Creative Creations

Wednesday, September 24, 2025

The Truest Nobility

Hank and Jeremiah have been prisoners for 3 days. They were on a mission to terminate J'onn and after encountering him, woke up here. J'onn is about to take Hank away, presumably to kill him. When Jeremiah, stalwartly and passionately offers an alternative.

“No please, take me.” Jeremiah Danvers said in a rush. The alien lowered his fist. “I might not like him very much, but I cannot let this continue. He's no longer any threat to you, you gain nothing by this. Keep me, let him go...please.”

“I do not understand what you are suggesting. Please elaborate.”

Jeremiah hesitated for a moment. “He has a beacon on him to activate in emergency and call for extraction. Activate the beacon and leave him as he is...or drop him off somewhere. Agents from our organization will find him. And you'll never hear from him, or anyone from the D.E.O again. Truth be told, If you take me with you, you'll be giving me a new life. But if you kill him...I cannot let you take his life. Whatever I think of him, he's still my commanding officer. I cannot keep silent and just let this happen. We have rules even in war. He's no longer any threat to you. If for no other reason than to prove you're better than him, leave him alone...take me.”

“You would give up your freedom for this man's life?” The man said, mystified.

“For his freedom AND his life...yes. If you will not only let him live but let him go, then without your order to the contrary, I'll not leave your side.”

The alien bent over Hank Henshaw and put the back of his hand against the man's temples. He closed his eyes briefly before righting himself. “Activate the beacon you mentioned. And we will be leaving here.” Jeremiah took a small device from his jack-shirt pocket and turned the top. He set the beacon down on Hank Henshaw's chest. “Follow me.”

After 2 hours of walking though the fields with a sinking sun to their left they came to a clearing, dotted by a few houses with flat roofs made out of red clay and what looked like an old one room school house. With a wave of his green hand J'onn motioned his companion into the structure. The room was sparsely furnished but dry and cool. A cot was set up on cinder blocks with lightweight sheets and fluffy white pillows on it. A low set table and an equally short bookshelf stood off the one side. “I...hope you'll be comfortable here. I have to go see a friend.” He turned to leave.

“Wait please.” Jeremiah reached out his hand, almost reaching for his alien captor. “We should at least learn each-others names.”

The alien looked embarrassed, or confused. “Of course. That is polite even among enemies.” He looked meaningfully at Jeremiah. “And WE are no longer enemies.”

“I'm Jeremiah Danvers.” The man said simply. He extended his hand.

The alien straightened himself and extended his right hand. “I am, J'onn Jo'nzz.”

“What did you do to Hank?”

“I...made sure he wouldn't come here looking for you.”

“Thank you.” Jeremiah said in a heartfelt tone. “You gave me a new life, you kept your word. I could literally ask no more than that from anyone, so thank you.”

“I get the feeling I should be thanking you.” J'onn replied. And he was gone.

Jeremiah got to his feet the instant he walked in the door. J'onn looked disquieted at the courtesy. “There is no need for that, please.”

“I'm sorry, I guess, old habits must die hard. I'm...not sure what to expect.”

“Do your people have a word for being able to move freely throughout the premises as long as you do leave the premises?”

“House arrest.” Jeremiah said.

“Then I suppose 'house arrest' is the best description. I do not intend to treat you as any sort of captive Jeremiah. I...I suppose I can only ask you to believe that. You are not a prisoner of war, you are an unwelcome guest, I think.”

“Would I seem, impolite to ask why you are being so kind to me?” J'onn started. “I wasn't an eager participant but I was on a mission to kill you.”

“You were the first human to speak to me as an equal, seeing me in my true appearance.” Jeremiah cocked an eyebrow. “My people are shape-shifters. We can look human if we choose. And for most of my time on your planet, I have done. I would hope we can continue to be equals.”

“I would like that as well, J'onn. And I know enough to know I'm not a hostage here in the strictest sense. I just wasn't sure...who or what to expect if you understand me.” J'onn nodded. “I owe you an apology. I don't understand what happened, we were VERY wrong about you. And I am sorry.”

“You were the first human to look me in the eyes when you talked to me, without either anger or fear. Believe me if I didn't have as high an opinion of you, I would not let you stay here.”

