Not too long ago, in a galaxy not too far away were three inhabited planets and four others that could not sustain any life, all orbiting around a brilliant sun.

Of the three inhabited planets, the one farthest from the sun was called Ronak and was ruled by Walter Dunes, a former warmonger who 'repented' upon the death of his wife five years ago after a prolonged illness. The woman, Belinda, had been such a gentle soul that many had wondered how she and Walter had gotten together in the first place, let alone stayed together for twenty-five years. Before Belinda died she had made Walter promise that their only child would not grow up knowing only war.

True to his word, Walter gave up his war with their closest neighbor even though he was still convinced that he was in the right and the war had been necessary. His daughter, Nikita, had been nineteen when her mother died and well on her way in the ranks of her father's navy. Six months after Belinda's death a peace treaty was ratified.

While Nikita was happy that her father had ceased fighting and spent more time with her and his people, she nevertheless continued her training. She knew that their enemy agreed to the treaty merely because they had been losing and not because they wanted peace. Nikita did not believe that the war was truly over.

Walter had placed Nikita in charge of their armed forces after peace was declared. She had trained for this from an early age and Walter knew she was ready despite her young age. Those who had opposed the decision quickly learned how wrong they were and how good Nikita was.

While Ronak's navy was smaller than the combined forces of their neighboring enemy and their fleet of ships and single-man/woman fighters not as advanced, they had still held more than their own. The foot soldiers had been about even in number, but Ronak's superior air support had tilted the scales in their favor, thereby not allowing the enemy forces to advance. Nikita vowed that she would further improve the navy and make sure they were ready for the day their enemy decided they were sufficiently recovered to try again.

Walter's enemy were actually two separate rulers who shared a single planet named Tekonis. The planet was literally split in half and each of the two ruled their half of the planet. It was an agreement that went back generations and was one that neither of the current rulers' predecessors broke.

The older of the two co-rulers, Paul Wolfe was in his early fifties, a ruthless general who had overthrown his king fifteen years ago because the man did not want to go to war simply to gain more power. Paul ruled with an iron fist and was feared by his people much more than he was respected by them. His ultimate goal was to rule this solar system before expanding into the next one.

The younger co-ruler was Michael Samuelle, only thirty years old and already the ruler of his people for eleven years. The throne had been thrust upon him after the death of his father in battle on Ronak. Michael's father had led the army himself as had Walter his navy, they of the old school - never send in someone where you are unwilling to go. Walter's forces were as one, navy only. But the rulers of Tekonis believed in a separate army and navy. Witnesses said that it had been Walter himself that had killed Michael's father.

Michael did not even have the luxury of a mother to turn to for help for she had committed suicide upon learning of her husband's fate. She had left Michael all alone with two younger brothers (twins) to raise and a people to rule. Michael did the best that he could with his then seven year old brothers, Seymour and Jason, as well as with his people. The day that he was crowned Michael swore revenge on the man who had killed his father and destroyed his family.

That vow of revenge is what had forced Michael to join Paul in his war with Walter five years ago, just six years after his people's retreat upon their leader's death. Michael did not like or even trust Paul, but to get to Walter he made a pact with the devil next door. Michael was bitterly disappointed that their campaign resulted in a truce less than two years after it started, but the choice had been easy at the time. The tide had been turning in Walter's favor and Michael knew to keep going would be suicide. He resigned himself to biding his time, rebuilding his forces and exacting his revenge when they were stronger.

The third inhabited planet, Shulan, was ruled by a forty-something year old woman named Madeline Sands. She'd inherited the throne upon her husband Charles' death twelve years ago. There were some who suspected Madeline of slowly poisoning her husband, but nothing had ever been proven and those who initiated the rumors had mysteriously disappeared. Madeline was as power hungry as Paul. The difference was that Madeline was more patient, content to sit back and watch while her neighbors battled each other. Her plan was to wait until they destroyed each other and then move in for the kill.

It was now just about three years since the treaty was signed and Paul was ready to try again. He'd rebuilt his army and navy and came to Michael one warm spring night with plans of a sneak attack on Ronak.

This is where the story really begins.

********

"Father." Nikita took a nervous breath and called out.

"Yes?" Walter turned from the window he had been staring out of. The imminent battle was necessary for their continued survival, but that did not ease his pain at sending his daughter out to lead it. Walter knew he was too old and set in his ways to do it and that Nikita was ready but still, it was the most difficult decision he'd ever made.

"I need to speak with you about our upcoming offensive." Nikita answered. Their spy, in Paul's employ on Tekonis, had warned them of Paul and Michael's plans. Walter and Nikita had agreed that their best course of action was a pre imminent strike and were due to launch one in a few short hours.

"Second thoughts?" Walter inquired, surprised at the hesitant tone of her voice. Nikita was more than capable and it wasn't like her to doubt herself or her skills.

"No." Nikita quickly assured then took a deep calming breath before she continued, her voice steady. "I have neglected to tell you about the special training I, and nine others, have undertaken in the last two years."

"What training?" Walter asked. Since the peace treaty had been ratified Walter had left the navy in Nikita's hands. But he'd also left her advisors who were supposed to report any irregularities to him. What kind of special training was this and more importantly, why wasn't he aware of it? Walter didn't know that Nikita had commandeered those advisors' loyalties long ago.

"All our single fighters are capable of hyperspeed." Nikita began. "But we haven't used the technology in our previous battles with the Tekonians."

