*****

Chapter Four

Travis was the first to chime in. "Sir, we were boarded."

"For how long?" Jon walked up to the helm and looked over Travis's shoulder.

Travis looked over his shoulder and up at his commanding officer. "Fifteen minutes."

T'Pol interjected at that point. "They were on Deck B�the lift."

Just then, Malcolm's disembodied voice sounded over the comm system. "Lieutenant Reed to the Bridge."

"T'Pol, scan the area for warp signatures," Jon ordered, walking over to the Captain's chair and running a hand over his face in frustration. "Malcolm, what the hell happened?"

"Hoshi's gone sir." The taciturn reply came.

***

Em woke and bolted upright. Other than the fact that she was face down, sleeping in the armory, she knew something was terribly wrong. She pressed the comm until nearest her. "Lieutenant Gomez to Hoshi Sato."

She waited for an answer, holding her breath, hoping her worst fears weren't realized. When she received no reply, she hit the wall and swore.

"Ensign Matthers, you're in charge," she shouted over her shoulder, as she left the armory, in search of Hoshi, unknowing she had already been taken.

On her way to the lift she ran into a disheveled Trip Tucker. "What happened? Was it them? Is Hoshi okay?" He reached out a hand to tuck a stray hair behind her ear.

She pushed at him, needing to ascertain the situation at hand and not needing his attention or questions. She needed to get Hoshi back. "I don't know, Commander. If you haven't noticed, we are at tactical alert," she stated dryly, entering the lift.

Trip followed her, knowing she was worried about Hoshi, torn between offering her comfort and offering her � aw, hell, he didn't know what he could offer her to ease the pain she was obviously experiencing.

They both entered the lift, neither one speaking to the other, the overriding anxiety over their friend tearing them apart, internally and from one another.

"All senior staff, report to the bridge," the general alert sounded.

"Come on," Trip grabbed her wrist and pulled her with him as the lift doors opened.

***

The short walk to the bridge was made in silence; both worried for their friend. As they entered the bridge, Em took her place at tactical, beside Malcolm, and Trip walked past to the Engineering console. T'Pol studied her scanner, while Travis manned the helm.

Captain Archer hovered over T'Pol who was still scanning for warp signatures. She stood up, making some adjustments to her scanner. "I have a warp signature bearing seven point two mark twelve. Captain, it's a Starfleet signature."

Jon crowded T'Pol, needing to look for himself and she stepped out of the way.

"Sir, long range sensors are picking them up. They're at warp five point three," Travis interjected, already making the appropriate course corrections to intercept.

Jon turned to T'Pol. "Are you sure, it's a Starfleet warp signature?" His illusion that he had the fastest ship in Starfleet was quickly dissipating.

"Yes," she raised her head and eyebrow; as though she were annoyed with somebody question her findings.

"Travis, set a course, warp five," Jon commanded.

Travis nodded and started tapping on his console.

"Malcolm, Em, get ready. Trip head down to engineering and see if there isn't anymore we can squeeze out of the engines."

***

"Sir, we have the witchling in custody and are in route for Mars colony for the harvest," the underling informed his superior.

"Were there any complications?" the scratchy question asked inside the underling's mind.

"Enterprise is in pursuit at warp five," the underling projected.

"Collateral damage is acceptable. You have the authority to deal with them by any means necessary, BUT, only if it is necessary. Just make it look like an accident," the superior replied.

"I understand your men are restless, as I have the headaches to prove it," the superior rubbed his temples. "You would have thought that your latest mission in Klingon territory, running amok, would assuage their desire for carnage."

The underling smiled at the thought of bloodshed. His med would be pleased. "What of the witchling? A harvesting would squelch their restlessness," the underling suggested, leaning forward, resting his hands on his knees.

"Don't touch her. Just make sure to keep her blindfolded. If she's anything like her mother, she relies on sight to kill. I must confer before a decision is made. For now, she is to remain untouched," the superior ordered.

The underling sat back on his haunches in his mind, the strain of the communication wearing on him, disappointment flooding him.

"Oh! And Commander Reynolds, I suggest you use your Starfleet training to exercise common sense and please do NOT destroy Enterprise unless it is absolutely necessary. Is that understood? I don't need an incident," the superior stated pointedly.

Reynolds nodded, trying to contain his thoughts and emotions. "Yes, Admiral Basilone. Is there anything else, sir?"

Basilone remained silent then patted the younger man on the shoulder in his mind, bending over to whisper in his ear. "Your son says hello."

The veiled threat didn't go unnoticed by either party, and the communication ended.

