SINGULARITY [2]
By HECK


Comments to heck@heckster.co.uk

CHAPTER TWO

  SHE WAS FLOATING. Floating through the night on gossamer wings, feeling 
lighter than the air itself. She did not know where she was, or how she came to be 
there, but the sensation was a pleasurable one, and she luxuriated in it.
  Stars like pinpricks of light passed her by on all sides. She was in the sky, and she 
knew she was flying at the same time as she knew she was not. She could be quite 
content to remain like this forever, and forever did not seem to be such a long time.
  But this was wrong. Her warrior's instincts told her so, and her iron mental discipline 
asserted itself as she forced herself toward a semblance of reality.
  She felt the bed at her back, and knew she was lying somewhere she ought not to be. 
It took a great effort, but she forced her eyes open just a crack. Bright light hurt her 
retinas, at first, and she raised a hand to shield them.
  A cool hand took her wrist and replaced it at her side. She was powerless to resist. A 
calm voice, friendly and welcoming, was speaking to her in a language she 
recognised, that she knew was her own language, but which she could not 
comprehend.
  Gradually, her senses returned to her, and she opened her slitted lids a mite more. A 
shape she was sure was a face was looking down at her. At first, seeing the frame of 
red hair, she thought it was her own face, but as her vision cleared she saw it was the 
face of another. A woman's face, kindly and smiling.
  And then another face entered her field of vision. Beautiful, like the first, but more 
exotic and surrounded by thick black hair. It too was smiling, and exuded an air of 
peace and tranquility.
  The language became comprehensible. "Hi!", the first face said. "Welcome back".
  "Don't try to move", the second face said, and she knew from the calmness in the 
mellow voice that this was the right thing to do. "Just wait a bit, until you're feeling 
more together".
  Her eyes were fully open, now and she was beginning to make out her surroundings. 
Lots of clean, shiny surfaces and bright but cool lighting without the flicker of the 
candles or oil lamps she was used to.
  The first face looked away for a second and seemed to reach a hand to adjust 
something above her head. A sparkly glow appeared briefly above her.
  "Whassat?", she slurred.
  "Nothing to worry about", said second face. "You're perfectly safe". And she knew 
that was right, too. She had nothing to fear from the faces.
  "Where am I?". She had regained control of her tongue, and her speech was clear.
  A hand took hers, and second face answered her. "You're in ...hospital. A place of 
healing. You've had a bit of a rough time of things, and you need to rest".
  "What happened? And where are my friends".
  "All in good time. Just rest, for now".
  "Who are you people? What's going on?"
  "My name is Deanna. And this is Beverley". First face came back into view and 
smiled. "She and I are looking after you", the one called Deanna went on. "What 
about you?"
  "Brenhya", she heard herself say. "My name is Brenhya".
  "Well, Brenhya, it's nice to meet you. But as I say, the best thing for you right now is 
rest".
   She nodded, and closed her eyes. She felt, rather than saw, the two women move 
away.
  But it was no use. She had too many questions for her active mind to let her sleep 
just now. She opened her eyes and tried to sit up, but was held tight to the bed by an 
invisible force.
  "What is this? Why can't I move?"
  The face she knew as Beverley came back into view. "Don't worry", it said. "I've 
just put something there to stop you hurting yourself".
  "But there's nothing there", Brenhya protested. There was concern but no panic in 
her voice. "Is it magic? Are you witches?" 
  "No, we're not witches", Beverley reassured her. "And it's not magic. Just a 
...different kind of science".
  "Well, I want to get up" Brenhya tensed all her muscles, and Beverley watched as 
she strained against the pressor field. Every muscle in her superb physique sprang into 
relief and turned diamond hard as her body took on the appearance of having been 
carved from polished oak.
  Standing at the foot of the bio-bed, Deanna and Beverley were seriously impressed 
by the display of sheer strength. Even so, they were confident in the ability of the field 
to restrain her.
