GRAVITAS

Title: Gravitas, 12/26
Author: Jaye (Copyright September 2002)
Codes: VOY/TNG/DS9 Many Pairings NC-17

Disclaimer: Star Trek and all related characters and concepts are the property 
of Paramount. Gladiator belongs to Dreamworks SKG and Universal. No infringement 
is intended or profit made. This is NC-17 for adult themes, violence and sex. If 
you aren't interested (or aren't old enough), don't read it.

Archive: Drop me a note first so I know where it's going. Please keep the text 
(especially the disclaimer) intact.

Feedback: Sure but be kind, or at least constructive. E-mail is 
reader8901@fastmail.fm

Summary: Treachery raises the stakes and changes lives when the leader of the 
Terran Empire seeks to restore the Federation.

Note: Very AU, as this is basically the plot of the film "Gladiator" set in a 
Star Trek universe. Some scenes and dialogue closely mirror the film (though 
it's starting to drift away from the exact plot). No Maquis, no Delta Quadrant, 
etc. This is my response to Polly's Cha!Club challenge about movies. Sisko is 
older here than in canon.

***************

CHAPTER TWELVE

Tom gave a huge sigh of relief as he appeared in Lucien's closet. It had been a 
long, strange, dangerous night. He cautiously opened the door to see both Lucien 
and Gerron Tem fast asleep. He walked over to Tem's chair and took a quick look 
at the monitor on the young man's lap. It didn't show any disturbances. Tom was 
thankful they'd had a quiet night.

He reached out and shook the Bajoran's shoulder gently. "Hey, it's time to get 
up," he said softly.

Tem stirred, blinking his eyes as awareness returned. He jumped up and said, 
"I'm so sorry! I never meant to fall asleep."

"It's okay, really," Tom reassured him. "I was out a lot longer than I 
expected." He indicated the sensor monitor. "It looks like none of Julian's 
minions did a bed check, so we should be fine."

Tem's shoulders relaxed. "Shall I wake up Lucien?"

"No, let me do it." Tom looked at Tem meaningfully. "Lucien is going to be sick 
today. When I tell you to get a doctor, contact Kate Pulaski. She's in the 
directory."

"You don't want to use the usual Imperial physicians?" Tem asked, head tilting 
in confusion.

"No." Tom said firmly. "I have it on good authority she makes house calls."

Tem nodded and left to shower the chair-induced soreness out of his back and 
neck.

Tom drifted to his son's side and brushed a hand over his forehead. "Hey," he 
called softly. "Lucien, mon cher, this is your wake-up call."

Lucien grumbled and turned over. Tom grinned and pulled the bedcovers down and 
off the bed. "Rise and shine, little warrior," he teased. "I bet the gladiators 
have been up for an hour already."

"Don't want to," was mumbled grumpily into Lucien's pillow.

"Come on, Lucien, it's important. I need to talk to you." 

The seriousness of Tom's tone brought the boy up to a sitting position, his 
freckled face solemn. "What is it, Dad?"

Tom smiled fondly and ruffled Lucien's hair. Then he sobered. "Lucien, you have 
to promise me that what we talk about stays a secret. You can never tell anyone 
else. Understand?"

"Yes, Dad. Cross my heart," Lucien promised as he quickly marked his chest with 
an X.

"Okay." Tom paused, then said hesitantly, "You know that Jean-Luc---your Grand-
père---was a good man, right? That he was a good Emperor?"

"Of course." Lucien rolled his eyes as only an 8-year-old can.

"Well, since he died...things are not going so well, Lucien. The Guards are 
doing a lot of mean things to people." Tom hurriedly continued, not wanting to 
go into details. "Chakotay wants to stop the Guards from doing those bad 
things."

"But he's a gladiator," Lucien said, confused. "He has to fight in the arena."

"Well, he's not going to be one for much longer. I'm going to free him so he can 
be an admiral again." Tom peered at Lucien, ready to gauge his reaction. "But I 
need your help."