***

"Personal Log, Lieutenant Malcolm Reed, July 5, 2154. We've been at warp five for three days now, and haven't gained any ground. We assume they are returning Hoshi to Mars colony. Trip assures me that he is squeezing everything he can out of the engines, but the truth of the matter is that the other ship is faster.

"I haven't been able to sleep ever since her�abduction. Well, I've managed to catch catnaps here and there, but nothing substantial. `They've come for me. I love you' keeps repeating in my head, as though she's still here. I-I feel�so� ineffective right now. All I can do at this point is ready the armory and be there for Hoshi when we get her back." Malcolm shut the computer down and put his head on the desk, defeated.

***

Em checked the settings on the phase rifle sure they were off. Her score was only ninety-three percent -- above Starfleet standard but below her personal standard. Disgusted with the one hundred percent accuracy-rating showing on the rifle's stalk, she threw it against the wall, as her lover observed.

"Better not let Malcolm see ya throwin' his babies around like that," the slow Southern drawl sounded, more slurred than usual due to his overwhelming schedule and lack of sleep.

Em turned around ready to pounce on anybody who approached her. She couldn't believe they had stolen Hoshi right from under their noses. All that prep work -- the training sessions and the promises she made to keep Hoshi safe --gone. Now all that was left was the overall feeling of being powerless. And she hated that feeling, disgusted with herself for not�for not�

Trip watched Em pace back and forth, waving her hands in the air and mumbling to herself. "Honey, when is the last time you ate?"

His question went unanswered as Em waved him off.

"When was the last time you slept?"

Again, the question went unanswered.

Trip walked up to her and grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. "Answer me!" he commanded.

Em broke out of his grasp and pushed him, picking up the phase rifle and carrying it into Malcolm's small, closet-like office. "I don't have time!" she yelled, starting her pacing again.

"I've got to be ready. I'm going to kill them if they've harmed a hair on her head!"

Trip got in her path again, blocking her worried pacing and her exit. "You've got to get some sleep! You aren't going to do Hoshi any good if you're dead on your feet, darlin'." He made a grab for her shoulders, attempting to wrap her in his arms.

Em tried shaking Trip off again, but he held tight to her. "Will you get the hell out of my way?"

"Ya think you're the only one hurtin'?" he shook her slightly to get his point across. "Ya think you're gonna be any good for her once we catch up to them bastards?"

Em glared at him.

"Ya need to get some sleep darlin'? Ya look like hell!"

"You don't know what the fuck you are talking about, cowboy. What I need is to pound something� to stomp something to a pulp. I need a release!" Em panted, still straining to break out of his grasp.

"You want to pound something? Pound on me! You want to stomp something? I'm here for ya'." Trip held tight to the wild cat in his arms.

Em froze, her chest rising and falling. Exhaustion and frustration surged through every fiber of her being.

She grabbed his uniform and pulled him to her, melding her lips to his and pushing her tongue into the cavern of his mouth to mate with his. Her hands made quick work of the zipper to his uniform. Her mind was blank - all but one word - release.

He made a half-hearted attempt at pushing her away. This isn't what he had in mind when he came to check on her. He wanted to comfort her. He wanted to�

His mind went blank as she pushed him against the wall and tugged on his uniform, gleaning over his sex.

"You want to help me, cowboy?" she said with a rush of breath and yanked her own zipper down as she reaching over to the door panel and closed it.

"Fuck me," she suggested, shrugging out of her uniform and biting his lip.

He groaned lost to his own inner turmoil and succumbed to her request, tearing at his Henley, sucking on her bottom lip.

As they inhaled one another, they finished divesting themselves of their clothing.

He lifted her, pushing her against the wall.

In response, she wrapped her legs around him, arching her hips, gasping as he filled her.

The rhythm was brutal, both lovers punishing one another for things beyond either's control, blinding everything but their own pain.

No sound was emitted from either lover as they met their release.

***

Numerous voices whispered in her mind, like she was at a party � like the Christmas party or Em's birthday party. But the thoughts weren't warm and filled with good wishes.

No. Something was different. She could remember ... Malcolm. Her body flushed with the heat she remembered emanating from him and the desire she felt for him. The visions of what they were going to do washed over her as all of her senses heightened, picking up all of his thoughts -- the last of those thoughts, fear then the blissful state of sleep.

She felt them, the overseers, in that split second and in that split second, terror and panic gripped her. Resignation that she was going to die overcame her, and as she fell into her slumber, she was able to say goodbye. Malcolm's thoughts were open to her and she took advantage of it.

Her hands and feet were bound now and no matter how hard she tried, she could not twist free. As she struggled with the bindings, the whispers became voices and the voices became louder. She could see nothing, as her eyes were covered with a heavy blindfold.

