Perchance To Dream

 Episode Name:  Perchance To Dream

   Written By:  Starfleet

         Cast:  Tyler, Foster, Moore, Sinclaire, Turtledove, 
                Donavon, Edwards, Quin and Park.

  Produced By:  Starfleet

  Directed By:  Starfleet

     Aired On:  Sun Jun 13 21:41:41 2004

     Stardate:  54164.9

Time: Sun Jun 13 21:15:43 2004

Stardate: 54164.8

Ah, the life of the CMO, one in which you can leave your workplace and wander about the station. Today, his search consists of one Wendy Tyler, Temporal physicist extraordinare. Being an expert on this lifeform, Park knows that at this particular time of day, she can be found in only one place; the USS Aegis. So, narrowing his search to the last possible place, he steps into the Ready Room, though doesn't say anything until he sees if she's alone or not.

Tyler's going over a PADD in her hands. She looks up as the door hisses open and she smiles wide. "Aaron!" she says, rather surprised. "This is a surprise." She sets the PADD aside and stands up from behind the desk, moving around it.

Park steps all the way into the room now, since she's all alone, scoops her up and plants a big kiss on her lips. Oh, love is in the air! "It must be my spontaneous nature getting the better of me. How's your day going?", he asks.

"Long," Tyler says, holding him close. She grins. "I've got more paperwork than I know what to do with. Nemmek, Cross, and Edwards; all three have created a stack of paperwork a kilometer high."

Park hugs her back. "Well how about we take that little trip that we were talking about a while back?", he asks.

Tyler blinks a few times in confusion. "Trip?" she asks. "Trip to where? I can't go on a trip, I have work to do, a mission to prep for, I don't have any leave scheduled..." She quirks up an eyebrow.

"I mean when we talked about the options we had to correct your memory loss.", Park replies with a smile. "I know it's been a while and you've had a lot of other stuff on your mind."

Tyler ohs softly. She frowns a little and pulls away from him, nodding. "I... I suppose s-so," she says. Her brow creases in worry.

Park brushes that stray lock of hair behind her ear before she can get to it. "It will be fine, Wendy. There's nothing to worry about."

"I'm afraid," Tyler says. "You told me that it was because of this that people were afraid of me." She sighs softly. "And I don't want people to be afraid of me."

Tyler sighs softly and nods. "As am I," she says. She sits down on the edge of the desk. "I'll do it if it is what you want me to do."

Park shrugs. "It's not up to me, honey. Do I think it's a good idea? Yes. But I'm not going to tell you to do it. It has to be your decision."

Tyler bites her lower lip, not speaking for a long moment. She looks up at him, her eyes glassy and wet, but she refuses to cry. "Okay," she says softly.

Park nods and then approaches, wrapping his arms around her. "Okay, then. I don't think we'll need anything, if I understand how this works properly.", he replies.

Tyler asks, "What do we do?"

Park says, "We'll have to use the same principle as you did when you attended those academy classes using the Artifact. I figure we can closet ourselves away, I suppose on the boat, and proceed from there."

Tyler nods slowly. "Okay," she says softly, but without much emotion. She begins to fidget, old nervous habits rising to the surface in the face of this problem. "I g-guess let's go."

Park motions to her vaguely. "Do we need to go to the core?", he asks.

Tyler shakes her head. "No," she whispers. She moves behind the desk and picks up a tricorder. "Dulcais? The boat?" she asks, flipping it open, and starting to tap into it.

Park nods. "Sure. I can get all the medical equipment that I need and then I guess we take a leave of absence and go sailing."

Tyler wrinkles her brow. "Aaron, the Aegis is leaving in a few days. I have a meeting with the President," she says. "I can't leave for long. No more than a few hours... If I would have h-had warning..."

Park holds up a hand. "Wait, I thought that we could do the same thing you did when you got all that therapy. That you spent time in another reality so that time really didn't pass here."

"It passes, but it passes slower," Tyler says. "I can go, or I can send you, or we can both go separately, but we can't go 'together', like that. It doesn't work that way." She starts to think about it.

Now he has to come up with a new plan, so Aaron sits down to think. After a few seconds, he asks, "Can you get to the same reality that you went to before?", he asks.

Tyler asks, "To the.. other... Aaron? Yes. I can pick and choose them as I wish."

Park nods as he grabs a PADD from the desk. "OK. How close was that reality? I mean, does that Aaron know about your memory loss and that you were from another reality?", he asks.

"I don't know about the memory loss," Tyler says quietly. She frowns a little. "And no. He didn't know I wasn't 'his' Wendy." She looks at him. "Tell me what the plan was and perhaps I can think of an alternative."

Park sighs. "Well, I'm thinking of sending instructions to myself in an alternate reality. Then that Aaron can make sure that the proceedure is carried out and monitor your progress."

"I'll have to take those instructions with me, and if I black out, I can't send them," Tyler says, countering that plan. "Let's go to the core. Take your medical equipment there. I'll show you how to instruct the artifact to do what you need it to do, and while I'm 'out', you can upload the information. The artifact will shift my reality according to what you want it to do." She sighs softly. "I can't believe I let Michael talk me into this."

Park nods. "Ok, I'll grab everything and meet you there."

Wendy nods and sighs again. "Are you sure that this is the right thing to do?"

Park says, "The only other option is surgery, Wendy, and we already talked about it being too risky."

"There's a third option," Tyler says. "Leave it be." She pushes up from the edge of the desk and snaps the tricorder shut. "I'll see you in the core."

"No, wait.", Park replies from his position near the door. "What's your idea?", he asks.

Tyler replies, "To leave it alone and not.. fix... me. Surgery, artifact, or do nothing."

"I'm not going to push you, Wendy.", Aaron says. "If you would rather not go through with this, I understand. I'm sorry that it sounds so chaotic, but I didn't have all the info about what we can and can't do with the Artifact."

"I'm just afraid of the uncertainties that are associated with this, Aaron," Tyler says. "I've not been having many headaches or blackouts, and they've not caused significant problems with my work. But I'll do it because you want it, Commander Edwards wants it, and I said I would do it."

Park nods. "I understand and I wish that there was something more I could say to reassure you.", he replies. "I'll have more of an idea of how long it's going to take once we do this."

Tyler sniffs and nods. "Okay," she says wearily. "Let's go."

----

Tyler is at her terminal when Park comes in with his medical gear. She glances over and asks, "What did you bring?" Her fingers continue to work the console.

Park sets down some fancy looking gadgets and replies, "A medical tricorder, cortical scanner and a couple PADDs with information on it for you to take. I should be able to monitor your progress as you're doing it."

"I can't take anything physical with me," Tyler says. "But I'll set it up for you to upload." She extends her hand for the PADDs, pausing her console-entry. The artifact pulses with its soft blue light behind her.

Park hands over the two PADDs, which are chalk full of information about Tyler's alter-future ego. "So, how's that going to work, anyway?", he asks.

Tyler replies, "Once I'm in, you will press this button and Cassandra will download the information and present it to me. We can hope, anyway." She doesn't look at the PADDs, but rather pops the isolinear chips from both of them and slides the chips into slots designed for such a purpose, giving the PADDs back to Park. She exhales heavily, blowing the air out across her lips.

Park accepts the now empty devices and places them next to his gear. "Okay, that shouldn't be a problem. I'll keep close tabs on you as well from here.", Aaron says, then pauses. "How do I get you back if I need to?"

Tyler indicates the console. "Push that. That should terminate the link. At least, it should; I've always come out of it on my own. Do you think there will be a problem of my getting out on my own?"

Park smiles. "I don't think so, but I wanted to know all the same. Better to have the info and not need it."

Tyler nods a few times, and a worried cast crosses her features. "Okay," she says. She taps a few things into the console, then turns to Park. "I guess I'm as ready as I'll ever be." She sighs softly.

Park nods as he picks up his gear and makes a quick scan to get a baseline. "OK, I"m ready, too."

Tyler swallows and says, "Aaron..." She looks at him, and she looks very frightened. "Are you sure this is what you want?" she asks him.

Park steps in and gives her a kiss. "Wendy, I want you to know what I know. I know it's not your fault, but I feel like I am keeping secrets from you and I don't like it.", he says. "There's nothing to worry about. I'll be right here the whole time watching you."

Tyler swallows and nods. As Park kisses her, he can feel how tight her nerves are; she's more than frightened - she's absolutely terrified. Her body trembles ever-so-slightly. With a hoarse whisper, she says, "Okay. I trust you."

Park gives her an encouraging smile. "Try to relax. There's nothing to be afraid of."

"Yes, there is," Tyler says quietly. "Okay. Let's g-get it over with. Stand back. When that light on my console flashes, it will let you know that I'm in. Then you push that button," she says, gesturing again to the upload button.

Park says, "Okay."

Tyler looks at him for a long moment, then turns slowly to the console. She starts to tap into it, and her features go from as tense as a drawn bow to completely slack. Her eyes take on a vacant cast as she stares into space, the lids of her eyes growing heavier to a half-closed position. The light on the console flashes, indicating that she is now witnessing an alternate reality.

Park steps up to the console, once he sees the magical light flashing away. Locating the now familiar 'upload' button, he depresses it and starts to conduct an intensive scan of Tyler, focusing on her neural pathways.

The console begins to flash as the information is uploaded into it. Tyler's expression doesn't change, but her readings do. As the information is uploaded, she is in some sort of REM state, and her eyes move almost imperceptibly. "Transfer complete," the computer states after a moment. Tyler's neural patterns do change, to the same patterns that she exhibits when she blacks out due to the programming. And stays in that pattern.

Aaron's brows come together in concern as she doesn't come out of the black out. He changes the focus of his scan to the 'storage area' of memories, to see if there is additional activity in that area before he takes any additional action.

It's now been fifteen seconds. There is no change to her neural patterns, she seems to be set in the black-out pattern. It is identical to it in almost every way, except her seratonin levels, which are falling.

Park now has to take action. He goes to the button that will break off her contact with the alternate reality and presses it.

Twenty-five seconds. The button is pressed, and Tyler collapses to the ground at Park's feet in a loose heap.

Park moves immediatly to Tyler's side, scanning like mad to try and figure out what's happened. Taking a hypo, he loads a cartridge and injects something to get her seratonin levels back up.

Tyler is perfectly still. Her eyes have rolled up into the back of her head and her eyelids flutter gently for a moment. Park's tricorder readings have changed, and Tyler's brainwave patterns indicate a relatively familiar sight; coma.

Edwards comes into the computer core from the corridor.

Edwards has arrived.

Over Edwards's com badge, Donavon says, "I've discovered her location is at the Computer Core. An experiment could have gone wrong, sir. I have Ensign Quin with me presently. We're going to check this out."

Park taps his combadge, a hint of panic creeping into his voice. "Operations, I need emergency transport to the Infirmary.", he orders, then grabs onto Tyler's hand.

Tyler lies on the raised dais, at the foot of her console, completely immobile. Park has just requested emergency transport, and a voice says, "Acknowledged." There's a brief delay before transport engages.

Edwards steps inside and nearly stumbles when he sees how things are going. He does pale considerably. There isn't anything he can say.

Park glances up just as Edwards enters the room. Rather than his usual forced calm when dealing with medical situations, Aaron is in a state of panic that is visible on his face. That look is the last thing Edwards sees as Tyler vanishes with Aaron holding her hand.

----

Park immediately grabs up Tyler from the deck and places her on a biobed. The clamshell slams down and he gets a cortial stimulator onto her forehead. He activates the main display to show this fiancee's vitals as he frantically searches for the cause of this condition.

Tyler offers no resistance, and is totally dead weight as she is moved. Her vital signs are strong and stable, but her brainwaves are slow and methodical. 9 hours and fifteen minutes of being bombarded with Sinclaire information probably wasn't such a good idea.

Quin steps into Sickbay from the corridor.

Quin has arrived.

Donavon steps into Sickbay from the corridor.

Donavon has arrived.

Donavon is furiously researching something on her PADD upon entering. As the swish falls behind her, doors closing, the Irish lass stares ahead to locate her Lieutenant and the Doctor. Worry lines the edges of her eyes, yet she oddly remains in control of herself.

Tyler's laid-out on a bio-bed, a cortical stimulator on her forehead. She is totally immobile.

Behind the distracted Donavon follows Ensign Quin. He steps to the side of the door observing Dr. Park quietly

Park stands next to the bed, furiously tapping away at the controls as he moves from the clamshell to the cortial stimulator and back again. Quite the opposite of Donavon, he appears to be a more than a little concerned.

Donavon moves in another foot, still typing away on her PADD. "What happened, Commander Park?"