"Yes, of course." Walter nodded. "It's too dangerous. You'd have to use microsecond jumps, leaving no time to prepare for deceleration and any unexpected objects."

"I have been training with our nine best pilots and we're ready to prove that theory wrong."

"What?" Walter thundered. "Are you crazy?"

"Hear me out, father." Nikita beseeched. "Short, microsecond jumps in a seemingly random pattern would be nearly impossible to track. We've studied numerous maps and included the most updated ones in the on-board computers."

"Why?" Walter asked. "There's no need to take such risks."

"But there is." Nikita disagreed. "Since the peace accord both Paul and Michael have been rebuilding their armed forces. They've increased their numbers and modernized. They're better than last time and so is their technology."

"So are we." Walter argued.

"Not enough." Nikita countered. "Last time we merely drove them back. This time we have to defeat them decisively. With these short jumps we'll raise the odds in our favor. Pull up right on their fighters' tails. By the time they fire back we'll have made the next jump."

"What if the next jump is into a star or another ship?"

"We've had our best technicians working on this program for almost two years. We've been practicing and perfecting for a full year. It's the only way to ensure victory. The simulators concur."

"The simulators are merely machines..."

"That have been programmed by our best. The only way we can fail is if the Tekonians discover the pattern. But they don't have anyone that good." Nikita sighed. "I'm sorry I had to keep this from you."

"Why did you?" Walter asked.

"Because I knew you would never agree to me leading the squadron."

"I still don't." Walter stated. "You're the commander of the entire navy..."

"A navy which has its orders and knows what to do." Nikita interrupted. "My second in command will direct the rest of the forces. He's been trained and he's ready."

"Why put yourself in such a position?" Walter asked resignedly.

"You taught me never to send someone where I was unwilling to go." Nikita answered.

********

Nikita's plan was almost foolproof. There was just one problem with it, well two really. Seymour and Jason Samuelle.

Even before the twins had been old enough and tall enough to sit and comfortably reach a console they had spent almost every waking hour at one computer or another. If there was a lull in activity they simply played a game. Soon, communicating in a language seemingly only known to twins, they created their own games.

By the time they were twelve they had graduated to improving existing programs and systems. Less than a year after that they were creating rather than improving all the computerized systems. Between the two of them there was not a system on their half of the planet that was unfamiliar. Even Paul's systems weren't immune to the brothers' hacking and Paul's own computer genius was no match for the twins' hacking skills.

When the surprise attack from Ronak came Seymour and Jason went straight to systems in the command center while their older brother Michael went to lead their forces in battle.

Less than one hour after the first series of Nikita's special teams' microsecond jumps, Jason and Seymour found the pattern. They relayed their success to their brother who then told them to upload the information to their fighters' computers.

Only five of the ships were in Michael's airspace, the other five being in Paul's. As a courtesy to his ally, Michael informed Paul of their find and volunteered to upload the information to him as well. A grateful Paul told Michael that in exchange for his help, provided of course that they succeeded, Michael would have first crack at all the spoils of this battle. Of course, the offer sounded better than it actually was. Since the battle had been fought on their planet only, there wasn't much to divvy up except prisoners and if they were lucky, perhaps some salvageable technology off the Ronakanite ships and ground vehicles that hadn't been completely destroyed..

Soon all but one of Nikita's team were successfully targeted and destroyed. Whether by sheer luck or intuition, Nikita swerved at the last moment and avoided a direct hit. She was able to eject before her ship crashed somewhere in Paul's territory.

With their main air support decimated, Walter's forces were steadily beaten back and Ronak's leader had no choice but to order a retreat. Walter did not know that Nikita survived the crash and believed her dead along with the rest of her team. Her ship's computer had malfunctioned as soon as it was hit and the pilot ejection did not register in the command center back on Ronak.

A devastated Walter secluded himself in his chambers after he left the 'cleanup duties' in the care of Marco O'Brien, Nikita's second in command. For the first time since his wife's death Walter cried. When he saw that O'Brien had things as under control as they could be, he proceeded to get drunk, something he hadn't done since before he'd met his late wife.

********

"The prisoners have arrived, sir." Paul Wolfe's son and right hand man announced. Steven only addressed him 'father' in private. They had collected Ronak's surviving soldiers throughout the various parts of Tekonis that were under Paul's rule. Michael's people had done the same on their half the planet.

Paul, Michael, Seymour and Jason were in one of the larger hangar bays of Paul's military compound/command center, thirty miles from his palatial home. Paul had kept the two separate because he didn't want his home destroyed in the event his command center was targeted.

They were going over the remains of the various ships and vehicles to see what was salvageable. As Paul had promised, Michael had first crack at anything he wanted. Seymour and Jason were, of course, advising their brother on the technological worth of everything inside the hangar.

Paul's losses were heavier than Michael's but still far less than they would have been if not for Michael's information. One of the reasons Michael had sustained less damage than Paul was because his command center and military compounds were on the grounds of his palace. It made for instant access and quicker readiness.

"Good." Paul nodded. "Take them to the dungeon and prepare them for inspection."

"Inspection?" Steven Wolfe asked, surprised. Standard policy was to throw them in the dungeon for a week with a very limited supply of bread and water. Only after the week was up did the inspection come.

The policy was a good way of measuring their captives. If they were *too* defiant even after a week that meant that they were too difficult to break and could never be trusted even if broken. If they were *too* pliant after a week that meant that they were useless for anything except perhaps the most menial of tasks. Paul was very good at reading his prisoners and was rarely wrong about their potential, or lack thereof.