“Well that makes sense. Wait, does that mean I can see the rest of this place?”

“ 'The rest of this place', is what I came here to show you.” J'onn said with a slight smile. Jeremiah fell half a step behind J'onn and they walked out of the school house. It turned out they were in a rather pleasant meadow, with the mountains away to the north. After about ten minutes walk J'onn brought him to another clearing. This one dotted with houses constructed mostly of gray stone or wood. A well beaten path ran between the structures and at a distance, under the shade of the mountain there was a structure made entirely of dried sticks covered in moss and held together with what could have been twine. Jeremiah got the impression that whoever lived there preferred the company of animals to that of bipeds. And might well have been the 'friend' J'onn had mentioned before. “Welcome to Arias.”

“Arias, what does that mean?”

“In many languages it means something between and including 'city in the clouds' and 'near to God.” J'onn said with a clear note of joy in his voice. “It's simply a more specific word for 'sanctuary' which doesn't always translate the same way in our languages.”

“It doesn't?” Jeremiah asked before he could stop himself.

“For Zyerilians a sanctuary is a cloister, set apart from the outside world, dedicated only to the pursuit fo religious knowledge. For Enkarens it's a military or government training school where you cast aside all other concerns to become the best of whatever you pursue.”

“Ahh, yeah I can see how that would get confusing. Why intentions rather than functions would help best if you have different 'native' languages. This may be a weird time to ask it but were we right about you? In so far as we thought you were a Martian, were we right about you?”

“Yes, I am a Green Martian. And the distinction is significant.” J'onn did not say anything else on the subject and for a few moments did not say anything at all. He simply stared off into the near distance, lost in thought...or perhaps in the past. I regretted upsetting him. He was a good man. If nothing else he was a man of honor and someone his people, the people of Arias looked to as their rock. That's when I realized what Sarrin had been talking about. They follow J'onn because they believe in him. Not because he was their commander or governor. And when Sarrin had mentioned she didn't wear a bracelet, she'd been trying to tell me she wasn't bound to J'onn by anything but self-decided loyalty. That she didn't obey him.

All of Earth 9 is 'Sanctuary'

In which Superman and Nikita stand in the Fortress of Solitude speaking to the living memory of his Kryptonian father Jor'el.

“I don't understand why you're leaving.” Nikita said to Jor-El

Jor-El smiled faintly. “Sasha, you have already risked enough on my behalf. And I...I honestly don't know how to thank you. But I cannot put you in any more danger. Especially from the general. What was his name, Elling?”

“Listen to me. I seriously need you to understand this. The instant I welcomed you under my roof you became a guest in my house and my responsibility. It's a lot like being in custody without being under arrest. And regardless of that, you became...you are my friend. And no one with a brain in their skull insults a friend of mine in my house. But if you really want to leave, I can't stop you.” Nikita took a breath. “I appreciate what you are trying to do for me...”

“You saved me from that fanatic. I wouldn't be a very good guest if I didn't at least Try to return the favor.”

Nikita looked sad. That's when I realized they were no longer quoting the day of their meeting. “It didn't work did it? He came anyway.”

Nikita nodded then looked at Jor-El. “Did you send the message to me? I mean was it intended for me alone?”

Jor-el looked thoroughly caught off guard. “Yes...of course. Did you not believe so?”

“Six years ago when I first met your son.” she motioned toward me. “Superman as he is known on this planet I recognized the symbol on his chest and put him together with that message. It was hard not to. Until about 6 days ago I never put that message together with your visit. And now I'm feeling kind of like an idiot about it.”

“Why is that Nikita?” I asked her. “You said yourself you never knew his true name, or what planet he was actually from.”

“I spent so long wondering who could have known Xavallen physiology enough to send a signal I could pick up. We don't have dog ears for sound and we're not telepaths. The rest of the time I kept searching my mind trying to figure out who would trust me that far. On the very short list of people who knew what I was, who would ask me to take care of their son, I couldn't work it out in my head. It didn't help that when I received the message I wasn't even capable of helping myself. I was...in a prison for dangerous aliens at the time. Once I was freed I couldn't think of that memory without knowing I'd failed the man -the couple given the phrasing- that had put so much trust in me in the first place.”

