Date: Fri, 17 Nov 1995 14:24:34 -0600 Reply-To: Julia Kosatka Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Julia Kosatka Subject: In the Dark, 11/21 (REPOST) ADULT be any relation to Felisa Howard?" "She was my grandmother, why?" "My father mentioned her a time or two, said she was a grand lady. I'm honored to meet a descendant of hers!" He bowed slightly from the waist, in a courtly fashion. Bev gazed at him thoughtfully, thinking him delightfully mannered and damned fine-looking to boot. "Your father knew Nana? Hmmm... I don't recall Nana mentioning anyone named MacLeod." "How about an Ian MacGilvray?" Her mouth dropped open. "Ian MacGilvray? You're kid... no, you're not! That's why you look so familiar! You look just like the holos she had of him! But your name is MacLeod?" "It's my mother's name," he grinned "They weren't married." Bev couldn't help but return his smile. "Why doesn't that surprise me?" He chuckled. "I can't imagine." As she was about to answer, Worf cleared his throat loudly, and she caught herself. "Here I am reminiscing when there's work to be done! Let me find my tricord... oh. Damn." She picked up the tricorder from where it had fallen and studied it in dismay. The instrument had hit the wall with enough force to disable it. She sighed. "Well, I guess it's up to time-honored methods now. Does anything hurt?" He shook his head. "Good. Your arm, please?" Looking a bit puzzled, he extended one arm. She pushed up his sleeve, found his pulse, and started to count. A minute later, satisfied, she let him go. "Lean down." He looked wary. "Why?" She grinned. "I said lean down, not bend over. I just want to check your pupil response." He complied, and she saw amusement in his eyes. She noticed he had very long eyelashes, and his eyes were a rich, warm brown. Feeling a little annoyed with herself for noticing something like that at a time like this, she thumbed her search-beacon on and flashed it briefly upward. His eyes dilated equally, and she stepped back. "Well, according to primitive methods, you seem fine, but I'd like to run a full scan on you back in sickbay to make sure. Worf, how do things look?" "Commander LaForge is assessing the situation in the engine room. Lieutenant Barclay reports that only one of the biopods appears to have sustained any damage. However there is a body in one of the stasis units." Worf sounded faintly disgusted, as if he were annoyed to have to deal with such an occurrence. MacLeod sighed and some of the life seemed to go out of him. "My first officer, Jeremy Dikembe, was killed in the accident. I'll notify his family as soon as I can get to a working comunit." "What caused your vessel to crash?" Worf asked, looking a bit suspicious. Beverly was pretty sure he hadn't missed MacLeod's abortive reach for a weapon earlier. "I'm still not sure," MacLeod said. "I'm a pilot, not an engineer. Jeremy handled that end of things. One minute we were doing warp 4 on course for Valhalla, the next all hell had broken loose and we were god-only- knows-where with only our thrusters working. Jer went back to the engine room and managed to get the impulse engines on-line but they failed again as I was trying to make planetfall. I managed to guide us into the flattest place I could find, but we hit pretty hard. I was knocked unconscious, and by the time I came to..." he sighed. "There was nothing I could do." "What killed him?" Beverly asked, wondering how MacLeod had managed to come through the accident apparently unscathed. "Coolant leak. The emergency bulkheads in the engine room sealed the area off when the leak was detected, so the rest of the ship was unaffected. The automated systems vented the room, but it was too late. Jeremy was already gone." His voice sounded hollow, and his eyes closed for a moment. Bev reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sure you did everything you could." He took a deep breath and straightened, nodding. "Thanks. Do you think I could speak to your engineer? I'd like to know if there's any life left in the old girl." Beverly assumed he was talking about the ship. "Certainly. Worf, you said Geordi was in the engine room?" The Klingon nodded and led the way as they walked the short distance. "How long have you been stuck here?" Bev asked, looking back over her shoulder at MacLeod as they stepped into the engine room. "Five days... no, six now. Not that long, in the overall scheme of things, but long enough that I'm certainly glad you heard the beacon. It wouldn't have been pleasant to go much longer." "I'd say not... especially with the replicators out." Geordi said, coming out from underneath a access-panel. "You're the pilot?" MacLeod nodded, eyeing Geordi's visor curiously. "Then may I say that I'm impressed? I can't believe you managed to land this thing basically intact using nothing but thrusters!" MacLeod smiled. "Thanks, it wasn't easy. So... what's the verdict on the Darius?" LaForge looked unhappy. "You're not going to like it. The engines are beyond repair, and there's major structural damage to the hull." Duncan sighed. "I was afraid of that. I bought her used, and she's been good, but when these ships go, they go," he looked around at them ruefully. "I guess I'm going to have to bum a ride to the closest starbase and rent