LtCmdr Roget

I stormed out of the Officer's Mess; head high, shoulders back, before I could say anything else. It bristled me that he always had a way to goad me into saying things that were better left unsaid. No matter how I would try to explain my outburst, he would always remember the, "I still love you." I wiped the palms of my hands across my flanks and entered the turbo lift, not turning around until the doors closed. "Senior Officer Quarters". The turbo lift hummed along. He wouldn't follow me, I knew that. It's not his style, and yet I harbored a small hope that indeed he had been standing in the hall, open mouthed, shocked at my admission. The doors closed behind me to my quarters and I reached up to remove the pins from my hair, letting the heavy mass tumble down. I quickly shed the uniform, slipped a deep violet kimono over my pale skin, and poured a glass of wine from the decanter as I moved over to the mirror to examine my reflection. My eyes were not exactly the same. Margaux's eyes were slightly more oval, where Megan's had been more round. A subtle difference, to be sure, but it was the color that he had been referring to. Green, like the forest after a rain. Deep and vibrant. A color people often try to imitate, but I had been born with. I laughed at that thought as I set down the wine glass and picked up a hairbrush. The rhythmic strokes soothed my nerves as I sat in the window seat looking at the planet below. Born with. What a joke. There was nothing of me anymore which reflected my birth heritage. I have had more cranial and skeletal implants and had my DNA transformed more times than I cared to remember. I was part of an experiment. Selected because of certain abilities and then place in laboratories or training centers to hone those abilities. To push my limits, test my strengths, and forge me into a weapon. I set the brush down and picked up a shirt Kyle had left on the edge of the chair. In one careless moment I quite possibly have opened a door better left closed. I thought again of Atragon, the man I knew, the man I know, and hoped that he realized the bigger picture was more important that our snapshot in time. I prayed that I would remember that. My dreams were haunted enough. I didn't need reminders of what could have been. This mission had brought memories long buried to the surface, and not all of them were good.

SD 50309.14 "I'm going to check on Margaux." Margaux sighed inwardly. The last thing she wanted was people checking on her. Thank heavens they didn't have counselor, or she'd already have time blocked off for her. She could hear Kyle's footsteps get closer, and she kept her eyes gently closed and her breathing deep and relaxed. To anyone else she would appear sleeping, but somehow she knew Kyle would see through the façade. She felt his fingertips gently touch her back and could not repress the involuntary shiver that moved down her spine. "The wounds were critically deep," he said quietly, softly moving his hands over where the lash marks had only recently reduced the skin to a purple meshwork of ugly bruised flesh. "If we could have treated you sooner, we might have been able to keep you from scarring," Kyle's voice trailed off as his hands continued to trace the maze of raised white scars. His hands were warm against her skin, but she kept her eyes closed, warring with her own emotions. Her heart and her soul were aching with the need to crawl into his arms and let all the hurt and the pain and the anguish overflow onto his shoulder. Her mind rebelled and held fast, rationalizing that she'd never needed anyone in the past to help her move through difficult times. This was no different. She felt him straighten the sheet over her hips and felt his hand linger on her skin for a moment more before he quietly moved off. Scars. Scars were nothing new to Margaux. Scars helped reinforce the soft delicate tissues of the body, mind, and soul from the pain of living. Her entire life was a honeycomb of scars. "Fool," her inner voice whispered, "you see what happens when you let your heart control your actions and not your mind?! How can you ever stand and face Atragon now that he knows? And Jami? You were her friend. How do you think she will feel when she learns the truth about you? And Kyle? Will he still care a wit for you when he finds out the life you've lead? The lie you're living?" Margaux opened her eyes, watching Kyle confer with his staff. They seemed intent on a particular patient that had come but he paused for a moment and turned his eyes locking onto hers. His face brightened as he flashed her a slight smile and a quick wink before turning his attention back to this staff. "I'm sorry," she whispered as she pressed her face back down into the biobed.

