A New take on Superman Defeated

This is essentially my story Superman Defeated but created and written anew, five times over when I am finished. The particular stanza this edition is based on -- sprang from out of otherwise nowhere -- will be found in the story. As with the other five stanzas once I write their stories.

Superman looked in stunned silence. Nikita was suspended in front of him, dangling over a vat of some phosphorus liquid. A man stood on the other side of, a control device in his hand. There was a look of unrestrained satisfaction on the bald man's face and yet there was also__ anticipation.

“Is this a game to you?” Superman said effusively.

“You should know I take my games deadly seriously Superman. And it is not just a game.”

“Okay let me take this another way, do you know what this will do to her?”

“You mean that she'll react to the sulfur/phosphorus as if it were a pot of boiling tar, yes of course.” A look seemed to pass over his face. “Why do you care?”

“She's done nothing to you and you use her as a pawn in your game? And you expect me to just be fine with this?”

“That's not what I mean. You would go out of your way to save a total stranger. That is perfectly to be expected. But why do you care so intensely for some random alien girl? I've had that reporter Lois Lane here in these exact same proverbial shoes and you didn't debase yourself like this. Why is she different?”

“Because beyond the people she's introduced me to in the last eight weeks, I have no clue about anything. I woke up fifty miles past nowhere and she was at my side. She's been lock step with me for two months.” Superman paused to take a second look at the situation. “I assumed you knew who she was. Or why abduct her? And you don't believe me do you?

“Did you really expect me to?”

“Sir, I realize I have no way to convince you of that. I don't know if I'd believe it either if our positions were reversed. What do you want from me?”

“Perhaps this will clarify things for you.” The man turned a dial and the claws which held Nikita by her shoulders lowered until her legs were submerged in the liquid. Nikita struggled weakly but it was obvious she was barely conscious.

“Wait please! Why are you doing this? Please at least tell me that?”

“You really don't want to know, Kryptonian.”

“Nikita says I'm a hero to your people. Lois says the only criminal...You're Lex Luthor.”

“Indeed I am.” The man said with a bow of his head. “And you really *don't remember do you. Well that will almost take the fun out of this. But not all of it.” A mechanism that resembled nothing so much as a pair of industrial pliers reached out to 'clasp' Nikita at the waist. A moment later the apparatus at her shoulders retreated.

Superman understood what was happening, though he could scarcely believe it.

“Sir please! I don't understand what's going on. But whatever happened between us, don't hold my arrogance against her. She is true innocence if such a thing exists on this planet. Whatever you want from me, you have it. Whatever I have to do to make this right I will do it. Just PLEASE stop hurting her.” Superman put his hand to his mouth and bit into his own palm. “You say I'm a monster. Well you haven't SAID that but you treat me like one. And so be it. I'm telling the truth, I don't know why you hate me. Min Gud I barely know who I am.” Superman flew over the rampart directly up to Lex, his demeanor anything but threatening. “Mr. Luthor, I appeal to the humanity I am certain you must have, whatever I did to you, or even if I did nothing, don't make her suffer for MY sins. Take your revenge upon me alone. There must be something that can penetrate my iron flesh. I'll happily submit.”

Lex Luthor raised an eyebrow. Superman steadily returned his gaze. “That's what you want from me isn't it? You want my surrender my...submission. You have it.”

“Short of using Kryptonite on you__nothing will. From what I understand, I get you around that stuff and a normal medical needle would penetrate your skin. It's also about 30 different kinds of painful for you.”
“Then why do you not...” Superman said, sincerely confused.

“It is not the most accessible substance in the world. Being from 7 galaxies away. and all that."

Superman pulled himself down to his knees but looked steadily at Lex. “I submit. I'll do whatever you want, I swear it. All I ask is that you let her go.” Superman clutched Lex's hand desperately. “Please Mr. Luthor, spare her, I Beg of you.”

"...Thank you Superman." Lex said almost congenially.

desire And Despair on Earth X

Oliver Queen captured by the Earth-X doppelgangers of himself and Supergirl  

Earth-X being a world where the Nazi's actually won WWII.

Supergirl of Earth-38 fell to her knees, repeating blissful mantras of devotion. Sarah Lance and Amaya of the Legends soon followed. The Flash got away with 1000'ths of a second to spare. Overgirl let him go. She would enjoy chasing him down later. She saved Oliver for last. The leader of these heroes and the sentimental doppelganger of her own husband, she took particular pleasure in commanding him to admit his failure.

“Forgive me Overgirl. I have failed in everything important to me. I have failed my city, I have lost my team. I have abandoned my Earth. I have betrayed my own mind. Worst of all, I have failed my own heart, fighting against you instead of serving you. I beg you for forgiveness. I beg you, show mercy.” Of course he would beg mercy, a quality that in his own mind went hand in hand with greatness. Oliver fell to his knees, arms unrolled in front of him, his eyes sincere and pleading. “Please, I know I deserve nothing but death. Yet I beg you, let me live and serve you.” He put his hands away at his sides and lowered his head. “I await your command, Overgirl.”

“Death is the cowards way out. You deserve to live with your failure and I will make sure you never delude yourself with visions of freedom again.” She motioned to a pair of Oberleutnant nearby. “Take him to the Aberdeen work camp. He is the plaything of the Aufseher there until further notice.” She turned back to Oliver, a glint of sarcastic superiority in her face. “Do you understand the fate I have decreed for you, Oliver?”

“You've assigned me to the ass-end of nowhere and to a camp run by someone with a grudge against your husband, I assume.”

“Not quite. Adrian suffers from an over eagerness to prove himself. And humiliating one of the Reich's worse enemies will certainly pique his interest. He wanted to become Prometheus. Instead was passed over into the purgatory of rural Montana.”

“Adrian...Adrian CHASE? I almost take comfort in knowing he's a lackey here.”

“What exactly does that mean?”

“On our Earth, he was Prometheus....and a deluded sociopath who came closer to breaking me than anyone ever has.” He bowed his head, playing the subservient he knew was expected of him. “Until you actually accomplished that, mistress.”

“Well, this sounds like a match made by destiny.” Dark Arrow said, entering the room and conversation in the same stroke. “I'll assume you're the one who killed the Prometheus I knew.”

“Your Tommy killed himself as you damn well know!” Oliver growled.

“So you haven't completely given up fighting after all, encouraging.” Dark Arrow quipped.

“You think there might be hope for him after all? All right Green Arrow, I will give you a SHOT at redemption. If you survive Seven Weeks under Adrian's care without breaking, I will bring you back here to serve me, as you promised.

“Thank you, mistress. I will endeavor to learn the proper attitudes. And when I return, I promise I will make you see me Overgirl...even if it is ever only as a slave.”

Kneeling before evil Kara, Oliver's friends were gagged & bound before his eyes. He made a snap decision. “You've won. Alright? So take me. But spare my friends please ...I beg you.”

“Choose one to be spared.” Overgirl said easily. Oliver looked up, confused and humiliated. “What's that look in your face Oliver?”

“I cannot. To chose one of my friends to live while the others were slaughtered. I cannot...”