"You do?" The boy's eyes rounded a moment in surprise before he straightened his 
back and shoulders and puffed out his chest. "Waiting for orders, sir."

"Okay. I'm going to need you to pretend to be sick later on today. So I can say 
I'm busy and can't be disturbed---and so nobody but Tem and I and my friend, 
Doctor Kate, will be allowed to see you."

Lucien's eyes narrowed as he concentrated. "And then you're going to go into the 
closet, right?"

"Exactly. But I can't disappear if people are looking for me. So if you're sick, 
people will know I'm with you and they'll leave us alone." Tom stroked his son's 
cheek. "Can you pretend for me, Lucien?"

"Yeah." Lucien grinned at his father. "I've done it before."

Tom raised a brow, trying to hide his own smile. "You have? We'll need to have a 
little talk about that some other time."

He took his son's hands to deliver the next, more important bit of news. 
"Lucien, I may have to send you away soon, with Tem. Is there anything that you 
need to take with you? I mean, that you'd really miss if you could never come 
back."

Lucien's face screwed up in thought a moment, then he nodded. "Well, pictures of 
you and me and Mama and everyone else. And the shuttle model you gave me for my 
last birthday. And the bear Mama made for me herself." His brows furrowed as he 
concentrated. "And the letter from Chakotay about when Mama was young, and the 
stone he gave her." He sat back and folded his arms, suddenly looking very 
adult. "I can live without the rest."

Tom pulled Lucien's arms apart so he could hug him. He rested his cheek on the 
light-brown hair. "You are a brave warrior, Lucien. I'm very proud of you." He 
sat back. "I want you to put those things in your satchel, so if we have to go 
in a hurry you'll know where they are."

"Okay, Dad." Lucien looked up at his father. "Is there anything you want me to 
put in there for you?"

Tom smiled. "Yeah, you can put some photos in for me...and my stone from 
Chakotay too."

"I'll keep them together so they won't get lost." Lucien promised.

"Okay, mon cher. Now we'd better decide how sick you'll be and when to get 
started."

Father and son began to plot, their heads close together.

************************************************************

Father and son faced each other for the first time in years. Benjamin and Jake 
Sisko continued to lock eyes the younger man stepped down from the transporter 
pad. "Hi, Dad," he said softly.

"Hello, Jake." Sisko's gaze roamed Jake's face, noting the new maturity in his 
features. His son had become a man here on Earth. "It's good to see you," he 
said as he beckoned Jake into his study.

Jake absorbed the opulent surroundings. "Nice digs."

"Thanks." Sisko indicated a seat. "Do you want anything?" At Jake's refusal 
Sisko sank onto his settee. He looked around the room. "I needed someplace 
quick."

"And close to the Colosseum, no doubt." Jake couldn't quite hide his 
disapproval, which thinned his mouth and narrowed the space between his 
eyebrows.

"Of course." Sisko chose not to rise to the bait. Instead he asked, "Are you 
still at your grandfather's?"

"About half the time." Jake shrugged. "With the transporter, New Orleans to San 
Francisco isn't much of a hop. I have a room in a friend's apartment when we're 
on deadline or something and I want to stay in town."

"That's good to hear. But you know if you need a place to stay---"

"I can't make a home here, Pop, and you know it." Jake got up and ran his hand 
through his close-cropped hair as he paced. "You want me to try and invite my 
friends over, knowing that you're keeping men and women in that next building 
like it's some kind of kennel?"

"Not kennel, stable," Sisko growled. "A stable of gladiators that has made me a 
tidy profit over the years. I notice you never complained where the money came 
from when it paid to renovate your grandfather's house and set up his restaurant 
or provided your education and all that fancy equipment you just *had* to have."

Jake stopped and whirled. "I was a child. I didn't understand what it was all 
about." His shoulders slumped. "I never realized they were your property, Dad. 
That you were a damn slaver. I just figured, well, you were training them---like 
boot camp---and that they wanted to fight." He gave a sharp laugh. "How naive 
can you get, huh?"