a salvager. What sort of ship are you from? Do you have room for a hitch-hiker?" Geordi chuckled. "I think we can spare a bunk and some cargo space for you. I'm Geordi LaForge, by the way, chief engineer aboard the U.S.S. Enterprise." The castaway looked momentarily stunned. "The Enterprise? Good God... I've been rescued by the bloody Starfleet flagship?" Bev grinned. "That you have. We'll have Barclay see to your cargo and you can beam back to sickbay with me." MacLeod stiffened, and shook his head. "I'd like to oversee the cargo transfer myself, if you don't mind. It means a lot to some people who are trusting me to bring it safe to them. I gave them my word." "Lieutenant Barclay..." "Is a fine officer, I'm sure. I would expect no less of the Enterprise, but still, 'tis my cargo, and I'd like to handle it. I'll also need to see to having my own things transferred as well. It would be better if I could do this myself, please?" Worf nodded. "That seems a reasonable request. Follow me." Bev watched them go, a bit piqued, eyes narrowing. She knew a stall when she saw one, and MacLeod was definitely trying to avoid sickbay. Why? She touched her combadge. "Crusher to Barclay." "B-barclay here." "When our guest finishes overseeing the cargo transfer, make sure you bring him to sickbay if you would." "Yes ma'am. I m-mean... sir." She smiled. "Thanks, Crusher out." **** Duncan checked the readouts one last time then stretched to work the kinks out of his back. He and Lieutenant Barclay had gone over all six of the remaining biopods to make sure they hadn't sustained any hidden damage from the crash. The seventh had cracked like an egg when its supports gave way and it slammed into a bulkhead. Fortunately, it hadn't contained anything terribly important and most of its cargo was duplicated in some of the other pods. Duncan patted the number 6 pod and smiled. This one had come through all right. "I'm a-all f-finished ov-over here, sir. This one is... just f-fine." Barclay, ill at ease at the best of times, shifted from one foot to the other while his hands fluttered like wild things seeking shelter from a predator. "So is this one. Fortunately." Duncan's smile widened. Barclay hesitated, obviously curious about the contents of the pod, but uncertain if he should ask or not. Curiosity eventually won out over caution. "`F-fortunately', sir? What's in it?" "Horses." Seeing the other man's blank face, Duncan elaborated. "Valhalla is a low-tech colony. In some areas, like medicine and communications, they use modern methods, but they grow their own food, and build their own homes from native materials, and choose to not use highly technological transportation except in extreme emergencies." "They ride h-horses? N-no ground cars or t-transporters or-or anything?" The engineer in Barclay couldn't believe he was hearing the truth, but the closet romantic in him warmed to the idea. "But, if they don't have any mechanical means of t-transport, how... how have they managed without th-these horses? I mean, don't they al-already have some?" Duncan sobered and nodded. "They did... until a few years ago. Then the horses on Valhalla developed something now called Reigert's Syndrome. Half of them died and of those that survived, two-thirds were sterile. They've had to wait until they were certain they could guard against it before bringing in replacements.. A vaccine was developed and a few months ago they contracted for these embryos." Duncan noticed that his companion had stopped listening and was lost in his own thoughts. "Lieutenant?" Barclay started and looked down at the deck, embarrassed. "I'm s-sorry, I was just wondering..." "Wondering what?" "Oh, I, well...", the shy engineer stammered a moment then took a deep breath and replied slowly," I was just w-wondering what it would be like to live in a p-place like that." He paused, as if seeking approval, "I mean, we-we use technology for everything. I-it would be very strange I think." Duncan found himself warming to the awkward young officer. "Tell you what, Lieutenant," Duncan took the datapad from Barclay's hand and laid it down on the pod next to his own, "I lived on Valhalla for a few years. I'll tell you everything I know about it and how the people live there if you'll show me where a man can get something to eat on this ship." Duncan took Barclay by the elbow and steered him toward the door. "My replicators have been down since the crash, and I'm starving!" "Uh - Sir, I'm supposed, I mean, D-Dr. Crusher said..." Duncan interrupted him as they exited into the corridor just a few yards from a turbolift. "I know. I know. Dr. Crusher said for you to bring me to sickbay after we finished here. Well, you can still take me by sickbay, but we both need a break. I don't want her to lecture me because my blood pressure's too high and my blood-sugar's too low." The lift's doors whooshed open at their approach and Duncan looked guilelessly at his companion obviously waiting for Barclay to give the command. Barclay sighed in resignation, and stepped into the lift with MacLeod right behind him. "10-Forward," he said, and surprised himself by not stuttering. Even though he knew Dr. Crusher would not be pleased he was actually looking forward to spending more time with MacLeod. He was one of the