She focused on the rabble of voices, all of them thirsty for violence, blood, killing and torture. It's what they were driven to. It's what they lived for. Some were sad, coerced into this life by those more powerful. Then one thought caught her attention -- a voice that taunted, "I hope we get to fuck her before we harvest her. I can hardly wait to feel her screaming in my head."

A single tear fell from beneath the blindfold and onto her cheek as that thought repeated to her over and over again, and she started praying for a quick death.

"It won't be a quick death, I'm afraid, my dear," shushed the old man who appeared before her, clearly in her mind. She was standing in the courtyard she had grown up in and was sitting on the grass, confused and staring around her as the man stood over her.

He knelt down in front of her, blocking out the sun, and grasped her chin. You're the one with the gift of gab, Matthew and Mina's child," he said surprised. "We always suspected that Mina was a telepath, but unable to confirm it no matter how many tests we ran on her. And you, my dear child, we had very high hopes for you, the first female child born into the program. Then your parents did a foolish thing and absconded with you. I always thought that a natural telepath was a myth, but your mother proved us wrong that night. She practically destroyed all manipulated telepaths within a five-mile radius. And now you've inherited her 'curse'. I really do regret having to harm such a perfect specimen, but it must be done.:"

Hoshi's sadness was evident as the tears rolled down her cheeks. "W-Why," was the only word she was able to voice.

The man sat next to her and reached out his hand to stroke the black silk of her hair, leaning over to smell the clean scent, even though there was no scent in his mind. "For the sake of our kind, of course. Tell me Hoshi, did you ever have any girlfriends while growing up in the compound?" he continued, not really waiting for a reply. "Of course not. Why? Because, we were never able to harness the X chromosome for cloning purposes. The female fetuses would always terminate in the third month, whereas the success rate with the males was always much higher."

Hoshi sat on the grass, listening, wondering why she couldn't feel the sand underneath her hands or his hand stroking her hair.

"You're in my mind, dear. I wanted to talk to you... study you actually. From what I've gathered you've recently discovered your ability and harvesting you will benefit our program immensely," he stated in answer to her silent question.

More tears slid down her cheeks and the old man wiped them away.

"I would apologize for the pain we will cause you, but I have no remorse. In fact, I take great pleasure in your pain." He lifted his fingers, moist with her tears to his mouth and licked at them.

"I wish I were there to taste them for real," he stated wistfully. "But your sorrow and grief are enough to feed me for today."

Hoshi whimpered in the damp darkness surrounding her physical being, struggling against the bindings. Fear and hatred toward him seethed under the surface.

The old man rose and took a step back, smashing sand under his feet. Taking a handkerchief out of his pocket, he dabbed at the trickle of blood under his nose. "I can feel your anger. You might want to keep it in check; otherwise your friends on Enterprise will meet an untimely end, just like your parents. Screw collateral damage and Starfleet. My men would enjoy toying with them, before their deaths."

Hoshi shrank back into herself, trying to get away from the threat as dread filled her.

"That's better, pet. You behave, and we won't have to hurt them," he looked down at her with disdain, turned and walked away from her in a haze of smoke.

In the dark cell, Hoshi slumped over, despair and agony, her only companions.

***

He could feel her hands hesitate on his chest as he kissed his way down the slope of her neck. She shuddered in his arms as he nipped at the sensitive flesh of her collarbone.

Emboldened, she scraped her nails along the contours of his chest, earning a surprised gasp from him.

Her urgency poured over him and he pulled back in question.

Soothing his brow, she reached for him again. "Please," she begged him. "Hurry."

Sensing the necessity of her plea, he laid back onto the bed, pulling her on top of him, resisting the urge to throw his head back in ecstasy as she sank onto him.

The dark curtain of her hair surrounded his face as she bent over and kissed him, stealing his breath. The consciousness of her around him permeated his soul.

"I love you too," he replied to her message so long ago, earning a sad smile from her.

She threw her head back and met her release, causing him to meet his.

She lay on top of him, sated in his arms. "I'm dead, Malcolm. Let me go."

He felt her disengage from him and melt into a cloud.