The straps around her wrist bit into her skin as her arms were extend up and secured over her head. Two of the guards secured her feet and left, leaving her strung up in front of Atragon. Atragon did not stare at Rogét as she was being secured, but he did not avert his gaze either. Instead he focused on keeping his emotions in check, keeping his expression neutral. "Quite lovely, isn't she Admiral?" The Daise Dheno moved out of the shadows and walked around Margaux, surveying her wounds. "We meet again, Daise Erei'Riov. I hope this conversation will be more to my liking." He reached out trailing a finger over the wound zigzagging across her abdomen, causing Margaux to suck in her breath. "A shame to mar such fine skin, don't you think Admiral?" Atragon narrowed his eyes and spat, "You're a bastard." Margaux pulled at the leg bindings, causing the Daise Dheno to turn and smile slightly. "Such spirit after our last meeting. You are a worthy adversary." He glanced back at Atragon. "You must have your hands full with this one." He reached up and pushed Margaux's hair out of her face and stared hard into her green eyes. 'It is quite simple, really. Either you or your Admiral has information I need, and I intend to get it. It seems that your illustrious leader can stomach watching the men on his crew suffer my interrogation, but I wonder ..." With one hand he ripped what remained of Margaux's tunic from her. She saw Atragon pale and try to avoid any strong reaction, but she could see the anger in his eyes. Margaux felt her cheeks redden with both anger and humiliation at being so openly exposed. "Can you stomach watching a woman suffer, Admiral?" The Daise Dheno walked around Margaux, looking at her intently, "Yes, most definitely a woman." He spun back around to face Atragon, "the codes Admiral." "You know I can't give you the Command Codes to my ship. You may possess the ship, but it will never be yours! The more you hurt us, the more we will resist you." The Daise Dheno sneered, turned away from Atragon and grabbed Margaux's hair, craning her neck back. "The codes, Commander." Margaux's heart was beating rapidly. Her hands were going numb and her skin was covered in gooseflesh from both the raw emotion and the temperature of the room. Her eyes blazed with hatred, "Rot in hell." "Such a shame," the Daise Dheno said with a sigh. "Such lovely skin." Atragon's eyes went wide, "No! You don't have to do that! She doesn't know..." Margaux looked at Atragon, a look of confusion on her face. The whip came down across her back without warning. The shock of it was worse than the pain, but it was more than enough to break the skin. Her eyes went wide with surprise, and then she closed them tight as the whip came down on her again and again. She could feel the blood beginning to trickle down her back and it was a sharp contrast to the sweat that coursing down her face and burning into her eyes. Atragon felt a fury engulf his body. Using his telekinesis, he pulled back on the whip's tails so that it seemed to hit Margaux, but actually slapped back on itself at the end of the Daise Dheno's strokes. He was hoping that Romulan wouldn't notice, but he did see Margaux open her eyes slightly to see what was happening. She seemed to register the concentration on Atragon's face and close her eyes slowly again. It took a dozen or so more strokes, not all perfectly deflected, for the Daise Dheno to wonder why Margaux was holding up so extraordinarily to his attacks. He finally noticed Atragon's focus and, with one fluid motion, he brought the handle of the whip hard across Atragon's face, breaking his concentration and his consciousness. "You fool," she said between gasping breaths. Her mind was working overtime now, putting pieces of a plan together, ignoring the searing pain of her back. Precip needed time and she needed a way to buy him more. "Even if he did willingly give you the access codes to Manticore they wouldn't work." She looked up, her eyes hard and cold. "All you've done is earned yourself a lifelong enemy." She looked over at Atragon's unconscious form. She knew he had been trying to help, trying to spare her from the beating. Had she been thinking logically, it may have made perfect sense, however; his actions only fueled her rage. The Daise Dheno walked around Margaux, the whip folded in his hands. He had a sheen of sweat over his skin from the exertion. "And why wouldn't they work, Daise Erei'Riov? What did you do?" He brushed the coiled whip over her laid open back. Margaux cried out and tried to arch herself away. Stepping back, he uncoiled the whip, "What did you do, Commander?" He bit the words out and waited only a moment before the leather lashed out again onto her flesh. "I changed the program," she choked. "I couldn't let the ship be taken, and I couldn't trust the codes with anyone," she looked up her eyes blazing with hate. "because I knew what you would do to get the information. None of them can tell you anything." Time, she kept thinking, time for Precip and perhaps they'll leave Garnoopy and the others alone. Her hair was plastered against her face, "Your goons can work on it until kingdom come and they will never figure it out." The Daise Dheno narrowed his eyes, and let out a scream of frustration. Three more times the whip found it's mark and then the Daise Dheno stopped, throwing the whip to the floor. Marguax sagged against her bindings, her breathing labored. He turned to a guard in the corner. "Get her out of my sight." They dragged her back to her cell, dumping her ceremoniously onto the floor. "We need to take their commander back to his cell," one of the gaurds muttered. They reactivated the forcefield and walked away. The two Botanist in Margaux's cell stared at her back, horrified and looked over Garnoopy, who's expression matched their own. It hurt to move, it hurt to breathe, but Margaux could not stop the shaking or the sobs that seemed to come from deep in her soul. Quietly, the two Botanist removed their shirts and covered as much of Margaux as they could without touching her back. Somewhere, far inside her mind she said, "thank you"

Part of the Job Description on Manticore.