“You realized this alien you once sheltered would have trusted you that far. You must have already known that. It follows then that something must have helped you recognize me.”

“Not you, no. But I did recognize him because of you. The man who rescued me from that alien prison, his name was Jeremiah Danvers. He reminded me a lot of...Well, you Jor-el.”

Suddenly I felt panicked. “Nikita wait!" Jor-el and Nikita both turned to me. "I am sorry father. There is something I have failed to explain." I felt like hanging my head as I turned to Nikita. "Jor-el...doesn't know who Jeremiah is...to me.”

Nikita put her hand over her mouth, then balled it into a fist as she pushed down. It was the single most horrific thing I have ever seen.

"My son, I require an explanation."

"Jeremiah Danvers...Is the man who found me when I was little. He raised me as his son. The only reason he agreed to work for the organization that captured Nikita– was so the leader of that organization wouldn't come after me, turn me into a solider... Or worse."

"Jeremiah had worked for Hank Henshaw for almost six years when he broke me out of that place. And Hank was not Elling. He was a man of restraint and duty...just misguided. He was willing to do any-thing to protect his people from those he honestly believed were a threat. Some-thing he eventually changed his mind about.”

"As far as what constituted a 'threat' in the first place anyway."

"Quite so. When a man you don't think anything of good or bad shows you boundless courage, true fidelity and dies saving your life, you tend to re-examine your assumptions on such matters. I now serve under Hank Henshaw. I have for several years. A free choice and one we have all accepted. The particularly dangerous alien they had been pursuing gave Henshaw the memories of Jeremiah's death; out of the belief that it as the only way to keep both himself and Jeremiah safe. We've only quite recently learned the truth of that matter. Jeremiah has been, essentially under house arrest and living with a man -a GREEN Martian named J'onn Jo'nzz- in a remote community called Arias.”

“This is...an almost unbelievable amount of truth to learn.”

“That's pretty much how I felt when I realized that the 2 closest friends I have ever met on this planet, the two BEST men I have ever know are in fact the biological and adopted fathers of one of my closest current friends!”

Tuesday, September 23, 2025

Supernatural: Buddy movie style

I couldn't think of another title. The story runs from season 4 of Supernatural when Castiel first shows up until near the end of season 9 (so far). Jimmy Novak, Castiel's vessel does not get screwed over as badly and Sam prays to Cass after the mess with the blade. There's a season by season summary of the show. From season 4 to season 15.

"My superiors have begun to question my sympathies." Dean couldn't believe what he was hearing. "I was getting too close to the humans in my charge. You. They're concerned my judgment and dedication may have been compromised.”

“Then tell whoever's in charge, you do not want me doing this, trust me.”

“Want it, no. But I've been told we need it.”

“Castiel, I don't know how else to say this. If I walk into that room, if I give in, you will not like what walks back out.”

“For what it's worth, I would give anything Not to have you do this.”

Dean closed his eyes. Castiel might have had the powers of an angel, but in this matter he was powerless. He stepped through to door, face set hard and cold. The bastard strung up on the devil's trap had tortured him in hell for something like thirty years. Until finally he had agreed to be the torturer. And now, he would be one again. He forced himself to put the thought out of his mind. But he knew it would haunt him for years to come.

Sounds of pain came from the cold storage room; the moans were Alistair's, not Dean's. Castiel stood with his back ramrod straight against the wall, his arms firmly at his sides. He knew that his brethren were watching him with intense scrutiny, but somehow guarding an already triple-bolted room did not seem as important as intercession. And so he closed his eyes. “avi hakdush bioter. ani nichna lech bekal dvar shani osha. abel ani mevaksh am ze efshri, azor le'ish haza. haser et hameshima hazu mechtafav.”

“My most holy Father. I submit to you in everything I do. But I must ask if it is possible, help this man. Take this burden from his shoulders.”

“What exactly are you doing?” Uriel's voice interrupted rudely.

“You know exactly what.” Castiel replied tersely.

“You really are enamored of these little grease monkey aren't you?”

“When God himself tells me to stop caring about His most glorious creation which we are sworn to protect, I will stop. Until then I am his loyal solider. And you are not foolish enough to suggest otherwise. Besides, you and I both know Dean Winchester is more important to the fight than you are making out.”
“...Unfortunately yes.”