"Yes." Paul answered. "Michael has first choice."

Nikita Dunes was one of the prisoners brought in for inspection. She was easily recognized and made no attempts to hide herself, her attitude defiant. Paul would have liked to keep her for himself and had he known ahead of time she was one of the prisoners of war, he would have told his son to separate her. Paul grimaced inwardly in disappointment, the boy simply wasn't sharp or ruthless enough.

Michael recognized Nikita immediately as well. Finally, revenge was his. He may not have been able to get to Walter, the man who had killed his father and destroyed his family, but standing not fifteen in front of him was something even better. An eye for an eye, Michael had vowed eleven years ago.

Walter's daughter for Michael's father.

By nightfall, Michael was ready to head back for home. He had sent his second, Chris Davenport, home earlier with the two dozen or so prisoners that he had chosen from Paul's 'collection. Nikita had been included in that mix. No reason to hurry, his vengeance had waited eleven years, another night wouldn't matter. Better even, let her worry about her fate for a bit. Michael had given Davenport strict instructions to separate Nikita. The rest were to be treated as Michael's prisoners usually were.

Paul was sorry to see Nikita go but he knew Michael would not allow her to stay. 'The man *was* entitled to his revenge.' Paul mused, contenting himself with the knowledge that she would soon be dead, leaving an aging Walter no heirs.

Seymour and Jason had finally finished directing traffic as to what to take and what not to take. Apart from a few loud "watch it, it's fragile" or variations of the same, they had behaved well. They'd even shared some discoveries with Paul's technological expert Greg Hillinger. Of course that exchange was filled with as many insults flying back and forth as information...

"I was thinking." Paul commented as he was leading Michael and his brothers to the hanger where Michael's private ship was docked. "Nikita must have a lot of useful information..."

"No. She's mine." Michael forestalled Paul forcefully. He was well aware of Paul's 'interrogation' techniques, the older man having crossed lines that Michael never would. While he *may* have enjoyed watching his father's murderer undergo such interrogation, Michael had no desire to watch anyone else, not even his sworn enemy's flesh and blood, go through it. Besides, he didn't want any information from Nikita, just her blood.

********

Michael awoke to darkness from a restless slumber. He'd been weighed down by nightmares all night and finally gave up on sleep. The nightmares were a variation of the same ones plaguing him for the last eleven years, ever since the nineteen year old boy had been forced to grow up overnight. He sat up in bed and decided to exorcise his demons now and then perhaps he'd finally find peace again.

Michael made his way to his seldom used prison located underneath the palace. In the old days it had been referred to as a dungeon but those times had long since passed. Michael had modernized the dungeon after moving the various prisoners to a new prison elsewhere, away from the population. He'd modernized with the hope of someday using it on Walter, but had given up on that idea years ago. Instead the dungeon had remained empty.

Michael encountered no one but his guards along the way, the hour still too early even for the morning shift to stir. Like Michael, the old dungeon's lone occupant wasn't sleeping either.

Nikita herself had been up all night. Nobody had spoken a word to her, not the men who'd brought her here or the servants who'd brought her what she assumed was her last meal. She knew she was going to be tortured and killed in the morning but there was something she needed to know first.

Although she hadn't heard Michael's quiet footfalls, Nikita sensed she was no longer alone. Turning around she came face to face with her executioner coming slowly down the steps of the remodeled dungeon.

"Where are my people?" Nikita asked before Michael had made it completely down the steps.

"What?" Michael blinked in surprise. *That* was her first question?

"There were twenty two others." Nikita repeated impatiently. "Where are they?"

"Why?"

"You don't have to kill them. My father will pay you whatever you want for their safe return." Nikita answered. When Michael remained silent and unmoving she added, "Please."

"No." Michael finally replied.

"What are you going to do with them?" Nikita persisted.

"That's none of your concern." Michael evaded.

"They're my people." Nikita countered. "I need to know what's going to happen to them."

"They're safe." Michael relented a bit.

"Safe from what?" Nikita asked confused.

"Paul Wolfe."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Paul has a tendency to...discard...those he believes will be too much trouble." Michael replied. He'd deliberately taken those who he thought Paul would consider too much trouble to 'rehabilitate' in one way or another.

"But *you* won't 'discard' them." An unbelieving Nikita snorted.

"Believe what you will. It doesn't matter." Michael returned then asked a question of his own. "Why haven't you asked about your own fate?"

"I already know the answer to that." Nikita replied. "I know who you are and I know you've been seeking revenge against my father for over ten years."

"Do you know what for?" Michael asked.

"For defeating your father in battle."

"Is that what you've been told?"

"Yeah." Nikita replied. "Why? Is it not true?"

"Close enough." Michael sighed, not wanting to go into details she wouldn't believe anyway in the shord she had left to live.

"Before you take your revenge may I send a message to my father?" Nikita asked, having already accepted her fate. She would not give him the satisfaction of begging for her life.

"A last request?" Michael asked, somewhat amused despite himself.

Before Nikita could reply the door to the prison opened from the outside and footsteps were heard coming down the steps.

"Michael." Chris Davenport greeted deferentially.

"Yes?" Michael inquired, surprised that his chief of staff was up this early.

"A moment?" Davenport glanced furtively at Nikita. "In private?"