"Your mother and I wanted you to be...innocent, Jake." Sisko's face and tone 
softened as he regarded his son. "We didn't want you to grow up tainted by the 
violence of the arena. Or the...harsher realities of life in the Empire."

Jake's angry strides carried him to the space in front of his father's seat. "So 
you let me be blindsided. When I found out *exactly* what business you were 
involved in and how you got into it, I threw up, Dad. I was so upset I puked my 
guts out. I couldn't believe that you'd been a fighter---a slave---yourself, and 
yet you were still willing to do the same exact thing to other people."

Sisko stood to meet his son's challenge. "There were very few options open to an 
ex-slave, ex-gladiator, Jake. It's true Jean-Luc Picard freed me, but that 
didn't guarantee me a home or a job. I never had your opportunities. I was 
enslaved when I was 17 for protesting slavery. How ironic is that?"

He leaned in, making his point. "No chance for a good education or any real 
skills. Fighting was all I knew so that was what I went with." He calmed 
somewhat. "You can be ashamed of your old man all you want, but I am not going 
to justify my choices to you or anyone else." Sisko's chin tilted. "Your mother 
had no problems accepting who and what I was."

"I know," Jake sighed. He looked at his father. "I know you loved her, and me, 
and were just doing what you thought best." He moved to perch on a chair. "But 
she's gone now. And grandpa's restaurant is making money. And I've got a good 
job as a researcher for INN. I'm hoping to move to the writing desk soon." He 
opened his arms. "Let's face it, Pop. You're rich. Do you really need to keep 
doing this?"

"If you had asked me that question a few months ago," Sisko said reflectively, 
"I would have said yes." He shrugged. "I figured I'd be a gladiator-owner until 
I died. But now..." he sighed. "Now I'm wondering if it's time to quit. I've 
made a name for myself as more than just a slave. And I'm starting to see their 
faces, to know them as individuals. Maybe I should exit while I'm on top."

Jake perked up immediately. "You'd really do that?"

"Yeah, I might." Sisko grinned at his son. "Though the only other thing I might 
be good for is shucking clams or peeling shrimp for your grandpa's étouffée."

"Nah," Jake teased, "he'd let you clean the okra for the gumbo too."

Sisko rolled his eyes and grinned, but the mirth quickly faded. "I can't do 
anything until the 150 days of the Emperor's celebrations are over, Jake. If I 
fail to meet my contract---"

"You could end up back in the arena yourself," Jake finished grimly. He searched 
his father's face. "What are you going to do about Admiral Chakotay?"

"What do you mean?" Sisko moved restlessly to his desk, refusing to meet Jake's 
gaze.

"Dad, my friends have managed to reconstruct his records. And we're pretty close 
to figuring out how they were destroyed. We might even get some leads on what 
happened to him." Jake walked up to his father and searched the dark eyes so 
like his own. "The man's a leader, Pop, chosen by Jean-Luc Picard himself. He 
saved us all from the Dominion. How can you keep him as a slave? I've seen the 
reports on his match with Worf. Somebody wanted to make sure he didn't leave 
that arena alive."

"That's the point of gladiatorial combat, Jake. It's a fight to the death. You 
know that." Sisko's tone was dismissive.

"Bullshit," Jake spat, earning him a startled look from his parent. "The 
Colosseum exhibitions aren't always fair fights, but even you have to admit that 
someone is deliberately trying to kill Chakotay." His gaze grew fierce. "Why is 
that? Does he know something? Is he planning something?"

Sisko recognized the determined light in his son's eyes. His heart filled with 
fear for his only child. "Whatever is happening here, Jake, is between my slave 
and me. I want you to go to your grandpa's and stay there until I contact you."

"No way!" Jake was adamant. "I know something big's about to break. It could 
make my career as a journalist. Besides, you're a part of this---I'm not just 
walking away. And I'm sure as hell not going to go hide under a table somewhere 
in Louisiana." He clenched his fists. "You have to let me interview the 
Admiral."

