Calling on every trick Buffy had ever taught her, Willow actually managed to keep ‘Warren’ off-balance for a lot longer than she thought possible. He was starting to look a little groggy around the edges…
Then her own fatigue caught up to her, or perhaps she got careless. Whatever. A poorly-aimed kick enabled the Cardassian to grab her outstretched leg and heave her off-balance, causing her to fall to the dusty ground. Before she could catch her breath, ‘Warren’ picked her up bodily to her feet and threw her right at the stone archway of the Guardian.
Willow just managed to stop herself from cracking her head on the stone, but the impact still stunned her, giving her no time to recover before ‘Warren’ strode over, spun her around, and grabbed the front of her uniform in one fist.
Cocking his right fist behind him to deliver a final blow, ‘Warren’ sneered, “Say good-night, bitch!”
A pale hand, seemingly delicate but pretty powerful nonetheless, gripped his wrist before he could strike. Tara stood there, the blood on one side of her face not dimming one iota the blazing radiance of her blue eyes. “Good-night, bitch,” she answered conversationally as she slammed her knee into ‘Warren’s’ groin.
Apparently even the Cardassian male physiognomy had that particular liability, as he immediately reacted. Willow, buoyed by fresh adrenaline, sent her own knee upward, to catch ‘Warren’ right across his descending face. He reeled backward, his head spinning.
Tara and Willow each grabbed one of his shoulders. Willow curled her left fist, while Tara’s right, palm up, fingers curled, prepared to smash him with her power focused on the heel of the hand.
With amazing synchronicity, they struck. The impressive CRACK! of the double punch was followed by the impressive thump of the soi-disant Maquis hitting the dirt and sliding at least a meter, down for the count.
“Ow, ow, ow! Happy, but ow!” Willow cried, rubbing her aching knuckles. Buffy had always made this look so easy and fun…
“I know,” Tara said, massaging the heel of her hand. “I’m not good at this, either. I think we, um, need to leave the rough stuff to Thelvran and his buddies.”
“I’ll vote for that. Are you okay? Your head…” Willow trailed off as she inspected the side of Tara’s face, where blood had matted the blond hair.
“I’m fine. It’s barely more than a cut, really. Head wounds always look gross… How’s about you? He didn’t h-hurt you, did he?” Tara cast a surprisingly venomous glance at the unconscious spy.
“Not really. More dirty than anything else.” Willow made an effort to brush the dust off her uniform. “Anybody know where there’s a bathtub around here?” she asked cheekily. Abruptly sobering, she added, “And, uh, thanks for making like, y’know, the cavalry there…”
“Hey, nobody messes with my –“
“With your...what?” Willow inquired gently, when Tara abruptly truncated herself. Looking into the blonde counselor’s eyes, Willow suddenly felt warm, as if she was wrapped in a blanket and held close in the arms of someone she loved.
For a timeless moment, the two women stood there, not speaking, sharing a communication on a level beyond that of the pure mind. Time seemed to creep forward slowly as hands reached up, two women slowly drew one another near, two pairs of eyes closed, heads tilting in unspoken unison, a step further and…
The sudden noise made them spring apart, expecting one or more of ‘Warren’s’ Maquis cohorts to spring into action…only to find their captain staring at the scene he found before his eyes.
Murdock wasn’t sure where to look first, at the unconscious Maquis on the ground or the stone monolith. Or possibly at his two young officers, who were…what? He couldn’t quite decide, so the matter was tabled for the moment.
“I seem my timely arrival was not a moment too soon,” he quipped. He was impressed. Two unarmed, handcuffed (although that didn’t seem a factor anymore) officers, not even security-trained, managed to take down a member of the Obsidian Order. “Not bad.” He lowered the phaser that he had been leveling since leaving the science facility. “Are you two okay?” He walked over to them, his eyes drawn to Tara’s head wound.
“It looks worse than it is, Captain, I…oh, God,” Tara said, as when she saw the extent of Murdock’s damage, which included a split lip, a bruised cheek and one eye nearly swollen shut. “Captain, your face!”
“Yeah, I know, I was born with it,” he replied, and was rewarded with a most insubordinate rolling of eyes from the both of them. “I had a little workout with Faith and her All-Boy Orchestra.” He started to smile, then stopped as his abused face revenged itself. “Unh. Not the most fun I’ve had lately.” His eyes wandered over to the stone archway; after a second glance, he realized what it probably must have been.