  But suddenly, there was a fizzle and a pop, and a sparkle of light, as the pressor field 
gave up the struggle and Brenhya burst free to sit straight upright. She swung her legs 
over the side of the bed, but did not try to stand. Her efforts had left her feeling dizzy.
  Beverley and Deanna sprang back. Brenhya heard Deanna call for Security, whatever 
that was, but the women made no effort to attack her. That was fine by her. She never 
fought unless it became necessary. She waved a calming hand at the women.
  "Relax. I'm not going to hurt you".
  Crusher and Troi looked at each other. They were both impressed by this strange 
woman, and a little afraid, but recognised that she posed no immediate threat. Deanna 
was about to cancel her request for help, when the door hissed open and Worf stepped 
in, phaser in hand.
  "Counsellor. What is the problem?". His hooded eyes scanned the room and fixed on 
Brenhya sitting on the edge of the bio-bed. "I thought you said you were going to 
employ a pressor field?"
  "I did". The Doctor's gaze challenged the Klingon, something very few could do 
with impugnity. "She broke free".
  "Hmph. Your emitter must be faulty. I will ask Mr LaForge to inspect it".
  "There is nothing wrong with the emitter. It's working fine. Or it was".
  "Then you must not have turned up the settings high enough. Really, Doctor, I did 
warn you..."
  "The setting was high enough to have kept you down Worf!" A touch of annoyance 
was showing in Beverley's voice. Worf bridled at her tone.
  "Impossible!"
  Deanna Troi insinuated herself between the two, and exerted her calming influence. 
"Settle down, you two. Worf, everything is under control. Why don't you check back 
later?"
  Brenhya watched the interchange with puzzled amusement. During the whole time, 
she was unable to tear her eyes from the big Klingon. There was something daemonic 
and at the same time fascinating about him, and she recognised something of a 
kindred spirit. More volatile than she, but obviously a fellow warrior.
  "Is that a weapon?", she asked, pointing to the phaser which looked small in his big 
paw. The Klingon looked at her in surprise, as if he had not thought that she would be 
able to communicate with him.
  "It is".
  "May I see it?"
  "No, you may not!"
  She stood up slowly, looking Worf in the eye from a level equal to his own. "That 
isn't very friendly. I already told Beverley and Deanna that I'm not going to hurt 
anybody". Worf looked surprised that she was already on first name terms with the 
women. "Would you like me to take it from you?"
  Her vivid green eyes bored into his, and he bristled at being challenged twice in as 
many minutes. He gave a low growl. "You may try".
  "Worf", Deanna warned softly. There was no visible change in the lieutenant's 
attitude, but she could tell he was holding himself in readiness.
  "OK". Brenhya flashed him a dazzling smile, seeming to sag a little. Worf relaxed 
minutely.
  Later, he had to admit to himself that he had not seen her move. One second, she was 
standing relaxed at the side of the bio-bed. The next, he was pinned to the wall by a 
steely arm across his throat, feet dangling six inches above the floor. The phaser was 
no longer in his hand.
  Brenhya examined the weapon in her free hand. "What do you do with it? It's too 
light to hit people with. Is there a hidden blade?"
  Worf, helpless in her grasp, refused to answer. Deanna, a little nervously, stepped 
forward and laid a gentle hand on Brenhya's forearm. "You can let him down, now. 
You've made your point".
  The warrior woman smiled at the counsellor. Understanding passed between them. 
She took her arm from the Klingon's throat. He instinctively reached behind him for 
the d'k tahg that would have been there had he been dressed in traditional Klingon 
garb. It was a source of constant frustration to him that Starfleet regulations did not 
permit the carrying of bladed weapons when on duty.
  "Worf!" Jean-Luc Picard's voice rang out from the doorway. The security officer 
automatically drew himself to attention. "What is going on here? And why is that 
woman holding a phaser?"