"Of course." Michael replied and walked upstairs, Davenport following. Nikita heard nothing of their conversation as they had waited for the door to her prison to slam shut before speaking.

Five minutes later Michael came purposely back down the stairs, his anger evident in his steps. Without saying a word Michael strode over to Nikita, grabbed her arm to turn her around and with his other hand reached up and pulled out several locks of her hair. By the time Nikita recovered from her shock enough to pull away and open her mouth in protest, Michael was already climbing back up the stairs.

Nikita was left alone for the next two hours. When Michael returned he was in control of his emotions again.

"What was that all about?" Nikita demanded angrily.

"Your father is as arrogant as ever. Even in defeat he had 'demands.'" Michael sighed.

"What does that have to do with pulling my hair out?"

"That was proof of your capture and subsequent death. A merchant ship has already left with it as well as my answer to his demands." Michael replied, his anger rising again at Walter's audacity. "There will be no message, no last request."

"What were the demands?" Nikita asked.

"Return those of his people I had not yet had killed."

"Even if you did not have the rest of our people killed, my father has no way of knowing that." Nikita defended. "Why should he think you any less brutal than your ally? After all..."

"Enough." Michael cut her off. "Follow me."

"To where?"

"There's nowhere to run to. Don't waste my time trying." Michael avoided the question.

Knowing that Michael was probably right and any attempts to escape or cause damage would most certainly result in the other prisoners' being punished anyway, Nikita followed silently behind. On the way to wherever it was they were going Nikita sorted out her final thoughts.

Up the stairs and through two corridors brought them to a sterile room, empty save for a door on the opposite side, cameras mounted in each corner and a cursory examination table in the center. Standing next to the table was a woman in a white coat, holding an old fashioned syringe (rather than the modern day hypo-spray) filled to capacity with an amber liquid.

"You won't feel any pain." Michael turned back towards Nikita. "Be grateful you will not suffer the excruciating death I had planned for your father." He finished quietly then walked over to the adjoining observation room.

Her head held high, Nikita walked over to the table and lay down gracefully. Saying a silent goodbye to her father, Nikita closed her eyes as the amber liquid was injected into her arm. Her last conscious thought was that at least she would soon be joining her mother.

********

Davenport stood outside the door waiting. Of all the tasks that Michael had assigned him over the years this was certainly one of the most 'unusual.' As soon as he heard movement inside the guest chambers he went inside without knocking.

"Good evening." Davenport greeted the figure gingerly sitting up on the bed.

"Where am I?" A still groggy Nikita asked. "Wait a minute, I know you. You're...."

"Chris Davenport." He supplied when Nikita faltered.

"Right. So I guess that means I'm not dead." Nikita stated the obvious. "Why?"

"Lucky for you Michael couldn't go through with taking his revenge out on you, well deserved as it may be." Davenport answered with a hint of resentment "He had the physician inject an antidote before the effects had become irreversible."

"He's letting me go?" Nikita asked incredulously.

"No."

"Then what?"

"You will remain here." Davenport replied.

"For how long?"

"Indefinitely."

"As a prisoner?"

"No." Davenport answered. "You will be confined to the palace and the surrounding grounds."

"Can I at least speak to my father?"

"Your father believes you dead." Davenport returned. "That won't change. He will continue to believe so until his dying day."

"It won't work." Nikita argued. "Someone will see me and report back to my father."

"Everyone here is loyal to Michael." Davenport countered. "No one will report your existence."

"Everyone? *All* the servants? *All* the soldiers?" Nikita snorted scornfully.

"Of course." Davenport replied. "Why else would anyone remain here?"

"Duress." Nikita replied. More than a fair amount of Tekonian refugees made their new home on Ronak over the years. Many of them had told of the atrocious oppression they had suffered.

"Duress?" Davenport smirked. "All the 'servants' here collect fair wages and our armed forces are strictly voluntary, also subject to good wages. Believe me, no one in his employ will betray Michael to *anyone,* let alone Walter Dunes."

"Yeah, right." Nikita returned dubiously. "I've talked to former Tekonians on Ronak. Their version of life here vastly differs from yours."

"Were these people living under Michael or Paul's rule?" Davenport asked.

"I-I don't know." Nikita admitted.

"Thought so." Davenport sighed. "Look, all you need to know is that there is no escape and if you try anything there will be consequences."

"Like what?" Nikita asked defiantly. "You'll kill me?"

"No. Not you." Davenport went on to deflate Nikita's sails. "Just those of your people still on Tekonis."

********

During the first month of her imprisonment Nikita learned a great deal about her captors, much of it surprising. Tekonians, on this part of the planet at least, weren't very different than her own people back on Ronak.

Nikita was still regarded warily by some of the people she came into contact with in the palace and the surrounding grounds. Davenport had told her that she was free to 'roam' around but he hadn't told her that upon leaving the palace gates she would be shadowed by two armed guards. It had been disconcerting at first, but Nikita had grown used to it.

Nikita had seen Davenport a few times as well as Seymour and Jason. The two brothers still gave her a wide berth and furtive, wary glances when they passed her but Nikita didn't hold her predicament against them. They were only children when their older brother had begun his crusade against her father and weren't responsible for the bloodshed Michael had wrought in his crusade.

Although outwardly accepting, Nikita had no intentions of remaining on Tekonis indefinitely. She had already befriended several of the palatial staff with her surprisingly affable behavior and was beginning to do the same with some of the Tekonian soldiers, albeit on a much smaller scale. Most of them still viewed her as the enemy, but there were a few, very few, willing to give her the benefit of the doubt.