“That’s the, uh, whatchamacallit?”
“The Guardian of Forever,” Willow confirmed.
“It talked,” Tara added.
Murdock studied the monolith for a few seconds. “Hunh. Y’know, for some reason I was expecting…a mile-long valley filled with hundred-meter-tall talking statues. This just kinda seems…I don’t know…cheap.” He shrugged, then emitted a quick laugh that just as swiftly turned into a groan. Willow and Tara smiled at him sympathetically.
An indistinct sound from the direction of the facility made the three of them turn, Murdock about to warn the junior officers to take cover whilst he sought a defensive position, when another shout of “Captain!” followed by “Lt. Maclay! Lt Rosenberg!” reassured the three that the cavalry had arrived.
Murdock was the first to spot Thelvran leading a party of security personnel, Gunn bringing up the rear with his everpresent phaser rifle. Tara picked up a quick flash of irritation from the captain, who muttered, “Nice team spirit, Morty,” under his breath. She didn’t catch the reference, but she figured that he was irritated that Thelvran took so long to get there.
However, by the time the Andorian had made his way to the clearing in front of the Guardian, Murdock had apparently worked out his annoyance. “Good to see you, Mr. Thelvran,” he said, with genuine relish. He noticed the security guards glancing at his face. “Don’t sweat it, gang, it only hurts when I live. Status report?”
“The
Hannibal is secure, sir,” Thelvran recited, his clipped tones nonetheless betraying a professional satisfaction. “We have taken all the Maquis on board into custody, including the team on the bridge after you all beamed out. Casualties were light; Specialist Valek suffered a broken jaw, and Specialist Ele’ar received several cracked ribs and a fractured sternum.”
“Ouch,” Tara commented.
“We managed to disable the Trieste; then, Commander Faraday ordered Lt. Commander Kolrami to lead an away team to board the Trieste. Since the transport inhibitors were preventing us from beaming down here, I led two security teams down here in the Yamamoto and the Huxley.”
Murdock nodded. “Any word from the Trieste?”
“Yes, sir. Commander Faraday informed me that Kolrami’s team was successful. The Maquis had apparently only a skeleton crew in place. The ship’s personnel were anesthetized but essentially unharmed; Dr. Govarr should be able to revive them readily.”
“And the, um, science facility?” Murdock asked. He knew he was treading on uncertain ground, as Thelvran and his people weren’t cleared to know about the Guardian; however, there was no telling what sort of clues there might be somewhere in the facility. Besides, it was not as if he could simply order them not to be curious…
“We found the station’s personnel, sir, in one of the anterooms. Some of them had received some injuries, that I take to be results of, well, extreme persuasion. However, no permanent damage seems to have been done. In any case, we secured the Maquis that you apparently left for us.” He gave Murdock a look of frank admiration, then glanced at ‘Warren,’ still out cold on the ground. “Nice work, Captain.”
“Well, thanks, but he wasn’t mine. You can thank Ali and Frazier over there,” he said, pointing to Willow and Tara, who looked, respectively, inordinately pleased and mildly embarrassed. “They conducted that, uh, negotiation.”
Thelvran nodded, then gave the captain a puzzled look. “This ‘Ali’ and ‘Frazier’…they were good negotiators?”
Murdock smiled (carefully). “Some of the best, Mr. Thelvran.” He indicated the unconscious Cardassian. “Book ‘em, Danno,” he said jovially.
Thelvran was about to inquire about the phrase when Gunn clapped him on the arm. “S’alright, Chief, I got it.” Detailing two security guards, each of whom looked able to break ‘Warren’ in half (especially the female guard), Gunn strode over to ‘Warren’ and proceeded to cover him with the rifle while the other two picked him up and bound his wrists behind him. “You have the right to remain unconscious. Anything you say isn’t going to be worth listening to anyway…”
Murdock watched this for a moment, bemused, then turned back to Thelvran. “I hope the guards you left there are extra careful. The woman is a lot stronger than she…”
The Andorian’s confused expression made the captain trail off. “Captain…there was no female Maquis there, and I accounted for all the facility’s scientific personnel.”