Margaux opened the shuttle hatch and looked around shuttle bay two, "Odd," she said looking over her shoulder, "no welcoming party." She stepped out onto the deck and walked over to a set of crew lockers along the opposite wall. Setting her bio-suit helmet on the bench, she unclasped her utility belt and started to strip off the confining suit. The suits were a life saver, but there were also hot, and cumbersome. Keeping her gloves on until last she deposited all the articles into the biohazard container and sat down on the bench. She watched the others come off the shuttle. Comparing notes and data taken from the lab, starting the same ritual she had just finished. Removing and stowing of the bio-suits. They would have to wait for haz-mat team to arrive before they could leave the shuttle bay, but there was no sense is remaining in the suits. She leaned back against the locker and began to loosen the braid in her hair. The locks fell away from the braid into long wavy sections, that she separated with her fingers. The ritual was a calming one. If she closed her eyes she could remember her mother doing the exact same thing to her. A small smile played across her lips as she continued the long treasured habit. Her smile faded as the Commodore exited the shuttle. His face was whiter than she'd ever seen it and he moved as though he was made of lead. She could see he was clutching something in his hands and knew immediately what it must be. A wave of anger moved through her with such tenacity that had someone been beside her they surely would have felt it. She had tried continually, since regaining her memories, to spare him this hurt but nothing she did seemed to work. He had grieved for her ten years ago, and was reliving it all over again. "I'm sorry!" she whispered fiercely, looking down at the deck plating. "I'm sorry that you are having to go through this. I'm sorry for what this is doing to you." She looked up, her fingers still working at the ends of her hair, and her stomach knotted and her spine stiffened under his withering glare. She stood and boldly met his gaze, pretending not to understand his look. Taking strong deliberate strides she walked up to him. "Haz-mat will be here momentarily to collect the bio-suits and conduct the decontamination. I recommend, Commodore, that you strip out of your suit." She let her expression soften. "I hope, whatever it was you were searching for down there, " she hesitated, torn by conflicting emotions. "I ... I hope you found it. I hope it gives you the answers you were searching for, or at least it gives you ability to let go of the past." She gave him a small nod, as though dismissing herself from him and re-entered the shuttle to complete the post flight check.

Surely, petite fille, you have to joking! You cannot seriously be thinking of entering Starfleet!" Thierry's depthless jet-black eyes were wide with shock. "Do you not remember the last time you went gallivanting around the galaxy?" Margaux sat quietly, knowing it was useless to interrupt him once he got started. "You were nearly killed!! First the illness, then the attack on the outpost! How you managed to get off that worthless hunk of rock is still a mystery, but you did and now you are home. Margaux, ma chéri, you belong here, with me." He hadn't even realized that he had stood up and started to pace around the room. He stopped and sat down again next to Margaux. God how he wanted to shake this nonsense talk out of her. "Give up this notion, chéri, if not for me, then for your mother. The worry and fear of your wellbeing nearly killed her. When you returned, it was obvious that this little adventure had changed you. You were distant, aimé, you still are. You have been home for six months and still you keep me at arms length. ME! Your financé, your amoureux!" Thierry stood again, towering over her, and Margaux looked up admiring his tall, lean form. She knew that she was supposed to love him, used to love him, but now it didn't feel right. She couldn't place when the change happened, or why, it just did. Thierry was always perfect, or at least as perfect as one can get. His hair, as black as his eyes, was never out of place and he carried himself with a confidence that made everyone around him acutely aware of him. He reached out and lightly fingered a loose tendril of hair on her cheek and Margaux had to force herself to remain still and not pull away. She gave him weak smile and then stood, turning toward the windows of the salon. Of all the rooms in her parents house, the salon was her favorite. The tall windows faced the south garden, now in full spring bloom. The entire back wall was a massive hedge of azaleas, erupting in colors of pink, red, white. She pressed her forehead against the cool of the windowpane. "You don't understand," she whispered, her voice low and smooth. "I'm not choosing Starfleet over you, Starfleet over the family. It chose me, Thierry." She turned, her eyes meeting his. "I can't explain it you, and I don't expect you to understand," her voice took on a commanding edge, "what I do expect is for you to accept it." "Never!" "Margaux?" Kyle waved is hand in front of her eyes and flashed her mischievous smile. "You were a million miles away, and hopefully with me." "Who else?" she gave him a bright smile. "I can see you're busy, " she nodded in the direction of the ship's counselor, "but I hear there are orders for all department heads to check in for a blood sample? I can come back, or perhaps, Dr. Faldorn can take the necessary sample." "If you can wait, I'll be wrapped up here in a minute." Margaux nodded and took a seat on a biobed to wait, letting the memories return. The trip back to Earth had been long, but it was necessary in order to reprogram her cranial implant. To completely and totally block all memories of her life as Megan ... her life as Mercedes. In order for this cover to succeed, there must be no memories. It was not enough to look and sound like Magaux, she must be Margaux with no trace of her previous experiences, except for the desire to enroll in Starfleet. That had been part of the programming. Megan had laughed when she first came upon the idea, remembering her Uncle's tutelage 'when hiding from your enemies, the best place is often right under their nose' ... what better place to hide from Melville and his minions than at Starfleet Academy? The posting to the Manticore was a fluke, an ugly trick of the fates. She paused, or was it. She didn't believe in coincidences, but her cover had never been compromised. She had no memories of Atragon, and he obviously had not made the connection --- yet. Margaux cursed herself for letting her guard down in the turbo lift. It would only cause more hurt if he were to learn the truth. He went on and created a new life, as he should have. "Just as I did," she thought to herself. "Thinking of me again?" Kyle's teasing tones brought her out of her reprieve and Margaux smiled. "As a matter of fact, I was. Let's get that blood sample and get out of here, while we have the time. I have a feeling this whole Outpost thing is going to consume us all."