"I don't know.", Park snaps. "If I knew what happened, I'd be able to fix it and she'd be awake!"

"What happened in the Core, sir? Was she messing with any equipment? Conducting some experiment?" Donavon still types on her PADD. "Was it with the computer? The artifact?"

Park continues moving from one spot to the other in rapid succession. Picking up a tricorder, he conducts another scan of Tyler's head. "We were trying to fix her memory loss.", he replies, a hint of panic creeping into his voice. "It didn't work."

Quin remains silent trying not to distract the Doctor any further

Donavon frowns a little, then tries to peer over at the vital readouts - brain functions normal? "What didn't work, sir? Did the computer malfunction?"

Park whirls around on her as she gets just a /little/ too close. "Donavon, get the hell /out/ of here! Quit bothering me and let me do my job!", he yells at her, then turns around and continues working on Tyler's limp form.

"Let me do mine because Lt. Tyler sent *me* a cry for help. If we figure out how that occured, we can figure out what's going on with her," states Donavon who does not step into Park's range of movements.

Quin clears his throat "Donavon, maybe you should track down Commander Edwards for clues and let Dr. Park work."

Park doesn't turn around, but doesn't calm down a little bit. "What do you mean, 'sent you a cry for help'?"

Donavon growls down at her PADD. "Another dead end." She stares over at Lt. Tyler's biobed. "How did you do it? What happened?" That questions aren't for Dr. Park, more voicing them aloud in wonderment and half scared for her superior. She looks back to Quin, "He ordered us to remain here and stand guard. But I will attempt to notify the rest of the team." Back to Park, "I received a subspace signal directly to my PADD that repeated Help. Wendy. There is no ID tag anywhere. That message was forced into my PADD without use of a computer. That was two minutes ago when I hailed Commander Edwards to look in on the situation with me."

Donavon types quickly on her PADD to send out messages.

"I don't want a bunch of people in here.", Park says.

Edwards steps into Sickbay from the corridor.

Edwards has arrived.

Donavon stares hard at Park. "The team will be notified irregardless, sir. We'll meet in the next room if necessary, but we all need to be appraised of this situation." She doesn't stop her PADD typing.

Tyler lies motionless on the biobed, being attended to by Dr. Park. Cortical stimulators are on her forehead, and the clamshell is over her still form.

Donavon glances once to the doors, confirming the arrival. "Commander," she greets briefly.

Donavon is a foot within Sickbay to one side of the door. Technically still guarding it as well.

Stands beside the door with his back to the wall. He notes Commander Edwards entrance and draws his tricorder attempting to discreetly scan him.

Edwards steps inside, looking a little better, but not much. "Donavon, don't hassle the Doctor. And don't start a panic, for God's sake. Tell your superior, if you want, but that's it."

"No panic, but the team deserves to know Lt. Tyler is," Donavon scants a glance to the biobed. "Permission to sniff around the Computer Core. That PADD message is still bothering me. I don't take coincedences lightly."

"It was likely the Artifact.", Park replies. "Wendy wasn't in any condition to send anything."

Donavon blinks, then nods to the thought, but hardly stops her PADD typing.

"I know who sent the message. It wasn't Wendy." Edwards shakes his head at Donavon. "So just stand guard and let the Doctor do his job." He looks to Park. "I told Ghorev what I know. You don't have time to talk, I take it?" He studiously avoids actually looking at Tyler.

"With all due respect Sir, sense time means next to nothing in this circle of friends," Quin whirls his finger in the air for illustration, "Maybe Donavon should go snoop especaily sense shes got in in her head to do so... I know there are other people on the station with clearance to stare at this door."

Park grabs the tricorder that is setting on top of the clam shell and taps at it before he turns around. "There's not much else I can do.", he says quietly as he moves toward Edwards.

Donavon peers over at Quin, slips back to guard position by the door, and types further on her PADD.

"What the /hell/ is that supposed to mean?" Edwards asks, staring at Park.

"It means that there's not much else I can do, short of performing surgery that has over a ninety percent chance of killing her!", Park replies a little heatedly, though it's a tinge of panic more than anger. "She's in a coma."

"Coma. People come out of comas." Edwards doesn't sound as hopeful as he could. He spares a look toward Quin and Donavon. "You're dismissed."

"Begging your pardon, sir, but who sent the message?" Donavon stays in place sternly and speaks honestly. "Now may not be the time, but we have a team who can assist in discovering way to help Lt. Tyler. If you keep us in the dark, we'll find other ways to find answers."

Park just turns and glares over at Donavon. "Do you really think that there's anything that you are going to be able to do for her that I haven't already tried, Donavon?", Park spits out. "Did you suddenly get an advanced degree in medicine that no one was aware of? If there was something that you /could/ do, I'd have /asked/ for it, instead of having you threaten with it."

Edwards blinks at Park's outburst. That's not the cuddly, always-smiling doctor he knows. It jars him out of his own funk some. "Donavon. He's right. This isn't a problem that you're going to solve by pointing a phaser at it." he says, in a much kinder tone. "She's in a coma. That requires medical treatment."

"Sir? First we're under shoot now ask later orders, now we're idly dismissed. This makes absolutely no sense, you can't keep the team out of this." Merric stares at Park close to loosing his temper he reatins a barely calm voice, "Doctor, there could be some temporal angle to this which which we do have some exprience with."

Donavon does not permit Park's outburst to affect her in the slightest. "No, but you have a team of capable officers who can research what occured and find out what happened." Her PADD chirrups and she stares back down at it. One glance to Quin says something and she excuses herself without word.

Donavon steps out of the room and into the corridor.

Donavon has left.

Park takes a couple of deep breaths to calm himself down before he speaks again. "I already know what happened, Mikey.", he says to Edwards quietly.

Quin doesn't even make for the door

Edwards nods at Park, giving him a sympathetic look. Then he looks to Quin. "You think you're being a good, loyal officer. And you are. But you need to back off. This man loves Wendy Tyler. Do you think he's not going to make sure everything that can be done for her won't be?" he asks calmly. "Your belligerence isn't helping this situation. Now, I apologize for my erratic behavior. She's important to me too, so I'm sure you can understand. But right now, will you please leave?"

Park takes the opportunity to glance at the tricorder's readings.

Tyler could play Sleeping Beauty in the station's children's play if such a thing were required of her. She appears perfectly at peace despite the notable tension in the sickbay.

Quin stares shocked, "Both of you have had attitudes unbecoming of you rank, you've let a personal relationship rule you. I hope you have damn good excuses to put in your reports. I'll be writing mine in Security so it will be a short trip if you decide to haul me to the brig for insubordination."

Edwards replies simply, "And Wendy Tyler would toss your ass out herself if she heard you talking to a superior officer that way."

Merric truns and walks out the door disregarding the Commaders repremand

Quin steps out of the room and into the corridor.

Quin has left.

Edwards shouts, "Ghorev!"

Park watches Quin's back as he leaves, but says nothing.

Ghorev steps into Sickbay from the corridor.

Ghorev has arrived.

Edwards stands a foot or so inside, staring at the doors quietly.

Park stands next to Edwards, open tricorder in his hand.

Ghorev, coming in, stops short, accordingly, based on the knot at the door. "I heard my name?"

"My good will with the team just died, I think. I didn't tell them about Sinclaire, and Donavon got a message, so they're looking for some way to try and fix this, no matter what we say." Edwards comments.

Tyler lies in repost on a biobed, dead still. A cortical stimulator is on her forehead, and the clamshell of the bed is closed over her.

Park glances hopefully at the tricorder readouts once again, casting a glance at Tyler's still form before pulling his attention back to the other two officers.

Ghorev says, "Firstly, we were *all* under the impression that the Sinclaire matter wasn't for them to deal with; Secondly, what messaage?; and thirdly, 'fix' what?" A pause. "Fourthly, last I heard, only Mister Tyler and, perhaps, Mister Golden, can order Aegis from its moorings without a direct order from On High, so I'd really like to know where they intend to go and what they intend to do." He rubs one hand at the base of his antennae. "Lastly .... no, well, I think that's it, actually."

Edwards takes a deep breath and releases it slowly. "Donavon received a subspace text message that told her to help Wendy. She's clinging to that as some kind of indication that maybe the team can help Tyler out. She wants to investigate, whatever that means." He glances at Park. "Aaron can tell you what Wendy needs."

Ghorev says, "A subspace ... from Sinclaire, I take it?"

Park says, "I'd bet it was from the Artifact."

"My message was from Sinclaire." Edwards shrugs. "Maybe it was the artifact. I don't know. Does it matter?"

Park thinks on that, then shakes his head. "No, likely not. The artifact called her 'mother'.

Ghorev says, "It matters because I'm wodnering how they now found out about Sinclaire, and how much they think they know."

"Nobody mentioned Sinclaire." Edwards frowns. "Donavon thought the message was from Wendy. I told her it wasn't, and I knew who it was from. But I didn't tell her who it was."

Park goes more pale than he did before. "Oh my god. Wendy loaded the information into the data chip ports in her console.", he says.

Park he looks from Ghorev to Edwards. "I didn't think to grab them when Wendy collapsed.", he admits.

Edwards furrows his brow. "What information?"

Park says, "All the information that I had about Sinclaire, the Aegis and what they did to Wendy. That was the stimulus that we were going to use to overload the memory centers."

Ghorev frowns. "Are you still Timefleet's official counselor?"

Park nods.

Edwards swears under his breath. "Donavon's probably poking around the core."

Ghorev says, "Go. Now. Get that chip. You're the only one with the clear legal authority to confiscate it under color of privileged information. Go *now*. If I have to intervene on classification grounds, I will, but they'll ignore me. Go."

Park runs out of the room.

Park steps out of the room and into the corridor.

Park has left.

Edwards watches Park rush off and shakes his head. "What are we going to do?"

Tyler won't do much of anything, lying there in a coma.

Ghorev says, "Life is damage control, it seems." He turns to Edwards. "This doesn't get Sinclaire off the hook, mind you. When all this is over, she's *going* to be dealt with. In the meanwhile, there's not much we *can* do, except try and talk to her." A sudden burst of something like laughter. "I could *order* her to stay in a coma, and if there's anything left of her in there, she'll wake up just to spite me."

"I wish." Edwards mutters. He can't seem to muster any levity, no matter how black, himself. "She's in a coma, Ake."

Ghorev says, "Yes," a futile gesture in Tyler's direction, as if to indicate that he has, in fact, the eyes to see her. "I can see that. Hence, this is the part that's out of our hands. Have *you* tried talking to her?"

Edwards looks at Ghorev like he's grown another head. "And say what?"

Ghorev says, "Anything. I don't know. But ... now, I'm as skilled a psychiatrist as Aaron is an /hlesvalathnu/, mind you, but a thought occurs to me. Either her condition is the result of something Sinclaire built in to her conditioning, or it's something Sinclaire built her conditioning *around*, to *avoid*. If the former, it's either a one-shot suicide trigger, or it's not. If it's the latter, she clearly had some way of avoiding this moment. So ... let's recap: either this is the result of the conditioning, and there's nothing *anyone* can do, or it's the result of the conditioning, and there *is* a way to find to wake her up, or it's the result of the conditioning being violated and her falling headlong into whatever Sinclaire didn't want her to find, in which case there's got to be a way to pull her back or else Sinclaire wouldn't have survived to know there was something to pull back from." A pause. "I'm no Vulcan, either, but logic's logic."

"I think my head's going to implode." Edwards, man of logic. "Park mentioned trying to overload Wendy's conditioning, so..."

Ghorev says, "So this could all be things getting too complicated and collapsing? Well, there's your answer. Talk to her simply. Just talk to her. About things. When it comes to pulling something out of a complicated morass and reducing it to simplicity, *I'm* certainly not the man, after all." He gestures again, helplessly. "I live to brood, and if you believe my pubilicity, I brood to live. That leaves you. Talk to her. Maybe you can reach her. Just ... be your usual confident self. What's the worse that could happen? It's not like I'm going to record it and play it at Federation Day parties to make you look like an idiot, after all."

Edwards nods slowly. "I will." But he doesn't actually go to do that. "I know you think it's stupid, but this wouldn't have happened if I hadn't pushed for it. I talked them both into it."