“How many Maquis were there?”
“Six.”
Murdock looked over at Willow. “There were, I think, nine, counting him, right?”
Willow nodded abstractedly. “Uh, yes, nine. So there should have been eight. That makes two unaccounted for.”
“Oh, Screaming Lord Sutch! C’mon,” the captain barked, heading back towards the facility in a dead run. Thelvran and several others headed off with him, including the two half-carrying ‘Warren.’
Gunn stayed back, keeping an eye on Tara and Willow. “Um, hang on, what’s the plural of ‘ma’m? Anyway, I think we should go along with.”
“Yes, Mr. Gunn, thank you,” Tara said, smiling.
“Um, yes, but never end a sentence with a preposition,” Willow added with a cheeky grin…which faded as she suddenly blinked and staggered, leaning against a broken column.
“Willow?” Tara rushed toward, preparing to catch Willow if she fainted. Gunn, too, was setting himself, even setting his rifle down against a piece of wall. However, Willow straightened in almost immediately, shaking her head firmly.
“Whoa…just got dizzy there for a second. Maybe that big puncharoo had a delayed reaction there. Look, I’ll be okay, I’m right behind you.”
“Are you sure?” Tara asked, gently touching Willow’s shoulder.
“Sure I’m sure. I’ll just be a minute, Tara.”
Tara nodded and smiled, then turned to head back towards the facility. Gunn picked up his phaser rifle. “If you’re not there five minutes after us, ma’m, I’ll head back here.” As casual as he sounded, Gunn had a serious air about him.
“No problem. Grab yourself a cup o’ coffee.”
****
On the far side of the planet, heading on a bearing diametrically opposite to the Hannibal’s position, the Admiral Byrd leapt into warp.
In the main wardroom off the bridge, Faith woke up on one of the transom couches with a splitting headache. She blinked in surprise; she had expected to wake up in the Hannibal’s brig behind a force field. She sat up quickly to see who else was on board…then regretted it as her head rebelled against her. Groaning, Faith rubbed her temples to restore as much brain function as she possibly could until she felt well enough to stand up.
A minute or so later, she made her way onto the Byrd’s bridge, to find Jonathan at the helm. “Hey,” he said in greeting. “How ya feeling?”
“Not bad, y’know, nothing that a head transplant wouldn’t cure,” Faith averred. “Where are we? I mean, heading, I know you and I are—“
“Back towards the Demilitarized Zone. I know there’s a Maquis cell somewhere near Minos Corva. We can probably crash with them.”
Faith nodded. “Anybody else make it out?”
Jonathan stared hard at the controls. “No. Basically, I laid low after Murdock took out the others and then…once he left, I dragged you outside and hid us nearby. I knew the security team from the Hannibal would turn off the transport inhibitor once they got the facility—“
“And then, instant beam-up. Pretty slick, Slick,” Faith commented. She took a step nearer to him. “How come you took the trouble to carry me out? You didn’t need me to get away; hell, I would have just slowed you down…”
“Yeah, well, you’re not the greatest conversationalist in the galaxy, but you beat talking to myself.” Jonathan cast a glance over his shoulder to see her wry expression, then turned back. “Why you go back there and sack out for a while? I can handle things here.”
“You got it,” Faith replied, returning to the aft compartment and laying back down. She reached up to her face to rub the spot where Murdock had hit her. She smiled again, a surprisingly non-belligerent, even pleasant beam.
“Some other time,” she purred.
****
As she watched Gunn and Tara move off, Willow’s countenance changed from nonchalance to a grim determination…and a slight sadness. She hated lying, especially to Tara, and was simultaneously amazed that she pulled it off, given the blonde’s empathic abilities. Well, she’s empathic, not omniscient. I just hope she can find it in her heart to forgive me.
Willow turned back and walked towards the stone monolith. Taking a deep breath, and saying a quick prayer under her breath, Willow attempted to address the Guardian of Forever.
“Um…hello? Guardian?”
The arch flashed light, and the deep voice, which reminded Willow of a intercity shuttle attendant she had known from her childhood on Centaurus, replied “Greetings, Willow Rosenberg.”
Taken considerably aback, she answered, “You, uh, know me?”
“Since before your sun burned hot in space, and before your race was born, I have awaited…your arrival.”