HAPPYMARDIGRAS!!

=/\==========ADDENDUM==========/\= The information that is to follow is for historical relevance only. No such records exist in Starfleet historical data or personnel files. Under no conditions would any member of the crew have access to this information or know the details therein. The dull sounds of explosions reverberated overhead, and Megan slowly became aware of her surroundings again. Her skin felt as though it had been ripped from her body and she felt an incredible desire to scratch at every part of herself. "Just a reaction from the transformation," she whispered to herself. The voice that reached her ears was not her own, and at first it caught her off guard, but then she realized that it was Margaux's voice coming from her. "I obviously need to work on my southern drawl," she said wearily, refusing to open her eyes quite yet. The lights flickered briefly as more explosions sounded, and Megan unwillingly opened her eyes to check the chronometer. "Two days!" She quickly sat up only to be rewarded with a fresh wave of pain. Taking three deep breaths she lay back down and waited to feel the familiar flood of endorphins that would be triggered for release by the cranial implant. As the pain began to ease she sat up again, thinking two days, explosions, it could only be the Aries responding to the distress message that Melville had sent. Before she and Margaux had transported to her underground bunker, she had set a time delay on the containment of the biogenetic war agents they created at Lincoln Outpost. No one could land on the surface to search for survivors once the agents were released into the atmosphere, it would take months before the air would be at even the minimum toxicity levels for personnel to scavenge through the rubble. She thought again of Atragon, of the message left in her quarters that he would never receive, and again felt incredible sadness. "What's done is done," she whispered, "there is no turning back now." The pain was negligible now and she stood up and walked over to the mirror. Staring back at her was Margaux. The same bronze-gold hair, the same golden skin. She fingered the dark lashes around her eyes and smiled. Her skin still felt raw, but over the next few hours she knew that would ease. Satisfied with her transformation she went over to check on Margaux. Megan had extracted a sample of her own DNA and set a similar transformation orb over Margaux. She had not survived the procedure and as Megan looked down at her own image she felt a strange mixture of guilt and relief. She pulled the sheet up over Margaux's face and felt as though part of her had died as well. She turned and walked down a short hallway to a small ship that was ensconced in the bunker. Climbing into the pilot seat, she preprogrammed the coordinates, set the auto pilot/auto start, and attached a temporal device to her forehead. It was time to forget it all, hopefully forever, and begin a new life.