  "Phaser? Is that what it's called?". Brenhya turned the weapon over in her hand. "I 
still can't figure it out, though. What are these buttons for?"
  Beverley, being closest, quickly put her hand over the buttons. "Heh. It's best you 
don't ask".
  "All right. I can see that my playing with this thing makes you nervous". She tossed 
the weapon to Worf, who returned it to his belt without ever relaxing from the 
attention.
  "Will somebody please tell me what is going on, here?" Picard phrased it as a 
question, but there was no mistaking the order he had just given.
  "Sir!", Worf reported. "The woman ..."
  "Brenhya", Brenhya put in. Her tone was relaxed and friendly.
  "...Brenhya. She had escaped from the pressor field. I was attempting to restrain her. 
She ...took the phaser from me". The last was muttered almost under his breath.
  Picard's eyebrows climbed up his forehead. "Well", he breathed. "Miss, er 
...Brenhya. You must be very skilled to be able to take a phaser from a Klingon". The 
woman just nodded, watching the newcomer with appraising eyes. For his part, Picard 
had already assessed the situation. He turned to Worf. "I think you can go, now, 
Lieutenant".
  "Sir. It is my duty as Security Officer to remain at your side while there is a threat to 
your safety".
  "A threat?" Picard looked at Brenhya. "Are you a threat?"
  "As long as you are no threat to me, no".
  "Very well, then. You may go, Mr Worf".
  "Sir, I must protest ..."
  "Your protest is noted, Lieutenant. You may go".
  Deanna linked her arm in that of the big Klingon. "Come on, Worf. I feel a need for 
some chocolate!"
  Picard sat down on the edge on the bio-bed as Worf was led reluctantly away. He 
patted the space beside him, inviting the warrior to sit. "Now, Miss Brenhya. I am 
Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the St.. ..of this crew. You are most welcome".
  "Thank you, Captain. And, please. Just Brenhya".
  "Very well. You must be feeling a bit disorientated. Unfortunately, there is very little 
I can tell you. Our regulations prevent us from disclosing certain information to you. I 
hope you understand?"
  "For now".
  "Good. Also, I must ask you to remain here in sickbay. There are perfectly good 
reasons for this, and again, I must ask your understanding".
  "I have a good idea. I'm obviously no longer in my own country, although how I 
came to be here is a mystery to me. You don't want to hurt me, but at the same time, 
you don't want me to see anything I shouldn't, in case I tell your enemies".
  "That's close enough. And how you came to be here is a mystery to us, too, although 
I assure you that we are working on ways to send you home again. I'm sure you don't 
want to be here any longer than you have to". The words 'we don't want you here 
either' were unspoken, but Brenhya was adept at reading between the lines. "Doctor 
Crusher will see that you have everything you need, and I hope your stay will not be 
too unpleasant". He stood to leave. Brenhya stood also, and from this proximity Picard 
was forced to crane his neck to meet her gaze. "Do you have any questions before I 
go?"
  "Just a couple. You are a captain, and you spoke before about a crew. Are we on a 
ship".
  "Of sorts".
  "Hmm. Only, I can't feel the motion of the sea".
  "It's ...er, very calm outside".
  "I see. And just one other thing".
  "Yes?"
  "What is 'chocolate'?"
  Picard permitted himself a short laugh. "Counsellor Troi ..., Deanna, will be coming 
back to see you soon. I'll see that she brings you some".

  "Come on, Worf! Lighten up!"
  Troi sat at a table in Ten Forward, spooning double chocolate fudge from a large 
bowl. The Klingon opposite merely glowered into his prune juice.
  "So she took your phaser from you. You said yourself she was 'a formidable 
warrior'. Your own words. Where's your problem?"
  "She has compromised my honour!", he said with feeling. "She took my weapon as 
if I were nothing but a p'takh! And, she did it in a situation where I was supposed to 
be protecting you and the Doctor. I am dishonoured!"