"No." Sisko's face closed.

"What?" Jake looked at him in disbelief. "You have exclusive access to the most 
famous man in the Empire and you're not going to let me see him?"

"That's right. So you may as well be on your way," Sisko said flatly.

The younger man shook his head. "If you think this is going to stop me, Pop, you 
don't know me very well." He sighed. "But I did say I wasn't here about the 
story. And I meant it. So, I'll promise not to approach Chakotay without your 
permission---but I'm staying in San Francisco."

Sisko desperately wanted to knock out his son and ship him off to a safe, 
obscure corner of the Empire. But he knew it wouldn't do any good. Jake had 
always been dogged in his pursuit of the truth. He said, "All right. If I can't 
get you as far away as possible, will you stay today and catch up with the old 
man?"

"Of course." Jake hesitantly approached his father, then impulsively hugged him. 
"I've missed you," he whispered.

Sisko kissed his son's cheek and held him close. "I've missed you too," he 
replied, then continued the embrace while he considered his options.

No matter what, his son would be safe.

***************

Tom stood in Lucien's closet and activated his portable comm screen, once more 
sending silent thanks to Reg and Marla for their ingenuity.

Benjamin Sisko's face soon appeared. "Ah, the Admiral mentioned I'd be hearing 
from you. So what is it you wish to discuss?"

Tom grimaced at the gladiator-owner's flippant attitude. "Name your price," he 
said tersely.

One dark eyebrow raised. "My price for what?"

Teeth gritting, Tom replied, "You know what---for Chakotay's freedom."

Sisko's expression hardened. "It's not that simple, my Imperial customer. I have 
obligations to the Emperor to put gladiators in the Colosseum. Chakotay is the 
star of these games. If he suddenly fails to appear, the Emperor will seek to 
punish me and my family." His eyes were cold. "Not you and your seditious 
friends."

Tom reflected on that truth a moment. Sisko was right, Julian showed no mercy to 
those who stood in his way. "What if I could arrange safe passage off Earth for 
you, would you agree then?"

"I might," Sisko said gravely. "But you'll have to get all of us out---everyone 
at this compound, as well as my son and father."

Tom was surprised. "You want me to transport all of your slaves?"

Sisko's answer was firm. "I'm not going to leave anyone behind to suffer the 
Emperor's less-than-gracious hospitality."

With a nod, Tom conceded. "All right. I'll see what I can do."

"Act quickly, Mr. Paris. You realize, I can't keep Chakotay out of the arena." 
Sisko gave a grim smile. "But despite the odds I think our warrior will continue 
to triumph."

The screen faded to black.

His face thoughtful, Sisko turned away from the monitor to look at Jake, who'd 
hovered out of view. "You heard?"

"Yeah, Pop. Now I know why you swore me to secrecy before answering the comm. 
Are you really going to let Admiral Chakotay go?"

"*If* Paris and his conspirators can guarantee our safety, I'll consider it. But 
until then the Admiral's just another gladiator." He stood and rested his hands 
on Jake's shoulders. "You have to be safe before I'll let him be anything else."

Jake gave a frustrated grunt, then tugged on his father's arm. "Come on."

Sisko let himself be led to the transporter. "Where are we going?"

"New Orleans. I figure you deserve a last meal before telling Grandpa he has to 
abandon his restaurant."

Sisko shook his head. "You're all heart, Jake."

The men smiled at each other as they stepped up onto the platform.

***************

"So, Doctor, have you given any thought to my requirements?" Julian walked 
around the lab, peering at Lewis Zimmerman from under his lashes.

"I must repeat, sire, my belief that you are, to put it bluntly, barking up the 
wrong tree." The bald man's voice expressed an equal blend of irritation and 
sarcasm.