“Well I can understand that, but you draw more horror from this offer than needs be. All of your friends will live Oliver. But that one will be released. The others will live their lives serving the Fatherland in whatever capacity my husband and I see fit.”

“Felicity. Let Felicity go free.”

“She already hid herself away from us. We don't know where she is. Choose again.”

“Barry Allen.” Oliver said immediately. “Spare his life, let him go. Once I know that he is safe, I won't resist anymore. You can do what you want with me.”

“We don't have a Barry Allen in our data-banks. He must be a truly great man.”

“No, I'm a great man. Barry Allen is a GOOD man. And I cannot stand what even being around your kind will do to him.”

“Well, your mind is as sharp as your arrows. Very well. Once we find a way to permanently remove his power, he'll be released. You have my word on that Oliver Queen.”

“Thank you Kara Zor'el.” He bowed his head to the ground. “I thank you, my master.”

The next several days were hell. They kept him in a room fittingly called the forge. Thanks to the geothermal heat that poured through floor it was easily 130 degrees Fahrenheit in there. They hung him up from the ceiling, had varlets, for lack of another word bring him water and food but no one spoke to him. Damien was the only one to actually speak to him. And that was just to ensure he had all of his ribs. “Nice to see you're as much of a dick on this Earth as you were on mine.”

“Hehe, likewise. No seriously. As I'm sure you're well aware you are an absolute DICK here. It's nice to see you keep at least some of your backbone across the multiverse.”

“May I ask you a question? Besides that one I mean.”

“If you let me punch you in the face afterward.”

“Agreed. Is Laurel Lance...still alive on this Earth?”

“Yes she is. We call her Siren-X.”

“She's a Nazi? Of course, Lance is a high-ranking Nazi officer. It makes sense that she'd want to follow in her father's footsteps.”

“I take it she's dead on your Earth. And I'm surmising the 'me' you know had something to do with that.” Oliver nodded. “Elaborate.”

Oliver sighed. “On our Earth Quentin Lance is a police captain. He fought with my team against you. And you...made good on your threat...and stabbed her through the heart.”

“Well that is good news.” Olivers eyes shot harpoons. “Not, I expect for you. But the only version of myself I ever met was a sniveling coward. The phrase 'soft-hearted fool' is the kindest way I have to describe him. Good to know he's the exception not the rule.”

“You're lying Damien.”

“Excuse me, Oli-ver.”

“You were glad to hear a doppelganger of yourself had a backbone. But you are not pleased the cowardly version was the exception. I spent a year chasing you down before I stabbed you through with an Arrow. We got pretty good at reading each-other.”

“Hehe over here Chase was my only professional antagonist.”

“God it seems like that guy rattles pretty much everyone's rankles.”

“And not without reason either.” Damien agreed. “Now just so you know, I'm about to punch you in the face.”

“It's fine by me.”

Damien stepped back and delivered a vicious backhand to Oliver's jaw. Then without another word to the man's face, turned and walked away. “rajul sharaf. takhayal dhalika.”

“What what did you just say?” Oliver yelled after him. “What was that..Ara...”

Damien spun on him. “If you know what is good for you, you'll keep your mouth SHUT!”

“This is...something new.” Oliver breathed. He hung his head, a non-verbal 'understood' gesture that seemed to satisfy his keeper.

Several days later Damien returned. “I have one question for you. Well somewhere between an insistence and a demand really.”

“Something you're curious about and you want to know if I understand it any better?”

“Oliver, you are seriously creeping me out. But yes, that's about the size of it.”

“Then pose your query.”

“alhikayat alati yajib riwayitiha – tabda alan.”

“That's not a question. You want to know if I know what you just said?” Damien Darhk nodded.

Oliver looked Damien squarely in the eyes. “ 'the tale to be told, begins now'.”

“Okay...I guess that answers my other questions.”

“And that's why you sound the way you do, like you're not entirely sure how to speak English like a native-speaker. You are...but you speak a language that requires far more deliberate diction.”

“Okay....NOW you are creeping me out.”

“Would you believe me that for all of 5 minutes the League called me Rashe al Ghul?”

“There's not many other things that could explain that.”

“Were...were you Rashe, on this world?”

“Officially the League has no demon's head, no leader. We were...'disbanded' to use the PC phrase almost 20 years ago. Chose survival over identity. I continue the Leagues ways...yes.”

“Which is why you were so glad-relieved- to hear that another version of you had a back-bone. Proof that you don't need to be Nazi-strong to be Strong.”

“It is unsettling how well you seem to understand me.”

“Yeah, I can't say I find it particularly comfortable either.”

“You were close to your Laurel.”

“The ONLY good things to come out of the year you ruled Star City was that I found my son and Quentin and I found some common ground.”

The Arabic phrase Damien said to himself on the way out the door translates as 'a man of honor; imagine that'. And was Damien's personal opinion of this 'sentimental doppelganger of the fuhrer'. Damien Darhk of our Earth, of Oliver's Earth was a former member of the League of Assassins who quote 'continues the Leagues ways but through his own organization'. It is noted by several characters over the course of the show that however twisted their aims or extreme their methods, the League of Assassins believes very deeply in a code of honor. So to hear Damien say something about him being a man of honor, in Arabic got Oliver's attention, to say the least.

She saved Oliver for last. The sentimental doppelganger of her own husband, she took particular pleasure in commanding him to admit his failure and beg for the mercy that in his own mind went arm-in-arm with true greatness. Oliver fell to his knees, his arms unrolled in front of him, his eyes pleading. “I have failed my city, Overlord. I have failed my mission, my team and my own mind. I deserve nothing but death. Yet I beg you, let me live and serve you.” He bowed his head until his back was stretched over his legs. “I await your command Overgirl.”

“Death is the cowards way out. You deserve to live with your failure and I will make sure you never delude yourself with visions of freedom again.” She motioned to a pair of Oberleutnant “Take him to the Aberdeen camp. He is the plaything of the Aufseher there until further notice. Oh I'm sorry do you need me to translate that for you?”

“I have a pretty good idea. And who exactly do I belong to now?”

“Well, I will tell you this, Adrian will take great interest in your humiliation Oliver. In fact, he might even play a hand in it himself.”

“Adrian...Adrian CHASE What did I do to him on this Earth?”

“You did nothing to him. But he has, as you would say a desire to prove himself since he was sent to the purgatory of all detention centers instead of becoming Prometheus.”

“What's the German for 'the more things change'?”

“Desto mehr ändern sich die Dinge. The point is he'll take this assignment as his chance at redemption, a way to prove he can break even the hardest of obstinate enemies. Being a military governor of a population of sheep provides little room for advancement. Survive a few weeks under his care and I might reconsider if you yourself have a shot at redemption.”

“Thank you, mistress. I will endeavor to learn the proper attitudes. I will make you see me Overgirl. Even if it is only as a slave.”

“eventually I will ask you for more details on who everyone was on your world. If nothing else you can inspire me with stories. And tell stories of your Earth as a satire for the children.”

“ 'I'm a defeated idiot. These are the fairy tales I used to fight for'.” Oliver said and nodded sagely. “as long as someone hears the stories. Of what my Earth was like...and the people I once knew...and still love.”