=/\==========ADDENDUM==========/\= The information that is to follow is for historical relevance only. No such records exist in StarFleet historical data or personnel files. Under no conditions would any member of the crew have access to this information or know the details therin. Megan watched her ship launch, and over the course of the next three hours the rest of the ships and personnel assigned to Lincoln Outpost. Melville would have been watching for her ship and if she knew him, he would be tracking it to make sure it arrived on Tibus VI. Well, the ship would get there, but there was no way Megan was going to be reclassified. Reclassified was a nice tactful way to say eliminated, and it would take someone far smarter that Melville to take her out of the game. She checked that the underground bunker was sealed and turned toward her comatose roommate, "I suppose it's time to get started," Megan said and then looked down again at the communiqué that Melville had sent to the Aries in an attempt to lure them back. "I wish I could meet you," she whispered wiping a tear from her eye, "to at least spare you your grief." Megan sighed deeply and then squared her shoulders. "What's done is done and there is nothing to do but move forward. Who knows, one day our paths may cross again." Megan picked up a small temporal attachment and placed it on Margaux and then placed a similar device on herself. Odd way to spell the name, Megan thought, as she turned the unit on. "Biographies and logs tell me much about you, but not enough, and in order to pull this off, I need to know everything." Every memory whether Margaux remembered it or not was taken from her mind and transferred to Megan. The procedure took almost six hours and when completed, Megan was pleasantly surprised. Usually such a procedure was so draining to the recipient that they were left immobile for hours or days later. However, there were no horrific or traumatic memories in girls past. "How fortunate you have been, Margaux." Megan could now bring up instantly the names of the parents, indeed the entire family, both Rogét and Moueix. Memories of her brothers pushing her on a swing in large backyard surrounded by crepe myrtles, and bougainvilleas, the azaleas all in bloom, and the parties! Birthdays and Christmas, but also Twelfth Night and Mardi Gras, Easter parties and summer bar-b-ques. She could remember her Coming Out party and the white dress she had worn, shimmery white satin with a dainty white bow, it's center knot covered with pearls, centered on an empire waist. A tiny coronet of pearls and diamonds sat atop her head. Megan sighed and removed the temporal device from both herself and Margaux. She really was a beautiful girl. Dark where Megan was fair. Megan had always thought of herself as pretty, but this girl was strikingly lovely. Her hair was a thick mass of bronze-gold that fell below her shoulders, and even though comatose her smooth skin glowed with pale gold undertones. Her face was a perfect oval, a long straight nose, full lips and lush dark lashes that swept down across high cheekbones. Margaux was tall like Megan, and her body was trim. From what she had learned, Margaux loved to swim and from her well defined shoulders it was clear that she was strong. She had a slim waist which flared into agilely rounded hips and down to long lithe thighs. Megan sighed again. It was clear from the last tests run on the Outpost that Margaux was never coming out of her coma, in an essence she was sparing the family in New Orleans the grief of burying their beloved daughter, but still she felt a stab of guilt at stealing this girls identity. Megan shook her head with frustration. "Why should I care? You're as good as dead anyway, and without you," she paused, "so am I." She squared her shoulders and returned to the task at hand. Taking of sample of Margaux's DNA she fed the information into a transformation orb. Without her cranial implant the procedure would be so excruciatingly painful there would be no way to survive, however; she did have the implant and she would survive. tbc...

=/\==========ADDENDUM==========/\= The information that is to follow is for historical relevance only. No such records exist in StarFleet historical data or personnel files. Under no conditions would any member of the crew have access to this information or know the details therin. Megan watched Atragon leave, feeling a heaviness in her heart she had never felt before. Never had she allowed herself to become involved with anyone for the sake of love alone. Never had she let her heart take wings as she had with him, and now they both would suffer for it. She desperately wanted to tell him where she was going, what she was doing. She let out a long sigh. It was impossible. In order for both of them to escape the horror of Promixa Centuri, the threatening menace of Melville she needed to set her plan into motion. "The security of the outpost has been compromised," Melville had said, as he remained seated at his desk, "All personnel have been reassigned. It will be your duty, Dr. Cummings, to see that the labs are destroyed, eliminating all evidence of our work here." He sneered over the word work, and Megan felt a small internal convulsion although her outward appearance remained unchanged. "You are to report to Tibus VI for debriefing and reclassification. I will, of course, be meeting you there." Megan nodded, leaving the room, waves of anger moving before her. The last place she would ever go was Tibus VI. Never trust anyone, her uncle had taught her, and as sure as the day was long she did not trust Melville. She packed up only the most essential of her belongings and left an encrypted message for Atragon, praying that it would be enough. Her lab coat and science officer's uniform she hung up and placed back into her closet, and slipped in the familiar black jumpsuit. She tied back her long red hair and silently made her way toward the medical treatment facility. It was sheer luck that a vessel transporting a college anthropology group stopped at the outpost. One of the students had taken ill and the vessel they were traveling on had very in the way of a sickbay. The young woman had stayed behind, in the care of the outpost's medical staff while the group she was with continued on. Megan had checked on her a few times, obtaining all the information she could about the girl. She strode into the hospital room and stood looking at the unconscious form. "Any changes, Dr. Miller?" Megan asked, looking over the girls' chart. "None. It is totally perplexing, however we will continue to search for answers." "That may be difficult," Megan responded matter-of-factly. "The Commander has ordered us to bug out. You have three hours. Waste your time and miss the transport and only death will await you." She fixed an icy stare on Dr. Miller willing him to question her orders. "The patient," his voice trailed off. "Is none of your concern. I will secure her transport back to Earth. I believe you a sizeable job ahead of you, Doctor. I wouldn't tarry." Megan turned and walked out of the room and began collecting the patient's belongings. She waited until Dr. Miller exited her room and then returned. "All right, Ms. Rogét, it seems that you and I will be getting very well acquainted over the next few days." Megan attached a communication device to the girls hospital gown. "Computer, Transport two to ship 143 Sierra Romeo, authorization Cummings Whiskey 979". The two women shimmered and then disappeared. No traces of them were to be found in the following catastrophe that overcome the Lincoln Outpost. tbc...

