Tick, tick, tick. The quiet sound echoed through the office like a war drum to Jesa's ears, keeping track of the seconds as if they were sand flowing through a glass, reminding that each bit of her life would never come again. Tick, tick, tick. It continued its steady rhythm, almost chanting that she didn't know how many seconds were left. Tick, tick, tick... it was starting to get on Jesa's nerves as she hunched over a padd, tapping away at its surface with a stylus. Tick, tick, tick. Now it was past simply annoying, she shifted and shot a glare at it. It wasn't even her clock, it was Richards', and she had intended to leave it there simply as a reminder. Tick, tick, tick... how come she had never noticed it before? 'Oh, it's because I never was in the ready room. And what is it about high-rankers and old gear clocks?' she thought, as the ticking seemed to grow in volume. Finally, she slammed her stylus against the desk.

"That's it! You're dead!" she shot at the clock, then got up and stomped over across the room. She opened up the front of the sucker, and disconnected the pendulum. The ticking immediately ceased. "THANK YOU!" she yelled to no one in particular. Then a chime started, chiming every few seconds as though in vengeance of the clock's silencing. "Oh, great." Jesa groaned, and made her way over to the desk. She hit the panel and spoke irately without really looking at it. "Yes?" The voice that replied stopped her in that tone immediately.

"Well, Commander, I see you have quite settled in to your new rank with an equally new sense of self importance." The steely cold voice said with sarcasm from her screen.

Jesa quickly sat in the ready room chair, anger being balanced by fear, only the former showing in her features. "Hello, Admiral Reston." She said, without a hint of friendliness in her stern face.

"Come now, Jesa... you needn't be as hostile as all that." He intoned soothingly.

Her eyes simply narrowed slightly. "What can I do for you Admiral? As I am sure this isn't just a social chat." She said, her voice remaining cold.

"Ah, down to business as always. Of course, you are correct. You are hereby ordered to take custody of one Victor Tyne, and he will be arriving shortly to the Isannah." He said, then fell silent.

Jesa waited for the rest of the statement, as there had to be more than that. After about fifteen seconds of silence, Jesa spoke. "That's it?!" She tried to keep her voice civil, with the hint of displeasure. But, it came out as slightly more upset than that.

"Yes, Commander, is that a problem?" He said, a little too sweetly.

"Might I inquire as to what this Victor Tyne has done?" Jesa asked, restraining herself strongly. "So at least I know what kind of security precautions to take." She tacked on a hasty explanation, hoping to appeal to at least a small glimmer of reason that may still exist inside of this Admiral's pomposity.

"No, you may not." He said in a dry monotone.

"May I even ask who he is?" Jesa continued, the urge to strangle the person on the other end of the screen becoming stronger.

"No, sorry, Commander." He said, in a tone that said he wasn't sorry at all, "that is privileged information."

The corner of her lip twisted into a slight snarl. "Well, can I even know how long I have to babysit him?"

The Admiral smirked. "Indefinitely." Jesa said nothing, but beneath the table, on her knee, her fist clenched. "And I trust you will use your well-refined sense of tact in this matter." He said, definitely hinting she didn't have any. His voice almost betrayed an enjoyment at her frustration "The official written orders will come through in a few hours... oh, and you might want to hurry, he's probably at the airlock right now. Reston out." And without allowing Jesa to respond, the Admiral cut the channel.