“You've won, Alright? So take me. Of my own free will I am your pet and your slave. I've come to accept this. I am yours. I will confess it to the whole planet. I will bow myself before anyone, pleasure you in front of the assembly itself if I must. Just please spare my friend this shame. Keep her in the barracks or the work camps, I doubt she'll object. But leave her OUT of this!”

“You've never mentioned a version of Sasha before. How do you know this woman is anything like your...whatever she was to you?”

“Sasha has the same open face across the multiverse. And I learned to read her face pretty well after the four years she spent dropping in on my team and my friends. It's not sentiment. At least not for the woman I knew. I'm not seeing her through clouded eyes. Sasha is the antitheses of polluted. She sucked at lying and abhorred obfuscation. This woman. Has lived her life in your world and she sees the fuhrer when she looks at me. I know it is not her/ But there is one thing you should understand about us hero types. Well, other than what you already know about us. We will attempt to save any innocent life we have the power to save. It tears us up inside if we can't.”

“You mean like this?” Overgirl pulled Sasha backward into her lap and kissed her, forcefully and passionately. I saw her hand trail down Sasha's ribs to undo her 'knickers' was the only word I could think of. This version Sasha must have been used to such encounters: She didn't struggle at all. I turned away and looked at the ground.

“I am yours Overgirl. I will confess to the whole world that I am yours to beat and abuse according to your whims. What must I do? What would you have me do to prove my submission?”

She looked at me, almost as a challenge. I realized it was a show of sincerity, and determination. To prove she not only meant what she said but would follow through on it. “Prove it.” I told her . The woman I had coveted for so long dropped, almost sank to her right knee and raised her left hand. A position of submission and resignation. “In the more exotic regions of the world, what you just did would signify you had given up all expectation of rights and privileges. And you would be mine to do with as I pleased from this moment on.”

“I know. I learned to fight in those 'exotic regions'.” White Bird said matter of factly.

“Are you also aware White Bird that the promise is binding__and unconditional?” She nodded deeply. “Unclothe.” I commanded. She pulled her skirt down with both hands, and tugged at the sleeves of her blouse until it fell from her shoulders. The breasts. Her breasts were firm and strong. She grabbed my hand and placed my palm against her chest. I clutched her breast.

“Permission to kiss you?”

“Permission granted.” She pulled me in and kissed me. I felt like I was being kissed by a warrior and an equal. “Have you ever been with a woman before?” I asked harshly.

“You are far above us lowly humans Overgirl. You are more than a woman you are a goddess! And to touch a GOD, to know I give you pleasure, makes it worth it.”

“You have some mettle in your bones my dear.” Mistress said as she sat before me, stroking my breasts. “And you are a very beautiful Silver Fox besides.”

“The praise of my superior is the delight of my heart.” I told her, almost mechanically. I knew that if I did not play along, if I did not let myself be coddled and caressed she would send me to the lower cells for some correction. And only after taking a more violent pleasure in my. And so I held my tongue and played the mild, delicate, willing submissive she told me to be. I knew Supergirl's powers, from the Dominator invasion. Overgirl's were at least as strong. And she had none of Kara's restraint. The strange thing was, it felt really good to have another woman in bed with me. She spun herself behind me, put herself against my back and grabbed my breasts.

I flinched but made no protest. She was being gentle with me. I forced myself to remember how nice it felt to not have to fight. To feel warmth in her embrace, rather than fear. To be safe and cared for was a feeling I never expected to enjoy. And had started to wonder if I would ever feel again. “I never knew it was possible to do little more than sit down in front of a person and feel loved. Or at least to BE loved.” She pushed my hair down the front of my shoulder and licked my neck. I knew what that meant. Somehow I had inspired an idea in her head for a new game.

“If you seek a greater challenge, a new adventure, you will find me most accommodating. And a formidable enemy to fight.”

“Forgive me Master I simply meant...Never mind.”

“You cannot sit around doing nothing. Like me, you find discomfiture in in-action. There are ropes above your head. Grab them.” I reached up and felt metal rings, like from a gymnasium and pulled myself up by them. “Now hold yourself up for as long as you can.”

“That shouldn't be too difficult.” I said with a smile. She reached for a control and the rings lifted themselves 40 feet in the air. I was hanging by fingers! I tried to keep the false smile as she tore off the rest of my clothes.

“Ask and you shall receive Sarah. Though it won't always be what you wanted. Only my desires matter. Your only concern is that you please me well enough I keep you as a prisoner under my supervision. The commander of this base would be flattered to enjoy a classic beauty like you. You are the closest thing to a classic beauty I have ever seen with my own two eyes. And you have the heart of a warrior in you. I have a feeling I will enjoy you often. It would be SO much easier on you if I had your cooperation.” She pushed me against the wall and started kissing my throat. “But it is not really required.” She licked the top of my breast. I gasped. “You have permission to fight me.” She said simply. I made a move, a bad move and tried to clock her. She grabbed my fist in her palm and lifted me even higher into the air. “I see you need a little assistance.” She said mockingly. With one hand around my waist she began to 'favor' me with kisses. And soon I was kissing her right back. She put her mouth on my tit and I began to lose myself. “Oh Mistress...Oh...my...”

“Tell me what you know I want to hear.” she commanded, with a hint of threat in her voice.

“Mistress, I am honored and I am humbled. I am sorry I ever resisted you. You are every thing I could ever hope to be and far above anything I deserve. You are the only thing that makes life in this miserable world worth living. You are perfection. I live for you alone Overgirl!!!”

Hippocratic Oath -- Episode Summary

 The Actual summary of the Star trek Deep Space Nine Episode Hippocratic Oath

Bashir and O'Brien have concluded a bio-survey in the Gamma Quadrant. They pick up a subspace magneton pulse. While investigating, the shuttle crash lands and they are taken prisoner by a renegade group of Jem'Hadar. Its leader, Goran'Agar, got free of his addiction to ketracel white on this planet, the drug that makes them dependent on the Founders. He's brought a group of Jem'Hadar to be cured too, but the planet's 'magic' doesn't work on them. He asks Bashir to help before their supply of white runs out. While the doctor wants to help them, O'Brien is adamantly opposed. Meanwhile, back on the Deep Space Nine station, Worf spots a known criminal in Quark's bar. He thinks the Ferengi is plotting something and is getting increasingly agitated by the way Odo handles security on the station. Worf decides to take matters into his own hands.

My Summary of the episode

Among Star Trek fans this episode serves to empathize the difference between Doctor Bashir and O'Brien's approaches. Frequently the only question stemming from it is whether O'Brien was justified in doing what he did at the end.

Having learned a thing or two about TNG O'Brien since first watching the episode I know his straight-forward 'he's the enemy' perspective actually is true to the character. And personally I love every moment Julian learns another way in which the Jem'Hadar leader is different and this is something he wholeheartedly believes in and could follow. What makes everything work in the end, even after O'Brien destroys his research forcing his escape is the moment he tells Bashir why he did it. It wasn't because he wanted the Jem'Hadar to die or because he was a solider. It was because it was the only way he knew to save Julian's life. He flat out says that "Whatever else you may think of me or what I did; I hope you understand that." Which clears the air and makes forgetting this 'overstep' not only possible but the most natural thing in the world.