=/\==========ADDENDUM==========/\= The information that is to follow is for historical relevance only. No such records exist in StarFleet historical data or personnel files. Under no conditions would any member of the crew have access to this information or know the details therin. "¡El empujón! Empuje a mi ángel. ¡Puedo ver al bebé! ¡El EMPUJON!" Alejandra Francisca Poloma de Cortez looked up, sweat running into her eyes, as her brother cheered her on to push. The baby. HER baby. She couldn't wait to hold her precious bebé in her arms. Amedeo Carlos Diego de Cortez let out a whoop of joy as the tiny offspring slid into his hands. "She is beautiful, mi ángel, just like you!" He leaned forward placing the squalling newborn into it's mother's arms. Alejandra stared down at her first born and smiled. "Have you chosen a name?" Amedeo asked, caution in his voice. "I have, and do not fear, brother. Though she is as much Irish as she is Spanish, she will bear the de Cortez name. One day I will tell her of her father." Alejandra looked down again at her daughter and whispered, "mi querido hermoso." Alejandra refused to argue with her brother again about Kier Malcolm Cummings. He had left. That was his choice. Now she had a choice to make, "we shall call her, Mercedes Viviana Francisca de Cortez." ***** "Hurry Mercedes!" Amedeo called through the hallways of the large apartment he shared with his niece in Barcelona, "Hurry! It is time to leave! What is taking you so long?" He pushed open the door to her bedroom, and found her sitting on her bed, a picture frame in her hands. "Ah, mi ángel, tell me what is troubling you." Amedeo sat down, placing a comforting arm around his nieces shoulders. "Do we really have to leave, Tío? My only memories of Mama are here, and I'm afraid that once we leave I will stop remembering her." Mercedes looked down the picture she held. Alejandra was dressed in carnaval costume. Her black hair piled high and her eyes shining with merriment. "Someone has found out who you are, is that it? Her green eyes met his with a frank determination that was well beyond her eleven years. Amedeo looked down at his niece. "How would you know about that?" he asked, secretly pleased that she had come to conclusion on her own. After Alejandra had died, Amedeo had taken Mercedes to Special Operations Headquarters in Barcelona to have her abilities, if she possessed any, tested. She had a gift for linguistics, and already could speak Catalan, Spanish, Portuguese, French, Italian, and English. She also proved to have a very analytical mind and, if groomed properly, would be an excellent strategist and tactician. All of which could prove very useful in the future. "Tío? You didn't answer my question. Your cover has been," Mercedes groped for the right words, "exploded?" "Blown," mi querido, "blown." Amedeo's rich laughter filled the room. "And yes, my cover has been, blown and it is better if we left Barcelona for the time being. You will continue your studies of course, and soon I will begin to teach you all that I know so you will be prepared for your life in my world." ***** The villa were they had lived for the past ten years was as beautiful as they day they had arrived. Amedeo told her it was called Joya por el Mar, the Jewel by the Sea and as Mercedes stood on the beach of Sa Riera Aiguafreda, below the villa, it was easy to see how their home got its name. The white stucco facade, capped by dark pink clay tiles made it look like a giant pearl. She turned and settled herself down under a large umbrella, cursing again her fair skin. Mercedes was a Spaniard, but looked every bit like her Irish father. She had bright green eyes that were fringed with dark full lashes. Her creamy milk white skin was dotted with small freckles on her nose and shoulders. Her long straight nose and high cheekbones were reminiscent of her Viking ancestors. A small dust devil circled near to where she was seated causing her hair to blow across her eyes. Mercedes hair was her most striking feature. Her thick red-gold hair hung in long graceful curves over her shoulders. Absently, she pushed it back behind her ears and thought again of the life ahead of her. Amedeo stood on the terrace of the villa looking down at the beach where his niece lounged. His heart ached at the thought of losing her, but it was time. She had excelled in the small assignments given her and tomorrow she would forever cease to exist as his sobrina, his mi querido, his Mercedes. He felt his heart tighten and had to swallow back the tears that threatened to spill and he quietly cursed himself. He, Amedeo Carlos Diego de Cortez, one of the most powerful Black Operative Commanders in the history of Starfleet was standing on a villa terrace weeping over an agent, but in his heart she was not just an agent. She was family. ***** She stood in front of the mirror, moving her fingers through her hair looking for any traces of the surgery. The General, her uncle, and she thought wistfully of their tearful goodbye, had assured her that there would be no scaring and that the cranial implant would serve as asset to her in the years to come. "Are you ready, Megan?" Amedeo asked from the doorway. Mercedes' features had not been altered, but her fingerprints had been changed, as well a slight change to her retinal *fingerprint*, and a tag had been added to her DNA to alter it just enough that she could never be linked to her past life as Mercedes or to her Uncle. Her vocal cords had also been altered. She smiled at the use of her new name, Megan Siobhan Cummings. "I am ready, General." Gone was the Catalan accent that was native to her. Instead her voice was lower and carried a slight Irish lilt. She smiled. "I know that one day this voice will be as common to me as it was before, but for right now I feel like I'm listening to a stranger." Amedeo smiled and handed her a PADD. "Your assignment," He said quietly. "You are to be assigned to a man named Melville. I don't like him, but if I had changed the orders a connection between the two of us would have been established, and you don't need my enemies coming after you." Amedeo smiled. "I'm sure you'll make enough of your own, but this Melville character, watch your back with him." "Never trust anyone, isn't that the first lesson you taught me?" ***** tbc....