Ghorev nods. "You're right." A pause. "I think it's stupid. Don't make me use the mad bomber comparison again. Sinclaire has given us absolutely no reason to trust her, every reason to doubt her, and has manipulated us all shamelessly and ruthlessly since before we counted the days. She has shown that she will stop at nothing to further her own agenda, and lie and steal for it. Those genetically enhanced humans that took over the station? She's their moral equivalent, taken to its ultimate conclusion. And we're supposed to trust, with no evidence to support it, with no show of faith that means *anything*, with nothing but her skill at evading and dissembling and manipulating one step ahead of us, that she had Wendy Tyler's best interest at heart, and *we're* the savages? To the frozen deep dark with that, Michael." He shakes his head angrily, stalking off to one of the empty biobeds, leaning against it, glaring across the room at the empty space between Edwards and Tyler. "There's one person responsible for Wendy Tyler lying in that biobed right now, and that's the woman we fear Wendy Tyler will become."

"Yeah..." Edwards doesn't sound convinced, but he drops it, again. "You think Park's okay?" he asks, wandering over to the biobeds. He sidles close to one in particular. Yes, the occupied one. And he looks down at Wendy. "Your team's not going to cooperate with us without you."

Ghorev says, "Given that there's nothing I can do just standing here, I'll head back for now. Either you or Aaron hail me if you need me."

Edwards nods. "All right. Thanks, Ake."

Ghorev nods. "You're welcome. Good night."

Ghorev steps out of the room and into the corridor.

Ghorev has left.

Edwards is now alone with a comatose Tyler. He peers down at her. "Wake up, okay?" It's worth a shot, right?

Tyler continues to repose peacefully.

"I'm sorry." That's about the only other thing Edwards can think of to say. It's not easy holding a conversation with someone who's dead to the world. "I better go make sure Aaron's doing okay... Unless you don't want me to." He waits expectantly.

Tyler doesn't say either way. She isn't much of a conversationalist in her current dreamless sleep.

Edwards says, disappointed, "Yeah." He lingers for a second, then turns and heads for the exit.

Edwards steps out of the room and into the corridor.

Edwards has left.

----

Tyler looks perfectly at peace, as if she were sleeping. The medical monitors beep as it keeps track of her vital signs, and her brainwave patterns can be seen on the monitor above her biobed. They're a slow sine wave, without the usual bursts of peaks and valleys that syncopate to the normal active brains.

Foster enters, hand dropping from his chest where he'd just tapped off his combadge. He takes a moment to look around, and spots Tyler's bed, but doesn't head straight there. Instead, he goes to speak with whoever is currently on-duty first, to make sure it's all right to sit with her.

Of course it is okay, in fact, it is rather encouraged by the medical staff. And what is Tyler herself going to do? Object?

Foster, once he's gotten this permission, brings a chair over to the side of the bed if one isn't already there, and settles to a seat. "Good afternoon, sir," he begins. "It's Caleb Foster, in case you're not sure. I'm not sure you can hear me, but I'm given to understand that talking to patients in this state is still encouraged. So I thought I'd come by and talk."

Tyler makes no movement. If it wasn't for the medical monitors and the slow rising and falling of her chest, she would appear rather dead.

Foster continues, not expecting any kind of reaction, "You gave us quite a scare last night, and apparently it's not just the members of the team who were startled. After receiving Meg Donavon's summons, when I arrived outside, I found Professor Moore and Commander Ghorev. And, of course, at the time, Lieutenant Donavon, Ensign Quin, and Lieutenant Commander Park were all in here with you. I went back to the Computer Core, on request from Donavon, to see what I could find in the way of clues. I found the isolinear chips, and came up with theory. Maybe it's a crazy one, but I can think of how *I* could do it, and... well, it's not really important. Oh! Before I forget, I talked to Commander Poole. She said she'll be by to visit as soon as she's allowed."

Tyler continues her dreamless sleep without regard for Foster's words. If she hears him, she makes no indication toward that end. Beep. Beep. Beep.

Moore steps into Sickbay from the corridor.

Moore has arrived.

The Moore entourage parades through the door, with the holographic professor leading the security guards who push the hoversled with his mobile (well, portable, at least) emitter behind him.

Foster is sitting in a chair next to Tyler's biobed, apparently having a rather one-sided conversation with her. "In any case, like I was saying, I had a rather crazy theory, but with the limited evidence I had... well, let's just say that I probably wouldn't make a good Security investigator. I really am more like an Ops officer than anything else."

Tyler lies in total repose on the biobed. If there were a play being performed for the children of Four One Nine, she could easily play the part of Sleeping Beauty without having to audition. Only the monitors and the slow rhythmic heaving of her breast indicate there is any life there.

Silently, Moore approaches the foot of the bed. For all his standoffish Britishness, he does look to be rather worried.

"Good afternoon, Professor," Foster says the holographic man. "Lieutenant Tyler, Professor Moore is here to see you as well. How are you doing, Professor? I mean, aside from the obvious distress over Lieutenant Tyler?"

"It appears that no one I care about is rather under the weather this week, quite frankly." Moore sighs softly, allowing his eyes to sweep the readouts of the bed -- not that he really understands them, but he does have excellent worry subroutines.

"I've been told that talking to - or around - a comatose patient is supposed to be good for them, though of course, there's no real proof of that. Doctor Park told me that it's just a matter of time before Lieutenant Tyler wakes up." Not precisely true. He did say it was just a matter of time, but gave no guarantees about her waking up. "So I thought I'd come by and see her, tell her what's going on with me. But two stories are better than one, I think."

Tyler remains silent. The machines around her go ping.

Moore inclines his head slightly. "I'm afraid that my stories are not terribly exciting. They mostly deal with working on new cryptography schemes for Leftenant Tyler's communiques," he murmurs before tugging on his suit-jacket. "Gwendolyn... Leftenant Commander Poole, that is... wants to give me a hair cut. That's the most interesting thing that has occurred within my small realm for quite some time."

Foster hms, "Well, perhaps talk about what's happened before? I haven't heard the stories, after all."

"'How I Hijacked the Starship Enterprise' by Professor James Moore isn't exactly a smashing hit within Starfleet circles," Moore replies wryly.

Foster asks, "Beg pardon?"

Moore looks astonished. "My boy, you do not know who I am?"

"No, sir," Foster replies. "Well, other than a holographic professor who is experimenting with a portable holographic emitter. I figured there was more to the story, but that you make your home on the Aegis means that I'd probably get in trouble for trying to find out."

Moore begins to pace, folding his hands behind the back. "Fourteen years ago, I was created aboard the starship Enterprise by several officers who needed a rather... shall we say intense.. mental challenge. The computer made me sentient, and I took control of the vessel from within the holodeck. Needless to say, the authorities aboard the vessel were not pleased, and I've been a virtual" James pauses, making a face, "prisoner from there on in."

Foster blinks. "Huh. That's almost as bad as how those terrorists just /walked/ right into the station's computer core. May I ask how you ended up here, on the Aegis, working for Lieutenant Tyler?"

"My confinement has been at a number of facilities. Leftenant Tyler requested my transfer here to work on cryptography after I proved useful decrypting Dominion transmissions during that rather ghastly engagement." Moore once again tugs on his suit coat.

"I suppose it's a matter of making the best of it though, isn't it, Professor?" He nods at the emitter. "We don't have the technology to make things smaller than that yet, I guess, but if we did, if we could 'free' you, what do you think you'd want to do? Please just tell me if I'm being intrusive. I tend to be very curious about some things. Usually about different races, but this is... quite intriguing."

Tyler lies there in stupor, just breathing and making the machines beep.

The hologram gestures to the silent figure on the bed. "Leftenant Tyler has increased the liberties for myself and my wife more than any other officer within your vaunted Starfleet. She is quite a blessing in my life... I would be most distressed to lose her." He pauses, then smiles. "Were I freed, Leftenant... I would stay here to work for this woman of my own volition. She is quite deserving of my loyalty."

Foster nods, "I'm sure that won't happen. Doctor Park has a vested interest in bringing back his fiance. You know, I wasn't even sure that was still the case, with what happened shortly after I got here. That they were still fiances, I mean. It's not like I ever really had a right to inquire into something that personal."

Moore smiles, falling silent for a long moment. "I wish them both the best."

Foster asks, "Do you happen to know why she did do what she did? I mean, cancelling the wedding at the altar? I mean - and not to keep repeating myself - but they seemed, and still do seem, happy together."

"I'm afraid I'm not privy to that information," Moore replies softly.

Foster nods, "Well, I suppose I'll ask her some time. Or Doctor Park, perhaps. He's a bit easier to get along with. Lieutenant Tyler - I usually end up seeing her when she's peeved with me, plus she has to maintain a certain amount of distance as commanding officer, I guess. Perhaps we should find something else to talk about."

Moore looks Foster over for a moment. "I'm afraid that I don't know too terribly much about you."

Foster chuckles, "That's because mine is a boring life. I'm only, eh, six days graduated from Starfleet Academy. My life's pretty much on the record. I was born on Risa - er, that's a resort planet of types - but was only there three days. I spent the next decade and a half aboard the U.S.S. Hartford with my da, er, father. He's an engineer. When he accepted a position at Starfleet Academy, I came with him. I met Kaitlyn in high school, and we came to the Academy together." He chuckles. "I think her mother had more of an influence on me than others. She's a pilot too, see. Actually, that's a falsehood. I spent a lot of time on the Hartford on the holodeck running various flight-oriented programs. Kait's mom just added to it."

"It's been in the real world. To me, there's nothing more exciting," Moore replies softly.

"Well, if you were created to be sentient, there must have been some programmed history, right?" Foster asks. "I mean, a character, real or 'virtual' has to have a history to be who they are, don't they?"

"Certainly. The problem is that I am based upon a fictional character." Moore smiles, although there's a devilish sort of cant to it. "You may be more familiar with me as Professor James Moriarty, of somewhat dubious infamy in the Sherlock Holmes stories."

Foster blinks, "Well, the name is certainly familiar - both yours and that of Holmes, I mean - but I'm not overly familiar with the books. My father's more the mystery buff than I am. How much of a history did it create for you, if I might ask?"

Foster adds, "I mean, if I remember right, Moriarty was a villain in the Holmes stories. Some authors prefer to shroud their villains in mystery."

"I'm certain that, if called for, my program can create certain memories and details about my past exploits, and my lineage. I am meant to be fully interactive, after all." Moore finds a chair, and settles into it rather wearily. "But those details would be left to the discretion of the programmer, rather than the author of the stories if they weren't provided for."

Foster nods, "That does sound rather frustrating." He sighs. "We should, perhaps, find something else to speak of, though I'm not certain how much longer I can remain."

Moore turns his gaze back to the head of the bed. "Perhaps this rest will be beneficial to her. She does seem to carry quite the load at times."

Foster nods, "Maybe. But I still wonder what she was being treated /for/. Again, probably something that isn't my business."

"It is a delicate line that you must walk. Caring, but not -too- much." Moore sighs.

"Aye," Foster agrees. "I wouldn't want to intrude." He adds, with a faintly amused grin, "Besides, my wife would kill me if I show too much interest in some other woman."

Moore smiles rather brilliantly at that. "At least that hasn't changed since I was written."

Foster chuckles, "She gave me 'the Look' for suggesting I might have been the type to hop from bed to bed to bed if I had never met her. Which, I admit, actually felt like a good thing for once."

"She sounds like a good woman. I shall have to meet her someday," Moore replies.

Foster sighs regretfully, "That's unlikely, unless you make another visit to the station. While she does have security clearance enough to board the Aegis, she's really got no reason to other than me. And me she can usually just hail. That's unfortunate, too. She is a good woman."

Moore folds his arms over his chest. "I should like to visit the station again someday. I think of Gwendolyn as my daughter, and it's rather disconcerting not being able to visit her when she's only several hundred meters away."

"She would probably love to see you," Foster says, then pauses. "You heard about Naya?"

Moore nods, remaining silent this time. The expression on his face says that it hits extremely close to home for him, though.

Foster actually looks a little relieved to hear that the Professor already knows. It's not something he'd like to have to have told him. "She said that she would come by to see Lieutenant Tyler when she's allowed, but let me ask: what IS involved in getting you access to the station? Maybe I could help arrange something?"

"Convincing Commander Ghorev that I am not a threat," Moore replies simply.

Foster blinks, "Why does he think you're a threat?"

"I'm a kidnapper and a hijacker, not to mention able to infiltrate computer systems at ease. I am a threat, should I bear any malice toward the station," Moore replies softly.

"Well, I suppose I can ask her to come see you too, if you like," Foster says. "Or, if you're here when she comes to see Lieutenant Tyler."

Moore smiles. "Gwendolyn has said that she wishes to spend a few days in the laboratory."

Foster chuckles, "Then you'll have two of them in there, neh?"

Moore nods. "Three, actually. She's bringing Nevaren."

Foster frowns, "That's good, at least. I'd heard he wasn't bearing up all that well to the whole thing. THey had him under a suicide watch."

"It's not easy to lose a child," Moore whispers.