“How could you be await-- Oh. Of course. You’re a time portal! Probably able to see the future, or any possible future. ‘Course, I don’t know how you’d-- What the hell am I doing? And why am I asking you?” Willow shook her head in irritation, quickly regretting it as the mild headache she had became aggravated. “Okay, focusing here…Guardian, if you knew I was coming…then you know what I want.”
For a long moment, the time portal said nothing. Then, the ruins that could be seen through the center of the arch became obscured, as if a sudden fog had erupted. This fog, however, started coalescing into images of…robed tribesman herding oxen and goats across plains and mountains.
“Behold,” the Guardian rumbled, trembling the very air around it, “your past.”
“Cool,” Willow whispered.
****
One of the security guards, dispatched by Thelvran outside of the facility to look for any signs of Faith or Jonathan (“That little weaselly guy…he’s gone too!”), came back in a minute later, with a tricorder bearing signs of residual ionization…
“They transported out,” Murdock muttered.
“They must have done so when I deactivated the inhibitor,” Thelvran added, looking woebegone. “I’m such a witnit!”
“Nitwit,” Murdock corrected automatically. “Belay that, Lieutenant. This is my fault.” He turned to Tara, who had just come in with Gunn. “My brilliant scheme managed to get us captured, you and Willow nearly killed, and me almost beaten to a pulp.” He sighed. “I love it when a plan comes together.”
The self-conscious irony of his statement, coupled with the general air of defeat in both him and Thelvran, prompted Tara to intervene. “Sir, if I m-may…we captured at least most of a Maquis cell, and prevented them from—“ she paused to choose her words carefully, given that Thelvran and the others were listening, “—from, um, committing a serious breach of Federation security. And nobody on our side got killed. I would call that…an above-average day.”
Murdock slowly smiled, reached out a hand and gripped Tara’s arm affectionately. As he did, Tara looked at his face…and wondered.
Maybe it was just the light inside the facility was different than the crepuscular gloom outside, but his face didn’t appear as hurt as before. The cut on his lower lip did not look nearly as bad; the bruise on his cheek had seemingly faded from dark purple to barely lavender. And his eye now merely looked slightly puffy, as opposed to nearly swollen shut. Tara knew for a fact that he had received no medical attention; when one of Thelvran’s men had approached him with a medical kit from the shuttlecraft, Murdock waved him with a curt “I’m fine. Go help her,” meaning Tara. (A quick pass with the dermal regenerator had taken care of the minor head laceration, making her feel much better). He shouldn’t be healing that fast on his own…should he? Maybe I’m wrong. Should ask Willow; maybe I saw it worse than it was outside…
The thought of Willow made her look around to see if she had made it back here. At the same moment, Murdock beckoned the man holding the medical kit, thinking he should give Willow a quick once-over. The captain and the counselor came to the same conclusion. “Where’s Willow?” Murdock inquired of Tara.
“Sh-she said she was feeling a little dizzy, and that, um, she’d be along in a minute.” Murdock nodded absently. “You think she might be in trouble, sir?”
Murdock shrugged. “I don’t know. Of course, there’s nobody here but us chickens, Counselor, not counting the—“
At first Tara thought the captain was censoring himself for security reasons. That is, until she picked up the wave of sheer horror emanating from him that made her gasp for air. Half a second later, the same thought occurred to her, and she turned to stare into Murdock’s eyes. “The Guardian!” she whispered.
Murdock nodded. “She’s going back to the twenty-third century.”
TBC
_________________
"Many such journeys are possible. Let me be your gateway."
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. Did I mention it's confusing when a writer has the same nickname as a charachter he uses in his storiy ?? <<-- mention
. Guess thats the trouble with getting into a story. Esp. seems to happen when bad stuff happens to charachters i like. I wouldn't have minded too much if only the captain had been taken hostage for example.
. 
At least this time it was just the power adapter being bad and the CD-DVD drive being on the fritz. *sigh*
,
part there. And 
figuring out that Warren was the Carrdassian. Murdock was great getting free. 
Hope he comes out of it okay. Can't wait to 
more. Update soon, please? 
This ought to keep everybody happy until your next appearances. 
I like the direction it is going. Very logical to use a phrase. 
Anyway, as usual, looking forward to more from your sick and twisted mind.