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Probing Questions

Posted on Mon Jul 12th, 2010 @ 6:45am by

Mission: Wolf In The Fold. Season 2, Episode 1

"Excuse me, what do you think you are doing?" The stern voice of newly promoted Helen Shire cut the air as she neared a rather suspicious red hair man matching the description Commander Mason had given her previously.

The preacher tipped his hat to the two Bajoran women that he was talking to and turned to the security officer. "Trying to be a good citizen of the station mam." Shay looked at the woman and was trying to decide what to make of her. "Where is Commander Mason? I'm assuming that you are one of her attack dogs sent to beat up on an old man."

Trying not to allow his attitude to unbalance her although he had just insulted her Helen remained calm: "The Commander is engaged at present, can I be of assistance?" she folded her arms stubbornly not budging.

"What do you think of her?" Julian looked at the officer, trying to peer into her soul and read her thoughts. "Interesting woman isn't she?"

"I've served with the Commander since I graduated," Helen replied feeling a wind of caution blow across her face. "She maybe strict but is an excellent officer, why do you ask?" Was he another force out of black Mason's name further since the trail their seemed to be a que.

"Just sheer curiosity that is all." The preacher looked at Shire. "Her and I have a past that she might not want to admit but we do, and that is the important thing. But that was a different time, and I'm just a simple firebrand now. So what s the real reason for stopping me? Miss."

"The two of your crossed paths before?" Helen now felt curious. "She doesn't speak of anything before join Starfleet, nor really speak at all really."

"I don't blame her really, traumatic stuff she had to go through back on that planet, I'm amazed that any of us really got out of there in one piece. But, that girl, always a fighter." The preacher reached into his coat and grabbed a cigarette out of his pocket, lit it, then took a long drag from it. He could put a phaser round right into her face before she could react, but that wouldn't do anyone any good. "And what is your relationship with her again? She's your commanding officer?"

Shire frowned in disapproval at the burning stick polluting the space around her. "She is, yes," Helen answered flatly eying the cigarette with increasing dislike.

"I see..." The man blew a puff of smoke in the air. "Well unless you have any further questions for me young woman, I'll be headed on my way." The reverend looked at Shire, almost as if he wanted her to try and detain him.

Helen's eyebrows rose questioning his look, then shook herself free: "Why do you want to know so much about the Commander?" She was beginning to feel she had somehow done something seriously wrong now

"Meddling girl... sometimes you should know when to stop asking questions." The Rev quickly pulled out an older slug thrower and pointed it directly in the face of the woman. "My business is my own, and if you aren't willing to assist me then I have no use for you."

Shire stepped back to give herself room but hit the wall directly behind. She groped for her phaser but man closed the gap making her eyes go wide with fear. "What do you want?" she asked trying not to show that fact that she was now frightened.

The reverend looked at the woman and smiled. The fear in her eyes reminded him of the darker days back on the planet, with the shared past of him and Mason. "I want you to scream for me, scream like this is your last moment left in this galaxy, pray to whatever god you want."

The lieutenant's nostrils widened, her jaw clamped shut. "No,"

"Good... someone around here has some guts." He clicked the hammer back on the slug thrower when he heard the sound of security running for him. "Perhaps another time my darling." He quickly turned and ran towards one of the back alleys hoping to escape capture.

Foolish perhaps Shire wasn't about to allow that to pass. Drawing the phaser from her side she pelted after the man who slipped for expertly into the gloom without a trace.


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