Foster nods, "I understand. I can't know what it's like, but I understand."

Moore looks into the distance for a bit, staring at something only he can see. "She'll recover eventually, but she'll never be the way he was. Neither will Nevaren, for that matter."

Foster nods, "I can't imagine that they would be." He sighs and stands, "I'm afraid I have to get going, but it has been good talking with you, Professor." He looks down at Tyler. "I hope she comes back to us soon too."

"I relieve you, sir. Do try to have a pleasant evening -- she's in good hands." Moore stands, offering a handshake.

Foster accepts that without difficulty, shaking the good Professor's hand. Then, without too much more, he heads on out.

Foster steps out of the room and into the corridor.

.....

Park sits as he has been for some time, beside Tyler's bedside, one hand holding hers and the other holding a PADD, reading quietly.

Tyler lies in repose on the biobed, the monitors ticking off the beats of her heart. Park is at her side. A security chief is flanking the door along side Lt. Turtledove, and Edwards has just entered Sickbay. The chief nods to Edwards.

Turtledove shifts her attention from the biobed to Edwards. She gives a nod and a quiet smile. "Good evening, Commander."

Edwards nods back to the chief and Turtledove. "Leftenant." he greets, subdued. This is the realm of no-fun Edwards. He pauses near the entrance, looking toward Park and Tyler's biobed a moment.

Park glances up as the pair enter, offering a little smile before going back to his reading.

Turtledove keeps her eyes on Edwards, mostly mellow. "Are you here for a personal visit, sir?"

"Pretty much." Edwards glances back at Turtledove. "Not much else to do in here, eh?" He offers a small smile and finally wanders over to Tyler's biobed. "Hey."

The security chief is hailed away by the bridge, and he nods to Turtledove. "The fort is yours, sir," he says. "Hopefully this won't take long."

"Hi, Mikey.", Park replies, setting the PADD down for the moment.

Turtledove nods politely to the Chief, but with a slight, warm, smile, before turning back to perusing the Sickbay environ. She is polite --- she doesn't watch Park and Edwards directly.

"Nothing new, eh?" Edwards asks a bit awkwardly as he watches Tyler expertly lay there and not move a muscle.

Park shakes his head as he glances down at her. "No, nothing yet.", he replies. "I'm going to see if Malloy will let me take her home, since there's really no reason for her to stay here."

Turtledove's mouth twists slightly, perhaps a sign of disagreement, (not that she's listening), but she doesn't otherwise react to the conversation. Then... something catches her eye... Suddenly, Turtledove reaches for her Type II. The focus of her attention is sitting at one of the medical terminals --- Captain Sinclaire, herself.

Turtledove relaxes her hand after a thought, and, rather, lifts her hand to her compin, instead.

Edwards nods and frowns some. "I read something about that. I'm not sure if that'll fly, all things considered."

Sinclaire's sitting at one of the medical terminals, idly watching Park and Edwards speak. As Turtledove moves for her com badge, Sinclaire catches the movement out of the corner of her eye. She shifts her attention to Tera and frowns.

"I doubt it will, but at this point I'm willing to take what small things I can to help.", Park replies. "I guess we'll see."

Turtledove pauses. She watches Sinclaire darkly, but conflicted. Her shoulders dip a bit. "What can we do for you, Captain?"

"Well, I meant... Nevermind." Edwards makes a dismissive wave. Then he looks back toward the entrance when he hears 'Captain'. He furrows his brow when there's no Balin.

Sinclaire stands up from her place at the terminal. She gives Turtledove a respectful nod and says, "I've come to check on Wendy for myself."

Turtledove's eyes shift to the biobed then back. "I don't suppose there's any chance you could suggest a way to revive her."

Edwards zeroes in on Sinclaire now and sighs, not looking terribly shocked. "I think if she could revive her, she would, without bothering with going through us."

Park flies out of his chair and spins at the sound of the all-too-familiar voice.

Sinclaire moves to the side of the bed and looks down at her. "You have me all so very wrong, my dear Michael," she says. She looks fondly down at, well, herself. She looks professionally at Park. "So what, pray tell, is the prognosis, Doctor?"

"I coudln't tell you. I'm not her doctor.", Park replies, glancing over at Edwards.

Edwards gives Sinclaire an exasperated look. "You know as well as the rest of us that we can just hope she'll wake up sometime." he remarks. "So tell me, is this just a personal visit?"

Turtledove watches quietly from the door. Her eyes lighten a bit as she looks from Edwards to Sinclaire.

"Why no," Sinclaire states. She looks between the three officers, then, and says, "You are the three people she loves the most in this world. I have the means to revive her and save the timeline which Aaron so stupidly doomed." She looks poignantly at Edwards. "But it will require the three of you to agree to it."

Park stays quiet since the Wicked Witch of the Future isn't talking to him.

"First of all, don't insult him." Edwards indicates Park. "You want to blame someone, you can blame me." He regards Sinclaire with some wariness. "And just what would we be agreeing to?"

Turtledove's interest is piqued. Her eyes show hope, but also... worry. Then, Edwards takes the blame, which is... a little confusing. She gives him a side-glance, but it's short, considering. She looks quickly back to Sinclaire, interested.

"I'll have to take her," Sinclaire says as if the answer is obvious. "It's not something I can do over subspace."

Edwards motions around at the surroundings. "Why not just stop by in person and do it here?" he suggests.

Park actually laughs at Sinclaire's suggestion, but doesn't say anything since Edwards is doing the talking.

Turtledove gives Edwards a quick, almost wry look, before she shifts back to Sinclaire. "I am extremely obligated to check with my superior on something like that." Turtledove speaks with quiet familiarity and a touch wry, as if this answer were obvious too.

"I warned you, Michael, with the best of intentions." Sinclaire looks to Park. "I warned you, too, despite my better judgment." She levels her gaze back on Turtledove. "And I implored you to put a stop to it." She looks back down at Tyler. "The only person I'm concerned about in this equation is /her/. I have been forthright with all of you." She sighs softly, and says to Tyler, "This ultimately was her decision, as bad as it was, and thus nobody can be blamed for it other than herself." She looks to Edwards, then. "If you would rather I not intervene, I will walk away. But know this, the three of you: Your decision now will determine the fates of billions of lives."

"You told me I have you all wrong." Edwards replies evenly. "That we're on the same side. Well why don't you prove it? You can start by telling us exactly what you want to do. Because nobody in this room is going to ask you to take her just on your say-so that everything will be all right if you do. For all I know, you'll take her, destroy her body, and pull some copy of her from another timeline."

Turtledove responds quietly to Edwards. "She could do that without our permission." She looks at Sinclaire. "You don't have to take her alone, though. Do you?"

Turtledove adds, "That might ease some concern, for some."

Park nods in agreement with Turtledove.

Sinclaire frowns at Edwards. "How did I earn such a low regard from you, Michael?" she asks him in low tones. "Neurosurgery is what we want to do, to answer your question." She considers Turtledove's question. She looks between the three of them. "Someone can come with her."

Edwards gives Turtledove and Park chagrined looks. Then he returns his attention to Sinclaire. "Probably by telling me how you could have the woman I love send to the front lines if I got out of line." he says pointedly. "And I don't think her doctor will like not being consulted."

Turtledove nods in agreement with Edwards' last statement. "Indeed." She looks at Sinclaire. "Is this a now or never deal?"

"Screw Malloy.", Park says abruptly. "He can complain later that she's well and I'll take all the blame for it. But I want to know exactly what is going to be done."

"Ever heard of a bluff, Michael? You make them all the time," Sinclaire replies. "It's called an empty threat. I could no more harm your wife than I could you." She looks to Edwards, then to Turtledove and finally to Park. "She's going to have neuropathic reconditioning, a surgical procedure that will have a far greater success rate on board my Aegis than it would should it be performed here. She will retain the conditioning that got you all into this mess." Looking at Turtledove again, she says, "I'll give you 24 hours to decide; my Aegis won't be back in that area until then."

"I can still call that bluff." Edwards notes. "And before you go, I have a question. If you don't mind."

"You're bluffing," Sinclaire replies. "But ask me your question. Quickly, there is not much time left."

Turtledove nods readily to Sinclaire, quietly, respectfully. "Understood." Her eyes shift to Edwards, meanwhile.

Edwards asks, "Why does our entire future depend on one woman? Why have you dedicated your entire life to making sure Wendy Tyler gets sole access to the artifact, enough clearance to tell her superiors to stay the hell out of her business, and her own Rapid Response Team? And I want a real answer. She's not the only genius in the Federation, and if that artifact bonded to her just because she was here, then it could've been anyone. So either you're insanely narrow-minded or there's some other reason."

Sinclaire regards Edwards for a long moment. "Destiny," finally comes the response. "I will contact Tera in twenty-four hours. Good evening." She steps away from the biobed. The advanced holography that made up Sinclaire winks out of existence.

"You..." Edwards grits his teeth and balls his hands into fists. But it's too late. "Yeah, well I have my own ideas..." he mutters.

Park just stands there, fists clenched at his sides as he stares at the spot where Sinclaire vanished. "That is /not/ the same person.", he says quietly.

Oh, but it is. The other version of that same person rests silently on the biobed, unaware of the events around her. Tyler looks so peaceful.

Turtledove's eyes shift to Edwards, and rest there. "I guess I'll do up a report. I only have one concern." She looks between Edwards and Park. "What if her doctor, or my superior officers decide against letting her go?"

Park says, "I don't think it's their decision."

"If Malloy doesn't sign off, it's dead." Edwards states flatly. "We'll practice what we preach, and that's following the rules. That is what we preach, isn't it?"

Park glances at Edwards and then at Turtledove.

Turtledove regards Edwards quietly. She has to grin, slightly, if somewhat darkly. "So, destiny after all, then." She looks at Wendy, her expression unreadable. "I'll get the paperwork started."

"These are the kinds of decision that make you want to walk on out an airlock." Edwards looks down at Wendy tiredly. "Leave her in a coma or hope a criminal can give us back the status quo."

"If there's going to be any discussion about this, I think we should all be included.", Park says as he follows Tera's gaze. "And if we get the go ahead, I want to be the one to go. I don't trust that they're not going to do something else to her while they have her there."

Turtledove studies Park. "I'm agreable to that. Except for one thing. You have to keep your cool, Aaron. Go there to observe, as a doctor, make sure that, if they do extra work, you know what they are doing... not as an impulsive, protective fiance."

Park gives her a little smile, the first that looks like it's not forced. "I suppose those /can/ be mutually exclusive roles, can't they?", he comments.

"Don't piss them off. You probably wouldn't like what happens." Edwards says simply.

Park says, "I'm going to go grab something to eat if you're both going to be here for a bit. I shouldn't be long."

Turtledove nods in agreement with Edwards. She settles her attention on Wendy, her eyes infused with warmth, and a thread of hope. "I'll write up a report, stating the deal, and proposing that you go, Aaron. After that, we'll see."

Edwards, on the other hand, does not look hopeful. Just tired. "You think Malloy'll say okay?" he asks.

Turtledove maintains hope. "Why wouldn't he?"

"He didn't even want me and Park visiting." Edwards replies. "Why would he let someone actually take her away, and perform a medical procedure on her?"

Turtledove keeps on looking hopeful. "Yeah." She shifts her eyes from Tyler to Edwards. "Did you really mean what you said about following the rules?"

"It's supposed to be what seperates us from her." Edwards looks toward Turtledove, considering her. "She does whatever it takes. We do the right thing. That's the theory, anyway."

"That sounds like a Commander Ghorev theory." She looks at Edwards, smiles slightly, then looks back at Tyler. She moves over to a terminal, and punches in few commands, speaking as she goes. "Here's my take." She pauses. Her eyes shift, regarding Tyler sadly. "It strikes me as a test. She doesn't need our permission to do anything. This is the question: do we care enough about her to break the rules, when that differentiates us from her? It's heart-breaking. And, it's a bit malicious. She doesn't like herself. If we break the rules, she is less 'bad', and she has friends who love her."

"It's a good theory. If we don't subscribe to it, we might as well just get out of Sinclaire's way and let her do what she can." Edwards shakes his head. "I'm not sure if that's what this is about, but then I'm not sure of anything. Maybe you're right. I do believe she'd rather not being doing the things she does, and that she feels a connection to us. But it doesn't matter. We're not on the same side."

The computer chirps. Turtledove studies the display for a moment, then looks at Edwards. She walks towards him, quietly, to rest beside the biobed. "Because we do the right thing."

Edwards remarks, "I'm sure we could find some people who'd argue with that, still."

Turtledove nods. "Either we're with her, or against her. And, even if we try to outsmart her, she's like... fifty years ahead of us. She always wins."

