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	Return Engagement cont.
	by Zlanna@AOL.com
	
	Calmly Riker turned on his heel, already forming a rather lame excuse
for the MP as to why he was outside the dorm rather than inside where he
was supposed to be. It took his preoccupied brain a few seconds to
understand the scene before him. A tall, muscular MP, probably the one
he had seen before, was running out of the dorm after a young cadet who
had stopped dead in his tracks like some scared deer in the face of a
transport's headlights. Wasting no time, Riker ducked behind some
shrubs. The MP was screaming at the poor kid, waving what looked like a
Klingon pain prod in the air as would a conductor at a Klingon opera.
Realizing he wasn't the object of the MP's wrath, Riker stood up,
brushed his pants off the best he could and took off in a slow jog
towards his destination. He didn't have much time. If he didn't hurry
this entire escapade would be for nothing.

	The streets were deserted. A few civilians still milled around the
campus but for the most part everyone was asleep as they were supposed
to be. He had two kilometers to cover and only fifteen minutes, assuming
the arriving transport was on time. Behind him Riker heard a noise.
Glancing over his shoulder he realized the MP was behind him, matching
Riker's gait. Riker broke into a run. Another quick look. The MP was
running too. Riker groaned. He didn't need this. He ran as fast as he
could. He would arrive sweaty and dirty, but at this point the main
thing was to arrive. If he could just make it to the transport station
his mission still had a chance and after all he had gone through, no
damn MP was going to stop him. Not after he come so far.

	***

	MP Marshall Warren retraced his steps back through the silent, dark
dormitory hallway listening and watching for a wayward cadet or officer.
He found no one. Then he heard the hiss of the main door as it closed.
Taking the steps two at a time he rushed forward, out the door and found
a first year cadet walking nonchalantly outside the building.

	"Halt!" Warren yelled, his Klingon pain prod held above his head. He
noted with pleasure that the youngster stopped dead in his tracks. "What
the hell do you think you are doing out here after curfew?"

	The boy never said a word, just held out a padd in his shaking hand.
Warren had to hold the padd himself in order to read it. Cringing, the
boy stepped backward nearly stumbling. Warren looked the youth over
disdainfully. "Says here you have third shift duties in the loading
docks. Is that right?" A quick nod was the cadet's response.

	"You see anyone come out of this dorm, son?" Marshall softened his
voice. He had been an actor once in his youth and could turn the charm
on and off like a computer switch when he wanted.

	The boy's eyes flicked down the street toward the back of a tall man
in the distance who was walking so fast he was nearly jogging.

	Warren turned to look in the same direction as the cadet. He spotted
the red shirt of a Starfleet Commander immediately. ³Where did he come
from?" Warren asked.

	Finding his voice, the boy answered in a hushed soprano, "From that
dorm, Sir." the boy pointed toward the dorm Warren had just emerged
from. "Please, Sir, I'm going to be late."

	Warren tapped the button on the padd, "Here, I inputted ten extra
minutes for you and confirmed the reason for your delay. You'll be fine,
now get on with you."

	"Thanks, Sir." the boy gushed.

	Marshall grunted, "You're volunteered to be in the security forces.
We take care of our own boy, don't forget that."

	"Yes, Sir. No, Sir." the youth answered, his eyes casting back the
light of the dorm's entry light.

	Marshall watched the boy take off down the street for a moment,
before turning around and taking off full speed for whatever unfortunate
Starfleet officer had just decided he was above the Academy's rules.