Name: Margaux Chéri Roget Species: Human Gender: Female Place of Birth: New Orleans, Louisiana, Earth DOB: 47607.22 Age: 35 Height: 1.80m (5'9") Weight: 68k (150lb) Hair: Blonde Eyes: Green Mother: Marie (Moueix) Roget Father: Jean-Michel Roget Siblings: Antony Roget, Partner, Roget/Moueix/Latour Jean-Pierre Roget, Partner, Roget/Moueix/Latour Louis Roget, Associate, Roget/Moueix/Latour Post: USS Manticore Rank: Lieutenant Commander Position: Security Officer/Tactical/Weapons Specialist Personality Profile: Margaux Roget is classified as Melancholy-Phlegmatic (Choleric): Perfectionist. She is a systematic, precise thinker and tends to follow procedure in both business and personal life. Extremely conscientious, she is painstaking in work which requires attention to detail and accuracy. Perfectionists will desire specifics on what is expected, how much time is required, and how the work will be evaluated. They can make major decisions but may be critizied for the time span they require. In particular, Perfectionists bog down in details in the decision-making process. Although they like to check out the opinion of their supervisors, Perfectionists do take risks when they have the facts and can intrepret and draw conclusions. Perfectionists want reassurance and personal attention. However, they have been reinforced early in life in terms of how well they do things, not for who they are. They tend to react to personal compliments with the thought, "I wonder what this person wants?!" Acceptance of sincere reinforcement for who they are can increase their self-confidence. --Dr. Phillip J. Moore StarFleet Mental Health =/\=====================Addendum===================/\= The information that is to follow is for historical relevance only. No such records exist in StarFleet historical data or personnel files. Under no conditions would any member of the crew have access to this information or know the details therin. tbc....

::dances to zydeco music, watching the Krewe du Vieux parade move down Decatur Street and yells:: That's what I want, Webmaster: "Throw Me Somethin' Mister!" ::catches a handful of beads and dances away::