Edwards does manage a small smile at that. "Nobody's perfect. Nobody's infallible. She has a weakness. We just need to find it."

Turtledove brushes a lock of Tyler's hair back, tucking it behind her ear. "She can be fixed." She smiles, genuinely, and looks at Edwards. "Has she changed much since the first procedure?"

Edwards looks down at Tyler and replies, "The first procedure?"

Turtledove says, "The first operation. The one that erased her memories."

"Yeah. A lot." Edwards says. Luckily, he doesn't leave it at that. "She was timid, unsure of herself. A stutterer. Practically frightened of her own shadow. Nowhere near being capable of any kind of leadership."

Turtledove shifts eyes to Edwards. "She was sort of like that when I met her. She was an ensign, then." She pauses. "Are you sure the change didn't have anything to do with her steady increase in rank and responsibility?"

Edwards replies, "I believe she had a nervous breakdown when she found out the truth about Sinclaire. I'm not sure if she would even have been fit for duty if it wasn't for Sinclaire's procedure."

Turtledove regards Edwards quietly, not too surprised. She nods. After a pause, she says, in a low voice, "I'd better finish up that paperwork."

"You should." Edwards agrees. He looks off toward the exit. "And I should go. Things to do and all."

Turtledove regards Edwards, mellow eyes, quiet warmth. "Goodnight, Commander."

"Good night, Leftenant." Edwards offers a faint smile before he walks off.

Edwards steps out of the room and into the corridor.

Edwards has left.

.....

After her meeting with Takamura, Turtledove is walking down a corridor. Her PADD chimes, indicating an incoming text transmission. Bringing up the data indicates that it has no subspace origin tag. 'The decision?' it reads without pretense.

Turtledove stops to tap in a response. 'The decision is yes. Command wants to send two people, however. Me, and Commander Edwards. Is this a problem?'

There is a brief delay. No doubt a decision is being weighed. 'Not a problem,' comes the eventual reply. 'Assemble in sickbay and prepare for transport. Make sure you're alone.'

Turtledove taps back, quickly. 'Understood.' The message sent, she taps her compin. "Lt.Jg. Turtledove to Commander Edwards."

"Commander Edwards here." comes the response.

Over her compin, Turtledove says, "Are you free for our scheduled visit? I'm heading to sickbay now."

"Yeah. I'm on my way. Edwards out."

Turtledove taps her compin, ending the transmission.

Turtledove steps through the doors, into sickbay. She promptly dismisses the two Security personnel inside the doors, and walks over to Tyler's biobed.

The security officers excuse themselves at Turtledove's order. Tyler lies there asleep without dreams.

And a moment or so later, Edwards enters sickbay silently. He looks around as he wanders toward Turtledove and Tyler's biobed.

Turtledove rests a hand on Tyler's arm. "Computer, lock all access doors to sickbay. Unlock doors when LT Tyler is no longer detected on board the USS Aegis." She looks over her shoulder, greeting Edwards with a straight, no-nonsense nod. "Timefleet command is classifying this as an away mission. They want to therefore send two people. You and I. Captain Sinclaire has agreed to that." She pauses, then adds, "And it looks like I'm in charge. Because of the out-time nature of the 'away mission'."

"We're going out of time?" Edwards asks simply.

Turtledove says, "No, but we'll be interacting with people who are out of time."

"I'm... well, not surprised at these turn of events, really." Edwards comments. "It should be interesting."

Turtledove nods. "This came directly from Admiral Jorgensen." She looks away, back at Tyler, perhaps a bit uncomfortable.

"Admiral Jorgenson. I have to meet that guy someday." Edwards looks down toward Tyler. "Now we just wait, I suppose."

The wait isn't long. A familiar blue-white light begins to coalesce in the middle of sickbay, and in a flash of light, the three officers are whisked away. When the light clears, Turtledove and Edwards are in crew quarters of the USS Aegis, what appears to be a senior officer's quarters on the port side. Tyler is nowhere to be found. The lights of the Aegis are down, and the surreal quality of light indicates that the Dark Aegis is submerged in subspace. Through the viewport can be seen Station 419 with the Aegis and Paine docked to her. Beyond that, the flash of the anomaly.

Turtledove looks around, sort of subdued. "No welcoming party... no note..." She steps towards the doors, to check if they are locked.

The doors buzz in a negative tone at Turtledove's approach.

<CONTEST> Turtledove contests her Law (Temporal Law) skill vs a difficulty of Moderate and Succeeds!

"Wow. This is a shock." Edwards sounds annoyed more than shocked, really. "And I thought they'd let us watch." He wanders toward the doors. "Try hailing?"

Turtledove thinks for a sec, then turns around. "Won't do us much good, I'm betting. They're doing what any good Timefleet officer would do --- as out-time travelers, they would lock us down, to minimize contact." She looks at Edwards. She grins slightly. "Maybe we should have asked for a view-screen and a live-feed of the procedure." She moves away from the door, and moves around the room, checking it out.

"Then what was the point of us coming? Unless they're trying to send us a message by locking us up in a dark room together." Edwards remarks. He kicks the doors lightly. "And I'm sure they're real concerned about not polluting the timeline."

<CONTEST> Edwards (claiming advantage) contests his Intellect (Perception) skill vs a difficulty of Difficult and Succeeds!

<CONTEST> Turtledove (claiming advantage) contests her Intellect (Perception) skill vs a difficulty of Difficult and Fails!

Turtledove looks out the viewport. "We came here because, otherwise, not everyone would've agreed to Captain Sinclaire's deal."

Edwards replies, "Yeah. Except one of those people was me, and being locked away wasn't part of the deal." He shakes his head. "I'm going to at least try hailing..." He slaps his combadge, looking less than hopeful.

The compin responds with a chirrup. The only network that can be established is locally, between Turtledove and Edwards.

Edwards tries to establish a link with Sinclaire. When it doesn't work, he mutters, "Figures."

Turtledove eyes Edwards' compin. She looks ponderous. "Computer, increase ambient lighting by 25?"

The computer chimes in the negative. "Unable to comply. Subspace light protocols are in effect." Suddenly the doors slide open, and in strides Sinclaire. Outside can be seen two security officers guarding the flanks of the doorway, dressed in all-black. "My apologies to the both of you for sequestering you," she says. "But exposure must be kept to a minimum. I'm sure Tera understands, at least." She gives Turtledove a dip of her head. "Wendy is being prepped for surgery. I'll have to ask that you remain here during it and the post-operative recovery." She looks between them for any questions.

Edwards faces Sinclaire when she enters. "What, and you don't think I understand?" he sounds offended. Though he moves on quickly. "I'm sure you realize how this is kind of pointless if we're stuck here? You can do who-knows-what and we'll be none the wiser."

Turtledove turns, to face the door fully, straightening-up as she does. She greets Sinclaire with mixed regard, quiet but warm. She shifts attention to Edwards. She looks back to Sinclaire. "How long will the surgery take? And what are the chances of success?"

Sinclaire frowns. "You're none the wiser no matter what I do, Commander," she says. "You are just going to have to trust me. This ship has technology that you are not permitted to see, and that includes Sickbay. You've never been a patient person, Michael. It will be your undoing." She looks toward Turtledove. "The doctor has said that it will take eight hours. Mortality rate is ten percent for this procedure, but there are no expected complications. Forty-eight hours of recovery time... You're looking at being back home in fifty-six." She gestures toward the two rooms which branch off this living area. "Each of you have a room, the replicators work, and the computer works with limitations."

"I know how much you prize not polluting the timeline." Edwards is a sarcastic bastard, yes. On the plus side, he usually knows when he's beat. Usually. "You wouldn't mind at least answering another question, would you, Captain?"

"Very well. Ask," Sinclaire says neutrally. She clasps her hands behind her back and regards him.

"Of course, if you have time, I'm sure I could come up with a lot..." Edwards smiles thinly. "Anyway, I was just wondering... Wendy told me before that she thinks the Lithians aren't really a race, but more of a biological weapon. Do you know if that's true?"

"It's true," Sinclaire says. "I cannot say more, Michael. Defeating the Lithians is up to you; Keeping Wendy on track has always been up to me. When the time comes, we shall assist in what ways we can. But you know the rules."

Edwards nods slowly. "This is all kind of personal, isn't it?" he asks.

Sinclaire's eyes narrow almost imperceptibly. "Clarify," she orders.

"I mean, this whole deal with you and Wendy and the Lithians. Destiny. You weren't just the only one around who could hop back in time, were you?" Edwards clarifies quite readily. "It's more than that."

GAME: Sinclaire spends a courage point.

Sinclaire looks away from Edwards and to a spot on the floor. "I can't say any more," she says. "Now, if you will excuse me, it is time for Wendy's surgery. That's what we're here for, isn't it?"

Edwards hesitates a moment, then lets it drop. "Will the computer let us contact you, if we need to?" he asks.

Sinclaire inclines her head and replies, "Yes. I'll be sending one of my officers by shortly to check in on your needs." She starts heading for the door. "Good night, Commander," she says.

"Good night." Edwards replies, subdued.

Turtledove is up dark and early, performing routine calisthenics. Doing what military people always do in the movies --- pushups.

Edwards wanders out of his appointed bedroom, ready to face another day of exciting adventure on the good ship Dark Aegis. He wanders over to Turtledove when he spots her. "Be careful, you might keep in shape that way." he comments.

"That's sort of the idea." Turtledove grins at Edwards, but, since he's up, she rises to her feet and finds her tunic. "How'd you sleep?"

"As well as can be expected." Edwards wanders away, aimlessly milling about the living room. "Have you tried playing with the computer yet?" He doesn't wait for a response.

"Computer, tell me all of Captain Sinclaire's deep, dark secrets."

Turtledove perks a grin, but her expression is conflicted. She wanted to. Oh yes. "I'm pretty sure that my computer skills vs. those of futuristic Wendy or futuristic Wendy-trained staff would not have a happy-ending. But, mostly, it just seemed impolite." She regards Edwards quietly.

"Unable to comply. Personnel files are restricted," the Computer replies to Edwards' query.

"Was worth a shot." Edwards returns his attention to Turtledove. "You're probably right. So... think we're being eavesdropped on?"

Turtledove fastens up her tunic. "Yeah." She looks around. "Does that bother you?"

Edwards replies, in his usual smart-alecky fashion, "Normally I'm against invasion of my privacy." Yet, he admits, "Although I'm not really surprised, so..." He looks up at the ceiling. "Hello, Aegis crew. How are you today?"

Turtledove cracks a grin and laughs. She looks at the ceiling, too, amused. She looks back at Edwards. "Maybe if you amuse them, they'll send us a pack of cards or something." She takes a seat on a random chair, rests her hands over her lap. "We could always use the time to talk. We haven't really had a chance to do that since you returned from Earth."

Edwards tears his gaze away from the ceiling. "Well, it didn't help that you spent all that time dead." He strolls over to a free chair and slumps into it. "Why don't you tell me what you think about this. I know I wear my emotions on my sleeve, but you're a little... inscrutable."

Turtledove's eyes lighten with surprise, not at the description of herself, but at being asked to speak about herself. "I... am conflicted, like everyone else, I think. But I've never been much for wasted energy. But then, I haven't had your level of exposure to the situation. You've been around since pretty much the beginning, haven't you?"

"Four-One-Nine's been active for over four years now. This nonsense all started shortly after it became operational and staffed, with the appearance of the anomaly. I was assigned to the station... a little into it's second year, and thrust into the middle of this,"

Edwards motions around at the surroundings, "almost immediately. So yeah, it's been a while. And you know how hamstrung we are, how little we seem to be able to affect... well, anything. I tend to rail when it gets like that." He shrugs. "What do you think the big picture is? What's happening? Why?"

Turtledove says, "I think that the Federation is working to solve a problem imposed by an obviously antagonistic outside force. What's happening?" She regards Edwards evenly. "I think we're losing." She pauses. "What do you think?""

"The fight hasn't even started yet." Edwards rises back up to his feet. "And what's this outside antagonistic force?"

Turtledove watches Edwards from her chair. "What do you mean, the fight hasn't started yet?"

"The Lithians aren't here yet. We're certainly not fighting them." Edwards explains. "We aren't fighting our gracious hosts. Nobody will let us. So we haven't started fighting yet."

"But somewhere, in the future, we are fighting them." Turtledove regards Edwards thoughtfully, alert and open. "The Lithians, I mean." She pauses, eyebrows furrowing gently, then relaxing as she shifts into the next question. "What about the possibility, the scenario in which our gracious hosts are not working against us? Why are you so sure that our goals are so different, that we should be fighting them?"