Nikita planned on cultivating these friendships for as long as it took to find someone willing to help her escape. If it was just herself it would have been a lot easier, but Nikita had no doubt that Michael would, as promised, take her escape out on the Ronakanites imprisoned here. Nikita wasn't about to run and leave her people behind to face Michael's wrath so she had to find a way to get them out, too.

Late one night Nikita couldn't sleep and decided to take a stroll in the gardens in the back of the palace. On her way out through the long, twisting corridors of the palace, Nikita reflected on the oddity that the one person she hadn't seen since she woke up in her chambers was her 'host.' Granted, the palace *was* huge, but still, you'd think she would have at least caught a glimpse of the man responsible for her 'confinement.' Although she had questions for Michael, Nikita wasn't about to seek *him* out. She was still rather angry, despite the cordial and fair treatment she had been receiving and had a few choice words for the man besides the myriad of questions she wanted answered.

Almost as if the mere thought of the man had conjured him up, Nikita rounded a corner and bumped right into Michael.

His thoughts on the training exercises later this morning, Michael wasn't paying attention to his surroundings. A dangerous practice, but one he indulged in very rarely and *only* in the safety of his palace walls. Besides, it was very late and he didn't expect anyone except the nightwatch to be up, let alone strolling about.

When he bumped into someone, Michael automatically reached out to steady them, already apologizing. It took him only a moment to realize who he'd bumped into and when he did, he dropped his arms immediately. If he hadn't wanted to extricate himself from Nikita in the first place, the look on her face when she realized it was him would have convinced him, bringing to mind the phrase 'if looks could kill...'

"Well, well, well." Nikita found her voice first. "And here I was beginning to think you might have been dead and nobody wanted to tell me."

"Sorry to disappoint you." Michael replied icily, matching his demeanor to Nikita's.

"Yeah, well a girl can still hope. Maybe if I wish hard enough"

"If that's all?" Michael began, hoping to get away before his anger got the better of him. It had been war and her side lost. Nikita should be grateful she was not only still alive but treated well.

"Not even close." Nikita blocked his path. "Why have you been avoiding me? Guilt?"

"No." Michael denied. "I have nothing to feel guilty about. You're being treated better than the daughter of Walter Dunes deserves."

"You can't keep me here forever."

"Your father is an old man and grief is already aging him further." Michael returned. "Maybe *his* guilt at losing his only child in a war he started will hasten his death even further."

"That was a pre imminent strike and you know it." Nikita retorted angrily.

"Perhaps." Michael admitted. "But your father started this war a long time ago and it's time he paid."

"Revisionist history? Your father died in a battle that he himself started." Nikita argued.

"Do you even know the origins of the war?" Michael asked, his green eyes flashing momentarily in anger. "Never mind. It doesn't matter."

"No, it doesn't." Nikita agreed. "Neither one of us was a part of it. So why do this? Let me go and I swear there will be no retaliation or attack against you as long as you reign." She cajoled, no qualms about lying if it meant her freedom.

"No." Michael returned adamantly. "You're not suffering, you're living in luxury. Be grateful for it."

"May I at least send a message?" Nikita asked. She could see the resolve in Michael's eyes and demeanor and knew she had to bide her time. But Nikita had to somehow let her father know she was alive. She didn't doubt what her father must be going through, believing that he had sent her to her death.

"I told you already..." Michael started.

"You could say I recorded it before..." Nikita interrupted.

"One message was sent already. There will be no more."

"What did you say?" Nikita asked.

"I told him we are even now. Our war is over."

"Why?" Nikita asked, tears pooling despite her vow to be strong. "Over a decade has passed. Why can't you let it go?"

"He destroyed my family, I destroyed his peace of mind." Michael replied. "Let him finally live with the consequences of his actions."

"You're every bit as malevolent as I'd always believed." Nikita spat.

"Good." Michael replied and strode away, leaving a fuming Nikita in his wake.

********

Things didn't get any friendlier between Michael and Nikita over the next several months and they didn't see much of each other either. When they did, neither one said anything to the other, merely glared. The temperature in the room though always seemed to drop significantly whenever they happened to be in the same room.

The reason Michael was hardly ever around was not because of Nikita, or at least not for the reasons she thought. Truthfully, he'd been busy reorganizing his armed forces. Nikita had found this out one day while she was out. She had taken to walking the grounds every day to relieve her boredom and had tried to take different paths to vary the routine. Of course, her 'shadows' always went with her.

On this particular day, Nikita had chosen to walk near the command center and happened upon a familiar face.

"Chuck?" Nikita asked, shock written all over her face.

"Nikita." Chuck greeted in return.

"I thought you died in battle." Nikita recovered enough to remark Chuck was one of their best pilots, shot down over Tekonis five years ago. Now here he was not only alive and well, but seemingly a free man on their enemy's planet. "What happened?"

"I was injured. Actually quite seriously." Chuck explained. "Look, I was just headed out for a late lunch. Why don't you join me and we'll talk?"

"Where?" Nikita asked.

"In the cafeteria." Chuck nodded over to the building he was headed for.

"I'm not the most welcome person here." Nikita hesitated.

"Nonsense." Chuck shrugged her hesitation off. "You're with me."

"That's another thing. Why are you running around free?" Nikita persisted.