“ Then I should do everything within my power to keep him safe.”

“There is another, more sure way to win this fight.”

“Not without sacrificing the final battle. Or have you forgotten our ultimate enemy is Lucifer, not Alistair, and certainly not humanity.”

“Humanity isn't worthy of being our concern, much less our enemy. And what of our brother Lucifer, rotting in th cage, what did he do to deserve that?”

“He rebelled against God, corrupted our father's creation and out of jealousy, ruined humanity.” Castiel replied. His voice was measured, his eyes searching. Was Uriel suggesting what he seemed to be suggesting? He kept his face impassive.

(Something else goes here. I don't know what but there is a missing scene)

Dean Winchester was lying unconscious in a hospital bed. The Devils trap that had bound his 'prey' had been smudged and as a result the demon had been freed. Castiel and Sam had eliminated the threat, but were at a loss for explanations.

“Do not let your sympathy for these monkeys blind you Castiel! Our father doesn't care what any of us do. That I am even standing here is proof of that!”

“You killed our brothers and sisters. You attacked the garrison, killed our fellow soldiers, fellow angels, then blamed it on Alistair and his demons?”

“I only killed the ones who said no.”

“And now, if I say no, you'll kill me.”

“I don't want to. I like you. More than that, I need you. I need you to help me, help me free our brother Lucifer. All you have to do is take a stand.”

“I intend to.” Castiel faced Uriel, any hint of timidity gone. “Despite my attachment to certain humans, you consider me a worthy solider. I'm gratified. But you make one grave miscalculation.” Castiel drove his blade into Uriel's heart. “I am still a loyal acolyte of God, no other. Not Dean Winchester not you.”

Dean woke up in his hospital bed to find Castiel sitting beside him.

“Are you alright?” The angel said with concern.

“No thanks to you.”

“Dean will you let me...” He raised his hand, reaching for Dean's broken jaw.

“Cass, I don't think you can.”

“Dean, I feel I owe you that much.”

“What will the others think.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Caring for you is in accordance with our orders. They won't object. I don't think I'd care if they did.” Castiel pressed his fingers against Dean's forehead and immediately the swelling vanished. Dean's sight was normal.

“Caring for me is 'according to your orders'?”

“You are aware, of what happened in Hell? Not what happened to you but, when you escaped?” Dean nodded miserably. “We believe that, it is written that the righteous man who begins this calamity, must be the one to end it. It's why Michael is so eager to have you as his vessel. And why no one objected to my attentions to you. Until now.”

Castiel was staring at him again, his eyes soft but intense. “Dean, I hope I haven't ruined our chance at a friendship.”

Dean couldn't help smiling. For a solider of God surrounded by an army of ass-hats, Castiel was pretty okay. Almost human. “No Castiel. You've made a friend.”

“James, what is going on?”

“I've thought about...what you said. I stayed up all night thinking about it.”

Jennifer leaned in, her movements cautious, her attitude loving. “And?”

“I can't fail him.” James Cole looked briefly at his wife and walked sadly out of the house. Standing on his front porch, he looked up to Heaven. “Castiel, promise my family will be okay, and I'll do it.” A warm white light surrounded him, he closed his eyes. “Yes I understand. And yes.” He felt a surge of energy. It wasn't painful in the slightest, but warm, inviting. The light faded a moment later.

Jenny ran out the door and found James standing in the yard.

“I am not your husband.” James Cole's voice intoned.

“You...you're Castiel.”

“Yes. Your husband is truly a devout man. Believe me, he prayed for this.”

“I'm not certain I can. But I do believe he accepted this, accepted you.”

“That is all I can ask. I must go.” He began walking into the yard. He turned back briefly. “I must go. I must find Dean Winchester.” Castiel wondered off into the night. To find his charge and although he didn't realize it, his destiny.

“Cas?” Dean called. He saw a man lying on his back.

“Cas, whoa take it easy.” Sam urged holding him gently.

The man held his hand to his head. “Castiel? Not Castiel. My name is Jimmy.”

Sam and Dean exchanged worried looks. Sam touched Jimmy's shoulder gingerly. “This might sound crazy but you really better come with us.”