few people Barclay had ever met that didn't seem at all put off by Barclay's manner, and besides, he was curious about Valhalla. The lift doors opened and Barclay stepped out. "T-this way, sir." "Come on, Barclay, call me Mac. I'm not your superior officer! Hell, I'm not even a Fleeter!" Barclay was momentarily taken aback, but then he realized that MacLeod was extending a gesture of friendship. He nodded. "Okay, Mac." It sounded a bit awkward, but he thought he could get used to it. "In here," he said, gesturing to the elegant frosted-glass and wood doors of Ten-Forward which slid open at their approach. Mac stopped for a moment, looking around, and whistled softly. "This is some mess hall!" Barclay felt a rush of pride. "The Enterprise is some ship." he stated fondly. "We don't have a mess hall. We have Ten-Forward." "Aye, I can see that. Well, would you mind if we sat there?" He indicated an empty table near the huge viewport. "I've always had a weak spot for a good view." "Anywhere you like." Mac made his way through the tables to the one he'd chosen. Barclay noticed he drew a few curious glances, mostly from women, and he had the sudden hopeful thought that maybe if he hung around with MacLeod for awhile, it might improve his image. "So, Barclay, what do you recommend here?" "Anything." "Anything? Really?" "Really. We have the best replicator programs in Starfleet." Duncan sighed. "Replicators. Oh well." "There's a good selection of hydroponics too." MacLeod's expression lightened. "That sounds better. I confess, I prefer real food when I can get it." "Is that a taste you acquired on Valhalla?" "No, I've always been that way, but it was easier to get real food there, for certain." "I guess that would be an advantage. Is real food really all that different?" He suddenly realized he hadn't stammered in three or four sentences, and decided it must have something to do with MacLeod. MacLeod looked thoughtfully off at the stars, and finally nodded. "Yes, and no. It doesn't taste all that different, but the body knows. There's earth, and air, water and sun in real food. Replicated food is missing those elements that give us life." Barclay goggled. Philosophy, from a Commercial Pilots Guildsman? Unheard of! He was fascinated. "B-But replicated food is just transformed from other substances. W-Why don't they have t-the same... elements?" Damn. Stammering again. If he hadn't noticed he was doing better, he wouldn't have started again. Mac frowned reflectively. "Perhaps they were once, but they've been transformed through mechanical means. They may nourish the body, but not the soul." "Doesn't technology--" Barclay began only to be interrupted by a hail from his combadge. "LaForge to Barclay." He tapped the device, activating it. "Barclay here." "I need you in Engineering. We're running a recrystallization routine and we're short-handed with Pfannen and Suvar both out." "Aye sir. On my way." He sighed, and looked at MacLeod. "I guess I'll have to talk with you some other time." MacLeod nodded. "Anytime, Lieutenant. I won't have much to occupy me here." Barclay smiled, pleased that Mac was willing to talk again. "I-I'll see you around," he said, as he headed for the doors. MacLeod waved and turned back to the stars. **** With Barclay gone, Duncan felt a bit at a loss. He wasn't sure where he was supposed to be, other than sickbay, and that he planned to avoid as long as possible. Medical technology had become entirely too efficient for his tastes. His physiology would drive the machines, and doctors, crazy. He flagged down a server and ordered a meal and an ale. He was more than pleased to find that the bar offered not only the popular synths' but the real thing as well. Then he leaned back in his seat and looked out at the splendor before him. No matter how many years he spent in space, he never tired of the majesty of it all. Once again, he pitied the mortals around him. Having grown up with this spectacle at their beck and call, they had lost some of the awe that he felt would remain with him always. **** Guinan adjusted her hat one last time before leaving her quarters. The odd feeling that had woken her during the night was still with her. It was familiar, but she couldn't quite place what it meant. A slight prickling at the back of her neck, a tension at the base of her spine. Whatever it was, she felt sure it would make itself known in its own good time. Greeting people as she headed toward 10-Forward, Guinan was aware of a growing sense of expectation. Whatever it was that put her on alert was getting closer. The simulated teak doors opened and Guinan glided into her domain, nodding to one of her waiters and speaking to several people on her way to the bar. What she was feeling right now she hadn't felt in years, centuries, perhaps. She scanned the crowded room for... someone or something out of the ordinary. There, by the port in the forward corner of the room, a man with long dark hair pulled neatly back, seated alone, body half turned from the room, eyes rapt on the passing stars. Her pulse-rate picked up, her breath going shallow as she suddenly realized who it was. As the first flush of stunned surprise passed, a smile lit her face and she began to weave her way over to his table. Whether he was intent on the