Margaux smiled as she walked away from Kyle. It had been a long time, too long, since she had felt this way. Turning, she stepped into the nearest turbolift. "Shuttle Bay 2," she commanded, though her thoughts were once again distracted. Quietly, she entered the bay, a feeling of relief spreading over her, seeing that she had the bay to herself. Her heels clicked quietly on the deck as she slowly circled the Griffen. She wasn't sure what she was looking for, but her eyes scanned the hull critically, looking for anything out of the ordinary. As she rounded the starboard side, she was slightly surprised to see the crew door ajar. Pressing her ear close she could hear the familiar sounds of a tricorder. Squaring her shoulders, she pulled the door open and peered inside, Garnoopy was standing in the shuttle, holding his tricorder, listening to it scan, wondering what it would show. The silence was like a blanket, with only the tricorder's continual beeping breaking the quiet of the shuttle. He tapped the tricorder, let it resume the scans and let his mind to wander back to the disaster. Completely lost in thought, he stood there, holding the tricorder and staring at the blank panel. "I can't say that I'm at all surprised to find you here," Margaux said casually, leaning against the door opening. Startled the tricorder fell from Garnoopy's hands, clattering onto the floor. Margaux stooped down and picked up the tricorder, handing it back to him. "Looking for answers?" Nodding, Garnoopy slipped the tricorder back onto his waistband, and pulled out his PADD. With a slightly shaky hand, he tapped out, "I didn't think anyone else was here." He handed the PADD to Margaux, awaiting her response. Ducking her head, she stepped inside and looked down at the PADD, "I guess we were of the same thought. I could leave, if you would prefer to be alone." Garnoopy quickly tapped out his reply, "No, I don't mind." and showed the PADD to her. Looking around the shuttle, he let out a sigh, and typed out, "I haven't found anything yet." She nodded and moved to what was left of the command console. "Nor have I. I guess I'm here to exorcise the demons." He moved over to the engineering panel and tapped out, "It all started with the cloak. If I can figure out what I did wrong with that piece of the shuttle..." Margaux turned suddenly to face Garnoopy. "You did nothing wrong, Lt. Nothing." Blinking, he looked over at Margaux, a bit surprised. "I rebuilt it, I ran the diagnostics, I was the engineer, of course it's my fault. My equipment failed!" he rapidly tapped out. "No, you are not to blame. I've been over the mission logs, the maintenance logs. I can't remember the last time I slept for more than two hours, but you are not to blame for this Lt." Margaux shook her head sadly, staring at the spot where Precip's body had been ejected from the shuttle. Letting out a sigh, Garnoopy tapped "You asked me to make sure the cloak was online, and I gave the ok. If something was wrong with it, I should have noticed. There is no excuse for my oversight, though I can't find what it is." She rested her hip on the edge of broken console, "I can't make you feel any less responsible than I do, it's something we will live with, but in your situation Lt, I believe your sense of guilt and responsibility is misplaced." She raised her eyebrow at him, "You just said it yourself ... 'if'". An edge of frustration crept into his face "Then what happened? Why did it fail?" he tapped out on the PADD. "I don't know, " she said thrusting the PADD back toward him. "You don't think I feel frustration and anger? It was my mission, my team, and I'm the one that failed." She pulled the medal Atragon had given her and threw it on the floor, her hands shaking. Snatching the PADD back, he looked down at the medal, tapped a quick resposne and pushed the PADD back into her hands. "Apparently our CO disagrees with you on that point." "I'm an asset, Lt. Just as you are. Nothing more. A piece of property owned by the Federation. He's simply pleased that he didn't lose a senior pilot and his tactical officer. Nothing more." The bitterness crept more fully into her voice. Looking at Margaux face, he tapped out, "You act as those this isn't the first time." Her eyes filled with malice, "Pray you never have to go through it more than once, Lt. You are young and still full of a sense of nobleness. My nobleness was stripped away a long time ago." Curiosity filled his veins, and he tapped out "What happened?" Margaux held the PADD, looking down at the words, her knuckles going white, "More than you're ready to know." With a sudden flash of anger, she snapped the PADD into two pieces and handed it back to Garnoopy. He took the two pieces back and stared at them, mouth gaping. "Ask the Commodore if you're so curious about me." she turned on her heel and stalked out of the shuttle the waves of anger stemming from her almost tangible to Garnoopy. Looking up he watched her leave, feeling both surprised and startled. He sat down in the engineering chair, more questions filling his head. He wondered about the Commodore, and just what it was, that this man could have possibly done to Margaux. LtCmdr Margaux Rogét Lt Jg Garnoopy

"Quite the little piece of jewelry you got there," Kyle said quietly, a small smile playing on his face as he touched the medal that she'd been awarded by Atragon mere hours earlier. Suberence had since been properly stablised in sickbay, so Kyle had returned to the meeting room, hoping he'd find his love still there. He had, and the two shared a quick embrace before he remarked about the significance of the honor. The auditorium was completely empty, but for the two of them. He eased into the seat next to hers, laying his arm gently over Margaux's shoulder. "You want to tell me why you went white as a sheet when he got close to you?" "I don't know why, " she answered, her voice barely above a whisper. "...I've found a way to get us out of this hell, this rat maze that Melville has you in, us in. It will be all right, I promise. I love you. I promise.." The memory faded into the background as she turned slightly toward Kyle, her hand reaching up to brush his cheek. "Probably just doing too much too soon, that's all…Really," she persisted, seeing the doubt in his eyes. "I want to leave the past in the past. You are my present, and I hope part of my future." He smiled to himself. "A big part, if I have anything to do with it," he said, taking her by the hand and standing up. He searched her green eyes momentarily and gave her a warm smile. "I know there are parts of your life I may never know about; that you may not want me to know about." He paused for a moment, giving his next words added emphasis. "But I want you to know that you can tell me anything and it won't change how I feel about you." Margaux wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head against his chest. He stood silent for a few minutes, relishing the closeness they shared, even if it were new; even if it were a centuries-old feeling. Kyle broke the moment with a light kiss on her forehead. "Now, I believe we have a dinner date that's long overdue." He pulled her to arms length, once again finding himself lost in the depth of her beautiful green eyes. "I'm sure the Commodore will grant the newest recipient of the Medal of Valor a couple hours off…?" Margaux smiled up at him. "Just a couple of hours?" "We'll just have to play it by ear, eh?" he said, giving her what could have been perceived as a mischievous wink. They exited the auditorium. Margaux paused for a moment and said, "I have one stop to make before dinner. Meet you in an hour?" Kyle raised his eyebrows slightly then leaned down to kiss her. A smile played on his face as he nodded. "One hour, Ms. Rogét." As she began to move away, he called after her, playfulness exuding from his voice. "I don't like to be kept waiting..." LtCmdr Margaux Rogét Dr. Kyle Mele