“Crazier than letting an angel use you as a host for a year?”

“Tabling the con-fab until we're out of the hot zone.” Dean insisted.

Twenty minutes later Jimmy Emmanuel Cole sat at the dinging table in a low rent motel two very concerned strangers staring at him.

“I don't think I've ever seen anyone enjoy toasted oats so much.” Said the man with the longer hair and wider face.

“It's been almost a year since I've eaten anything.” Jimmy replied.

“Okay that would do it.” Said the other man. A man with shorter hair, slightly sharper features and strong emotions. “He never let you out?”

“I volunteered to be a vessel, I was the outside.”

“Ohh next time I see him I am so gonna kick his ass.”

“Pretty sure that can wait. What do you remember about being... possessed?”

“I remember this constant, dull pain, calm, an empty kind of calm. I remember sitting in my living room with my wife, walking out onto the front porch and the next thing I know, the two of you are standing over me.” Jimmy looked from the concerned, soft-spoken man on his left to his other new friend. This man seemed to be struggling with anger, even feelings of betrayal. “I invited him in. It was my choice. He must have told you that.”

“Doesn't make it any easier to stomach.” Dean said miserably.

“I'm sorry, I've been rude. What are your names?”

“I'm Sam Winchester. This is my brother Dean.” Said the man on his left.

The names clearly meant nothing to him.

James Cole sat in the living room he once shared with his wife.

“James, you don't have to pretend. I know the truth.”

“About Castiel, how?”

“He...he talked to me, right after. I guess you don't remember but I ran out after you. Castiel told me you had invited him in.”

“I did. I asked him to make sure you and Claire were okay. I've been...I'm not sure where I've been since then.”

“And out of the blue, he just let go of you?”

James shook his head slowly. “I get the feeling it was more like someone yanked him out of me, angry at him. I have NO idea what's been going on. Sam and Dean said they've been _Dean?”_ Yeah, they say they've been working with Castiel off and on for almost a year. It's weird they call him 'Cass'. Have then been here?”

“No. It's just when Castiel left he said he needed to find Dean Winchester.”

“This is starting to make a weird sort of sense.”

“Jimmy, I know that look. Why are you so concerned about them?”

“Not them. They told me not to come here, that I was putting you in danger.”

“You're right they did.” A voice said from the other side of the room. Two men stood in the doorway. “You should have listened to them.”

Claire knelt beside her father, but James could see it wasn't his daughter. It was Castiel looking down at him with...and oddly sincere expression.

“We keep our promises. And of course you have our gratitude. Your work is done. It's time to go home now, you're true home. Rest now James.”

“No, Claire.”

“She's with me now. She's chosen, and fierce, like you.”

“Please Castiel, take me back. I'll be your vessel again. Just take me, please.”

“I'm not angry with you.” Castiel answered, thoroughly confused. Jimmy shook his head sadly. There was simply no way he could explain to an angel, who had no human emotions, what small a sacrifice he was making compared to having Claire taken from him. “I want to make sure you understand. You won't die, or age. You won't see your family again except in your memory.”

James clutched his daughter's hand, shaking in both desperation and pain. “It doesn't matter. You take me. Just take me, please.”

Castiel sighed heavily. “As you wish.” He pressed two fingers against James' forehead and once again the surrounding air shone with light. Castiel stood, Jenny didn't need told Castiel was back. He carried wore the distant expression she had seen on his face a year earlier.

“Daddy, where are you going?”

“He's answering God's call.” Jennifer answered.

“But we just got you back.” Claire all of 12 years insisted.

“I am sorry Claire. I hope you'll forgive me. I hope you'll understand one day. God put a call on my life, at least an angel did. I'm answering that call.”

“Where will you go?” Jennifer asked. It was all she could think to say.

“Wherever my charge takes me, I suppose.” The angel Castiel answered.

“God be with you...Jimmy.” Jennifer offered with a warm smile.

Castiel actually smiled back.

Castiel approached the vehicle with Sam right behind him. The front seat and the ground beside it were drenched in blood. “He survived, right?” Sam inquired, or suggested, it was hard to tell sometimes.

“This way.”