The doctor's peeved expression was unique in Julian's existence. This ill-
tempered scientist apparently refused to be intimidated by the Emperor's rank or 
power. Normally that would earn him a sound beating at the hands of Julian's 
Guards, then a one-way trip to the slave pens.

But Julian was feeling generous. He was expecting to hear from his pet operative 
soon, and her report would signal the beginning of the end for his enemies. He 
slinked over to the other occupant of the room, a pretty blonde human. He ran a 
finger along her arm, snickering when she gave a startled jump and darted away. 
"I'm afraid you're lying to me, Doctor. While I'll allow it this once because it 
amuses me..." Julian's expression turned to stone. "...don't think I'll indulge 
you beyond this one small rebellion."

He reached out an arm and grabbed the woman, sinking a hand into her hair to 
yank her next to him. "You, Doctor Zimmerman, do not have obstetrician or 
geneticist on your résumé. Yet that did not stop you from helping your longtime 
assistant, Samantha Wildman here, conceive a half-K'tarian child with her 
husband."

He sneered and flung the woman away. "Though I don't know why she'd want to mate 
with a lesser species." His eyes again examined the stunned doctor's face. "Or 
why you'd agree to aid the creation of yet another half-breed runt." His smile 
took on an unpleasant edge. "And they didn't even name little Naomi after you. 
Very ungrateful of them, I must say."

The doctor and Samantha shared a look; both sets of shoulders slumped in defeat. 
Samantha spoke first, her voice an uncertain quaver. "You won't hurt her, will 
you sire?"

"Of course not, my dear," Julian purred. He turned back to the doctor. "As long 
as your colleague gives me what I want."

The doctor's mouth pressed into a grim line as he surrendered. "Very well. It 
will take me a few days to prepare. When everything is ready I'll create some 
synthetic egg cells and use your DNA to make your clones. But Emperor, I must 
point out that this will violate the Eugenics Laws that have been in place for 
centuries."

"*I* am the embodiment of Imperial law, Doctor. Mere words on old scraps of 
paper or in a computer system cannot hold sway against my desire for a worthy 
successor." Julian's eyes gleamed. "I will have a child who is my exact replica, 
to raise in my own image."

Samantha hesitantly asked, "Do you have a carrier ready, sire?"

Julian smiled at the naked fear on her face, then turned back to the doctor. 
"Yes, I have several candidates in mind to carry my firstborn son. I simply need 
to decide who is most worthy. At least one of them would require an artificial 
womb, however, to accomplish the task."

The doctor protested, "I'm not qualified to---"

"Perhaps you're not, but your little holographic experiment is." Julian's tone 
was chilling. "You keep forgetting, Doctor, that I know *everything*. Including 
that you have an interactive holographic matrix that embodies the entire history 
of Imperial medical data." He smiled. "It even looks like you. So you may 
continue your own quest for immortality. But not until you've helped me fulfill 
mine."

The doctor exchanged a glance with Samantha. He knew he had no choice if he 
wanted to protect an innocent child, as well as the research he'd spent years 
developing. He bowed, defeated. "I will await your summons, sire."

Julian nodded, satisfied that he had eliminated the need for an Empress. All he 
required now was a warm body to birth the first clone. His dreams of a restored 
Bashir dynasty would soon be a reality.

************************************************************

Joe Carey sat at his desk in the palace and wondered when things all went so 
wrong. He was second-in-command of the Imperial Guard in name only. In truth, no 
one was in charge anymore.

There were a lot of good, honorable men and women still wearing the once-noble 
purple and black. But they were all too afraid to do anything about the 
multitude of abuses against the citizenry that occurred every single day. The 
thugs among the Guard---bullies and extortionists---had been given free rein by 
the Emperor himself. There was nothing he could do about it.

Joe looked up as the door opened. He stood to attention and peered at Greg Ayala 
in silence. He didn't know much about this man who'd left the Fleet to become 
head of the Guard. He sometimes thought Ayala was as sickened by the violence 
and greed as much as he was. But Joe never said anything about it. He knew too 
well that silence equaled safety under the new regime. But in the last few days, 
since the news of Admiral Chakotay's return had circulated, he'd watched his 
leader become quieter and grimmer each time he saw the man.