I was always with Bashir and O'Brien's stance always seemed unnatural to me. If his attitude here throws you for as much of a loop, watch the season 4 TNG episode 'The Wounded'. O'Brien is a solider who has seen war and sees things with the simplicity of a solider. Adding all this together and the entire episode is superbly crafted and deeply awesome.

Hippocratic oath notes (both mine and Internet Movie Databases)

The writers saw the B-story of this episode as an important indication of how DS9's Worf was going to be different from TNG's Worf. As Ronald D. Moore explains, "He used to be a cop, more or less, on the USS Enterprise-D, but it's not going to be like that anymore. We wanted to keep emphasizing, 'this is not TNG. The station doesn't work like the Enterprise. Worf is going to have some troubles fitting in, but he's going to learn.'"

This episode came from two separate story pitches by two different writers. The first, from Nicholas Corea, was based around the story of a group of Jem'Hadar who were trying to free themselves from their addiction to ketracel-white, the first time the name is used. Previously, it had been described as a "missing enzyme" in "The Abandoned" and simply as a drug to which the Jem'Hadar are addicted in "The Die is Cast". The second, from Lisa Klink, was about O'Brien and Bashir taking opposing sides in a conflict on an alien world - O'Brien sided with the natives, Bashir with the non-natives. The producers liked the idea of Klink's concept, putting O'Brien and Bashir on diametrically opposed sides, but they felt that the details weren't quite right and they got Klink to re-pitch the story several times with different plot elements in place. Producers referred to her story as their The Bridge on the River Kwai episode, and they likened Bashir to Col. Nicholson, the character in that film played by Alec Guinness, who effectively helps the 'enemy'. The problem with Klink's story was that producers couldn't decide exactly what it was that Bashir was trying to do for the enemy, what was causing the conflict between himself and O'Brien - what was the 'Bridge'? Eventually, it was René Echevarria who suggested putting Klink's story together with Corea's, thus providing the Bridge - Bashir was trying to help the Jem'Hadar beat their addiction, and O'Brien was against this idea.

In an interview with the official Star Trek website in 2011, director Rene Auberjonois thought this episode was the one that stood out the most for him out of the eight he directed throughout Deep Space Nine. – constable Odo directed 'Hippocratic Oath' and 7 other episodes When Sisko explains to Worf how Deep Space Nine is different from the Enterprise, he says "Let's just say DS9 has more shades of gray." His sentence has a double meaning. He is talking about DS9 as an in-universe place (in contrast with the Enterprise), but also about the TV show itself, which famously had more moral ambiguity than Star Trek: The Next Generation (where Worf says he "always knew who were my allies and who were my enemies").

When O'Brien confirms Goran'Agar's question about being a soldier, this is in reference to O'Brien's service during the Federation-Cardassian War, and the Setlik III massacre, mentioned in "The Wounded".

...O'Brien's attitude of the Jem'Hadar being the enemy as well as seeing things with the straight forward simplicity of a solider in the first place make a lot more sense if you've seen 'The Wounded'. At this time they were not yet at war with the Dominion and it seems rather out of character for O'Brien to be seeing things in such absolutes.

There's a degree of irony with the moral dilemma faced by Bashir and O'Brien - Bashir, despite being a character created for the more morally ambiguous series 'Deep Space Nine' - with many "shades of gray" as Sisko says - takes the more tolerant and forward-thinking attitude with the Jem'Hadar, whereas O'Brien, who served on the Enterprise with the famously tolerant and forward-thinking Jean-Luc Picard on 'The Next Generation', is the one that takes a more hostile and narrow-minded view to the issue. Bashir behaved far more closely to what Picard would have approved of, rather than O'Brien. The storyline of this episode has parallels to the TNG episode 'I, Borg' (1992), which had a very similar moral dilemma.

...While this may be true, I personally don't think it's very ironic which side they fall on. Dr. Bashir is trained to provide help to anyone who needs it. Whether they are 'the enemy' or not. He is led by compassion and his human heart which gets him into trouble or some kind of hot water all the damn time on the station. O'Brien is pragmatic and thinking bigger picture, and his belief that Bashir's bleeding heart might get them into serious freaking trouble is realistic for someone who works with machines and was once a solider himself. O'Brien might have served under Picard absolutely was the most compassionate and philosophical leader in all of freaking Starfleet. Bashir's attitude IS one of the moral shades of gray. His attitude is what presents the moral dilemmas with which the characters of Star Trek Deep Space Nine are so often faced.

Earning Superman's respect

This is part 2 of a scene. I haven't written part one yet because I wanted to get this right first. It's called this because it is the first time a Xavallens reaction to a species other than White Martians is ever mentioned. Infernians effect them in a similar way. Also the effect the entire conversation has on Superman is that Hank Henshaw inadvertently proves himself.

An excerpt from my latest story. Taking place on the 'Earth 9' that I created. Narrated by Superman. The main point is that Director Hank Henshaw ACCIDENTLY (or at least indirectly) earns Superman's respect.

“I have to agree with Superman on this one.” Hank Henshaw said in his deliberate tone. “You didn't fail in your duty, you performed exceptionally. And I am sorry but I have to ask why you didn't tell me you have such a severe reaction to even the presence of Infernians?”

“I didn't realize there were any Infernians on Earth. There's no reason for it.” She looked over at me and back at Henshaw. “He's from further away than either of us.” She explained.

“Well that makes sense.” I conceded. “What did you say to him anyway?”

“I'm pretty sure I told him that he was thinking with his weapons rather than what little of his brain existed. I'll have to brush up on the regional." Now it was my turn to look confused. "I didn't say something in his language. I spoke in a language I knew he would understand. a language that everyone in his part of that galaxy understands at least enough of to get by. The same way France, Germany and the Netherlands all speak English, even though it's none of thier native languages. To continue the metaphor, I need to learn if English is used differently in Germany than it is in France. It's a lot easier for Xavallens, Enkarens and Atraxi to understand each other. We all speak the same native language. A language by the way that has more in common with Aramaic or Arabic than with English. You can let go of me now Superman.”

I did. And then I smiled. “That's the first time you've actually called me that.”

Infernian Effect

Superman is recounting the story months later. Telling a new agent Winn Schott of the first time the three of them became a team.

Nikita sat on the edge of the bio-bed. Her hands and head entirely still. Her eyes nothing if not sad. “He got away didn't he?” She said suddenly.

“Don't worry about that right now, Nikita, okay?”

“I told that guy to get out of here or face some heat vision and he followed my advice. How can you get any more responsible for an adversary's escape than that?”

“Right now I'm more interested in what exactly happened out there?” Director Henshaw said as he walked up to her, stopping about 4 feet away.

“I didn't know he was Infernian. I'm sorry.”

“I've never known you to be scared fo anything, not even me. I can't believe you were somehow paralyzed by fear.”

“I wasn't. I mean I was paralyzed but it wasn't by fear, or any other emotion for that matter. My people are sensitive to two races in the galaxies. Infernians are one of them. In layman's terms by body had an allergic reaction to his physiology.”