As they searched for Gadreel, Castiel realized he was feeling shame. He was still unclear on the details but apparently Gadreel had been inside Sam's body for several weeks, healing him from devastating injuries while hiding from the various angel factions. He'd called himself 'Ezekiel' at the time, which made sense. Had he used his real name, Castiel would never have allowed the Winchesters to accept his assistance. With Crowley's help Gadreel had been expelled from Sam's body.

And sometime in the last few months had chosen to follow Metatron. Who he soon came to realize was the most manipulative, dishonest and insincere angel that could possibly exist. Two days ago he had come to them with an olive branch. The truth of one of Metatron's most insidious schemes and an offer to help bring him down. Armed with the First Blade and having succumbed almost completely to it's power, Dean had attacked him with the viciousness of a wild animal. But Gadreel could hardly be expected to know the details. Castiel had recently experienced hunger and loneliness, but could not imagine feeling wounded and afraid on top of that. He saw a man lying face-up in the grass. It was Gadreel. The man's eyes went wide with fear as soon as he saw them. He tried to crawl away.

“Please, I'll leave you alone, I swear.” He pleaded shakily.

'As if I needed to feel worse about this whole mess' Cass thought to himself. “We're not here to hurt you. Please believe me.” Cass assured the man. He reached for Gadreel's forehead but the man held up his hand, blocking him.

“No...your Grace, healing me would only weaken you.”

Castiel smiled grimly. “We are both soldiers of duty Gadreel. Do really I need to explain why I have to do this?” Gadreel sighed but did not protest further. Castiel touched Gadreel's forehead. The wound in his stomach healed instantly. Cass lurched forward as if struck in the back. Then stood, and lifted the man to his feet.

“Should I ask why?' Gadreel inquired patiently.

“In reference to what?”

“Why you trust me? Why you healed me?”

Castiel tried to hide how ridiculous the question sounded. “You mean aside from the fact that I am indirectly responsible for your injuries? Sam told me what you did while you were with him. Humans don't cling to the past like we do. They don't have our arrogance. At least,” He indicated Sam. “they don't.”

“We have that much in common at least.”

“They've been my role models on many things these past few years. This is just one more thing I'm learning from them.”

Sam and Gadreel faced each-other.

“Gadreel.” Sam Winchester said rather formally.

“Sam Winchester.” The angel replied with solemnity. They looked at each-other for a soft moment. “I am glad to see you are fully recovered. I may have lied about my name but I am not, by my nature dishonest.”

“I understand. Believe me, we've all made mistakes. Pretty sure Cass and I will spend the rest of..my lifespan making up for ours.”

Castiel decided to push the conversation into areas of more immediate concern.

“I have no right to ask but I'm going to; will you come back to the bunker with us?”

Castiel could not blame Gadreel for tensing at his words.

Hoping to reassure the man, Sam gave voice to his thoughts. “Dean is locked in a storage room. He won't be able to hurt you, I promise.”

“I don't suppose I should ask what happened?”

Castiel measured his reply. “Dean is not in control of his actions. His mind is clouded, his emotions... amplified. Gadreel, I am asking you to trust me. Return to the bunker with us, help us figure out a way to expose Metatron, take him down.” Castiel stared hard at the angelic solider, the former prisoner of heaven he had once sought to punish for his deceit, and said three words. “Point. Of. Honor.”

“You don't need to convince me Castiel. I trust you. I'll come.”

They walked into the bunker together. Dean was no where to be found bu this did not immediately seem concerning.

Gadreel turned to Sam and ventured, almost conversationally. “You've helped both of us to see the other clearly.”

“What do you mean?”

“Castiel and I met a few days ago. It was the beginning of both doubt and clarity for me. I had seen him through your eyes. You consider him honorable.”

“To say the least.”

Gadreel nodded in Castiel's direction. “He says you're the reason he reached out to me that day. I wanted to thank you.”

“Gadreel, I didn't give a glowing report or anything. I just told him the truth. Cass asked me what it was like when you possessed me. He asked me if I felt your presence, I told him I had. He asked if I ever felt threatened and I never did. From the way he was talking, he already suspected we were wrong about you. I feel I should tell you, the one thing I felt clearly when you were with me was that you weren't at rest. That you felt like you had more to do and were desperate to get it done. That's what I told him. Nothing more or less."