Malcolm woke with a start, grasping his chest as though his heart had been ripped out.

~~~

Hoshi could only lay there, a puddle of human flesh. Projecting to Malcolm and trying to convince him not to come for her had taken everything she had.

***

Malcolm stood in the shower as dread filled his gut. Washing the soap out of his hair, he knew she wasn't dead. The dream was �so real. No matter if it was real or not, he wasn't going to stop searching for her.

***

Somehow, Trip had managed to get Em dressed, sans undergarments, and back to her quarters. She had collapsed into a fitful sleep and he fell onto the bunk beside her, welcoming the exhaustive sleep that claimed him.

***

Jon walked onto the bridge and immediately looked over at his science officer. "Any change?"

T'Pol straightened her back and answered, "No, Captain. We are still several light-years behind them."

Jon remained silent, crossing over to his chair and sitting down. "Let me know if there are any changes."

***

"Sir, we've been in route for six days now and are not due back to Mars for several more weeks. The strain of having the witchling on board is wearing on the men. They are able to feed on her anguish, but they are becoming bored with that. They wish to harvest her and I will be unable to squelch their thirst for much longer," Commander Reynolds informed the older man in the mist. His eyes were misting with the strain, as he didn't know how much longer he could control his men and keep her away from them.

In exasperation, Admiral Basilone struck Commander Reynolds across his face. "You weakling! Keep your men in line and don't let them near the witchling. She has the power to destroy us all if she isn't harvested under the proper circumstances."

Commander Reynold's physical form flinched as though hit, but he squared his shoulders and stood tall. "Yes, sir!"

***

She had successfully blocked everyone out, as she could no longer hear their taunting. She could only feel the daily needle pricks in her thighs and the burn of the IV as it pumped nutrients into her system. She had stopped eating, shutting herself down completely, so as not to give the monsters what they craved. She kept the hopelessness at bay, that way, adopting the attitude that it was better not to feel at all then to feel anything.

Blissfully, she slept.

"It was a blood bath, Mina. I don't know if I can go through another one," a disembodied male voice sounded. "They provide us with no justifications for the attacks. We have to do as they say; otherwise�" he choked on the thought that harm would come to his wife or daughter.

"I've had it, Matthew. Once you are recovered, we are leaving. I don't care who or what I have to destroy for us to get out of here. We deserve better and so does our daughter." Her mother's voice carried a menace that Hoshi had never heard before. "She's manifesting an ability, one I've never seen before. We've got to get her out of here before they try to harvest her."

Once Matthew recovered, they planned and waited. They waited for the chance to live. The raven-haired girl resisted the hypo-spray, crying for her father not to leave again. In response, he kissed her on her forehead and whispered, "This time, we're all going together."

The explosions all around her jarred her subconscious, silent witness to the night her mother unleashed her full potential. As if caught in an invisible hand, the overseers would stop and writhe, falling down to the ground, grasping their heads and begging for mercy.

Her mother held her and Hoshi could hear the voice emanate from her mother's chest, dripping with ice, "You feed off of the pain of others. It's time you tasted your own."

Her father laughed manically off in the distance, the madness of his enhancement taking hold. "Transport is secured, my loves."

She and her mother floated through the air without effort, rising above the carnage below. No longer distracted by the attackers, her mother could see that her child was conscious, so she waved a hand over her eyes and whispered for her to sleep.

***

Commander Reynolds sighed as he lay back onto his bunk. He had been up for thirty-six hours straight, suppressing his men and forcing them to follow the directive that had been handed down to him - "Do not harm the witchling! And continue the hormone therapy!"

He could sense the woman's lack of feeling as he administered the shots. She had already given up, which was for the best, as her death would be bleak. He had long ago lost the lust for dissoluteness - at least that is what he called this, knowing full and well that he was judging himself by normal human societal measures. He had lost the hunger long before Christopher was born.

A touch of guilt niggled as the back of his mind as the recalled what happened to the mother of his son. She was a run away; all of the women who were brought into the compound were. Their status ranged from prostitutes, to girlfriends and wives to simple broodmares.