Jesa's face twitched in anger. She hated the way he did things, she hated what he stood for, and most of all---she hated him. Suddenly her entire body straightened at once, throwing the chair violently back. "WILL the day EVER come when I am not always being sideswiped by command?! ARGH!" Jesa yelled, thankful that the walls of the ready room were thick, padded, and blessedly soundproof.

~~~

If it was a whirlwind, or a tornado, no one could ever determine. But the image of Jesa rampaging through the corridors was becoming a rather familiar one as of late, so the crew that was left barely took notice. That left an upset Jesa running through the corridors trying to catch up on orders that were delivered too late, and too annoyed to be placid and calm. As she hurriedly rounded the corner, it dawned on her that there simply weren't as many people on the ship as there were before. It took her a slight 'D'oh!' moment to realize of course there weren't, as people were being moved off to the Starbase and settled in the section prepared for them. Still, it was kind of creepy. And running wasn't all that bad either, but she really made a conscious effort to stop about twenty feet before the airlock and calmly walk the rest of the way. The appearance of being hurried and disorganized didn't normally go over too well.

As she closed the last few feet, she heard a voice grumble. "How long we gotta wait here?" At the same time, Jesa spotted the team she had called to meet her there, and nodded at the two armed officers, walking with that particular command gait around the corner; the one that said 'I am important, and going somewhere important, and I am not to be messed with.' Though the interesting thing was, she didn't realize she was doing that. And if she had, she would have laughed at herself for trying.

"Not too much longer, apparently." Jesa intoned, looking at the one guard, who seemed to look guilty for having said that. She just thought she'd let him know that she knew what he said, and watching one's tone and words was a good idea---especially around those that outranked them. There were two guards, which Jesa eyed and then dismissed immediately. Then, between them, was quite obviously the prisoner... with a cat in his arms.

His look of utter despondency struck a chord of momentary sympathy in Jesa. She shrugged the feeling away and looked at the two officers. "You are dismissed, we will take it from here"" Then she turned her attention to the prisoner. "I am Commander Callen." She said, stating the obvious. "I have been ordered to take custody of you until further notice." Jesa ended, completing the formalities, but continuing the rather formal posture as the security team took up the standard position for escorting a prisoner, the base officers leaving. Jesa couldn't help but study the man's features, and wondering what the heck he had done to end up under her control for the time being---in her book, that would be a fate worse than death, especially when she was in this state.

The prisoner straightened himself up to his full 178cm height and looked Jesa straight in the eye, his deep green eyes showing complete hopelessness, his face an open book for her to read. He shrugged slightly and the cat moved up his arm and stood across his shoulders, eyeing Jesa curiously, and he extended his shackle-bound hands out to shake hers, speaking in a cold, emotionless voice. "I am Khal..." He shook his head. "My name is Victor Tyne. I would say it is a pleasure, but the circumstances would deem it otherwise."

Jesa looked up at him, quite used to having men stand over her, the height did nothing to alter her impressions. His look, and the hopelessness in his eye struck her as if almost a blow, for she had seen that look in her own eyes quite often... and recently; though she showed no signs of that recognition outwardly. His offered hand did surprise her. She hesitated for a moment, then held out her right hand to the man. Victor took her hand in both of his and shook gently, then pulled them back to cradle Remy once more. "So, Commander Callen, I suppose this is the part where you show me to a holding cell."

She simply looked at him a moment, then nodded, surprisingly moving to walk beside him, allowing the two guards to come up behind. Obviously she wasn't considering him much of a threat. The greatest threat, she thought, was her identification with his trapped state. For she, now, in many ways, felt as shackled as he really was, but Jesa attempted to pay no mind to that. "Yes, as that is what the regs state, anyhow." She said, looking away from him. Finally, and motioning to the guards that they would move, she held out her hand, gesturing down the corridor, her manner quite relaxed. Not formal, not informal, not disdainful, nor friendly; Not judgmental, not interested, not even disinterested; simply a neutral manner, as gray as her eyes.

He blinked once as she took up a position beside him, but kept looking straight ahead, trying to maintain his posture. But for him, the greatest weight lay not on his mind, but on his arm. He constantly fought the urge to reach a hand over and feel the Khall'ianen armband that was his touchstone. Everything he did was for them, he kept telling himself, for the greater good. But he had a hard time believing it, shackled as he was and soon to be caged. Tyne blinked again and forced himself to think of something else.

He studied the Commander out of the corner of his eye. Something about her just seemed odd; her actions toward him were oddly... mild. He was used to the hard, General Order quoting Starfleet officer, and her manner was unnerving. One thing was for sure though, Remy very obviously didn't like her, and she made no effort to hide it. She laid her head in the crook of Victor's arm, watching Jesa with her ears flattened back against her head, growling softly. He bounced the cat's head on his arm and she turned to look up at him, pricking her ears up and licking her lips---It almost made him smile.

