strong. So when I went to join him at work, it was as a CSI not a 'proper' cop. I was in a coma for nine months and when I woke up I had speedster powers. Doctor Wells has been looking out for me, training me ever since. Coming here, is well, not particularly sanctioned by Captain Singh. It's something I'm doing for myself. Can you understand that?”

Oliver walked up to Barry and pulled the cowl back down over his head, symbolically making him the Flash again. “I can understand that very well. Now let's get this guy.”

“A man in a mask and voice changer asking me to give someone else the benefit of the doubt is kind of a stretch.”

Flash's face hardened, and if possible his eyes narrowed.. “Then how bout figuring him out first, passing judgment on him later.”

“...That I can do.”

“Listen whoever you are...Barry Allen is a science genius and a loyal friend. He can help. If you're worried he told me who you were...he didn't. He's as honest as they come. Otherwise I wouldn't keep him around.”

“That doesn't exactly inspire my confidence about you.” Oliver replied. “But I take your point about him.”

Stronger Together

Jeremiah's first fully open and friendly conversation at Arias with anyone except J'onn.

And boy does he learn a lot!

Jeremiah walks into Sarrin's room. She is clearly somewhere else in her mind. Not frantic, but completely and totally in another room and another time. She sits on the floor and looks at him.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude.”

“Jeremiah you never have to apologize to me for something like that. I like being able to share. It's in my nature to have very thin boundaries.”

“In that case, it didn't seem like you were caught up in a memory.”

“That's one gift of my people. What we see in our minds eye, if we work at it, is as real to us as the physical world.”

“Are you like Xavallens then?”

“You know about Xavallens?” Jeremiah simply nods. “You've met one before?”

“Is it really that rare? Are they really that rare?”

“It's rare to meet one anymore. Let alone someone on a planet tucked in its own little corner of space could have met -if I'm hearing the missing notes correctly got to know- one. Their home-world was destroyed almost 300 years ago. Most of them are nomadic. But some have established themselves as minorities on a few other planets. And three thousand years ago Atraxi, Enkarens and Xavallens were one species on one planet, one continent even. The Enkarens left for the distant shores and spent so much time just among themselves...that's why they look so much like themselves they didn't have anyone else to procreate with. We went to Thelia and Atridia, neighboring continents and were still very much part of each-others lives. That's why my people and Xavallens look so much like each-other. By the time any of us reached for the stars, Enkarens didn't look like us anymore. They looked like...well they literally were a concentrated version of what all of us had been. I'm not sure how literally to take the story but it is TRUE. No one knows exactly when we reached for the stars, or even if we left together. The races my people found must have been a lot like our own because our genes haven't faded.” She brushed the turquoise fish scales at her temples. “It's the one external difference between my people and Xavallens. We figure genetically it's a sign of genes hat have gone dormant in Xavallens. And the greater of our powers along with it.”

“Okay, not sure what you mean there, Nikita had powers.”

“Nikita, male or female?”

“Female.”

“Well Xavallens are still low-level empaths, but it really is diluted compared to us. I'm not being mean I'm letting you know that my people are intense, immediate empaths. Anything person in the room affects us, and we feel everything as if it was a part of us. I feel crap as if it were my own.” She rubbed her right wrist with her left hand. “Xavallens sense things, we experience them. That's why I spend so much time alone. I don't mind experiencing what you and J'onn give me. And J'onn's mental abilities allow him to put up certain barriers so I don't sense everything about him all at once. But some people are... even when it's not bad stuff or unpleasant it's overwhelming.” She lay on her stomach as if settling down with a good book.

“I take it those same abilities are enhanced or amplified in the Enkaren genome now?”

“How do you mean?”

“You said Enkarens were the extreme of themselves—yourselves. And if all of you had the genetics for these abilities...”

“Yes, you are right. Outside of my people and Xavallens, Enkarens aren't recognized as having anything to do with us. They have this ability that is known as traumatic hypnosis.. An Enkaren can absolutely make you believe that whatever surroundings they feed into your minds eye is absolutely real. A more intense version of what I was doing when you walked in here.”

“Would a half-breed still maintain these abilities?”

Clearly thrown off. “A half-breed Enkaren? Well yeah if the other half is a compatible species.”

“What about half-human?”

“No one would try that. No one bothers with Earth.”

“Are we truly such a in-the-middle-of-nowhere planet in the cosmos?”

“Well, no so much. It's more your rationality... which is not the right word. How you think of yourselves as being alone in the cosmos and how much we would have to prove that we are at least your equals. Some of us, like my people or Euphorians, can mostly blend in here. But J'onn in his native form. Well let's just say if he couldn't look more human than he does, he'd never leave his house in the morning."

“Are we really so backwards, so tucked into our own little corner of the universe, that everyone else avoids us?”

“You mean why would at least a few members of a nomadic race not settle on Earth?”

“Yes, exactly.”

“I imagine they would but again they look like you. I mean they look as much like you as Kryptonians don't they? And she certainly would not have had any externally discernible powers that would draw your attention. How did you know what race Nikita even was?”

“You compare them to Kryptonians specifically.” Jeremiah said in a strange voice.

“I was born on their planet.”

Jeremiah's face went completely slack. Sarrin's expression became withdrawn.

“I take it you have some bad memories of that place?” Jeremiah said finally.

“You take it In-correctly.” Sarrin replied. “I was still a child when I left. And most of my memories of that place are actually pretty decent. It is a noble memory, not a sad one that gives my face this look.” She picked up the clipboard from under the coffee table and began drawing.

I was 8 years old when my mom and I fled the planet. But here.” She handed Jeremiah the clipboard. On it was a single symbol, drawn in purple. “I've never been much of an Artist but someone wearing this symbol broke the law saving my mother and I.”

             (Larger Superman symbol with elongated S)

Jeremiah picked up a darker pen and began drawing a second symbol on the clipboard.

“Are you sure it wasn't something like this?

                    (Proportionate Superman symbol with properly placed 'S')

“What in the name of whatever God you believe in.”

“I have an adopted son. When he was 12 years old he found a small trunk filled with things from his past. Including a one-piece suit with this symbol on it, like a breastplate. Can you tell me what it means?”

"It's his family crest.” Notes the confusion on Jeremiah's face. “Kryptonian family units are Houses...the lesser houses would wear thier symbols on the cuff of thier shirts, near the wrist. The 'nobler' houses would wear them on their chest." Sarrin looked away, clearly saddened by the memory. "Trying to leave the planet had been declared 'inciting panic based on groundless suspicions'...until the day the skies tuned red and the ground beneath us began to shake. My people were...unimportant. Pushed to the side during the evacuation. Someone wearing that symbol helped my mother and I on one of the transports. But he stayed behind. I didn't recognize the crest. I never learned his name."

“My son's Kryptonian name is Kal-El. It was in the message.”

“A son of the house of El. That's comforting...somehow.”