He would never forget that night when a wide-eyed, sixteen-year-old girl with scraggly brown hair and dark brown eyes was shoved into his quarters. "Here's ya a girlfriend, Reynolds. She's a weak one. Ya shouldn't have a difficult time breaking her."

An astonished 20-year-old Ensign Jacob Reynolds could hardly believe his good luck. He had put in a request for a woman going on five years now. Some of his contemporaries had taken to homosexuality in frustration, but he had never really cared for that. He had one friend who had tired of his wife and invited a group of his buddies over to gang rape her and dispose of her as they wished. Behavior such as those were not abnormal, they were the norm. If one lived by standard human collective values, it was rare, but accepted.

It took some time and great restraint on his part, but he wooed Sandra and she bore him a son.

He was away on assignment when Christopher was born - away meddling in the affairs of some alien government that he didn't give a shit about.

He came home, hyped up on the slaughter, wanting to exercise his spousal rights on a women who had given birth to his son two weeks previously. He didn't care and he forced her against her will. He broke her that night, physically and mentally. By the end of the week, she was dead by her own hand, and he had never forgiven himself.

As he fell into his slumber, he wallowed into the guilt, embracing it, for that is who he was. His guilt turned to shocked surprise as he felt the numerous daggers thrust into his body, repeatedly, leaving a bloody corpse behind. He damned himself for letting his defenses down then damned all of his underlings for their treachery. With his last breath he prayed for a quick death for his son.

The lead assassin smiled, pleased with his work and turned to his accomplice. "Go to impulse and let Enterprise catch up with us, and bring the witchling to sickbay."

***

Travis looked up from his panel, rubbed his eyes and then looked back down, questioning his readouts. "Sir, the other ship has dropped to impulse."

Jon stood up and walked over to Travis's console. "How long before we intercept them?"

"Approximately, seventeen hours, sir," replied Travis.

Jon stole a glance at Malcolm who upgraded the tactical alert.

***

They were pounding on her mental shielding, taunting her to come out and `play.' There were so many and they were sneaking into her self- imposed solitude. In the recesses, she ran from them, afraid.

They picked up the scent like bloodhounds, a few of them even howling in amusement.

"We know you're there, little girl. You can hide all you want, you'll surface as soon as he starts cutting on you."

Hoshi could feel the cool air against her skin as they prepped her for surgery and she slowly became aware of the glaring lights above her. She was naked, not a strip of cloth on her body. She slammed her eyes shut, as she had worn a blindfold for days, and now her eyes were adjusting to the bright light.

They clamored as they saw her eyes open. She was wide open and ready to feel pain.

"Harvest a non-essential organ, first. Make her pain last," suggested one voice. "Like the spleen."

Numerous voices shouted in agreement.

Hoshi struggled against the bindings, fighting against the voices in her head as well.

"They've promised me I get to fuck your dead carcass after they are done tearing your insides out. I have to admit. I wanted to fuck a live woman, but a pussy is a pussy," a young voice menaced.

"They say if you drink the blood of your enemy, you'll inherit their power. I've been promised a cup of your blood. I love the taste of human flesh. Maybe they will bestow some flesh to me," a raspy voice chimed in.

Hoshi cringed, surrounded by the voices.

Another voice resonated behind her and she could feel somebody pulling on her hair, the sound of scissors, slicing through the strands. "I get my reward right away. Your hair is quite lovely."

An external voice brought her back to her physical body. "Be careful of her uterus. If we fail to harvest her eggs properly, all of our heads will roll."

"Keep the brain, intact. They'll want that for research purposes," the assistant informed.

"Please�" was all she could say.

Malicious laughter filled the room and her mind.

"I love it when they beg," chimed yet another voice.

"We'll have plenty of begging when Enterprise catches up to us. After all they have no mental shielding. It's too bad that we couldn't kill them when we got her. But now�well�we've got time to enjoy her and plenty of time to get ready for the blood-letting ahead."

Horror filled her as she heard mention of Enterprise. They were closer. She could feel them. Laughter filled the room as they picked up on her thoughts. She had to warn them.

***

"Time to intercept?" Jon asked again.

"Approximately ten hours, twenty-two minutes," T'Pol interjected.