Jesa heard the growl of his cat, but paid no mind to it. She was used to animals not liking her much. In fact, when Terah would bring home an animal it either seemed to delight in terrorizing her or simply hated her. She was never sure why---even Peeko seemed of that first half, to delight in terrorizing. Jesa walked quietly, just being beside him, and mentally flipping through the meager amount of his file she had managed to commit to memory before dashing down here. She wished silently she had been able to break into the service record before, but there had been no time.

Something clutched at Jesa's heart suddenly, a remembrance, and she touched the side of her uniform, where a pocket had been inserted to hold Buck's pocket-watch. This gesture had become second nature to her when she needed reassurance, and there was no way in hell she would show any weakness in front of this man, whomever he was. Right now was the only time she had to consider her options with him, and suggestions consistently were coming up and being dismissed, only to be replaced with new ones. She hated being boxed up, and behind forcefields, perfectly able and doing nothing. It was about the worse punishment she could think of. But she should wait until the orders came through. Maybe (though she doubted it) they would contain more information.

She cursed herself silently at her automatic empathetic reaction to his situation. 'When had I begun to be like this?' she asked herself silently. 'I never would have considered so much before...' but only one word answered her, a name... Buck. She fought a sigh as her thoughts continued to wander, even as they moved through the corridors slowly.

Victor would have cursed himself for neglecting practicing the technique the Romulans had taught him to awaken his latent empathy, if her thoughts hadn't provided him all he needed to know. He drew in a deep breath and spoke without turning his head. "So, who...was 'Buck'?" Jesa's guard flew up faster than she could think, and a tension reverberated through her body. Outwardly, although the tension was present, she kept on walking steadily, seeming to ignore his question. But he kept his voice level and his gaze on the corridor ahead of him. "That is, if you don't mind my asking."

She continued to be silent for a moment, a rigidity and coldness appearing in her manner. Then she spoke calmly, coldly. "It appears that you already know more about me than I do about you. And since I highly doubt that you were provided detailed records on me, I will assume that that you have telepathy of sorts, and if that is the case, you would already know who he..." she began to say 'is' but replaced it "...was." Finishing her words with a steel coldness, something always provoked with unwelcome intrusion. The question kept reverberating in her mind... 'Yet, how did he know?'

"Please forgive me, I did not mean to intrude. I only heard a name, and it was almost shouted into my mind. " His voice had since taken on tone, a minor slip as his concentration shifted to the Commander. She had a mental block of sorts warding off his telepathy that he experienced only passively in his many dealings with the Ferengi. But this was something actively controlled and maintained, the product of a disciplined mind, and that unnerved him even more. He wished his tests in communicating telepathically with Remy had proved more fruitful, she obviously knew who, and more importantly, what, Commander Callen was.

"I lost someone like that myself once." he volunteered, trying to slip inside the coldness. The bristling in her body-language relaxed some, but not much, for inside of her that turmoil arose fresh and new. Her expression stretched more into a semblance of sadness than distance, almost regal in its appearance.

She breathed deeply, but slowly, not glancing over at him, somehow getting more information from him by other means she wasn't used to, a manner that she couldn't understand. Things had indeed changed much. Part of her wanted to fly at him, and demand the question... how did he have ANY right, to use Buck's name. What right did he have to speak it?! That name which was used to speak of that being, the one she loved so much, who was her lifeblood.... How dare he speak of him like a stranger, an unknown, and so... offhandedly!? But that part of her was overshadowed and suppressed by the Commander, Commander Callen... the division line between duty, and herself, seemed quite distinct, it always had... She detached her emotions from herself at that moment, and let them float freely as if she was watching them happen in another.

"Many have. Many have, on this ship... recently." She paused a moment, part of her screamed out to say something else, the line that was on the tip of her tongue 'It has only been a week... it has only been a week since I lost him' the words were so distinct and clear. Yet, she refused them. "So I would advise that when talking with others, if you indeed get the opportunity to do so, you walk lightly... despite whatever names that are shouted to you. It is not your fault, but it is an effect..." she spoke, the last line almost being to herself, more than to him.

He permitted himself a small nod. "I shall do so." But inwardly he breathed a sigh of relief. Her reaction to him using the name 'Buck' had distracted her from prying into his own life. The two lapsed into silence as she led him down the long corridors and through two turbolifts. He tried to think of other things. How poorly this whole place was designed, the fact that Starfleet decided he needed two armed guards plus the commander, Remy purring softly in his arms having given up on trying to annoy the commander. But he could not help but wonder who Buck was. She had clearly loved him dearly, that much was apparent, but every passive scan he had tried had slid off her "shield" like oil on glass and he didn't dare try an active scanning. So he just contented himself with walking in silence.