Gadreel would not be put off so easily. His lingering feelings about his own intrusion might have been driving him harder than he knew, but regardless of anything else that was going on, he was determined to make sure Sam knew what he really thought of him. “One thing I've learned being on Earth these past months? With the exception of one we both admire, “He nodded toward Castiel again. “my brothers and sisters don't think much of humans. They obviously don't know you very well.”

“Castiel, I know you're angry. I also know you're our friend. Please, I'm not offering an olive branch just because we need you. But we DO need you Cass. Look I know you have every reason to tell me to get stuffed. I'm not asking for myself. I've made my peace. But please, Dean deserves better. Dean deserves a life.”

He looks up to find Cass standing beside the pew. Wearing a much softer expression than he'd expected. “You continue to humble me Sam. You and your brother make a habit of exceeding my expectations.”

“Does that mean you'll help him?” Sam replied, his voice rising.

“It means I'll hold onto him and never let go as long as there's a small chance that I can save him.”

Castiel felt his arm come down, delivering a vicious blow to Dean's shoulder. 'please stop!' his mind screamed. His voice did not comply. Neither did his fist. Holding Dean by the arm with one hand, he continued throwing punches, until Dean's face was broken and bleeding. As the blows continued to land, he heard Dean pleading with him. “Cass this isn't you. This isn't you. I know you're in there. I know you can hear me. You have to fight this. Fight back Dammit!” Finally Castiel glared up at the one who was manipulating him. “Who are you? Naomi is powerless now. I would have sensed the presence of another angel if you were one. Who are you?!”

The blonde-haired, fair-skinned image of Naomi faded. Replaced with that of a woman only a few centimeters shorter with chocolate brown hair, deep, dreamy brown eyes and a complex-shaded skin tone. “Remember me?” Her voice was as soft as the rest of her, but there was something malevolent behind it. A malice it did not attempt to disguise. Castiel blinked once. “No?” she sounded sincerely disappointed. “But we were so close once.” She teased, putting a silky, sexual tone on the word 'close'. At at that word a memory flashed in front of his mind. A dark, hollow place, completely void of any and all life. Except for an entity who looked exactly like him. This creature had called itself.. “You're the Empty. Please let him be. You'll KILL him.”

“That's the idea.” It mocked him bitterly. “But I suppose we can give this one a brief respite.” The Empty said. Castiel's hands moved forward, pressing two fingers to Dean's forehead, who promptly fell asleep. And suddenly the empty was present, a few feet from himself and Dean. “Now we can speak in private.”

“Why are you after him?”

“No matter how many times they die, these hunters keep finding a way to come back, and pour new dead souls into the ether.. They never stay in Heaven, they barely touch their toes in hell. It's like we have a sign “Stay for as long as it's convenient then bugger off.”

Castiel saw through this immediately. “You're not concerned with Heaven, or Hell for that matter. They aren't your realm. If you could drag Dean into the void with you, he'd have been gone before I even found you.”

“That unfortunately is true. But at least what I kill stays dead. And you will know true loss.” Her face grew hard. Indeed her entire posture changed. Suddenly she looked darker, colder. “No more interfering. No more loud emptiness. No more chaos. Your meddling ends now!” She approached the still unconscious form of Dean Winchester, Castiel's angel blade in her hand. Cass felt himself grow sick and pale. Dean was everything to him. The Empty knew this. Whatever excuses or false ideals she hid behind, this thing only wanted to hurt him. And it could not have found a better means than forcing him to watch Dean die.

“STOP!” He cried out desperately. “Take me.”

“What, was that? A little louder please.”

Cass punctuated every word. “Take. me. in his stead. Take. Me.”

“You?” She said, turning to face him. “But you're already mine.”

He shook his head, as if amused at her increasingly transparent lies. “No not for years. Eon's, maybe. As long as I'm inside of him, Jimmy Novak is as ageless as I am. I know you're only doing this to hurt me. I'm the one who woke you up. Not Sam and not Dean. So take me. Let me heal him and I'll go with you Now. And I will go Willingly.”

“Deal.”