"Like I said, I'll explain as much as I can." Chuck returned. "Now, come on, I didn't have any breakfast and I'm starving." Chuck insisted then added upon her continued frown, "Don't worry there's hardly anyone there at this hour."

"Okay." Nikita relented.

"Good."

Chuck led the way inside and discreetly motioned to Nikita's guards to give them some privacy. The guards consented and sat a few tables away, out of earshot, in the nearly empty cafeteria. When Nikita and Chuck had sat down, the few pairs of eyes in the room turned toward them. However, once they recognized Nikita's table companion, most just nodded to Chuck and turned back to their meals.

********

"So, where do you want to start?" Chuck asked once they'd finished their meal. After they'd sat down Chuck had insisted on waiting until after they'd eaten to talk, he *was* starving, after all.

"How about the beginning?" Nikita asked. She was still stunned and very much confused about Chuck's seeming equality among Tekonians.

"Alright then." Chuck sighed and began his tale. "As you know I was shot down five years ago. I told you I was injured." Nikita nodded and Chuck continued. "Well, the injury was pretty bad. I woke up in the medical facility after nearly a week and it still took months of rehabilitation for me to even walk."

"That still doesn't explain..." Nikita began.

"Patience, please." Chuck interrupted with a grin. "That never was one of you virtues, glad to see some things haven't changed."

"Please." Nikita beseeched, this wasn't the time for levity.

"Okay, okay." Chuck sobered. "Anyway, after I was awake for a day and no one had come to interrogate me I started to wonder and wait for the inevitable. Finally when I was feeling somewhat human one of Michael's people, Davenport, came to see me. I figured there it was, better prepare myself but..." Chuck trailed off, momentarily lost in the memory that ultimately changed his life.

"But..." Nikita prodded impatiently after a few moments of silence.

"But there was no interrogation." Chuck finally continued. "I mean sure, there were questions but nothing like I'd expected. No 'talk or die.' Then in the end all he said was it looked like I was going to be fine and we'd talk more after rehab."

"Really?" Nikita was skeptical.

"Shocking isn't it? It certainly was to me." Chuck stated. "Actually when I was starting to walk again, Davenport came back around and I asked him why they bothered to waste their resources patching up the enemy. I mean I hadn't given them anything useful in all the time I'd been there and they knew I certainly had no intention of telling them anything useful then either."

"I don't suppose they did it to prepare you for intense interrogation." Nikita sighed.

"No." Chuck smiled. "After I'd recovered they shipped me off to prison. But even that wasn't so bad. It was separate from the civilian population and the guards were all former military. There weren't even any sneers cast our way, let alone anything worse. Sure we were the other side, but they respected the fact that we fought for what we believed in, just like they did."

"So how did you get out?" Nikita's curiosity was piqued.

"I started asking questions. I still couldn't understand why they didn't just let me die, why bother with me in the first place, you know? There were also others they could have extracted information from if that was all they wanted. Plus the relative easy life in prison even though I gave up no information? None of that sounded like the actions of any 'bad guys' I'd ever heard about. So, I started looking around me, *really* looking and asking questions." Chuck paused and took a sip of the green beverage in front of him.

"What kind of questions?" Nikita asked.

"The most foremost was why, but all kinds, really. I also started talking to the guards and found out some of the history between our planets that I hadn't known about before." Chuck paused. "Anyway, one day out of the blue, about ten months after my internment, Davenport shows up again with another man behind him and asks me to come with them."

"Asks?"

"Well, yeah. Of course, I don't know that 'no' would have been an option..." Chuck grinned. "They led me outside and Davenport remained behind while the two of us went for a walk, alone."

"Who was it?" Nikita asked, even though she was fairly sure of the answer.

"Michael." Chuck answered. "He introduced himself as we started walking."

"Alone? No guards? Just like that?"

"That's what I thought at the time, too." Chuck paused. "But let me tell you something, from what I've seen since he would have been able to defend himself fine even if I had wanted to try something."

"So what did he want?" Nikita asked then stated knowingly, "Information."

"Not exactly. He wanted to know if I'd be willing to help train their pilots." Chuck explained. "Michael said there would be no repercussions for saying no, but if I said yes, I would have much more freedom and I'd eventually be released if I proved to be trustworthy."

"You said yes to the enemy?" Nikita asked incredulously.

"I said no." Chuck grinned again. "I wanted to see if Michael was a man of his word."

"What do you mean?"

"He said no repercussions and I wanted to see if that was the truth."

"Was it?"

"Oh yeah. Nothing had changed after I said no." Chuck answered. "No privileges had been taken away, I wasn't locked up in solitary or beaten into submission like you're probably thinking."

"But in the end you changed sides."

"Yeah." Chuck confirmed. "Funny thing is Michael offered me the chance to go home after I'd kept my part of the deal. But by then I didn't want to. I'd made a life for myself here and I was, still am, happy with it."

"But you betrayed your own people to establish yourself here."

"You would see it that way." Chuck sighed. "Look Nikita, there's a lot you don't know. It's why I haven't come by to see you. I didn't think you'd be willing to listen to things that would skew a lot of what you thought you knew. Ask your father one day about the origins of the war."

"Ask my father?" Nikita echoed her bitterness obscuring Chuck's inference. "Thanks to your new friends I'll never see him again."

"Michael will let you go." Chuck argued. "He's a good guy, he's just angry but he won't be able to keep you for long."

"Really? I find that hard to believe."