Silence; normally Jesa thought of it as something to be avoided. Somehow, at this time, it seemed quite necessary, and quite desirable. It also gave her time to soothe her own wounds, attempting to patch the holes he so neatly decided to poke into her mask of order and control that took such energy to maintain. Slowly, in her temples, a headache was breaking out. Idly she wondered if it was him, or herself, that was the main cause. They entered a turbolift, and still the silence remained.

Fortunately for Victor, the turbolift led almost directly to his holding cell. He was beginning to feel the weight of the restraints becoming more cumbersome and tiring on his legs. 'What a pointless act.' he thought to himself. In the Khall'ianen, anyone convicted of treason was shoved out the nearest airlock and left to the cruel justice of the vacuum. He supposed that's how Starfleet would label him, since they couldn't very well call him a prisoner of war. It was a fate he wished desperately for, rather than to be subject to weeks, possibly months, of rotting behind a forcefield, awaiting a "trial" where he would probably be sentenced to die anyway. He almost shuddered at the thought of their "humane euthanasia"; most of the processes being more drawn out and vastly more painful than simply spacing a person.

One of the officers let the force field down while the other removed the shackles and gave Victor a vicious push. Jesa glared at the officer, warning him with her eyes not to do that again. The officer looked angrily at her; something else was in his eyes besides simple defiance. She would have said something, but contradicting your own officer's treatment was not a good idea in this kind of position. But she mentally noted this particular man for hashing later words, probably going under his superior as well. But the next events took place too fast for Jesa to be able to think more on the subject.

As if practiced, he hopped neatly over the lip and landed inside the cell but Remy, who had jumped up onto his shoulder, dug her claws into the guard's hand as he pushed Victor. He swore and made a wild grab, his hand latching onto the cat and hoisting her off of Victor's shoulder. Glaring at the feline in his hand, he spat on the floor and turned to toss her out the door into the corridor. Victor whirled in place, his hand coming up and connecting with the forcefield just as it went up. His knuckle split open from the force of the impact, trailing a thin rivulet of blood down the back of his hand.

"STOP!" Jesa commanded, with a voice that would have made any mortal's blood run cold, and both Victor and the guard instantly froze. She moved quickly towards the officer, she knew his name, but she knew him now by something else. For a moment it looked like the Ensign would disobey, and throw the cat anyway, but her narrowed eyes showed him that it wasn't such a good idea. Quickly she stepped forward, and grasped the cat by the scruff of the neck, not hard, just firmly, and tried to put her hand underneath Remy's feet for support.

But because of the recent trauma, Remy wasn't so happy about the arrangement, and she clawed at Jesa's hand, claws digging into her left arm. The commander only closed her eyes a moment against the pain, and said nothing, not even appearing to really notice. She turned to the other guard who seemed to be trying to shrink into the wall to avoid blame for anything that was going on and spoke lowly. "Lower the forcefield." To which he promptly obeyed. Jesa moved towards Tyne, continuing to hold the squirming Remy by the scruff, simply a matter of necessity, without any undue force behind it. Her eyes read almost blankly, but with a slight hint of regret in them.

Victor just stared at her. This was something he hadn't expected, especially from the 'dour and repressed Starfleet officer'. She held the cat out to him insistently and slowly Victor's arms stretched out to receive his precious Remy. She dug her claws into Victor's arm instantly, moving into him for protection, but he hardly seemed to notice. He studied Jesa's face, the fact that he could read neither her face nor her mind now bordering on aggravating. But that one small act of kindness had changed all he thought he knew about Starfleet officers. She started to pull away slowly, still wary of the cat, but Victor caught her hand.

Jesa saw no ill intent with his grasp, but looked at him, equally shocked. Both of the guard's hands went to their phasers, but Victor made no other motion. He just stood there, his fingers tightening around her hand just a little as his cool façade cracked. It wasn't outwardly obvious until Jesa's eyes met his. Instead of the flat, blank stare, Victor's eyes shone with gratitude, surprise, and something else Jesa could not quite place. He tore his gaze away, looking down at the cat that, if left untended, would soon become a permanent part of his arm.

Her eyebrows moved, in puzzlement and uncertainty, but she remained mostly the mask of control. Something told her that this man had as long and as terrible a story to tell as she did. It was the instinct she had always had, which she had long since been trained to listen to, even when her rational mind sounded contradictions. Something was odd about him, something she didn't expect. Jesa just looked at him, though she couldn't determine why. She took a step back, and the quieter of the two guards reactivated the forcefield.

"If you need anything, you may call." She said, though the words seemed silly, strange and distant. Then she turned, flashing a glare at Remy's torturer that simply shouted that his hide was hers. "See he receives medical attention," she said, glancing at the guard manning the forcefield. Without a second glance, she turned and left, cradling her left arm in her other hand, keeping the blood from reaching the floor, for she knew what would happen then. And for everything else that had happened, she didn't need more complications. Not to one whom she barely knew the name of, and somehow, strangely identified with... and was in her brig. How the universe worked in mysterious ways.

Loaded: 03.10.2004