"In the future I saw? Everything is dead." Edwards states matter-of-factly. "And what makes you think I think our goals aren't the same. I believe Sinclaire enough to believe her goal is to stop the Lithian threat. Or to make sure Wendy Tyler stops it, anyway."

Turtledove watches Edwards. "Why would she do that?"

"Do what? Make sure Wendy Tyler stops the Lithians?" Edwards asks.

Turtledove nods, quietly.

Edwards hands the question back. "Why do you think she's doing it?" He smiles some. "And you might've asked me first, but I'll pull rank if I have to."

Turtledove grins back quietly. "I know I haven't been the most overbearing of leaders, but I think you forgot who's in command on this away mission." She pauses, good-natured. "Besides, it's only polite for you to answer first."

"Wrestle you for it?" Edwards grins, and does not exactly leer. That would be wrong. "Why... is important. It's something I've thought a lot about, and I do have a theory. But it's not important as to whether or not we should stand against Sinclaire, if that's why you're asking. Is it?"

Turtledove perks an eyebrow at the invite, and a partial grin, but it quickly fades into a more attentive expression. "I'm trying to understand your point of view, Commander. A lot of people seem to share it."

"Do the ends justify the means?" Edwards inquires. "It's as simple as that."

"So, you believe in the identity of the Federation, at all costs?" Turtledove is curious, not dismissive. "I'm sorry if I'm making a leap here, but it's always been a popular argument, and I'm assuming that that is what you mean."

Edwards shakes his head. "I have to believe that there's more to life than just living at any cost. Otherwise... what's the point?"

"What matters is what you define as mattering." Turtledove answers back, a bit hesitant. "Do you know what I mean? Some people live to survive, and some people live by a code, and some people just live for the moment. I know what you're talking about, and it sounds like integrity. But integrity is just the state of being true to what you believe in. Not compromising your principles. So, you ask me, what's the point. I ask you, what are your principles? What do you believe in?"

"People generally don't work that way. They believe in right and wrong, and if you disagree with them, you're wrong. Take Commander Ghorev for instance. I respect him for holding steadfastly to his principles, but I've told him that I disagree with them. So he thinks of me as beneath him. Not as good as him." Edwards clears his throat, ridding him of the trace of bitterness that seeped in there at the end. "So I doubt you'll find many to agree with you there. Not that you may care. As for what I believe? I believe there are some lines you don't cross. You don't kidnap innocent people and tinker with their heads without permission. And you certainly don't kill the people who try to save their fellow officers from you. And you don't subvert Starfleet! You don't go back in time, commit fraud to enter it, and steadily go about building a powerbase for forty years so you have the ability to manipulate a young woman's life!"

Turtledove pauses a couple of seconds to let the echoes dissipate, conversationally. Her eyes remain on Edwards. The comment about Ghorev is not received without some mouth-tightening. "People do work that way. Right and wrong, that's what I'm talking about. A person's principles are the rules by which they define what is right, and what is wrong." She pauses, her eyes lightening, quietly. "And, I do care what people believe, actually." She pauses. "So, mind-control is wrong, killing your fellow officers is wrong, and subverting Starfleet is wrong. This is all very good. It prioritizes the rights of the individual, which is one of the founding principles of the Constitution. I can see why you are so frustrated."

"What I meant is, people tend to believe that you're wrong if you don't share their principles." Edwards clarifies, coming back down after working himself up. "Yes. I definitely don't believe in cloak and dagger organizations that take it upon themselves to decide what needs to be done, the rest of us and the rules be damned." He begins to pace some. "This is just... just wrong. I'll be honest. I'm not married to the rulebook. I feel that sometimes, yes, you need to set it aside. But this is more like setting it on fire. And I'm starting to think that it's not out of a sense of altruism either. No, this is personal."

Turtledove blinks, surprised. "Personal?"

"Destiny." Edwards scoffs. "Why is it Wendy Tyler's destiny to stop the Lithians?"

Turtledove sits in silence before responding, quietly. "Why shouldn't it be?"

"Because it's /not/." Edwards stops pacing and spins around to face Turtledove. "Destiny is nonsense. A fantasy. This is being set up by mere mortals like Sinclaire who want to see Wendy Tyler defeat the Lithians. And worst of all, it's handicapping us. Wendy alone is given the power to study the artifact. She's given all the power in the world to keep everyone else out. The rest of us can fall in line or get the hell out of her way. Well guess what? I love Wendy Tyler. I do. But she is not some messiah sent by the gods to protect us from the evil Lithians. She's a human being."

The doors hiss open and Sinclaire strides in. The dark bags under her eyes bely a worried and sleepless night. "You have every right to be concerned on that point, Commander. There's been some complications," she says, getting straight to the point. "Lt. Tyler is still in surgery, and I'm told things aren't going very well. And that's all I know at this point."

Turtledove watches Edwards. She remains seated, following his movement with her eyes. "You say that destiny is fantasy. That destiny is nonsense. But temporal physicists have clearly shown that there are timelines, where things happen in sequence, through cause and effect. In essense, this sequence -is- destiny. In a perfectly scientific way. In other words, the preferred timeline." She looks over as Sinclaire enters. She stands up.

Edwards just shakes his head, until he's distracted by Sinclaire. "You have to know more than that." he says simply, otherwise putting off his reaction to the news for a second.

Turtledove regards Sinclaire, pale, her eyes light with disbelief. And a terrified kind of worry. "What's wrong?"

Sinclaire shakes her head to Edwards' statement. "I give my officers room to do their jobs. After eight hours, I inquired via comm. I was told exactly what I just told you," she says. "And when I know more, I'll be glad to share."

Edwards laughs. And it's not a happy-go-lucky one, either. "What did you say? Ten-percent chance of failure?" He walks away, putting some more distance between himself and the others. "Guess we should've realized she'd be in the minority. Already a genius, savior..."

Turtledove's eyes are on Sinclaire, watching her. Her terror fades, a little, as she continues, quietly. "The surgery will just take a little longer. She'll be alright."

Sinclaire frowns at Edwards' back, but lets him have his tirade. When Tera speaks, the frown turns into a slight smile, of friendship and remembrance. "Tera, ever the optimist. From your lips to God's ears. The Commander could use some of your hope."

"Hope?" Edwards glances back at the women. "Hope for what? According to the plan you've had for forty years and who-knows-how-many time loops, Wendy Tyler is the only one who can save us. She dies and we really will lose. No more do-overs." He stops near a bulkhead and plants a hand against it, so he can lean. "And if she lives? Back to the way things were before. More of us running around, unable to do anything, while she thinks you're just her nice old mentor, until she gets around to figuring out how to play hero and finally does it. Or, of course, we go for round six."

Turtledove looks at Edwards, tired now, and sad. She looks back at Sinclaire. She speaks quietly. "Will you keep us posted?"

Sinclaire nods once to Turtledove. "Of course, Tera. You should get some rest." She looks to Edwards then. "So little of your criticism is constructive, Michael. I'm ready to hear your plan on how to stop the Lithians; since you seem to know better."

"How about we divert less of our time trying to keep the Timefleet and the artifact and the Lithians a secret, and more time letting people try to come up with that answer?" Edwards asks, not sounding at all hopeful that his suggestion will actually be listened to. "You know, let some other scientists study what's going on? Let the rest of us in?"

Turtledove looks from Edwards to Sinclaire, her interest stemming, perhaps, from the discussion earlier.

"Your view is narrow," Sinclaire states. "Time is an ocean, with eddies, currents and tides. The reason why it is Wendy's destiny is because she was chosen by the Federation Science Council. It is through her that the common threads of these timelines are woven, the currents flow through /her/. It is by those she attracts and brings with her who will defeat the Lithians. No matter /how many/ iterations the loop takes, Michael." Her eyes narrow. "But if she dies, I should make you pay for your crime; I should make /you/ be the next Sinclaire and fix what you have broken."

Edwards turns back around, so he can face Sinclaire, and watches her impassively, "If she dies, then I guess we'll really be able to change history, then. No more common threads."

"Someone will take my place to assure hers," Sinclaire says. "The Federation is willing to let us iterate until the Lithians are defeated. Someone will take my place, and it will begin again. A fluctuation here, a fluctuation there; eventually we'll get it right. Because extinction isn't so nice. You've been there, Michael, you have seen the results of our failure."

"Who created the Lithians?" Edwards asks.

Turtledove regards Sinclaire softly, perhaps sympathetically, but that changes to hot, searing anger, as she shifts, briefly to Edwards. It's brief. She blinks it away, and watches the discussion, quietly engaged.

"I can't tell you things that you don't already know, Michael," Sinclaire snaps. "That's the rules, we all know them, and I thought that rules were important to you, Commander, so which is it? Are you by the book or aren't you? Who wants to interfere in the past now, Commander?"

Edwards just seems to become calmer as Sinclaire becomes more agitated. "So they aren't created yet?" he replies. "It's hard to tell with their temporal nature, but I figured they were created in another timeline, and now just exist. I know I've seen some in the present. Or I guess it's the past now, since it happened a while ago."

Sinclaire's lip turns up in derision. "Willing to break the rules when it suits your needs. It sounds very familiar, doesn't it. Don't preach to me from the top of your mountain unless you're as pure as snow." She turns on her heel and starts to make her way out. "I'll keep you informed of her condition."

"I have my own ideas about who did it anyway." Edwards comments, leaning back against the bulkhead. He watches Sinclaire's back as she leaves.

Turtledove likewise watches Sinclaire's back with a quietly unreadable expression. Quietly, and sort of impulsively, she murmurs, "Thank-you." She looks away, then moves off, into her section of the quarters.

---

Park's finished a long day of playing Doctor, and has ended up in his quarters. By the time-table, Wendy should be getting out of surgery about now. There's been no word from Edwards, Turtledove, or even Sinclaire.

Park sits alone, naturally, in their quarters doing his best to keep himself occupied. So, to that end, he cleans and calibrates his dive gear. It certainly doesn't need it, but it's something to focus on.

For a long time, it is just Park and The Cleaning. Then, "Aaron." The familiar, aged voice comes from behind Park. Sinclaire walks out of their bedroom. Her face is grim and tired. "I'm sorry to bother you, Aaron. But... It's not going well. Wendy is suffering from neurosynaptic cascade failure." Her brain is shutting down, one synapse at a time. She pauses for a moment to let it sink in, then says, "Doctor T'sal believes it is only a matter of hours, now, before she is brain-dead."

The items Park holds in his hands drop to the carpet beneath his feet, silently rolling to a stop next to the couch. "What?", he stammers, eyes filling with tears. "How?"

"T'sal isn't as good as... As you," Sinclaire says, her cold eyes regarding him. "Pull yourself together, Commander," she says with authority. "Dr. Henderson is no longer our chief surgeon, as he was when he installed Lt. Tyler's memory firewall. His hands, though, in his later years haven't been what they used to be. And Dr. T'sal isn't quite as skilled of a neurosurgeon as Dr. Henderson."

Park stands up as he blinks back the tears, fighting down panic. He takes a deep breath before he speaks. "Let me go to her, then."

"She needs your help, Aaron, but she doesn't need an emotional wreck," Sinclaire says. "Take a moment to calm down."

"I've been an emotional wreck since this thing started.", Park replies, but he does take that sage piece of advice, bending down to pick up the items he's lost and begins carefully packing them away. "I'm going to assume Doctor T'sal will be assisting or is Doctor Henderson still on board?", he asks, going into that calmly detached clinical mode.

"Doctor T'sal will assist," Sinclaire says. "Henderson is on sabbatical." She regards Park for a long moment. "Feeling better?" she asks him.

Park nods as he slides places his gear back into his dive bag and zips it shut. "I'll be fine.", he replies, turning to face Sinclaire. "When do we leave?"

----

Having nothing better to do for the time being, Edwards broods in his assigned bedroom... for now. Ooh. Aah.

Turtledove has chosen to wait in the main room. One finger, extended, taps repeatedly at the arm of the chair. Tap. Tap. Tap. This has probably gone on for awhile. Long enough, apparently. She stands, and walks over to Edwards assigned bedroom. She leans against the door frame. "Are you asleep?"

"No." Edwards replies. He looks over toward the door from where he sits on the edge of his bed. "Are you?" His tone implies that it's a joke... or a weak attempt at one, anyway.

Turtledove's reaction to the joke is a well-meant, but alas, luke-warm reception, at best. "Unfortunately, no." She eyes the Edwards shape, through the darkness. "May I come in?"

"Go ahead." Edwards allows. He starts to say something else, but it kinda fizzles out. So he just makes a 'come on in' gesture instead.