Greg waved his second back into his seat and agitatedly approached the 
replicator. When his ordered cup of coffee appeared he sipped, trying to 
maintain some semblance of calm. To contain the emotions that seemed to swirl 
within him more chaotically each day.

He hated the Emperor. With every fiber of his being, Greg regretted aiding 
Julian Bashir Picard to the throne. It no longer mattered that the man was Jean-
Luc's son and heir. Greg now understood that he'd paid too high a price to keep 
order in the Empire. This tainted peace was not worth his soul. He bowed his 
head as he remembered what he may not have ordered, but did allow to happen. The 
destruction of Chakotay's home and family. And he'd stood by silently as he 
watched the Emperor plot Chakotay's own death with unabashed glee.

Joe felt a rush of sympathy for the clearly suffering man. "Can I help you with 
anything, sir?"

Greg looked into his subordinate's kind eyes. "Tell me, Carey, what do you think 
of the return of a Bashir to reign over the Empire?"

Joe flushed uncomfortably. "To be honest, sir, I have a wife and two sons. I 
think whatever you tell me to."

Greg gave a weary nod. "That's the only safe answer, isn't it? Because I have a 
wife and sons as well." He wandered over to Carey's desk, idly running a hand 
across its surface. "Chakotay only had one child," he whispered.

"Yes, sir...um, I was meaning to talk to you about that." Joe fiddled with a 
padd in his hands. "I'm not sure it really has anything to do with us, though---
directly," he quickly covered his ass in case his own suspicions were true.

"What is it, then?" Greg welcomed the distraction.

"Well, we've had a request for information about Dorvan V." Joe's face creased 
with sorrow as he turned on the desk monitor. Pictures of destruction, black 
scorched earth, leveled buildings, burned bodies soon appeared. His voice was a 
little strangled as he continued, "The Imperial News Network obtained this 
footage. According to their sensor readings, the residual energy signatures 
match Guard shuttle phasers. And personal sidearms."

Greg felt like he couldn't close his eyes on the carnage. He didn't deserve to. 
"What do they want from us?"

Joe bit his lip. "Confirmation. And if they're right, an explanation for why the 
Imperial Guard would murder innocent Imperial citizens."

Greg reached over, switched off the cycle of images and ran a hand down his 
face. He turned and looked at Carey. "I want you to tell me the truth, Joe. How 
bad is it out there?"

Joe felt those anguished eyes boring into him and found he couldn't lie. "It's 
pretty bad, sir." He picked up the padd, looked at it a moment, then handed it 
over. He said quietly, "This is a list of all the names of the Guards who 
participated in the...incident...on Dorvan V. Under that are the names of all of 
those who've been attacking or extorting people with the Emperor's approval." He 
shrugged. "The lists are almost identical. We've just been...keeping track. In 
case someone wanted to know."

Greg turned on the padd and read it, the instrument's low light reflecting on 
his features. He looked up and asked, "Is there a way to leak this without it 
being traced back to our office?"

"Sir, I'm not sure I understand," Joe said cautiously.

Greg gave him a knowing smile. "I'm not asking you to *do* anything, Joe. I'll 
do it, but I need to make sure *my* family is safe." He tried to convey his 
sincerity, his need. "Please, trust me. Help me do the right thing here."

Joe stared for a long moment in silence, then slowly nodded. "All right. We'll 
have to hide the signal, then bounce it all over the Empire. It could take a 
while."

"Okay." Greg pushed up his sleeves and pulled a chair next to Joe's. "The second 
thing we need to do is make sure there are honest men and women in charge of the 
squads again." His face was determined. "The people of the Empire are supposed 
to trust the Guard, not hate or fear them. It's time we remembered who we are."

"What happens to the names on the list?" Joe asked.

