The transporter beam around Millie fizzled away.  She was in a very sterile-looking room.  Obviously high end by the decor but everything was white.  Furniture, carpeting, everything.  The only thing that stood out was the woman standing in front of the door.

 

Six foot two, two hundred and thirty pounds, dressed in all black with her hair tied back in a ponytail.  Her crystal blue eyes were locked on Millie but she said not a word.

 

It took Millie just a second to register that she didn’t materialize where she intended to arrive. She spun, as if expecting to see more of the crew around her. Finding herself to be the sole member of her party, she turned on her heel and strode towards the other woman. “Where am I?” she demanded. “Where is the rest of my crew?”

 

The woman stared at Millie.

 

Millie’s hand flew to her combadge. “Stepanova to Captain Crow.” She was met with silence, and she tapped the badge again. “Stepanova to Moro.” Nothing. “Stepanova to Mercutio.” She finished closing the distance and started to step around the woman to reach for the door.

 

The woman watched her approach, and silently pointed to the couch, giving a stern silent order.

 

“Step aside and let me through.” Millie moved to step past her.

 

The woman didn’t move and was big enough to block the doorway.  Again she pointed to the couch.

 

Millie moved quickly, grabbing the woman by the outstretched arm. She used the woman’s size to her own advantage, pulling her off-balance.

 

The woman tumbled and rolled, regaining her footing.  Her face showed no emotion as she methodically stalked towards Millie.

 

Millie was quick, making a dash for the door.

 

The door would not open and then a hand grabbed the back of Millie’s neck in a vice, lifting her feet off the floor.

 

Millie gasped, feeling herself wrenched off her feet. She swung her leg out, striking the woman in the left knee as she swung an elbow up and into the woman’s cheekbone.

 

The woman staggered back half a step off balance but did not lose her grip.  She walked towards the couch and released her, dropping Millie onto the plush cushions.

 

Millie took a steadying breath, her elbow ringing out in pain. *Prophets, did she have a steel plate in her face?* She braced a hand against the sofa, kicking out to hit the same knee again.

 

Now the woman gave the faintest hint of annoyance, pushing down her open palm into Millie’s chest and pushing her into the couch.

 

Millie’s caught a glimmer out of the corner of her eyes. Her hand shot out, grabbing the neck of the delicate vase sitting on the side table. She swung, smashing the vase, flowers and all, into her captor’s face. She was going to get out of this room–and back to Evelyn and her daughter–or die trying.

 

The woman turned her head but did not relent in her pressure.  The skin on her left cheek was shredded by the vase, but no blood was showing, instead it was a bright green liquid of an oily consistency. 

 

“Who the hell are you?” Millie grasped the wrist of the hand holding her as she brought her boot to within reach of her right hand. She pulled the knife from its hidden sheath in her boot, slashing up at the inner arm that held her down before swinging back and burying the knife to the hilt in the shoulder of the same arm.

 

The blade dug deep until it snapped, more green fluid leaking from the wounds, but not an ounce of pain registered on the woman’s face, her eyes held an unblinking stare.

 

The sound of the door swishing was heard along with footsteps.

 

“Pang!  Release her.”

 

The woman straightened up, releasing the pressure on her chest.  She returned to her original spot by the door.

 

Millie pushed herself from her prone position on the couch, cradling her left elbow. “James–”

 

Nadall gave her a big smile.  “Good….” he looked to his wrist, “morning.”

 

“You need to take me back, James.” Millie steeled her jaw, trying to hide both her anger and her fear. “You can’t just take me in the middle of an away mission–”

 

He crossed to a mini bar, pouring two glasses. “This water is so rare that you can only get one bottle per year but it’s the best thing you’ve ever tasted.”  He walked to a chair next to the couch and put both glasses on a table.  “You’ve been hard to locate.”

 

Millie scowled, placing both hands in her lap, willing back the nausea from her pulsating elbow. “You’re supposed to make an appointment, not whiplash me out of a mission transport. This is inappropriate, James. We need to return me to my ship.”

 

“In time, there’s no hurry.  Let’s get that elbow looked at.  Pang…well…she’ll need a full reskinning.”  He drank his glass completely.

 

“They can look at my elbow in my ship’s sickbay.” Millie stood. “I have a family that will be concerned about my absence, and a crew that will be anxious to see me returned.”

 

“Please, sit…have a drink.”  James reached out gently grasping her forearm.  He steeled his eyes, putting his focus into persuasion.

 

“James, I–”

 

“Sit.”  It rolled off his tongue like a snake.

 

Millie’s lips parted, trying to formulate her next protest, but her tongue felt heavy. She tried to will her feet to move, her arm to pull away, but her body felt like it was lead in its response. She took a breath in, blinking.

 

He stood and moved closer, helping her down to the couch with a soft pressure.  “We have so much to talk about,” he said in a whisper.

 

Millie’s brow furrowed in confusion as she looked into his eyes. Her lips worked, as if trying to formulate words that she couldn’t articulate.

 

He leaned her back until she was reclined along the length of the couch, propping a knee on the edge.  “I don’t know if I’ve ever told you this, but you may have the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen.”