Turtledove walks in. She slows and stops a foot short of the bed. "Sitting around is making me feel a little cagey."

"Not much else we can do, is there?" Edwards looks quite happy to just sit there. Actually, he looks pretty depressed, but either way, he doesn't look like he's itching to do jumping jacks or anything. "Maybe if we asked nicely, they'd send someone in here attack you, and

you could beat them up."

Turtledove smiles slightly, either at the thought, or the joke. Probably the joke. It fades. "Maybe I should leave you alone."

Edwards pats a spot on the bed next to him. "Sit with me. You can keep me from going crazy."

Turtledove perks a beleaguered, but quietly grateful expression. She sits. "It's been awhile since we heard anything."

"They say no news is good news." Edwards doesn't sound hopeful. "Tell me something. What do you do for fun?" he asks, glancing sidelong at Turtledove.

Turtledove glances right back. "I read. People-watch. Train." She speaks mellowly. "Lately I've been writing holoprograms." She studies Edwards. "You?"

"Quiet and efficient. Fitting." Edwards comments. "Me? I ponder the great mysteries of the universe. Why is the universe the way it is? Is there any point to life? Does anything we do really matter in the long run? And I play basketball."

Turtledove looks away, then back. Her eyes show rare specks of quiet warmth. "So you're... intrepid, philosophically, and yet, basketball is a non-contact sport, isn't it?" She regards Edwards quietly. She smiles. "Do you ever come up with any answers?"

"Well, I box too. I like to hit things." Edwards? Intrepid and philosophical? Say it ain't so. "Not good ones." he replies. "Here's one for you: everyone dies, right? It's a given. Nobody's getting out of this life alive. Now what if the universe decides that... that it's just gonna speed things up? Everyone has to go now."

Turtledove takes a very long time to answer this question. "Why are you asking?"

Turtledove does not seem especially thoughtful. Reluctant to answer, perhaps.

Edwards mulls his response for a moment before saying, "Because one of the many things I hate in life is trying to do something that's futile."

Turtledove shifts a quick glance to Edwards, then looks back at the wall. Her response is considered, this time, her words chosen with some care. "What is futile? What are you trying to do?"

Edwards focuses his gaze on Turtledove, watching her intently. "Five times. /Five times/. That's how many times they, we, have tried to change history. Stop everyone from dying. And it never works. Do you understand that? Centuries should have gone by!" He stands up now. "But they haven't because we're stuck in this god forsaken loop. Living our lives over and over because we're all terrified of dying. What kind of life is that? What kind of life is it, when you live the same years over and over, the only changes coming about because of echoes of someone else's manipulation."

Turtledove's eyes shift back to Edwards and stay there. Surprised, perhaps. She considers. "It seems to me that it's the same kind of life you'd have if you were only living it once." She watches Edwards quietly. "For everyone but the people doing the manipulating."

----

The real, non-holographic Sinclaire meets Park on a strange, blue-white transporter pad. So much for using the fighter bay for embarkation, the Dark Aegis has artifact transporter pads. Anywhere, anywhen.

Sinclaire stops him before he can get off the transporter. "You can't talk about what you see here, Aaron. Promise me that you won't."

A senior chief is standing at the transporter console wearing the black uniform of Timefleet. The Aegis is currently submerged, and the light has a strange, ethereal cast to it.

Park glances down at the older woman, as if he's seeing her for the first time. "I am not here to spy. I am here to save Wendy.", he replies simply, in an all-business fashion.

Sinclaire locks her eyes on his. The same ice-blue eyes of Park's fiance, only they look so much more tired. "/Promise/, Aaron."

Park does not reply for some time. "I will give you mine if you give me a promise of your own.", he counters.

Sinclaire looks hesitant for a moment, almost skeptical. "Ask," she says.

"I want your word that you will give me all the information I will need to be able to reverse what you've done to her.", Park says. "I won't leave her like this forever."

Sinclaire states adamantly, "No. Aaron, it is through your tinkering that brought her to this end, whatever it may be. The conditioning will wear off eventually on its own. She has yet to cross the threshold, and only then can she truly understand who she is. Promise me, Aaron, or I will have to send you back."

"OK.", Park says. "I will not discuss what I see here."

Sinclaire nods once at Park, her eyes lingering on him for a long moment. They start out the door, and are soon navigating their way to sickbay. The corridors are much like the USS Aegis of Park's time, but they feel older somehow. They pass few crew members. Upon arriving at Sickbay, the doors slide open to reveal an almost completely foreign medical facility. There are machines in this room that Park can only randomly guess their function - they are wholly alien. The only thing that identifies this as a medical facility are the groups of Biobeds. A yellow-cuffed Lt. Commander in the black jumpsuit has this room staked out for herself. She's an attractive, thin Bajoran woman, approximately in her early to mid forties, with curly greying hair and blue eyes. She nods to Sinclaire. "The doctor has reported no change in her condition," the woman says to Sinclaire.

"Thank you, Commander Havaris," Sinclaire says. "Dismissed."

Park is in the midst of attempting to identify the equipment, when the name 'Havaris' snaps him back to reality. He stares at her intently, but remains silent.

<CONTEST> Park contests his Intellect (Perception) skill vs a difficulty of Challenging and Fails!

The other woman nods to Park, professionally. She makes her way out of the sickbay as Park and Sinclaire make their way in. Park is suited up in the red surgical smock, and released into the operating room. The room is in a holding pattern as they fruitlessly watch Tyler's brain fry from the inside out. Dr. T'sal, in the hooded scrub, looks up as Park enters. "Doctor Park, it is agreeable to see you again." T'sal, being Vulcan, has aged fairly well. She doesn't look too terribly different. Tyler is lying on a surgical biobed. A large alien-looking unit is over her head. "We only have about two hours left, Doctor, so speed is of the essence."

Park nods to the Vulcan and replies, "Were it only under more pleasent circumstances,

Doctor T'sal." A glance at the biobed and foreign instruments before he adds, "What can I do to assist?"

"A crash course in the neuropathic generator to begin with," T'sal explains. She then goes into a fifteen minute demonstration pitch. It's a breakthrough in neuro-medicine. It can be used to simply cure many mental disorders, and with a slightly nefarious bent, could be use to completely reprogram someone from the ground up. It does, however, require someone with more than a passing knowledge of the human brain to operate effectively. T'sal is a hell of a doctor, but she knows when she's whupped.

Park takes in all the information he's provided, interjecting a question here or there when some clarification is required. He knows full well that there is no room for mistakes here as there will be no second chance. A deep breath and then Park steps up next to the biobed. "OK, folks, we've got an hour and 45 minutes. Let's get to work."

GAME: Park spends a courage point.

<CONTEST> Park (claiming advantage) contests his Medical Sciences (Surgical) skill vs a difficulty of Moderate and Succeeds!

<CONTEST> Park (claiming advantage) contests his Medical Sciences (Surgical) skill vs a difficulty of Moderate and Succeeds!

<CONTEST> Park (claiming advantage) contests his Medical Sciences (Surgical) skill vs a difficulty of Difficult and Succeeds!

The surgery begins. With T'sal's assistance, Park tries his hand at a few simple tasks using the neuropathic generator. Time begins to tick down like the trickle of sweat down the back of Park's neck.

---

"But think about it. Every time, we get to this point in our lives where it all goes to hell. And then we go back in time, trying to stop it. Because it /us/." Edwards motions to himself at that. "And we manipulate everything. Starfleet. Wendy. Who knows what else. And we try to change it, but it doesn't work! We fail! And we fight and we die, while we send our younger counterparts to do it all over again! And the others, none the wiser, just go about their lives over and over, running in place, most of them none the wiser! It's like... like reading a book, only you don't want it to end, so instead of reading the ending, you just go back to the beginning and read it again, hoping it'll change. But it never does."

Turtledove's attention, quietly intense, remains on Edwards. "You sound like you want to do something about it. Or give up."

Edwards had been working himself up, but pretty much deflates at that. "Yeah." he admits. "I'm tired of running in place. I want to stop the end, or I want to enjoy the rest of the time I have. I don't want to keep getting driven insane just to get killed in a pointless firefight sometime in the next year. And I sure as hell don't want to start this over again."

"On the upside, you might not feel the same way the next time." Turtledove speaks with almost cheerless irony. Reminiscent of the quietly cheerful ensign, but worn, faded. "You want to fix the end, but you feel powerless. You want to quit... but you can't quit. So, you're in a position where you might be able to fix things, but so far that's not working out."

"So I guess my only choice is to take over this ship and ransack it for information." Edwards remarks. "That should help me make a decision."

Turtledove laughs, quietly. Breaking the silence. "Maybe there's a third option."

"Third option." Edwards mutters. "Ghorev's always going on and on about third options. I don't see one. It's either keep ramming my head into a wall or give up." He motions back toward the main room of the quarters. "These people sure aren't helping. Not that I should want their help. But there has to be some rule that says we don't have to wait around for a massacre because our time-altering heroes only want to break the rules on their terms."

"Third option." Turtledove regards Edwards with a warm, if slight, grin. Her grin eases, becoming serious. "You could relax." She looks at the main room, then back. "They have the big picture. You don't. I'm not disputing the value of fresh insights. Maybe you could help them. Maybe someone else could. But the way that you go about trying to help isn't accomplishing anything. You're not communicating. You're making things worse. For yourself, for her. Relax, do what you can. Don't agonize about whether you can, or can't fix it. Just fix it."

"They're criminals." Edwards says, although he doesn't muster his usual level of righteous indignation. "I'm not about to help them. They can help me or get out of my way. And when this is over, we're going to take them down."

Turtledove lets that fill the room for a bit. In the end, she just speaks conversationally. "Okay."

Edwards launches into his rebuttal. "They are--" He stops short and does a double-take. "What? Okay?"

Turtledove gives a realistic quarter-grin and regards Edwards evenly. "You're going in circles. You ask me how I would feel if everyone died, if the Universe just decided to end, and nothing could stop it. I'm telling you I'd feel no different then as I do now. But that's me. You, on the other hand, don't even have a second option, if you ask me. And it'll be a lot easier to find a solution if you stop fighting with them and yourself."

"Yeah. And during the war, it would have been a lot easier to find a solution if we had destroyed every Dominion outpost, and killed every Dominion supporter we came across, and bombed the hell out of every Dominion planet. Does that make it right?" Edwards shakes his head. "The Romulans are always plaguing you, aren't they? Maybe that means we should locate whoever's running their temporal program and kill them all. That would solve that problem."

Turtledove quietly considers her answer. "If you can live with yourself after the fact, I'd say it's right."

"I know I could slug Sinclaire the next time I see her and live with it." Edwards remarks. "If that's okay, then let's call her in here." He turns and heads out into the main room.

Turtledove rises to her feet, watching Edwards as he walks out. The conversational bubble is broken, so the quiet shine in her eyes fades, and they are back to waiting for news about Wendy. She walks into the main room. "It's not okay." She gives Edwards a slight smile. "And that's an order." Her smile recedes as she leans against a chair. "I wouldn't mind seeing her though. That update has been a long time coming."

"I can live with violating an order. Just ask an officer named Itaani." Nevertheless, Edwards does not try to call Sinclaire out so he can pummel her. Instead, he takes to milling about in the middle of the room. "They'll tell us when there's news. If they're listening to me rant, they'll want to get rid of us as soon as possible, after all."

Edwards wanders over to the couch and slumps down on it. "I'm tired of ranting. And waiting. And everything else." he says.

"How about something to drink?" Turtledove regards Edwards softly. Or maybe it's the mood lighting.

Edwards makes a dismissive gesture. "No... If we can get alcohol, I'd get drunk. If we can't, it'd be pointless." He looks up toward the ceiling. "This lighting's gonna ruin my eyes, isn't it?"

Turtledove's mouth curves somewhat upward. "Just don't strain yourself, you'll be fine." She starts for the replicator. "Okay, suit yourself. Computer, replicate a pot of peppermint tea and one cup." The computer chirrups and complies. Producing, likely the galaxy's safest, least deadly, tea set.

Edwards actually lets a moment pass in silence. He doesn't rant about anything. He just stares up at the ceiling. And breathes. Breathing is important.

Turtledove puts the tray on the table and sits on the floor. Steaming peppermint vapour disperses over her cup and into the air as she pours, an important note for any breathers in the room. She holds her cup for a bit, without sipping, watching out the view port.

Edwards stops slumping against the back of the couch and staring at the ceiling, looking toward Turtledove. "Why are you sitting on the floor?" he inquires.

Turtledove's eyes shift to Edwards. "It's a change of pace?" She continues holding the cup. No sipping. "I don't know. I just felt like it."