	*** The question, Will Riker realized, was how to ditch the MP who
had just decided to become his personal shadow. Riker knew security men.
They were stubborn, opinionated and ferocious in their determination to
enforce their rules. Not Starfleet's rules necessarily, but their rules,
whether those rules made sense or not. The only way you could get on
their side was to prove to them you were one of them. If they accepted
you, they would do anything for you. If not, they were out for blood,
your blood if you crossed them. Judging by the speed by which the MP was
trailing him, and the fact that he was obviously not going to give up,
the man had been in security for a long time. Riker didn't have the time
for a long chat, no matter how persuasive he might be, so instead he
opted to try and out run his pursuer. Riker's long strides allowed him
to gain on the man who was following him, but Riker was no fool.
Security men never worked alone. Somewhere up ahead, there was sure to
be a buddy of the guy who was panting behind him, waiting for Riker to
literally run into his arms. Then Riker would face two security goons
intent on teaching him a lesson. His life was suddenly much more
complicated, but then he had expected it to be, why else would he have
avoided this moment for so long?

	Turning the corner, Riker found just what he was looking for, a
personal ground transport hovering at a pickup spot. "Hey!" Riker
yelled, signaling the driver. "Can you get me over to the transport
station?"

	"Sure, mate. No problem. Jump on in quick, its almost time for the
watering." the small, oriental driver had a wide toothy grin and his
eyes had permanent laugh lines chiseled around them. Riker saw the man
glance up in the rear view mirror where Riker also caught a glimpse of a
breathless MP shaking his fist at the transport. "Friend of yours,
Commander?" the driver asked.

	"Don't know the man actually." Riker answered. "Don't care to." he
added.

	The quick smile flashed across the driver's face. "Right. Here we go
then."

	Relieved Riker settled comfortably back into the thick, padded
cushions of the transport seat. "Say, you ever heard of Captain Sulu?"
the driver asked, catching sight of Riker in the rear monitor.

	"Hikaru Sulu? Of course, he served for a number of years under James
T. Kirk, then went on to be Captain of the Excaliber." Riker answered.

	"Never met him though, did you?" the driver asked. Riker shot a
quick look at the driver's license. He didn't even try to pronounce the
man's name. He doubted he was a relative though.

	"Before my time." Riker answered. "Met his daughter, Demora, once
though."

	"You don't say. What did you think of her?"

	"A real beauty. Smart too. A good helmsman."

	"I dated her cousin once." the driver answered proudly. "A good
helmsman." he repeated. "I'm retired Starfleet myself - fourteen years."

	Riker took a closer look at the man. He hardly seemed old enough to
retire. "Yes," the man continued. "til Wolf 359. Injury hospitalized me
for sixteen weeks. Didn't have the stomach for it after that." The guy's
laugh was low and menacing. "That's a joke, 'cause I lost my stomach
when a bulkhead exploded in front of me. Lost most of my digestive tract
actually."

	The battle of Wolf 359 was a topic Riker usually tried to avoid.
Emotions ran deep. The hatred of the Borg. The hatred of Picard. Few
people outside of the Enterprise crew realized the debt the Federation
owed his Captain. He had learned long ago explanations did no good with
people who needed someone to blame for all the pain and destruction.

	"Here we go, Commander. Which terminal?" the driver was peering back
at Riker in the rearview monitor again.

	"The flight is coming in from Deep Space Five. Terminal C, I
believe." Riker answered. He noticed the driver hadn't taken his eyes
off the rear monitor. He obviously had something on his mind. Something
he was building the courage to say.

	"You know, when I got injured in the battle." the driver grimaced
unconsciously at the memory, "I was lying on the floor of the bridge of
the U.S.S. Kennedy. Just lying there. Couldn't move, couldn't talk.
Thought I'd be paralyzed for life." The driver expertly dropped the
transport down in front of a freight terminal. "If I lived." Riker
looked around. Security men were everywhere. Some were wandering around,
waiting for their shift schedule to change, others were patrolling the
station. Many were just watching for trouble. Riker swallowed the taste
of betrayal that clung to his throat. Of all the transport drivers he
had to pick, he had to chose one whose life long ambition had been to
get back at Picard. And if Picard wasn't available apparently getting
back at Picard through his First Officer was going to be revenge enough
for the moment.

	***