Castiel reached down, touched his hand to the side of Dean's face. The marks healed. Dean slept quietly. “Goodbye my friend.” Castiel whispered. “Tell Sam thank you. I was honored to have known either of you.” In one motion he stood and turned to face the Empty. He closed his eyes, prepared to be taken into darkness.

“Oh but not yet.” The Empty teased. “No you were right I...I want you to suffer. I want you to go back with your friends, enjoy your wacky little life. And when you finally give yourself permission to be happy, that one moment the sun shines on your face? That's when I'll come, to drag you to the nothingness you've condemned me to.”

“So be it.” Castiel replied, his voice thick with confident resolution.

Dean woke up in the bunker. In his own room. Castiel was sitting beside him, watching him sleep. “Cass, how many..” Dean's usual remarks fell silent as he noticed the look on his friends face. “What happened?”

“Dean, I'm so sorry.” Cass whimpered. “I couldn't control myself.”

“Cass will you...What. Happened?”

“You're alive. You're safe. Naomi is no threat to anyone anymore. But to answer your question she manipulated me. Like I was...Pinocchio.”

“Puppet-on-a-string?”

Cass nodded miserably. “Something you said...broke the connection. I took the angel blade and ran her through with it.” Castiel found it disturbing that he was able to lie so readily. But he knew he could never bring himself to tell Dean the truth about the monster he had faced. Or the deal he'd made. He didn't want Dean to ever find out about that if it could be helped. Anyway, he was right where it mattered: The Empty would never bother Dean again. “I healed you. Brought you back home.”

“Where's Sam?”

“Probably still at the hospital. I've been calling him but so far he hasn't responded. “Dean, are you...I will find a way to make it up to you.”

“Cass, you weren't in control of your own actions. It's fine.”

“That's not what I'm talking about. We didn't part friends Dean. I'll make it up to you. I'll find a way to atone. If it takes me my whole life, I will find a way to redeem myself to you. I swear.”

“Cass what...” Dean' mouth opened in a wide O. “Cass, you were trying to save your people, trying to save the world. You didn't do anything I wouldn't have done in your place. Trust me. Is...Is that why you've been gone this whole time?”

“...And because I had a price on my head...yes.”

Captian Pike, Sarrin and La'an

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. Wanted to see if people could 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's inexplicable. Even if you get the restraints off you'll still be imprisoned by the force barrier. 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'. I believe 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 quietly.

“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 elbow bent. Pike saw the similarity between that pose and holding something 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 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 and accepted." Chris slid to the floor and sat back against the wall, facing the alien scientist. He wanted to call her his friend, he wanted to curl up and sleep. The handcuffs got in the way of both. “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. The reverse is also true. If I am stuck behind the barrier, the restraints are useless.”

“Is this you're way of saying '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, uncomprehending. “I didn't know if they served any function other than as restraints. If they...hurt.” Sarrin took a bullet-shaped device from her belt, as long as Chris' index finger and pressed the tip. The handcuffs released themselves.

"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 speak the language of diplomacy very well. A language 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 carrying two purple glasses, translucent and cone shaped. She put one to her lips. “Dasar bodoh. Keluar dari sini, sekarang! Gėrimas iš vynuogių, o ne iš grūdų. Šį kartą tai padaryk teisingai!”

Her subordinate looked at her with respect. Her prisoner looked at her as if she were insane. “Do I WANT to know what you just said?” Chris asked with 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, and 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 sharing information.”

“I understand what you mean. But tell me one more thing.” Chris paused, Sarrin gave a 'go ahead' motion with her head. “when you say 'investigate' do you mean for colonization or conquest?”

“Colonization. And I'm sure you guessed. Now get some sleep. You will need your strength tomorrow. Trust me.”

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

Seven decades.” Chris said suddenly. “You said you 'hadn't seen anything different'...in seven decades. What year is this?”

“By your calendar it would be 2571.”

Christopher Pike swallowed hard.

His guard stared at him 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's inexplicable. Even if you get the restraints off you'll still be imprisoned by the force barrier. Seriously, 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. 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, examining the end and he felt light-headed, as if floating in the air.

“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.

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, 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.” The guard 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.”

“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?” 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 pressed her palm flat against the arm of the sofa. The 'force barrier' was restored.