“I could tell you seemed to be struggling through the pain. I honestly thought it was some kind of psychic attack. When you warned him away I knew it must be something else. But you still managed to keep your wits about you enough to know I was coming and to warn him away. That's impressive, not disappointing.” Nikita looked at him a moment. "Super hearing. I literally heard you from 20 blocks away. that's how I got there so fast."

“I have to agree with Superman on this one.” Hank said in his deliberate tone. “You didn't fail in your duty, you performed exceptionally. And I am sorry but I have to ask why you didn't tell me you have such a severe reaction to even the presence of Infernians?”

“I didn't realize there were any Infernians on Earth. There's no reason for it.” She looked over at me and back at Henshaw. “He's from further away than either of us.” She explained.

“Well that makes sense.” I conceded. “What did you say to him anyway?”

“I'm pretty sure I told him that he was thinking with his weapons rather than what little of his brain existed. I'll have to brush up on the regional." Now it was my turn to look confused. "I didn't say something in his language. I spoke in a language I knew he would understand. a language that everyone in his part of that galaxy understands at least enough of to get by. The same way France, Germany and the Netherlands all speak English, even though it's none of thier native languages.  To continue the metaphor, I need to learn if English is used differently in Germany than it is in France. It's a lot easier for Xavallens, Enkarens and Atraxi to understand each other. We all speak the same native language. . A language by the way that has more in common with Aramaic or Arabic than with English. You can let go of me now Superman.”

I did. And then I smiled. “That's the first time you've actually called me that.”

“And from this point on, when the occasion calls for it I will. In the field and on the job that's what I'll call you. I'll only call you Kal'el when we're off duty.” She laughed wearily.

“Nikita, are you sure you're alright?”

“Yes, I am recovered. Just uncertain.” She glanced at Director Henshaw with a meaning I wasn't sure I wanted to understand. So I took a step back. “ Hank, I am fully expecting you to yell at me.”

“For what?”

“For screwing up the mission so badly. For letting that guy escape. This isn't me being hard on myself Hank. I failed in my duty. I didn't just let the guy get away; I told him to go.”

“Why do you think that's what happened?” Hank asked her bluntly but respectfully. “I mean, yes you did say that. But why are you so convinced you did anything less than your duty?”

“Second that.”

“Because it's my job to be ready for those things and I screwed up the mission.” She said without turning to look at me. Then the look on her face changed. I could tell she had seen something in Henshaw's face and her face suddenly cleared up. Like a cold wind blew the white clouds away and suddenly she saw something clearly. But I still couldn't tell you what. A moment late Hank's face got the same look.

“You're expecting a reprimand?” Henshaw said blankly. I admit I didn't understand his confusion. 'Of course she's expecting you to dress her down, rack her over the coals and such. She doesn't know anything else from you'. I feel kind of stupid about it now but that was my reaction. 

She was unique among D.E.O agents not just because she herself was an alien, but because she had once been a prisoner here, under Henshaw. I knew a little bit of their history together, and that it took Jeremiah's death to put it behind them. So her expectation made sense to me. When she next spoke it was in a crisp, clear tone full of as much dignity and restraint as if a Air Force Captain was addressing a 2-star General. “If I were any other agent, it's what you would do. ”

“If any other agent had a panic attack in the middle of a combat situation, yelling at them would be the last thing I would do.”

And for the first time I felt something approaching respect for Hank Henshaw. And I was soon to understand for the first time that he was never the heartless jerk to Nikita I had always assumed.

“How do you mean?”

“I always assumed Nikita was a hero for having so quickly forgiven Hank his previous actions. But far from throwing away a 'hot coal' so it wouldn't burn her, Nikita never had one to hold on to. She had always respected Hank.”

I looked over at Director Henshaw to try to convey my appreciation of the situation. And I saw something that would have taken my breath away. Hank was looking at her with a look of sympathy, and obviously trying very hard not to embrace her. That's when I decided I could call him 'Hank' as often as Nikita does and not feel awkward about it. If he was okay with it.

“Director, I really think I should escort Nikita back to her quarters. And then I'll start X-ray visioning the city for that Infernian.”

“Understood Superman and agreed...on both counts.”

After we'd gotten into the hallway and Nikita informed be she could walk a few paces on her own, I turned around and walked back up to Hank, who was standing there, almost as if waiting for me to say something. “I was wrong about you, Director. And I'm sorry.”

“That means a lot to hear you say that.” Was all he said at first. “I take it Nikita has finally convinced you of the sincerity of her feelings.”

“More like you've finally convinced me you deserve her high esteem. It was never about my father Hank. Not what happened to him anyway. I hope you understand...what I'm trying to say here.”

“I believe so. And as I said...this means a lot to hear you say that.”

“Do you mind if I just call you 'Hank' from now on?” I blurted out.

“Most people at the D.E.O call me by by first name. It feel appropriate, like you were part of the team here if you did. And no I wouldn't mind it.” Hank looked at me with a kindly smile. “I'll call you Superman for the sake of secret identities. But I want you to know, I respected your father. I regret that I never told him so. Nikita is the only person alive who can tell me what your father would have said. They were together on such things. But she is also someone he risked everything for. Aside from you and Alex she is the only person Agent Danvers ever cared for. And I am not about to fail him twice...” His words actually failed him.

“It's your way of honoring Jeremiah...protecting her.”

'Well, you certainly don't need anyone's protection.”

“Heh. Fair point.”

Perfected Heavenly Journeys

Almost as soon as he'd arrived in the desert, he'd been 'greeted' by a Saracen lord and his attendant. The lord had challenged him for possession of the horse he'd rescued from his shipwreck. Initially the man had charged Balian while remaining on his horse. On foot he'd barely stood a chance. It wasn't long into the 'skirmish' Balian declared himself the Baron of Ibelin and demanded a fair fight. After the claim was translated by his attendant, the lord obliged. A fair fight was not only deserved, it was expected. Balian won the skirmish easily. The blood from the final wound had gotten all over the servant's horse. An instant later the man was flat on his back in the sand. Walking up to him, Balian noticed he had a young, handsome face, and strangely showed no sign of distress, he put his hands in front of himself, palms up.

“I understand.” Balian responded. “It's not needful, but I understand. Get up.”

The stranger did so. It was only after he found a pack of dates and seeds, shoving several handfuls into his mouth, that he spoke again. “You have taken it very well I have killed your master.” The man didn't answer verbally, only gave a perplexed look. “Why are you not upset?” Balian clarified.

“We are taught nothing happens to those who believe unless Allah has made it so. I have no reason to regret my master is now in paradise. Although I could wish he had not left so suddenly.”

“I believe I understand. We can't stay out here. Take me to Jerusalem?”

“I will bring you.” The man said, easily.

“How long though? I mean the journey, how far are we away from Jerusalem?”

“We should be there by nightfall.” Came the instant, soft reply.

The assertion was perfect. It was almost dusk when they trotted their horses close to the walls of the Holy City. Balian had kept side by side with his companion riding this far, but pulled himself just barely ahead of the stranger as they drew close. It was a gesture the man apparently understood as he slowed his steed and lowered his head slightly. A palm tree stood not far from the David Gate. It was a good place to rest. Balian drank a gulp of water and offered it to the stranger; an offer the man politely declined. Balian had remounted his horse at trotted several paces to the gate before he realized he was traveling alone.