"For now, split them up. Give them patrols in low-security places. Away from 
people." Greg ran a hand through his hair. "Then we'll have to figure out who to 
trust, and give our operatives the authority to discipline their subordinates 
according to the regs. That way when the story breaks we'll have already acted 
to restore order."

"And integrity," Joe said quietly. "I know a few people...they were actually 
thinking of transferring to the Fleet."

"Don't you mean 'we'?" Greg asked pointedly.

"Yes," Joe confirmed, chin raised. "But if you mean what you say, then maybe 
we'll stay."

"I mean it," Greg said, more serious than he'd ever been in his life. "I have a 
lot to make up for."

Joe nodded once more and they got to work.

***************

"Are you sure about this, Mort?" Jake could hardly believe his ears. "And are 
you sure this is a secure channel?"

"Yeah, to both questions." Mort rubbed one knuckle across his eyes. "I've been 
up all night checking the image feeds. They've sent a request to, what's his 
name, Ayala? To his office, anyway. Trying to get confirmation. They haven't 
heard back yet."

"I bet they won't," Jake muttered.

Mort shrugged. He doubted they'd hear anything either. "Hey, how's it going with 
your dad? I've been trying to contact you all day, but you were unavailable."

"Not bad. I went with him to New Orleans to see my grandpa."

"That's great!" Mort said, but then his eyes narrowed at Jake's frustrated face. 
"He won't let you see the Admiral, will he?"

"No!" Jake practically flung out the word. "Not unless I promise to leave San 
Francisco the second I'm done interviewing him."

"Tough call," Mort sympathized. "You could get the scoop of the year, then miss 
out on the story of the century."

"Yeah." Jake shrugged. "And I know he means it. One thing my Pop is, it's 
stubborn." He sighed. "I'm hoping to get him to change his mind."

"Where is he now?"

"At the Colosseum. His gladiators are fighting again today."

Mort sat forward. "Including the Admiral?"

"Well, he went with the rest of them. I'm not sure if the Emperor has another 
one of those special exhibitions planned." Jake's frown deepened. "I hope they 
all come back alive."

"Yeah," Mort said. "It must make it worse living next door to them."

"You don't know the half of it." Jake looked at his friend. "Thanks for the 
update, Mort, and say Hi to the gang for me."

"Take care of yourself, Jake," Mort said before he signed off. "You're right in 
the middle of the action, which means you're also in the danger zone."

Jake just grunted as he flicked off the screen.

************************************************************

In a fit of temper, Julian struck the man kneeling in front of him. He stalked 
to the end of his office and whirled. "What do you mean, she's disappeared?" he 
growled.

Michael Jonas cowered on the floor, shivering. He had seen what the Emperor did 
to slaves who displeased him. "I don't know what happened to Seska, sire. She 
ordered me to tail Councilor LaForge. She decided to handle Janeway herself, 
said she had a hunch about something. But she never reported in this morning."

"Have you searched? Was there any sign of her?" Julian barely resisted the urge 
to kick the man.

"No---I mean, yes, we searched, but no, we didn't find anything." Jonas dared a 
quick glance up. "We found traces of DNA in Janeway's garden, but nothing to 
indicate where Seska went after that. All the transporter logs are clear."

Julian's eyes narrowed. "And she didn't give you any clue to what she was 
working on?"

"No, sire, only that she thought you would be very interested in her findings."

Julian swooped down on Jonas, jerking the man's head back by his hair. "I am 
*not* happy, slave. And my unhappiness has consequences, do you understand?"

"Y---yes, sire. Please, I didn't know what to do when she---"

"Silence!" Julian flung the man onto his back and stepped on his throat. "It 
appears that Janeway has neutralized my spy. I know Seska used you as a backup." 
His lip curled. "Though why she'd consider such a sniveling worm useful is 
beyond me. So I'm giving you one chance, creature. Find me Seska's killer."

He removed his foot, but the threat was clear in his eyes. "Or I promise that 
I'll be yours."

TBC