~~~~~

Em looked at the time and made adjustments to her sidearm, her trigger finger itching. She was going to enjoy getting Hoshi back.

~~~~~

Malcolm stood on the bridge double-checking, no, triple checking the targeting scanners. He was going to have to disable the ship, and hope that his shots didn't cause any hull breaches. He was going to have to�

He grasped his head in a soundless gasp and collapsed to the floor.

***

"Stop coming for me, Malcolm. It's a trap! They'll kill all of you!" Hoshi screamed over the acerbic voices.

Malcolm scrunched down in front of her, unable to bear the link she had established.

"They've already started the harvest. You're too late!" Hoshi cried then evaporated into the mist.

***

"Malcolm!" Jon jumped from his seat and rushed over to his armory officer, helping him into a sitting position after he had collapsed onto the floor

Malcolm straightened, blood trickling from his nose.

"Sir, we're dropping out of warp," Travis sounded.

Jon continued to help Malcolm into his seat, tilting the younger man's head back to stop the flow. Malcolm's eyes were shining as though he had just overexerted himself. Ensign Collins approached the scene with a first-aid kit, and took over tending the armory officer's injuries.

Before Jon could access a comm panel to contact Trip, the engineer's voice rang out. "We blew a plasma relay. We'll be back to warp five in fifteen minutes."

Malcolm moaned, holding his head. "Sir, it was Hoshi," he said, trying to explain, dabbing at the trickle of blood that still dripped from his nose. "She says it's a trap!"

"Well, it's not a trap anymore. They've lost the element of surprise. Standby weapons." Jon stated. "As soon as we are in range, target their weapons and fire."

"Aye, Sir," Malcolm replied crisply and stood to man his station.

***

In her mind she collapsed, exhaustion from her exertion overwhelming her. She had successfully disabled Enterprise so they wouldn't come after her.

She lay on the table, unable to move, yet awake, able to feel everything and listen to the demented voices around her.

Some of the voice's clamored to rape the women aboard Enterprise while others clamored to rape the men.

One voice whispered how he was going to eat the flesh of his victims. While another voice sounded that he hoped to keep body parts for souvenirs.

The maniacal laughter and demented excitement surrounded her, making bile rise in her throat. It was as though she were standing in the middle of a darkened room with her tormentors surrounding her.

She could feel the cool swab of iodine on her abdomen and the physician wiping the excess off. The cold blade pressed against her epidermis, and a hush went over the crowd as they could sense Hoshi's raw, panicked fear.

The surgeon pressed harder, penetrating the dermis layer of her skin and Hoshi cried out in pain, tears of agony pouring down her cheeks, only to be licked off her face by the perversions of nature.

Somewhere, she could feel them as they writhed in bliss over her agony. Past the dermis, the scalpel cut into the subcutaneous tissue.

The excruciating pain mixed with the simmering rage she had felt all along for these creatures and brought it to a boil.

Suddenly, the scalpel flew from her body, pushed by an unseen force. Her bindings released and the screaming began.

One by one and in groups as well, her tormentors received her wrath and writhed in pain, some cheering their end while others pleaded for mercy.

She watched in horror as some of them imploded before her. As if in a dream, she reached down and grasped the wound at her side. She could see the crimson of blood as it covered her hand.

Some fought her supremacy as she led them to their deaths -- still disbelieving that one could have so much power. The shrill screams of their agony, and finally their deaths gladdened her, yet frightened her.

Hoshi could feel herself extending outside the room, as if she were floating, murdering those who were manning ship operations. She was generous and let them die quick deaths. She could feel the ship come to a complete halt as she disposed of the helmsman.

Knowing she would never be safe and free of the overseer project, her curse extended past the confines of the ship and into the vastness of space.

***

Admiral Basilone was in a meeting with other brass at Starfleet headquarters, listening to the droning of his contemporary about the status of the NX-02. Inside he chuckled at Forest's naivet�, and then turned his head slightly as the screams reached his mind. Through his telepathic link, he watched in horror, as the compound went up in flames, women scattering everywhere as they ran for their freedom. The boy children thrashed about in agony, mothers clinging to them, crying and pleading for forgiveness. Overseers ran frantically around the compound covered in flames.

His life's works was destroyed. All buildings were on fire, burning red, bleeding and blending into the Mar's sky.

The Witch!

***

Hoshi crawled into a fetal position onto the floor, rocking back and forth, holding on to her side. The `old man' in her head hadn't been on Mars colony. She couldn't sense him anywhere to destroy him. She was too weak to continue, her entire frame shaking in shock. She had killed them all - all but one, and took pleasure in doing it. She took no pleasure in harming the children, but it had to be done. She destroyed their enhancement - a painful process, but a necessary one for her survival. Hopefully, they would suffer no permanent damage.

She gasped as she felt the old man reaching out, trying to find her, to punish her.

The memory of her mother whispered in her ear. "If the overseers seek you, play possum."