“What is the matter?” Balian asked, looking back with a concerned expression.

“If it's all-right, I'll put a cloak around my face.” Came the cryptic reply.

“That's fine. But that's not what I mean.” Balian said shortly.

“Please, let it wait until we are safe, and a good way inside.”

“...All-right.”

The city of children and soldiers that was Jerusalem sprawled out before them. After passing some pottery stalls and more than a few fruit and herb sellers, Balian stopped in front of a water trough. The stranger dismount and patted the neck of the steed he'd been riding. After rummaging around in his sack he found a carrot stub to offer the beast.

“...Either you hide your feelings well or your people are not as passionate as we are led to believe.” Balian said suddenly. “I meant to explain my last question. I don't know much about life here but it IS strange to me...I don't even know your name?”

“I am called Nassir. 'champion' or 'supporter'. What do you intend to do with me?”

“I can't ask you to follow me.” Balian replied thoughtlessly. “I go to the mound at Gethsemane. I am Godfrey's son, the baron of Ibelin, yet I'm a stranger here. I don't know what following me would mean for you. Will you be all-right on your own?”

The shock on Nassir's face was considerable. “I...yes. Your style makes sense now. Your fighting style I mean. It was unlike anything taught here. That last move in particular. I admit, I do not understand why...” His words failed him completely.

“Why I refuse to take you with me against your will as a slave, a prisoner or some such mess? In the village I'm from...I was not a slave but had no other status. I will not use a title I'm not sure I earned to make anyone feel inferior. Go. What was the name of the man I killed?”

“His name was Mummad-al-Fais.”  He said as he mounted his horse. And looked at Balian for a moment. "I thank you for your kindness." With that he raised a hand, palm up, and rode away.

“Tiberius, will you ask the king if my friend may come with me?”

“I need not.” the Marshall replied. “The king is eager to meet him.”

I walked a couple of paces behind Balian as we were led before Baldwin IV. There were few candles in the sitting room. I somewhat expected to be either announced or scowled at the instant the king saw my face. Neither happened. I simply bowed at the waist and smiled faintly.

'Salaam Ali-kum.” the king told me in a cordial tone.

“Alai-i-kum Salaam.” I answered. “I hope you will not think it empty praise or false courtesy if I say this is truly an honor and a privilege.”

“What may I call you?”

“I...I am called Nassir, majesty.” Stunned as I was, I could not say any more than that. He did know me, and remembered even now that I could not always be the same as I was.

“My friend,” The king said to Balian. “We have decided that you shall take command of the armies of Jerusalem. Guy will not be satisfied with his position in the shadow the threat you represent. He will meet what he perceives as enemies of God. Will you look after my nephew as you've watched over me?”

“I will do what I can..” Balian answered softly.

“There is more. Would you marry my sister Sybilla were she free of Guy DeLusigian?”

My friend was quiet for such a long time after that I almost feared for his health. “If she were somehow free of her marriage, I would join with her. But I will not cause her to be free of Guy of her husband so I can be with her. Unless he can be gone without being killed I must refuse.”

“You'd rather risk a war at his hands than be with a woman you love?” The Marshall curtailed.

“I would rather preserve my own soul and leave the rest of the matter to God himself, yes.” Balian answered firmly. “Believe me when I tell you, God can make a way for his will and his plan for this world, whether we who claim to shape our own lives see a path or not. I will not presume to make God's will happen, even if I could claim to know what it was. 'A king may move a man, but the soul belongs to the man'...You told me once. You have my love, but I cannot...'gain the whole world and forfeit my own soul'.”

“I believe I understand.” Was Baldwin's only verbal response. He seemed resigned to what he saw as the only alternative: a war with my people.

“Forgive me,” I whispered. “but I believe I know another way.”

“You have our undivided attention.” Tiberias told be plainly.

“Guy is as war hungry and power-mad as the lord at Kerak. If he declared to meet my people in battle, he would lead the fight himself, whether his actions are sanctioned or not?”

“Undoubtedly. But how does going to war help? That's what we are trying to avoid.”

“A battle will eventually break out anyway, no matter what any of us do.” I answered as simply as I could. “The fear of war will not keep a fragile peace in place for long. Not when so many of us, on both sides, yearn for the victor of winning a war over the other side. Except victory is assured for only one side when the fighting does start. Without stratagem or divine intervention, Guy would never win a battle against my lord Saladin. I believe Balian and I were brought together for some great good, beyond changing each-other's minds. Until now, I could not see for myself what else might change for the better.”

“I hope you're not suggesting we ensure Guy's death in battle. That would be much the same.”

“You wanted a way for him to be...not a threat but not murdered. And I am not saying we should do anything to ensure his defeat. Only that you not actively work against his plans. The mullah is always saying that God alone determines the results of battles. It seems Guy and his men also believe this. I am saying let him start a battle with my people...And it will be that much easier to avoid a war breaking out between our peoples. Unless it's by his own hand, Guy would almost certainly not be killed in the battle. War has seemed like a dream of glory or a nightmare one cannot escape for so long now. I know it sounds horrible but nothing is helped by a lack of conflict based solely on the dread of it. Each of us need to see this thing clearly., both people who yearn for and who fear battle. I believe we would all make the choice to avoid all out war if faced with the reality of such a conflict.”

“Strange as it is to hear you say this; I honestly think it makes sense.” Balian whispered.

“We agree.” Baldwin IV answered. “When I am gone, you must not encourage him in this endeavor. But neither should you stand in his way.”

“Forgive me sire, but may I withdraw?” I asked the king. “You have my love, but the destiny of your kingdom is your own. I wish neither credit nor blame for what happens to belong to me. As odd as this may sound...you are masters of your own fate here.”

“Self-destiny Sajiq?” The king told me in easily. “Of course, but stay nearby alright.”

“Of course sire.” I answered him. I bowed and withdrew.

Several minutes later I was waiting outside, in the corridor or passage not too far from the king's quarters. I saw a young boy watching me. He was richly dressed but seemed so quiet and withdrawn, he might have been the son of a servant. He did not back away as I walked up to him. I stopped about 30 paces away and smiled, as softly as I knew how.

“Salaam little one.” I told the boy. He looked at me with a kind smile and some wonder.

“Ala-i-kum Salaam.” He told me in a soft, firm voice. “Who are you?”

“I am called Nassir. I was a solider in Saladin's army. And when Balian found me...Forgive me sire I didn't realize.” I put my hands behind my back and bowed my head.

“I'm not king yet.” He told me. “Even if I were, you would not be one of my subjects.”

“Yes I would. I am not one of your people, but for as long as I live in Jerusalem I am one of your subjects. And I am honored to be.” He looked at me as if asking for clarification, so I continued. “I am not one of your people, I gladly live under your authority. I...I served Baldwin's father here in court before my lord Saladin called me back to Damascus. I follow my friend Balian the lord of Ibelin. Balian has sworn an oath to serve the peace and the king. I give you my word sire, I will do the same.”

“You are a nobleman among your people?” I heard a woman's voice ask.