  "She sucker-punched you. You underestimated her. Where is the dishonour in that?"
  "You do not understand. A Klingon warrior would rather die than allow his weapon 
to be taken away!"
  "But she gave it back".
  "That is worse! To have your weapon taken away, and then returned to you as if it 
were a mere plaything! To a Klingon, this is a great dishonour!"
  "Oho, this sounds heavy". As usual, Guinan had appeared at the table silently. She 
seemed to have the ability to join a company suddenly, as if she had been there all 
along. "What's a dishonour?"
  "Worf had his phaser taken away by the woman in sickbay. But he wasn't to know 
she was as fast or as strong as she obviously is". Deanna placed a hand over Worf's 
and patted it reassuringly. He snatched it away.
  "Counsellor, you do not have to tell everybody of my shame!"
  "Worf, it's Guinan", Guinan said soothingly. "You know if she didn't tell me, I'd 
only find out some other way. And your secret is safe with me. But it seems to me that 
you have no dishonour. You were beaten by an opponent who is faster and stronger 
than you. There's no shame in that".
  "You do not understand. I..." He stopped abruptly, and rose to his feet as Captain 
Picard approached the table.  
  "Sit down, Lieutenant", Picard said with a smile. "This is Ten Forward. No 
formalities here. Do you mind if I join you?"
  Guinan smiled and bowed slightly to the Captain. "What can I get you, Captain 
Picard?"
  "Nothing, thank you". The barkeep smiled and drifted away. "Counsellor, it's you 
I've come to see", Picard went on. "What do you make of our visitor?"
  Troi paused, a spoonful of fudge half way to her mouth. "She is a very controlled 
individual. Highly intelligent. Very much in charge of herself. I sense that she has 
overcome great hardship, but is a more complete person because of it".
  "I see. And what does she make of her current situation?"
  "She's confused, obviously. She has high levels of adrenalin, but I suspect that is not 
abnormal, for her. She lives life on the edge, and is in a constant state of alertness. 
Much like Lieutenant Worf, here". Worf scowled. Deanna smiled, and continued. 
"She is not afraid. She is wary, and doesn't know whether to trust us, yet. But for the 
moment, she seems relaxed and content to let things take thier course".
  "Thank you, Counsellor. Most helpful. What are your impressions, Mr Worf?"
  The Klingon shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I would rather not say, Captain".
  "And I would rather you did say, Lieutenant". Picard let just a shade of irritation 
show in his voice. "I would value your opinion, both as my chief of security and as a 
Klingon".
  The familiar scowl deepened. Worf spoke with feeling. "She is a dangerous 
individual. Counsellor Troi may be right when she says she is content. For now. But I 
would prefer to keep a security team posted with her at all times".
  "Oh, Worf". Deanna was sure Worf was overreacting. "You always want to post 
security on everything. I think you're being over cautious".
  Worf fixed her with a gimlet eye. "It is my job to be cautious".
  "What makes you think she's dangerous?", Picard asked. "Is it because she took your 
phaser from you?"
  "Sir, I do not need to be reminded of that quite so often". The Lieutenant glared at 
his superior in a way that, in any other species, might be taken as insubordination, but 
Picard was well used to Klingon mannerisms. "But, no. My initial assessment of her 
as a warrior has proven to be correct. By their very nature, warriors are dangerous 
people". His look dared Picard to contradict. "Therefore, I believe it would be prudent 
to keep a close watch on her at all times. If not place her in the brig".
  "Thank you, Lieutenant. But I don't think we have just cause to put her in the brig. 
However, I note your concerns. You may station one security guard in the corridor 
outside sickbay. Phaser on stun. But he is not to enter unless Doctor Crusher or one of 
her staff request it. We don't want her to feel unnecessarily threatened. Understood?"
  "Yes, Sir". Worf's expression showed that he didn't understand at all, but he was 
nothing if not obedient to his captain.