With a final effort, Hoshi flaunted the carnage toward the Admiral as he sought answers. The carnage replayed in the old man's mind, but with one slight difference - the Witch was dead - overcome by her own power. There was nothing left but a charred corpse - not enough to harvest. Hoshi could feel him give up, retiring into his own mind, satisfied there was nothing to salvage. She wanted to kill him, but hadn't the strength.

***

"No life signs," repeated in Malcolm's head over and over again as he initiated the docking clamps. The vessel was dead in the water and so were its inhabitants according to T'Pol's scans.

Em stood beside him, her eyes red-rimmed from crying at the loss of her friend. Malcolm was numb, bent on finding her and giving her a proper burial.

The hiss of the airlock pressurizing alerted them it was time to go in and claim their friend. They drew their weapons and Malcolm nodded to Em to open the door. The rest of the team readied themselves, as well. They invaded the halls, and made their way toward sickbay.

***

Hoshi shivered in the coldness of her self-imposed death. She needed it. She was so tired, rocking herself back and forth.

***

Malcolm opened the door to sickbay, and Em swept into the room, checking for booby traps. She kept the vomit from rising in her throat as the smell of blood pervaded the room. Blood dripped from the ceilings and covered the walls. It was grotesque.

Suddenly a motion from the corner of the room caught Malcolm's eye and he trained his phase pistol on it, approaching it cautiously. He could tell it was a human figure - a slight one at that. Em approached it as well.

The human kept whispering, sounding a gibberish phrase over and over again.

Malcolm ran his scanner over the survivor, hoping against hope that it was Hoshi, his heart thawing and breaking at the same time. He dropped to his knees in front of the quivering mass; almost afraid to touch it for fear that it wasn't her. His raspy whisper filled the room. "Please."

She looked up, hearing his plea; unable to believe he was kneeling in front of her. Thinking he was an apparition, she reached one of her hands out and whispered his name.

Em gasped.

Malcolm grasped her hand and held it to his face, shivering. Feeling she was real he quickly surrounded her with his arms.

She winced, clutching her stomach. "They cut me."

Not going to wait for a med team he picked her up, briskly walking through halls to the air lock with Em following close behind, shouting for the additional teams that had arrived to get the `fuck out of the way.'

They crossed through the docking port and onto Enterprise, Malcolm whispering for her to hold on.

Hoshi's head rested against his shoulder and she sighed as she felt his love for her and the diminishing desperation when he thought she was dead.

They rushed into sickbay, Dr. Phlox motioning to an examining table. The urgency and despondency in their voices crushed her, and oblivion claimed her, taking her into the shadows of unconsciousness.

***

She looked out at the turbulent ocean, it mimicking her emotions. She couldn't place a finger on what disturbed her. All she knew was that she was restless and she shuddered as the cool wind off of the ocean penetrated her thin nightgown.

His warmth surrounded her and she held onto his arms, nestled so lovingly under the swell of her breasts. She turned in his arms and welcomed the kiss.

Passion lingered between the two of them as he kissed the top of her head whispering his lover for her. "Please come back to me. I don't want to lose you again."

***

"She's going to be fine, Lieutenants," Phlox stated reassuringly. "Luckily, it was only a flesh wound."

She had been cleaned off, all the bloody gore removed from her resting form. Malcolm had left for one brief moment, Em swearing she wouldn't leave her side. He had ran to his quarters for a change of uniform, not wanting Hoshi to wake to any reminders of the trauma she had suffered.

As he entered sickbay and walked over to the biobed, he took her hand, resting his head on her shoulder. That had been two days ago and she hadn't stirred. He questioned Phlox regarding her condition and was assured by the irate physician that she was merely resting.

Malcolm never left her side except to use the bathroom. Even then, he didn't leave her unattended, only entrusting Trip or Em to keep her company while she slumbered like some sleeping beauty waiting for a kiss.

He was convinced she could hear him. He stroked the uneven cut of her much shorter hair. Phlox was unable to determine the cause for multiple spontaneous combustions and the other untimely deaths. In all honesty, Malcolm didn't care.

***

"Were there any survivors," Admiral Forrest asked Jon, as he leaned forward, folding his arms onto the desk.

"No sir," Jon answered with conviction. "Admiral�I was under the impression that Enterprise had the only warp five capable engine in Starfleet."

Admiral Forrest stared Jon in the eye. "I was under that same impression until a few hours ago. Just a few minutes ago, Admiral Basilone stopped by to see me. It was as if he already knew what happened. He's sending a team out to procure the vessel."

Jon leaned forward as well, getting ready to question the Admiral further but was cut off.

"It's need to know, Jon," Admiral Forrest stated succinctly.

Jon dropped the conversation, but only grudgingly, knowing he would get no further information. "Is that all, Admiral?"

"Yes. Forrest out."

Jon looked at the blank screen, his frustration mounting.

***

"Thank you for your time, Admiral Forrest," Basilone stated, turning to leave.

"If any harm comes to Enterprise due to the negligence of black ops�" Forrest's threat hung open in the air, challenging the man that stood before him.

Basilone didn't reply and walked out, determined to salvage any and all components of his life's work. Luckily, three overseers were on assignment at the time the Witch attacked the compound. He would be able to rebuild. His initial reaction was to go over the Witch. She hadn't fooled him one bit with the possum routine and he could even pick up visions through Archer. They had recovered her. In due time they would capture her, and he would personally make her suffer.

