Yesterdays Lost ~ A Highlander/Star Trek Crossover Fanfic

We're going to need a Plan

The nearest shopping complex was a short walk away and offered a generous variety of foodstuffs from many worlds. Most of it, Angel was glad to see was fresh and more importantly, real. In fact she soon discovered that she was rather spoilt for choice. In the end she placed an order at a Vulcan cafe that would not offend Martin's herbivorous sensibilities before proceeding to an old fashioned Terran 'chippy'. When she had first moved to England to live under Penwarden's protection, these perculiarly English establishments had both fascinated and delighted her. Rock, chips and mushy peas for Farrell; chips in gravy and a 'chip shop' steak and ale pie for herself.

Her route back took her through a crowd of disembarkees from a recently docked ship. The close crowd pressed in on all sides in a way that made her heart pound against her ribs. She felt trapped, claustraphobic. As soon as the passageways diverged, Angel took the opportunity and fled for the relative sanctuary of the quieter one. It would mean a longer route back, but anything was better than battling through the crowds of people. In a little over 300 years, she had never gotten over her fear of crowded spaces.

Within a few minutes all was quiet. This corridor ran near the outer skin of the starbase and relatively few personnel had cause to be here. Most often it was used as an inpromptu running track for those bored with the athletics circuit or, with its' multitude of small storerooms and cargo holds as a private place for a secret romantic rendezvous. The smell of the food from the takeout containers drifted tantalisingly, making Angel's stomach growl so loudly that she almost missed the cry of protest that came from the cargo bay ahead. The Immortal hesitated and frowned, about to chalk it up to imagination when a shrill sound pierced the air. She recognised it, oh well did she recognise the scream of a frightened woman who was about to be hurt and hurt badly. Angel dropped the bag of food and ran as hard as she could towards the sound. The cargo bay doors refused to open at her approach and she slammed her fist into the access panel, once again using the instinctive power that hummed deep within the nucleus of her cells. She saw them at the same moment the Presence of another Immortal hit her.

He was as big and ugly as his Quickening felt and he held a diminutive Andorian Starfleet Ensign by the antennae. Her face was bruised and her uniform torn. Angel Morgan's face darkened and she drew her blade. “I think the young lady said NO!” she snarled.

“This is none of your concern” the man wore a Captain's uniform and Angel dreaded to think what kind of ship he ran. He tightened his grip and hauled the Ensign back to his side.

“Let her go or I'll take your head!” Doyle adjusted her stance.

The Captain snorted and backhanded the woman he had been about to abuse. The blow was hard and it knocked her unconcious to the deck. A callous kick pushed her limp body out of the way and from nowhere his sword appeared. “You look more fun anyway” he taunted as he advanced, with a wide swing of his blade. “But you can keep your head long enough for me to enjoy the rest of you”.

Not if Angel Morgan Doyle had anything to do with it! She spared a sidelong glance for the injured Andorian girl and attacked.

The comm system shrilled loudly, rudely rousing Penwarden from his doze. Startled, the Starfleet officer reached for the panel, squinting at the chronometer as he did so. It was past Midnight. Both he and William Farrell had fallen asleep over a game of chess as they waited for Angel to return.