  "If you'll excuse me, Gentlemen". Deanna rose from the table, wiping chocolate 
from her lips with a napkin. "I have to get back to Brenhya. I promised her we would 
talk".
  "Of course". Picard got to his feet. "And I must get back to the bridge. But one thing 
before you go. I promised Brenhya that you would bring her some chocolate".
  Deanna's lovely face lit up. "I'd be delighted. Guinan?" The Elaurian barkeep looked 
up from polishing glasses. "Another double chocolate fudge, please. To go. In fact 
...make that two". 

  Plastiglass vials spun on the centrifuge. Beverley Crusher made notes on a padd, 
entering the results of routine crew blood tests in individual dossiers. It was necessary 
but tedious work, but she never delegated jobs that she was not prepared to do herself. 
She would complete a quota of the tests, just as her staff would.
  She sighed and tucked a stray lock of hair behind an ear. The door slid aside, and 
Deanna Troi walked in.
  "Hi, Beverley. Am I interrupting anything?" The counsellor was carrying two large 
bowls of creamy dessert. Beverley's eyes lit up as she eyed the treats.
  "Nothing at all", the doctor said eagerly. "I'll be glad of the break. Especially if 
there's chocolate in it".
  Deanna smiled regretfully. "Sorry. These are for Brenhya and I. But you can share 
mine". Her gaze alighted on the empty bio-bed. "Where is she?"
  "Through there". Beverley angled her head toward the waiting room. She produced a 
spoon from a drawer and zeroed in on a bowl. "She's been there for about half and 
hour".
  "What's she doing?" Deanna strolled toward the open room. Beverley joined her.
  "See for yourself".
  The two women stepped through into the waiting area. Deanna was a little shocked 
at what she saw.
  In perfect form and in rapid succession, the warrior woman was performing one-arm 
push-ups on the floor. She alternated arms, ten with one arm, ten with the other, and 
pumped out the repetitions as fast as Deanna could count them. The muscles coiled 
and flexed under her skin as she exercised, and she presented an image of complete 
power to the observing women. Deanna looked at Beverley in surprise.
  "Why is she doing that?"
  "She insisted. She said she knew her body best, and vigourous exercise was the best 
way to recuperate. I told her bed rest, of course, but it seems that, in this case, the 
patient knew best. I checked on her a few minutes ago, and she seems almost fully 
recovered".
  "She is certainly working hard at it". Despite herself, Deanna was impressed.
  "Mm-hmm. And she's been going at that rate, doing all kinds of stretching and 
strengthening routines, for a solid half hour".
  "Well, it's time she stopped. I've got chocolate".
  The woman was obviously listening. She sprang to her feet. Her body glistened with 
a fine sheen of sweat, but her breathing was regular and only slightly elevated. "Hello, 
Deanna. The captain said you were bringing chocolate. Is that it?"
  "You never had chocolate?" Deanna handed her a bowl. "You have never lived!" 
  Brenhya dipped her spoon into the thick confection. She sniffed deeply. "Smells 
good". She took a tentative taste. A look of almost orgasmic pleasure crossed her face. 
She crammed in a huge mouthful.
  "Mmmm! Goddess, this is good!" She sank into a chair, face wreathed in smiles. 
"Mmmm! I never tasted anything like this. Thank you, Deanna!"
  The three women sat together, eating their pudding in silence, punctuated by sighs 
and moans of pleasure from the warrior. She polished off the whole bowlful before the 
others had gotten halfway down theirs. Deanna watched her with delighted eyes.
  "You're supposed to savour it", the Betazoid told her. "Such pleasures should be 
made to last".
  "Next time", Brenhya said. "I think that might just make being cooped up in here 
bearable".
  Deanna looked a question to her friend and colleague. At Beverley's nod, she handed 
the other bowl to Brenhya. "Here. Finish this. But take your time".