"It's hectic right now with the final stages of the restructuring and all. But when things calm down a bit and he has a chance to think about what he's done, he *will* reconsider. You'll see."

********

The next time Nikita ran into Michael was again by accident. She was exiting the holodeck as he was about to enter. Nikita had decided to visit her homeland. Although it was painful to visit the lifelike recreation Nikita felt the need to do it every once in a while. Whenever she felt the least bit comfortable with her surroundings Nikita went to the holodeck to strengthen her resolve to get home by whatever means necessary. To her consternation, Nikita found that the need for these visits was increasing with every passing week.

Michael for his part, was about to use the holodeck for a workout. His brothers had programmed the holograms to match Michael's skill levels in the various types of combat he used to stay sharp. The need for holograms arose when one too many sparring partners went down with injuries.

This particular day had been a difficult one for Michael and he had come to the holodeck to let off some steam with one-on-one unarmed combat. 'Bumping' into Nikita now was the last thing he needed, especially given the scowl on her face and the fierce determination radiating from her body language.

Unbeknownst to Michael, Nikita's countenance was due to anger at herself more than at him. Michael had come to the holodeck dressed in his regular workout gear, black drawstring pants and tight black sleeveless t-shirt.

Nikita, who'd never seen her captor in anything quite so...casual, had unconsciously reacted to the man rather than to the actual person. Anger at herself for *that* reaction is what had brought the scowl to her face and an answering tired sigh from a physically and emotionally drained Michael. He'd come here after a long hard day and the last thing he needed was a confrontation.

Covering her embarrassment with the only weapon she has at her disposal, Nikita opened her mouth and spoke the first thing that came to mind. "You can't keep me here. I want to go home."

"Forget it." Michael answered, the weariness in his features suddenly dissolving into the blank mask his friends and foes alike knew so well.

"Why does everybody call you Michael?" Nikita asked out of the blue. Truthfully, the question had been in the back of her mind for a while and now seemed a good time as any to ask. She would *not* think about the reason for her desire to prolong the conversation any way she could without further alienating the man standing before her.

"What?" Michael asked, his confusion at the abrupt change of conversation evident in his features.

"Everyone refers to you by name."

"As opposed to?"

"Your title."

"You're upset that no one calls you Princess?" Michael asked amusedly.

"No, of course not." Nikita frowned. No one called her that even in her own homeland. "What I mean is that none of your...subordinates even calls you 'sir.'"

"A lot of my 'subordinates' are older than I am. And even if they weren't, I never liked titles of any kind. I prefer to be spoken to as a person rather than a title."

"What are you restructuring?" Nikita once again shifted the conversation abruptly while she thought over Michael's seemingly sincere explanation.

"Restructuring?" Michael asked, again baffled by the rapid shift of conversation.

"I keep hearing that you...you've all been busy restructuring."

"Our armed forces." Michael supplied, missing Nikita's slip of singular versus plural as he was too busy willing himself not to get captivated by her azure eyes and for once open and approachable demeanor. "We're combining them." He answered, realizing his mistake too late.

"Like us." Nikita finished bitterly, the glimmer fading from her eyes as she was unceremoniously reminded of her circumstances, and turned and stalked away, Michael watching her retreating figure with an inscrutable expression on his face.

After Nikita walked angrily away Michael mentally berated himself for ruining what had been an almost amiable conversation. As quickly as the criticism of his actions entered his mind, they vanished in the face of his anger at himself for caring about the hurt he'd seen in Nikita's eyes before she walked away.

Not liking at all where his thoughts were going, Michael keyed in some programming codes into the holodeck after checking to see where Nikita had 'gone' in her time on the holodeck. Michael ruthlessly shoved aside the pang of regret he felt when he saw that it was her homeland that Nikita had 'traveled' to. Considering that he felt justified in his actions, Michael was having a hard time keeping the guilt at bay.

Angry at himself for the seeming compassion he had started feeling for his enemy, Michael almost visibly shook off everything and forced his mind to clear in preparation for the one on one unarmed combat he'd programmed in.

Less than fifteen minutes later Michael shut down the program in frustration. He'd been distracted early and his holographic opponent had taken full advantage. Michael gave up on sparring and instead programmed in a solitary program.

A heavy bag appeared in the middle of the room suspended from a chain in the suddenly lower ceiling. A bench with a pair of fingerless gloves, a towel and a bottle of water laying on it followed nearby. Michael slipped on the gloves and willed himself to concentrate on his routine.

Just a couple of dozen kicks, jabs and punches later Michael's concentration began to slip again.

Michael's thoughts were a jumbled mess and his temples were pounding. The day had been long and arduous and the conversation, if you could even call it that, with Nikita had made things worse.

His day had started to go bad early. In the morning he'd met with Chuck to discuss their pilots' progress. As they were winding down Chuck brought up his former rulers. Specifically, he wanted to know when Michael was finally going to release Nikita and let go of the past.

After Michael answered with an angry and vehement "never" Chuck just looked at him askance and said he thought Michael was better than that. 'Besides,' Chuck had had the audacity to ask, 'Nikita really wasn't such a bad person was she?' Chuck had also thought to himself that Walter wasn't such a bad person after all, either. The older man had changed over the years, and for the better. But knowing how *that* comment would have gone over, Chuck wisely refrained from voicing his opinion on Walter Dunes.

At the time Michael had shrugged off the other man's comments. Chuck was an old friend of Nikita's and his perception was therefore skewed. After a brief lull following his conversation with Chuck Michael's day got progressively worse.