I turned and the Princess of Jerusalem looked at me. I bowed at the waist and raised myself. “Yes, Milady. Though I would prefer to leave that alone for the moment. I'm not here because of who I am to my people, but because my lord Balian was invited to speak with the king and asked me to come with him.”

“You know Balian?” She told me. I could make nothing of her tone.

“I honor him and I love him.” She looked at me sharply. “You find it strange I should feel such things? He set me free. When he thought I was nothing more than a servant, and had the right to claim me as his prisoner or his slave he set me free. We parted with sincere wishes of peace that day, and very much on even ground. That unto itself would in-debt me to him. I am endeared to him for another reason.”

“He seems to inspire loyalty as well as confidence. And I know him well, for having known him hardly at all. Why do you cling so much to him?”

The Marshall Tiberias walked up at that moment. I was never happier to be interrupted in a conversation. Balian himself did not fully know the reason or depth of my affection for him. It would be wrong to tell any one else before speaking the truth to his face. So I simply bowed my head and asked if I could go wait for Balian. Sybilla did not seem to have a problem with this. Nor did the young man. Tiberias himself seemed to have a problem with my courtesies however. He asked the two royals to go ahead of him to the great hall and as soon as they were out of earshot, he turned to me with cold eyes. “Why do you hide who you are?”

“I do not know what they would expect of me.” I answered. “I am a stranger to them, and they do not know my history. That being so, I cannot expect them to treat me as Baldwin himself might do.”

“That's what I'm asking. Why do you not tell them who you are.”

“This is who I am.” I told him rather shortly. “Hiding my condition is not lying about my quality. I am showing them exactly who I am, not what the world would call me. Balian and I share many qualities. But none more than this: a desire to be seen as who, not what we are. For our friends to understand that who we are is showed and proved by our hearts and minds more than any title or label we are given, would be the most glorious hope we could achieve. I will not claim my rank as though it were my identity. PLEASE do not treat me as if the ceremony of my position defined the quality of my heart.”

“You are so much like Balian...And Godfrey.” Tiberias told me smoothly.

“I was surprised Balian is so much like his father. I'll take that as praise not a compliment.”

“Is there a difference?” Tiberias asked me easily.

“Your intentions in what you say can make something a false compliment, or empty flattery. Praise is by definition sincere. The way we would praise God, it cannot be out of selfish ambition or deceit. It's how our language is formed. Apparently even changed to French the thought remains.”

“A nice thought. There is one thing in this to praise that has barely been mentioned yet.”

I was about to ask Tiberias to elaborate on his comment, but Balian walked up to me, not having heard anything but the last bit of what I'd said. I smiled faintly, told Tiberias 'Au revoir' and we parted ways. Balian and I were not thirty paces down the hall when he turned to face me squarely. “We need to talk.”

“Indeed so.” I answered. I did not look him in the face until we returned to Almaric's house. The solider had not said much to me since his questions about my choice to remain as I am. I couldn't help hoping the weight on Balian's mind was unrelated. The thought of having that conversation so much was already about to change, was intimidating. Balian led me to the room I had chosen as my own, and almost as soon as we both entered, he sank to the floor. I crouched in front of him, trying to read the expression on his face.

“I agree with you. Guy must be allowed to believe he's succeeded. He cannot be openly opposed to any avail as leader of the armies. I want to hear from you, without reservation...”

“I want this peace to last beyond Baldwin's reign. I know you feel the same.”

“Yes. I just wish I didn't feel like I was sending a man to his death to ensure that peace.”

“Guy will lose. I am almost certain he will not die. He cannot defeat my lord Saladin in combat. It is logic and numbers that my people will win. It does not have to lead to all out war. Without the likes of Guy and Reynald stirring up trouble, your testimony and mine will stand for our intentions.” Balian looked up sharply. A smile smile started to appear on his face. “What is it?”

“For a moment it sounded like you'd placed yourself on our side of this divide. I understand you meant those of us who seek peace rather than war, on both sides of this nonsense. You and I hold to our faith rather than our religion and have a sense of compassion that is not limited to our own people. Still...it was both a surprise and a....” His voice faded and he looked at his hands. “What do you think of me?”

“You are a man of honor and seek peace within yourself and with others.” I had to slow myself down to avoid laughing out loud. “You care more about pleasing God than what any one here thinks of you...whether they are your fellows in rank or your followers. More strange and wonderful is you trust what you yourself believe God is like. You chase after the will of God through your own eyes instead of what anyone else would tell you God is like...what they believe God would have you do. And because of this you see both the heart of God and the reality of life more clearly than anyone except Father David ever would.”

“ 'Father David'?”

“That is what my people call the knightly priest I met here. He is as much a true shepherd of his flock as he is an example of what true faith is. He's the only man I ever knew before I challenged you, to understand that faith, when it is real is good...no matter which religion it supports. But he had holy orders...It was to be expected he would see spiritual matters more clearly.”

“What is the matter?” Balian asked in a quiet voice.

“Almaric asked me once how much I gave up to come here. He wanted to know what my life had been like among my own people, as if what I lost was the measure of what I had gained. But I don't see it as losing anything. My life here with you has been sweeter and more...has been and is worth more to me than anything I gave up when I followed you here. God himself must have more of a reason to bring us together. I should not speak for God. I honestly didn't mean to. There is more we can do here together for our peoples and the peace Baldwin has maintained these past six years than we ever could have without each-other. But that is not the only reason, is it? If everything we think is about to happen actually does come to pass...I hope that will not be the final...I hope we may stay together even after this scene in the play of this world comes to a close. My life was richer just for knowing you better. I hope you feel the same way.”

“The friendship we have runs deeper than words or thoughts could express? I do. God might have put us together on this earth for some great good. I'm just glad I was able to know someone like you.”

“It is indeed a mysterious move of God that I...” Balian started to glare at me. “WE found someone so much like ourselves on the opposite sides of whatever line our peoples draw to divide ourselves. Which I suppose is part of the reason I feel so certain of this, and so hopeful.”

“Remind me to ask you what the story of your life has been like!” Balian exuded. I was surprised and for once I did not bother hiding it. “I knew you were an officer in the army, our equal of a knight. But I didn't know you were also this educated and gentle.”

“Sajiq, I consider the question asked. I'll tell you. If you had to find out the truth when we spoke with Saladin, that would be a shame and an embarrassment I could not live with. I would be devastated if even for one second you thought I was a liar. Saladin would be disappointed in me if I'd hid such a thing.”

“You said something like it before. I take it there was more to it than I knew?”

“Even knowing Guy's temperament and the inexperience of the king, my lord Saladin would need assurance that Guy was not sanctioned when he leads the charge against my people. That is where my testimony becomes both needful and perfectly sincere. Aside from the fact that such a moment is not fit for a revelation, you deserve to know this instant why it would make a difference.”

“I...I do not understand.”

I had known this moment was coming. I was certain he would accept me for what I was. I hoped he would forgive my concealing myself this far.. I was beginning to suspect Balian would understand and see my heart better than most, and would know where to look, what was important. I clasped his hands in mine and bowed my head over them. “I have not lied to you. I am called Nassir. It does mean champion or supporter. But it is a description, not my given name. Among my own people, without a disguise, I am Imad Al Din.”