  Brenhya gave them one of her dazzling smiles, the first real smile she had given 
anyone since she came to. She ate more calmly, now, getting maximum enjoyment 
from each mouthful.
  "How are you feeling now", Deanna asked her.
  "Fine", Brenhya replied around a mouthful of sweetness. "Still a bit muzzy-headed, 
but OK".
  "Do you feel like having our talk, now?"
  Beverley Crusher excused herself. "I have to get back to my tests". She recognised 
that Deanna was entering her own area of expertise, and decided to leave them alone 
to get on with it. Besides, she really did have to get back to those tests.
  "What did you want to talk about?" Unable to scrape any more chocolate from the 
bowl, Brenhya laid it aside. She laid back in her chair, appearing totally relaxed, but 
Deanna could sense the coiled-spring readiness inside her. She dismissed it as  being 
normal for this extraordinary woman.
  "Well, I want to talk about you. I want to find out your history, where you came 
from, how you live. All kinds of stuff".
  "Wouldn't that be against your rules?"
  "Our rules are designed to protect you from us", Deanna smiled. "Not the other way 
around".
  Brenhya considered for a moment. "All right", she agreed. "On one condition. You 
answer some questions for me, first".
  "That seems fair. As long as they don't break the 'rules'".
  "OK. I know we're on a ship. Where is it going?" Deanna's lips formed a tight line. 
She shook her head. Brenhya sighed. "Uh-huh. All right. Where has it been, then?" 
Another shake of the head. "This is going to be a long job", Brenhya said. She leant 
forward and gazed into the dark pools of the counsellor's eyes. "You're good at 
reading people. You have some kind of gift, right?" She was rewarded with a nod. 
"Right. But I'm not too bad at reaching conclusions, either. All of this strange 
equipment. There's nothing like it where I come from. A little tiny weapon that makes 
you all nervous when it gets into the wrong hands. And a ship that sails without any 
sensation of movement. I'm not in my own time, am I?"
  Deanna was no good at lying. The best she could do was avoid the woman's gaze 
and say nothing.
  "I knew it!" Brenhya slapped a hand against her hard thigh. "I've somehow moved 
into the future. I've heard fables about that, but never put any meaning to them. What 
happened? Did I fall asleep for a hundred years, or something?"
  Troi was sympathetic, but unable to tell her the truth. "Brenhya, I'm sorry. I'm not 
permitted to discuss that with you". She placed her small hand on Brenhya's large 
one. "Trust me, it's meant for your own good".
  "Maybe it is. I've been a soldier. I know the importance of regulations. But it's 
frustrating, all the same". The look on Deanna's face told Brenhya that the dark haired 
woman understood how she felt. "All right. Tell me something else, then".
  "If I can".
  "That big fellow with the, what was it called, phaser?"
  Deanna inclined her head. "Lieutenant Worf".
  "Worf. A strong name. At first, I thought he was a daemon".
  "Yes, he has that effect on some people. It's the ridged forehead and permanent 
scowl that do it. But that's just a ...characteristic of his people".
  "Oh, I could tell he wasn't anything supernatural. It's hard to pin a daemon against 
the wall like that".
 From the way she said it, Deanna believed she was speaking from personal 
experience, but decided that was a topic to explore on another day. "About Worf", she 
said. "He and his people are strong and warlike. Worf himself is a warrior".
  I knew it! Brenhya thought to herself.
  "They live by a strict code of honour", Deanna continued. "By taking his weapon 
away so casually, and then giving it back, he feels you have dishonoured him. I know 
that, by other standards, that may seem a bit over the top, but that's the way he is. I'd 
be grateful if you could do something to restore his feelings, next time you meet".
  "I'm sorry. I didn't realise he felt like that. But I understand honour, and I can see 
how it would make him feel bad. Yes, of course. When we meet again, I will do what 
I can to make things right. And, Deanna?"
  "Yes?"
  "I would like to meet him again. He ...interests me".