"Oh." Edwards furrows his brow, but pretty much leaves it at that. "Talk about something that'll distract me."

Turtledove considers Edwards through the wisps of steam. "Where are you from?"

"Ottawa, Ontario, Canada, Earth, Sol System, United Federation of Planets." Edwards recites. "Nice place. Quiet. What about you?"

Turtledove has a subdued conversational tone. "My service record says Earth. I'm not really from anywhere, though. Nice place? Why did you leave?" She grins slightly. "Or, maybe I should ask why you joined Starfleet."

"Honestly? It was a nice place, but dull. I wanted excitement. And what's more exciting than the final frontier?" Edwards asks rhetorically. "And how can you not be from anywhere?"

Turtledove regards Edwards quietly over her cup. "My mother had a thing for not staying in one place too long." Before sipping, she asks, "What's the most exciting thing you've ever done? With respect to Starfleet, of course." She smiles a tad pertly.

"Pushing the button that destroyed a Lithian ship and a Borg Cube." Edwards states, without even needing a moment to think about it. "No contest." He smiles some. "So why did you join Starfleet?"

Turtledove smiles wryly. "I liked the uniforms."

Edwards squints. "That sounds like an answer I'd give."

Turtledove's smile widens. "I'm serious. Well, mostly." She regards Edwards quietly. "The unity, people working together towards common goals, learning all of the time... I thought I could fit in." She looks at her cup. "It also seemed like the best way to get away from where I was, and back to the stars. And of course." She looks back to Edwards and lifts her cup, as if for a toast. "The excitement."

"Unity." Edwards echoes. "Tell me when you find some of that." So he's still in a funk. "The excitement's nice. But I can't remember the last time I was in a good fire fight... Oh, wait. I can. I just don't want to." He frowns. "I'm a real downer, aren't I?"

Turtledove's eyes sparkle. "Not usually, Commander."

Edwards motions at nothing specific. "Must be the surroundings getting to me." Getting? "Just have to tell myself that it won't be much longer..."

Turtledove takes a sip of tea, lingering. Time. Goes by. So slowly. "We could always arm wrestle. Or something."

"I wouldn't want to make you look bad." Edwards replies, breaking out a real smile. "You know, being a tough Rapid Response commando and all."

Edwards watches Turtledove. "Good night."

.....

Park has been working on Tyler for forty-five minutes, now, and is starting to get the hang of the machine. Tyler's mind lies open before him on the contraption's viewscreen. T'sal is nearby, assisting where she can and shutting up and getting out of the way where she can't.

Park wipes away some of the perspiration that's been building up on his forehead before it runs into his eyes. Dropping his hands from the machine, he says, "OK. T'sal, take a look and see if everything looks OK to you."

Dr. T'sal comes over and inspects the settings with a quirked eyebrow. "It will suffice," she intones. She straightens up and regards him.

GAME: Park spends a courage point.

<CONTEST> Park contests his Medical Sciences (Surgical) skill vs a difficulty of Challenging and Succeeds!

<CONTEST> Park contests his Medical Sciences (Surgical) skill vs a difficulty of Challenging and Succeeds!

<CONTEST> Park contests his Medical Sciences (Surgical) skill vs a difficulty of Difficult and Fails!

T'sal looks up from the monitor and declares, "Doctor, you have repaired sections of the damaged synapses, but others continue to fail. Boosting the gain on the neuropathic generator." She makes some adjustments to the machinery.

Park steps back and glances away from the machine to allow his eyes to focus on something else before returning to the controls of the device.

<CONTEST> Park contests his Medical Sciences (Surgical) skill vs a difficulty of Challenging and Succeeds!

<CONTEST> Park contests his Medical Sciences (Surgical) skill vs a difficulty of Difficult and Fails!

<CONTEST> Park contests his Medical Sciences (Surgical) skill vs a difficulty of Impossible and Succeeds!

One hour and fifteen minutes into it, Park wrestles control over nature and saves Tyler's mind from complete synaptic decay. T'sal notes this event with an emotionless, "The patient has stabilized, Doctor."

Park sighs and steps back from the machine, pulling the hat off as he does. "There's a section that I tried twice to repair, but it didn't work. There's micro-scarring around the area of her original programming so I can't say exactly what effect it will have, if there is one at all.", he reports.

T'sal perks up an eyebrow. "Logic would suggest that some micro-scarring is a small price to pay when you factor in the alternative." She begins to remove the machine from around Tyler's head and starts to prep the patient for recovery. "I was uncertain if you would come when summoned by us, Doctor. Your service honors us," she says as she works.

"What choice did I have, T'sal?", Park replies. "I don't like the fact that Wendy's been treated like an object instead of a person, but I'm certainly not going to stand by and watch her die just because I don't like it."

T'sal regards Park. "You didn't note any such objections when you first performed the procedure on her four years ago, Doctor. Or in forty years, as the case may be from your perspective."

Park looks back at the Vulcan doctor. "I'm obviously not the same man.", he replies.

T'sal regards Park neutrally. "Obviously. Congratulations on saving your fiance, then." Her eyebrow darts up again momentarily before she turns to transport Tyler directly from the OR and into recovery. Blue-white light flashes over Tyler and she is gone. "This way, Doctor," T'sal says.

Park follows the woman out without a word.

Sinclaire is waiting for Park and T'sal in Sickbay. She is standing over a silver cylindrical tank, approximately two and half meters long and a meter tall. The one viewport on it shows that it is filled with white smoky gas. "Report," she says. T'sal looks to Park. He was the lead surgeon, after all.

Park glances from T'sal and back to Sinclaire. "The proceedure was successful, barring a small area around her original programming that I wasn't able to repair. There is micro-scarring now, though I can't estaimate what, if any, side effects will result from this."

"Thank you, Aaron," Sinclaire says with sincerity, turning to look at him.

"Why are you thanking me? ,Park replies, holding her gaze. "You know that I wouldn't stand by and watch you die."

"It's not me you saved," Sinclaire says. "Dismissed, T'sal."

T'sal bows at the waist slightly to Park and makes her way out.

"T'sal should see her in several weeks. I can send her to you instead of bringing Wendy to me," Sinclaire says.

Park offers T'sal a nod as she leaves and then replies to Sinclaire, "That would be fine. I will ensure that I conduct routine scans and will provide that to her as well."

Sinclaire inclines her head, her eyes never leaving Park. "Okay," she says. She pauses for a moment, regarding him. "She loves you more than you can imagine, Aaron. Treat her well." She starts to head out the door. "I'll escort you to the transporter. I will not be telling Tera or Michael that you were here; that is going to have to be our little secret."

"I think you're wasting your time.", Park replies. "Given the extreme shortage of medical personnel, I'm sure that someone will have noticed that I was gone."

"Well, I'm glad to see that in an ever-changing universe, that some things on Four One Nine remain constant," Sinclaire states sardonically.

Park nods as he follows along, glancing about as they walk through the corridors of the ship.

....

Sometime in the middle of the night, the door chime goes off.

Edwards jerks awake on the couch, "Wha?" He blinks a few times and rubs his eyes. "Damnit." Lurching to his feet, he meanders on over to the door, so it'll open.

Alert. Turtledove's eyes open, and her hand goes to her side. The fact that her Type I isn't there (yes, she sleeps with it), perhaps, reminds her of the present. She sits up quietly. Then reaches for her tunic.

Sinclaire is on the other side of the door. "May I come in?" she asks Edwards.

"Yeah, yeah." Edwards grumbles, stepping back, so she has some room to enter. "I take it there's news?"

Turtledove is still fastening the tunic when she walks into the main room. She looks at Sinclaire directly, anticipating a response.

Sinclaire nods. "I had to bring Aaron in for the surgery," she states. "Wendy's condition has improved. Her synapses are no longer in cascade failure, and Aaron was able to correct most of the damage."

Edwards looks visibly relieved at the good news. Then he squints. "Despite your mightily advanced technology, you needed one of us, eh?" he says. "And what do you mean 'most'?"

Turtledove shifts a hard look to Edwards, then looks back to Sinclaire. She doesn't say anything, but her eyes show signs of concern.

Sinclaire ignore's Edwards' jab. She looks to Turtledove and says, "Aaron said that there micro-scarring in her brain tissue that he could not repair. Whatever effects it will have is unknown at this time. Wendy is still in post-op recovery. You'll be able to take her home in a couple of hours, with a list of instructions from Dr. T'sal."

Edwards doesn't have any further jabs, apparently, as he lapses into silence. He just frowns. Then he reaches out to gently poke Sinclaire in the arm.

Turtledove's expression slips. She catches Edwards' poke in the corner of her eye, acknowledges it with a dark glance. She moves to stand closer to him. "Where is Dr. Park?"

Sinclaire is indeed solid. She looks at Edwards, then down to the poked spot, and back to Edwards. Her own eyes are dark. Even Tyler doesn't appreciate uninvited contact, and Sinclaire has had 40 years to let that lack of appreciation grow. She looks to Tera as she arrives back in her frame of view. "He has returned to Four One Nine," she says. "He was AWOL and had to get back to the station ASAP."

Edwards satisfies his curiosity and doesn't look at all apologetic. "Just gonna leave us here until she's ready to go?" he asks.

Turtledove doesn't need to hear the answer to that question, apparently. She nods to Sinclaire. "When is she expected to wake-up?"

"A day, perhaps two," Sinclaire replies to Turtledove. She ignores Edwards again. "We'll know if there are any surgical complications within the next few hours. After that, she can be released into your custody and returned to the Aegis."

"I'll just pretend someone still listens to me, over here." Edwards steps away from the two women.

Turtledove gives Edwards a kindly glance, although her expression rapidly shifts back to dark, unreadable. She turns back to Sinclaire. She nods. "Thank-you." She holds her tongue for a couple of seconds. "Do you think that Aaron will attempt something like this again?"

Sinclaire looks to Edwards. "He was just as instrumental in his persuasion, perhaps more." She looks back at Turtledove and explains. "Michael is Wendy's hero, and she has his love and respect. His word carries a lot of weight with her. Aaron was listening to reason until Michael poked his nose back into things." Her attention turns back to Edwards. "Sort of a conflict of interest, isn't it, Special Investigator?"

"Oh, we're talking to me again?" Edwards turns to face the others. "I don't know what you're talking about." He smiles. "Except for me being responsible. I've never denied that. I think you slant events a little, though..."

Turtledove's eyes shift to Edwards. She watches him with quiet focus. No judgement. Just weighty scrutiny.

Sinclaire half-smiles to Edwards in response to his smile; it's a knowing smile that says she is no fool. "Perhaps I do slant things. Perhaps you do likewise about your issues. Truth isn't a constant, it is in the eye of the beholder, Michael. It's called perspective, and I believe that our perspectives slant in polar directions." The smile reappears and widens. "You've done your job well, despite our philosophical differences. You've done /exactly/ what you were expected to do."

Edwards clenches his jaw momentarily. Yeah, that one got to him. With some effort, he manages to keep his temper in check. "Yeah. It's not easy playing the game when I only get to see my half of the board, but you get to see the whole thing. But I promise you this: one of these days, I'm going to tip the board over, scatter the pieces, then beat you over the head with it."

Turtledove regards Edwards somewhat charitably. Quiet solemnity reasserts though, as her gaze redirects to the ceiling, then to Sinclaire, then to Edwards.

Sinclaire actually laughs at Edwards and this latest threat. "Nice," she says. "My hero." She looks back to Turtledove. "This is getting nowhere, so I'll take my leave. When Wendy is ready for transport, I'll let you know."

"Come back soon. We do enjoy the visits." Edwards says with much false cheer. Then he wanders over to the couch and slumps back down on it.

Turtledove regards Sinclaire evenly, speaking after Edwards sits. "Thank you, Captain. For keeping us informed, and ---" She pauses. "For bringing Wendy back." She leaves off the obviously foreboding statements like 'such as it may be' or 'inspite of the microtears in her cerebral cortex'.

Sinclaire bows her head deeply to Turtledove, her blue eyes never leaving Tera's. "Thank you for keeping the Commander on a short leash," Sinclaire says with a playful wink. She nods then to Edwards. "It was nice to see you again, Michael. The animosity you feel towards me isn't reciprocated. You're still my hero." She gives him a wink to call his own, then turns and heads out.

Edwards just sorta grumbles to himself. He has a quota of nasty things to say and has already used it up.

Turtledove watches Sinclaire leave with a quietly changing expression --- unreadable turning to pensive. She shifts a glance towards Edwards. Pauses. She watches him, subdued... but warmly. "Goodnight, Commander."

Edwards peers over at Turtledove, just watching her for a moment. Then he nods. "Good night, Leftenant."