***

"It's been a week, doctor! When is she going to wake up? What's wrong with her? You said she was fine�that she was just resting." Malcolm's barrage of questions reflected his dissatisfaction at not being able to awaken her.

He had to leave her to attend to his duties, manning tactical in the event that the team sent to recover the ship tried anything. The only comfort he had taken over the last several days is Hoshi's lingering presence in his mind. But, it had evaporated once the team had arrived.

They were gone now, not having uttered one word, just transporting a member of their team to man the helm. Then both ships took off at warp five as if to taunt them.

Captain Archer had given him the next few days off, knowing he would be torn between his duties and Hoshi.

"It's time that we considered she's not waking up for more than physical reasons. All of her readings are nominal. The incision has healed nicely and she is getting enough fluids and nutritional supplements through the dermal patches," Phlox sighed. "It's up to her, now."

Malcolm bowed his head knowing what Phlox was saying even though he wasn't saying it. If Malcolm were impatient, Em was more so. She was directly confrontational with Phlox and Trip had to drag her out of sickbay screaming at the top of her lungs, "Yo me pens� le ense�� a ser m�s fuerte entonces esto, Hoshi!" (I thought I taught you to be stronger than this, Hoshi!)

She hadn't been back since.

***

There was no beautiful scenery this time as she opened her mind's eye. She was in sickbay with a weight on her arm and hand. She looked down and saw Malcolm's head resting there and she smiled, reaching with her other hand to stroke his hair.

At the slight touch, his head jerked up, tears streaming down his cheeks. He kissed her hand, looking into the opaque light of her eyes. His silent prayers reached out to her.

"Please. I need her," was whispered in his heart.

"I'm here," she replied, earning a loving grin from him as he stroked her hair.

She pulled her head away, wondering why his touch on her hair seemed different. She reached a hand up touching the shortened crop. Upset at the loss of the beauty and feeling inadequate and tainted, she whispered, "They cut my hair."

"It'll grow back," he replied, kissing the top of her head for emphasis.

"I'm a freak," she pointed out, not exactly knowing what to make of her power. She wanted to push it a way, yet embrace it at the same time. She worriedly wondered if he could ever love her because of it.

In response to her challenge he assured her. "I've always had a penchant for being different."

The chill of her guilt nipped at her soul and she looked down, pulling away from him.

"I killed all of those people," she mumbled, tears welling in her eyes.

Forcing her to look at him, wrapping her in his embrace he stated with warmth and conviction, "They deserved everything that happened to them."

She cried in his arms, comforted by his absolution and reasoning.

He whispered to her, words she actually didn't understand.

"Please come back to me. I need you. I love you," he implored. As if those reasons weren't enough, he continued. "Em's been a pissy bitch ever since you got back. She won't let Trip near her. I'm sure you've heard Trip talking to you, luv. He misses you too. You've got to wake up."

It felt as though her heart were exploding as she thought beyond her love for Malcolm, extending it to her dearest friends. "I'll try."

***

Malcolm jerked awake, his neck protesting at the angle it had been resting at. The hand he held gripped onto his and he immediately looked up to her face as her eyes fluttered open. He leaned over and kissed her forehead.

"I knew you would make it back to me," he whispered into her ear as he kissed a path along her jaw line and finally her lips, whispering an `I love you' before his lips sealed to hers.

"I love you too," whispered Hoshi as he pulled away.

"Dr. Phlox, she's awake!" Malcolm declared joyfully.

Phlox hustled over to the woman who had slumbered for a little over a week in his domain and started scanning her.

"Where's Em?" Hoshi asked as she held Malcolm's hand up to her lips.

"She hasn't been back, ever since she was dragged out. I spoke to Trip this morning and he mentioned that he was on his way to her quarters so she had `somebody to hit,'" Malcolm smirked, relief still coursing through his body.

He sighed.

Hoshi could tell something was wrong and asked, "What's wrong?"

Malcolm bowed his head into her lap and shuddered, not one to talk about his feelings.

She lifted his head from her lap and forced him to look at her, uncertainty radiating from him. Understanding dawned on her as she heard one word � dream.

"I'm real. You're not dreaming," she whispered, grabbing his hand and placing it over her heart so that he could feel her heart race.

"She's fit to leave sickbay, Lieutenant," announced Phlox, breaking the enchantment that wove around them. "Welcome back, Hoshi."

"Thank you, doctor," she smiled and swung her legs around to sit up fully. Malcolm helped her off the biobed, helping her into a robe, and holding her by the elbow as she walked along side him.

As they exited through sickbay, Hoshi moved to the right toward her quarters while Malcolm pulled her to the left. "Where are we going," she asked, puzzled.

"Our quarters," announced Malcolm, nonchalantly, as he continued his explanation. "I lost you once. I'm not about to lose you again."

Hoshi blushed and willingly went with her love.

FIN

Back to Chapter 3

Witchhunt chapter listing

Read the epilogue, Depth of the Soul

To Cindy's page

To Main MEG Archive page