view or his own thoughts, she couldn't tell, but it was him. She knew that face well, she knew that... presence too. Impossible though it was, she knew this man, though she'd thought him centuries dead. For a moment she doubted herself. Perhaps, just perhaps the resemblance wasn't as great as it seemed. Maybe he was merely a descendant of her long-dead friend. Either way, she had to meet him. She had to know. The chair closest to her was turned slightly out from the table, as if someone had just left, or as if he were waiting for someone. Never having been one to let an opportunity slip, Guinan slid into it. The man turned, shock coloring his face as he recognized her. That told her everything she needed to know. It was him. "So, it is you. I don't know how, but it's you." She grinned, and assumed a very bad Cuban accent. "You got some 'splaining to do, Duncan MacLeod." **** Duncan was on his feet and reaching instinctively for his sword, when for the second time that day remembered it wasn't at hand. He'd had to bring it aboard in his baggage, which had been beamed directly to his quarters, wherever that was. Seconds after that, he realized that he hadn't felt the unmistakable Presence of a fellow Immortal. He sat back down, warily, hoping he hadn't looked as odd as he suspected he had; and leaned forward, studying her face intently. She looked only a little older, but much, much wiser. He saw a world of experience in her eyes, and wondered if his own looked like that as well. "Guinan... my God! Is it really you?" "It is. I could ask the same, but the look on your face already answered that question. It's been a long time, Duncan." He shook his head, looking amazed. "Now there's an understatement if ever I've heard one! I don't understand, how can you still be alive? What are you?" "I'm an El-Aurian. I used that as my name when I knew you, but it's really the name of the world I was born on. My people have very long lifespans compared to humans. Or should I say to most humans? Now it's my turn. What are you?" He sighed, and shook his head. "Good question. Am I human? I've never been quite sure." He looked around and realized that several of those closest to them were watching them curiously, and probably trying their best to eavesdrop as well. He couldn't have that. "Guinan, can we go somewhere more private to talk? This is too... public for my needs." She eyed him narrowly. "Secrets, Duncan?" "Please, Guinan." She studied him a moment longer, then nodded. "Follow me." She stood up and began to walk toward the door. As he followed, he registered her clothing rather than her face, and frowned, a little puzzled by their rather nun-like aspect. He remembered her wearing bright, African-inspired prints that he thought had suited her well. He smiled, realizing that those `suitable' styles had been as foreign to her as a Vulcan's robes would be to him. Was her current dress haute-couture on El-Auria? Probably. She led him out of Ten-Forward and around the corner to a door where she keyed in a lock sequence. It opened onto a large stateroom, she stepped inside, and motioned him in. "Welcome to my parlor." He chuckled. "I seem to remember you saying that to me once before." "You have a good memory." "Amazingly enough, I do. I sometimes wonder how, considering how much I have to remember." "How old are you, anyway?" "I was born in 1592," he smiled wryly. "In just a little over two-hundred years, I'll be a thousand." She looked a bit stunned, and sat down abruptly. He took a seat across from her as she spoke again "I can't believe this! You're older than I am! I'm still around because for my people, that's normal, but how can you still be alive? You owe me some answers. Are you alien? Clone? Android?" He laughed. "Android? Now there's a new one! I wonder if I could get away with that?" His smile faded, and he sighed. "You deserve the truth. I was born on Earth, and lived most of my life there. As far as I know I'm human, but my unusual physiology has allowed me to live far beyond what's normal for humankind. There are others who, like me, live very long lives, though compared to the general populace we're quite rare. We've been called Immortals by some, though that's somewhat of a misnomer. It's true that after a certain point we don't age, and we don't die under normal circumstances, but there are ways we can be killed permanently. Decapitation, certain types of energy weapon. If we're killed, temporarily, by anything less than that, we generally recover." She stared at him for a long time, then shook her head in clear amazement. She shook her head, smiling ruefully. "Here I thought I knew just about everything there was to know about Humans, and then you tell me this! I... why didn't you tell me when I knew you before?" He looked at her, one expressive eyebrow lifted. "You really have to ask that? I don't remember you telling me you were an alien, either." She smiled. "You're right. But why should you have had to hide it? You weren't an alien." "It's not something I normally tell anyone about. We have to hide what we are, we've always had to. When we've been found out in the past, we've been seen as witches, demons, aliens... whatever society fears is =========================================================================