Just after lunch he met with Davenport and several other key members of his staff and trusted advisors. After the meeting Davenport had quietly pulled him aside and asked him what his intentions were with Ronak now that they were back at optimum strength.

When prodded, Davenport confirmed Michael's suspicions as to the state of mind of many of his staff. They had begun to feel that perhaps it was time to move on and cease the generation long war with Ronak. They knew he'd sent a message to Ronak saying that in Michael's eyes the war was over, they were even. Maybe they should just let it go at that.

To top things off, Davenport also commented on the growing affection the palatial staff felt for the Ronakanite princess. They understood Michael's need for revenge, but why did it have to extend to someone who had been just a baby when the war started.

As if the above wasn't enough, Michael had received word half an hour ago that Paul Wolfe wanted to speak to him on an urgent matter. The 'urgent matter' was what had finally driven Michael to the holodeck in the first place. When Michael contacted him via secured channels Paul appeared on his vidscreen and demanded to know when they would attack Ronak again.

Paul argued that the Ronakanites were weak. They hadn't recovered from the previous battle four months ago. Furthermore, Paul had it 'on good authority' that Walter's devastation at losing his only child was wreaking havoc on the man's psyche. He was doing so badly, it was believed, that he had relinquished control to subordinates.

In the meantime, Paul had added, he was sure that Michael's forces were ready as were his. Like Michael, he had recovered quickly and was ready to deal a death blow to an already staggering Ronak. All in all it was the perfect time to strike.

Michael told him curtly that he'll think about it and calmly shut the vidscreen off before throwing it against the wall and smashing it to pieces out of aggravation. A perfect end to a perfect day

If Michael had known who was hovering around Paul out of sight, but within earshot, the fierce headache he'd had all day would have gotten even worse. What Michael hadn't seen was Madeline in the background and her statement to Paul after the video conference was over.

"I told you he was weak." Madeline told Paul shrewdly.

********

Whatever could have been gained that day at the holodeck before the untimely comment was lost. After their conversation Nikita had withdrawn into herself again. All around her noticed it and left her alone.

Gradually, bit by bit, a fleeting smile or a humorous glint in her eye slowly reappeared. Of course there was one notable exception to Nikita's returning good humor, one who was never graced with her smile - Michael.

While in the past he'd purposely avoided her, Michael now found himself looking for her even though he knew what was coming. He couldn't help himself. But as soon as Nikita would notice Michael the glimmer would die or the smile would fade and a scowl or frown would inevitably take its place.

Michael wasn't blind, he saw Nikita's reactions and his heart died a little more every time it happened. He knew that it was fruitless to hope for anything, after all she was a prisoner and he her captor. His head might have accepted that as far as Nikita was concerned he deserved her rejection, but his heart was another matter.

Ironically, no one spoke of Ronak or releasing Nikita again. Michael didn't understand why but he was grateful. His guilt was eating him up as it was and he didn't need any further reminders. The reason for the sudden quiet of course, was the recognition of Michael's feelings for Nikita and sympathy for the countless 'rejections.'

Unbeknownst to all of them was the reason for Nikita's behavior. She was upset with herself more than Michael. Just two months after the ill-advised conversation, Michael was finally giving up his foolish notions and was almost ready to give Nikita back her freedom. Fate however, had other ideas.

********

One night, about six months after her capture, Nikita was awakened from a sound sleep by a pounding on her door. Waking instantly, she jumped out of bed and ran to open the door to find Chuck standing there in his pilot's gear.

"What's wrong?" Nikita asked, anxiously. Before he could answer an alarm sounded through the entire palace.

"Get dressed. Quickly. You're going home." Chuck answered abruptly once the sirens died down. He waited outside her door for a couple of minutes until a shocked but elated Nikita dressed.

"What's with the sirens?" Nikita asked once she came out of the room, following Chuck's furious pace to the docking bay.

"We're under attack." Chuck answered grimly as they entered the hangar.

"My father?" Nikita stated more than she asked then added. "Good."

"Not your father." Michael answered Nikita quietly from just inside the doorway where he'd been issuing orders through his communications earpiece while awaiting their arrival. He'd overheard her reaction and seen her expression of glee at the news. Even though he understood, given her situation, it still pained him more deeply than he thought it would.

"Then who? Someone else whose life you destroyed?" Nikita asked bitingly.

"Does it matter? You've got your wish." Michael countered stiffly without looking at her, his voice cracking. Burying his emotions he turned to Chuck and handed him the minidisk he was holding. "The access codes."

Taking a deep breath he turned back to Nikita to plead for his remaining family's life. "Can you take my brothers with you? Grant them safe passage? I know I have no right to ask, but they're innocent in all of this." Seeing her hesitation, Michael beseeched her, gaze sad and resigned, "Please."

"Alright." Nikita nodded, still numbed by the shocking and quick turn of events.

"Thank you." Michael breathed in relief turning as the doors opened once again, his younger brothers sprinting towards them before they were fully open, each one carrying a small bag.

"Are you sure?" Seymour asked, both he and Jason struggling to hold back tears.

"Yes. There's no other choice." Michael answered. "If you can't find them, don't come back."

"But..." Jason started to protest.

"No. Do what you have to do to survive." Michael interrupted. "Live." He finished then walked quickly out of the hangar and headed for the command center as the first explosions were heard in the distance.