Cynthia Alighieri Corporal Medical Specialist USS Chimera "The Unicorn" = Thirteen Years Ago = Salgar = Parapet Four The girl tied to a tree was crying so quietly that were it not for the water in her black eyes, no one would have known it. The ropes at her wrists and ankles were nylon and pulled together so tightly that her soft skin had already burned badly - and the Animals had not yet set fire to her. A fierce wind blew across the grim scene and tossed her wavy, raven hair about with careless anger. It would be pretty to imagine that the Thousand Gods were roaring about the injustice of this execution but that was not so. How could it be? Thousands upon thousands of innocents had perished on this world in the last fifty years and no leaf had stirred in protest, no thunder had sounded. A storm was coming but it was a mindless beast - and that was, in some way, as bad as the vigilante gang that had captured the young woman. At any rate, this much was certain - the gods had abandoned Parapet. In truth, no one carde about the crimes this fifteen-year-old healer had committed by undermining the Orions who ruled on this world. By smuggling food to other starving children, she had taken away from the pool of criminals that would form groups like the one she was now a captive of. They had only come in the hopes of sating their own lusts. Two of those whom she had helped stood before her as well, betraying and accusing and condemning her even as they saved themselves. And yet she would not have had it any other way. Just because there were no gods here did not mean there was no good on this world. It was, however, fading. And she, the last of the unicorns, was about to perish. She flinched in surprise as the cold liquid of fuel drenched her. A rancid smell spilled everywhere and even the raging wind could not disperse it. The flimsy, torn rags she had on clung to her now. Someone moaned with desire and called out to the gods. "Lets all take her once before we burn her." The Leader shook his head. "But *look* at her." "We do not have enough time." "Not like we'll be looking to get her off. Won't take long." Came the subdued mummers from the gathered mob. "Besides - there's enough room for three to go at once. And there are only five of us...." Laughter. Helpless tears of impotence, more scalding than any fire, scorched their way down the girl's fair, satin skin. "Burn her." A silence descended. Someone fumbled for a match. There was no time, no alternatives, no rules any longer. The knife she had been concealing flashed in her hand. And there was blood - so much blood.... = Crew Quarters = SB Bragg With a startled gasp, Cynthia Alighieri sat up in her bed. The beating of her heart slowed. The starlight that had been dancing on her slightly olive colored skin, highlighting the delicate bone structure of her lovely visage, allowed her midnight eyes to study her unfamiliar surroundings. Her mind began to find the thoughts of those around her. She looked at the stranger lying beside her and relaxed, remembering.... So much had changed. That day she had nearly been used - tonight she had used this man. It was different, of course - he had been more than willing. But the Betazoid knew that he already fancied himself in love with her, that he would no longer want the anonymity that she so prized. He would want to see her again. To touch her - to feel pleasure upon pleasure, rapture upon rapture. And she would have none of it. She had used him because she had wanted to feel alive. She would never see him again. So much changed. Loved changed. Lovemaking changed. That day, all those years ago, it had scared it. With her husband, Aryan, it had been sacred. And now it was nothing. Just animal lust that came, that faded. Only death was the same. It had always been the same. It followed her everywhere, she fought it, beat it off with science, with sheer will - and yet it came for her, always grim, always dark, always bleeding. No. Death had never changed. She had prevented it. She had caused it. And yet always it came for her, threatening - like Aryan had died, like her team from the Firebird.... For a few hours, with this stranger, she had forgotten about it. But it was there again, waiting.... He was awake as well. Smiling he ran a hand up her long, tapering legs, relishing the feeling of the smooth skin. "You are gorgeous." She said nothing. "This night - it was the best night of my life." He was not lying, she knew - he would not forget her and then in his mind it would grow into a myth, become perfect and always he would remember.... "So beautiful," he whispered, "So very beautiful." Cyn covered herself with a satin bed sheet and rose, wrapping it around herself as she sought her clothes. He was disappointed. "I'm sorry," she told him, "I have to go." And she did. Her new assignment as the Chimera. She had backed already but would have to shower, make the move, explore the ship and do everything else that one did when a new assignment came through. Yes. It was true. She had to go. It made her feel better that she was not lying. "At least tell me your name?" "No." "But - how will I find you?" "You won't." "Then we won't meet again?" His voice was forlorn. He wanted her. "No. I'm sorry." "No you aren't." It had been her first lie. He had seen it. She sighed. "You're right. I'm not. One night. That was all. I needed...this. It was fun." He cursed. Then said, "Damn straight it was. I won't forget you." "I know," she answered in a whispered that was sad. He closed his eyes and pretended to sleep. She let him have the illusion of thinking that she did not know how much he wanted to care. He was nothing. Merely a shadow seen through the veil of Isis. She dressed and left him. He never saw her again but always lived with the desire to and many years later, now an old man, he wondered once if he had dreamt it all for in his long life he had seldom seen such beauty, never known such rapture. No, he told himself, she had been real. As real - more real - than anything else. He smiled then at the thought of her and closed his aged, tired eyes. Death was waiting. = End Log