 

Millie’s breath slowed and she blinked again. She started to lift a hand, but it dropped to the cushion beside her head.

 

Outside, Marcy hustled down the corridor, a tablet in her hand.  Normally polite, she hurried past people, even once giving a slow walker a loud “Move!”  She reached the door took a deep breath.  This was either going to go great or….yea.

 

James leaned in more.  “You’re going to be very comfortable and very happy.  You’ll forget all about that ragtag little ship.”  His voice was soothing and convincing.

 

Millie’s brow furrowed for a brief moment before relaxing. Though there was a momentary waiver in her expression, she smiled.

 

That’s all he needed to see.  Settling a hand gently on her side he leaned in, his long hunt finally over.  

 

Then the door opened.

 

Marcy squeezed by Pang and moved to the couch, seeing them in their close position.  “No!”

 

James looked up.  “Marcy, get out.”

 

“You can’t kiss her!”

 

“Of course I can kiss her.”

 

“No, you don’t understand.”

 

“I understand you’re fired, so get out.”

 

“Sir…”

 

“Pang, get her out of here.”  

 

The large woman moved towards Marcy, scooping an arm around her waist and lifting her off the ground.

 

James leaned in again.

 

“She’s your daughter!”

 

He stopped cold.

 

Millie let out a desperate, gasping cry of agony. She took in a breath as if pulling herself out of a deep pool.

 

He was frozen.  “Say that again.”

 

Marcy sighed.  “She’s your daughter.”

 

“That can’t be.”

 

“I have the DNA composite to prove it.”

 

“Pang, down.”

 

Marcy was released, landing on her feet and thankfully not breaking a heel.

 

James looked down at Millie.

 

The moment he turned, Millie’s right fist connected solidly with his jaw. Her punch was desperate, as if she’d finally regained enough control of her body to release everything her mind had been battling to let out in one motion. Another agonizing cry left her body as her other hand pushed at his chest, putting distance between them–while sending a white-hot pain up through her elbow. She scrambled back on the sofa, gasping desperately for air.

 

He fell directly on his ass and put a hand to his jaw.  “Ow!  Who taught you to punch like that?!” a moment later he nodded to himself, knowing the answer.  “Stupid question.”

 

Marcy immediately moved to his side. “I know this all comes as a surprise.”

 

Millie’s hand instinctively reached to the hilt in her boot, now empty. An angry screech left her body, nearly rattling the crystals in the chandelier. “You—you—”

 

James pulled himself up to sit on the couch.  “Explain this.”

 

Marcy looked between them.  “Well, that’s a long story.”

 

“Make it short.”

 

“Okay, um, you went to see her at the ballet.  She made you agree to a girl’s day out, which was really fun.  So anyways, I knew you had obvious designs on her but I also know that your mother destests her people and I like her, she’s the only one who’s nice to me, so I didn’t want her to be eliminated.  I needed some proof to show you in black and white so I had the waiter at lunch switch glasses on her when he did a refill…” she looked at Millie, “Sorry about being so sneaky.  Anyways, I had some suspicions because a long time ago she seemed to share some qualities with allergies but the test was inconclusive.  So we got the glass and I had them run a test and she’s one quarter Synapsian.”

 

He looked at his assistant.  “You call that short?”

 

Millie cradled both arms against her chest, pressing herself as far to the other end of the couch as she could manage. She stared in James in disbelief. “You–you can’t be my father…”

 

Marcy flipped a ‘page’ on the tablet.  “Actually, his itinerary places him in Moscow about thirty-four years ago…that was before my time, naturally.”

 

He held his head in his hands, running his fingers through his hair.  “I don’t even know where to begin thinking about this.”  He looked to her at the other end of the couch. “I was in your country then, yes, but I was only there one day and night.  I had a sales meeting, was invited to your theatre, saw a show…” his tone went quiet, as another memory popped up.  “Oh.”

 

Millie swallowed hard. “Did you pull that little stunt on her, too? Trick her into complying?” Millie spat in his general direction. “You ruined her. You ruined her career.”

 

For the first time he had an expression of guilt.  “Do you know how old I am, in your years?”

 

“Does it matter?” Millie pulled her knees up to her chest, her body beginning to tremble and she shivered as if cold. “How many other w-women have you destroyed in the last 30-odd y-years?”

 

“In a way it does.  My father’s people age roughly a year per human decade. My mother being human, slowed that metabolism in myself and my sister to about half.  By your measurements, I’m almost two hundred years old.  So yes, in my life I have seduced many women with those means.  The ones who aren’t satisfied with wealth and power that is.”

 

Marcy gathered a white blanket and laid it across Millie. “We’ll fix this. Come on, let’s go get you looked at. I promise nothing bad is gonna happen.”

 

“I’ll uh, I’ll go with you.”

 

Marcy held up a hand.  “No, she and I will be fine.  I don’t think you’d be helpful right now.”

 

Normally he’d bark at her for giving him an order but her point was hard to argue by the looks of his….daughter.

 

Millie gave a whimper of pain as Marcy helped her to her feet. She looked almost vacant, her body shaking as she was guided away from the couch and past the hulking, oozing behemoth in the doorway.