“Does that mean...I cannot...” The shock on Balian's face was heartbreaking, but somehow seemed misplaced. “Does that mean Saladin is your father?”

“That name is a gift and a title. It means 'the righteousness of the faith'. Mine says I am as close to a true image of faith that can be found. As though if true faith could be seen through a looking glass, I am a close resemblance. And I am close to my lord Saladin, I suppose you might say close as family. But no, we are not related by blood.”

“Which is why he would trust you so implicitly. I'm a little muddled. Why did he let you go?”

“No, I'M a little muddled...why would he not?”

“It's not seen as abandoning your people, joining with us...with me?”

“Balian!” I told him, I couldn't help laughing. “As long as my duty to you does not break my oath of loyalty to my people, there is no conflict of interest. It does not by the way. Our kingdoms are at peace and the three of us want it to stay that way. Following where I believe I am led to go is not something my lord Saladin would ever dissuade me from. He knows you valor and honor for himself. It is the very reflection of Godfrey's own persistence and character. Your father was a great man...”

“You knew him...?”

“Not well. But he was one of the few officers in the army of Jerusalem we could respect for more than just his skill with a weapon, or strategy. He held on to his own convictions and the ideals of peace without wavering or exception. I could not know for sure when we first came to Jerusalem, but now I have seen and experienced the compassion and tenderheartedness for myself...You are your father's son.”

“You lived here before?” Balian asked me bluntly. “You just admitted you were even a greater nobleman among your people than I thought of you.” He continued softly. “You must have met Baldwin himself earlier in your life. At least, that would explain your desire to stay out of everyone's way...And why you did not seem out of place earlier, but were not at all comfortable either.”

“I...I did not wish to be...declared I guess is the word. Apparently he remembered that of me.” I just realized where all this confusion is coming from.”

“Please explain.” Balian told me gently.

“I did not hide my condition to prove a point or anything of the sort. Even when I served Baldwin in his court I preferred to be seen as nothing but a Saracen in his service, and I had actually been his father's friend, so it was easy for them to honor my wishes. When I came before him today, I was not sure he would remember me, or see me for who I truly was. THAT is why I stayed at peace and hidden. I wanted to be seen and known as who I truly was, not what the world would make of me or what people would treat me as because of a title. I simply wanted to earn whatever treatment or consideration people gave me. I wanted it to belong to me. I hope you can understand.”

(later on)

“Why are you here?” I asked the man as courteously as I could.

“How do you mean?” He responded with what might have been concern.

“I am certain you don't mean any harm. But I cannot stop thinking you are...something or someone else, than what you pretend to be.”

“Well, you know I am a nobleman among my own people, and I am following where I feel I am being led to go. What else matters? I mean, why do I need to have any other purpose here?”

“Alright, let me be direct. Can I count on you to stand with us when the time comes, not just for Balian but for the sake of peace?”

“You may rest assured sir, most of my people want nothing but peace. From what I can see, the same can be said of yours. I always knew Guy DeLusigian would try to make war on my people. He wanted to meet in battle who he sees as the enemies of God, eager for his own glory therein. I am in part responsible for letting that happen. Regardless of what ELSE this means, I will do what I can to make sure that WAR as we know it does not come from his reckless hate.”

“I am sorry I ever doubted your intentions.”

“I hid who I really was.” He answered simply. “You needed to be sure I wasn't hiding anything else. Trust me, I understand. The only thing is...I need to be there...when MiLord Saladin (Sala-ho-deen) responds to this...to the aggression Guy has offered. That is why I stayed here after Kerak. I am...an in person witness to what I already believed. With such a witness and testimony, even the Mullah will be forced to accept that I speak the truth I've seen, not just my own belief based on my perspective.”

“Then we better get going. He approaches even now.” I told him with a faint smile.

Saladin stood in front of the young king of Jerusalem, his closest advisor just behind him. Sybilla, the queen mother of Jerusalem stood just behind her son. There were very few others in the great hall, just Balian of Ibelin, the Marshall Tiberias and 3 courtiers, to stand as witness for whatever might happen. A side door to the great hall opened and Imad walked in. He walked to stand aside from the others, as a mediator...then reconsidered and stood beside his friend.

“Salaam Ali-kum.” Baldwin the 5^th stated formally.

“Alai-i-kum Salaam.” Saladin replied. “I have come to address the actions of Guy DeLusigian, the captain of the armies of Jerusalem, to learn if he truly speaks for his people and to bring peace, if not justice between our peoples.” The sultan stated, as though to the entire room. He faced Imad directly. “Will you speak for them? Have you the authority?”

“I have the experience to know what they would say, and have seen the truth of it with my own eyes. I have their trust and faith on such things. I do not believe I should speak as their representative. You must hear their words from their lips, or it will mean nothing.”

“Very well.” he turned to address the court again. “I have no intention of returning Guy to you. I only wish to know if his actions were sanctioned, or was he truly a renegade. I only need to hear it from Tiberias or the king himself, I will not doubt their words.”

“Guy used his authority to make war on the Muslims.” Tiberias stated in his gravelly, coarse voice. His intentions were his own. We will do what we must to ensure his actions die with him. We will make no attempt to rescue him from your hand.”

Saladin looked up with surprise and a knowing smile. “He is a convenient answer then? It only makes sense that you are willing to give him up for the sake of peace?”

Tiberias looked confused. And stepped forward to address the misconception. “MiLord, if you did return him to us, we would execute him as a war criminal. While I am sure there are many in this kingdom who would agree with his ideals, no one in this court wants open war.”

“Can you confirm that?” Saladin asked of Imad, in Arabic. Who looked sideways to Balian, as if to ask permission to answer without reserve. A request which was granted with a slight nod of his head and a look of pride.

“I can affirm that this warmonger we speak of was very nearly removed from office before Baldwin the Fifth even came to the throne. Balian of Ibelin was to be chosen for this role.” He waved his hand to indicate the man of whom he spoke. “And Balian is a man of justice and honor as well as courage and honesty. He would speak for all of them if he could. That is, if his words were heard, his thoughts would be those of the entire kingdom. And if my life these last months has taught me anything, it is that we want nothing but understanding and communication between our peoples.” He blushed at his choice of words. “Balian and I, as well as the Marshall Tiberias and the King himself.”

“Who is Balian and why do you match yourself with him?” Saladin asked quickly.

“Balian of Ibelin, is the son of Godfrey and his heir. I do not put myself with the Marshall or even with the child-king. I put myself with Balian and would follow him to the ends of the Earth. The story of how I matched myself to him and how we met is best kept for another time. What should be known now is that I matched myself to him. It was a freely given choice and the beginning of greatness. He defends both his king and the peace we have established between our two great kingdoms. I hope this stands until either of our deaths.”

Tiberias understood enough Arabic to know the glowing terms Imad had used for Balian. King Baldwin, who was barely 13, understood only that Imad was an ally and an advocate for their kingdom, and someone King Saladin would listen to. Balian himself kept his expression as neutral as he could, while listening to what he was sure was Imad's defense of both himself and the sincerity of the king's intentions. He knew Imad's feelings about him and was certain at least some of what he had heard had been a description of their bond.