Chapter Seven. (R18) -- The Beta Board

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Date Posted: 14:04:33 02/01/04 Sun
Author: Cyanide
Subject: Chapter Seven. (R18)
In reply to: Cyanide 's message, "Acephaly." on 20:12:12 01/21/04 Wed

Less than a month before he had been there.

Six-foot one, blue-eyed blond, Daniel James Reilly was Janet's second assistant.

Nikita had spent coming on three years searching for a man who had been in Section's database all along - their searches hadn't included the dead. According to their records, Daniel James Reilly was killed in 1990 while in the employ of one Kristoff Alberto Baldacci - one of the most vicious terrorists Section had ever encountered. Unless Red Cell made a habit of logging in corpses Section's records were incorrect.

Three weeks before Section's arrival, Reilly had visited Red Cell's main base of operations; his fingerprints had been entered into the system, he'd smiled for his picture.

Operatives were poring over the Baldacci files, searching for some clue as to how Reilly managed to escape Section forces in 1990 and then elude them for the last 17 years. Luck could explain the first, but he'd have needed help on the second; as Janet couldn't have been more than ten, she was out. Somewhere in those files there was a name, a connection to Reilly; if they found it, they would be able to find him. Nikita was certain.

And when we find him, we'll find Janet.

Oversight had finally given their permission; the hunt for Janet had begun in earnest. Database searches had yet to yield any results on the search for Janet and her first assistant, but they didn't need to. Reilly was the key; he would lead them to the others.

She heard someone behind her. "Yes?"

Quinn. "We may have found her."

Nikita blinked. Her. Not HIM. HER. "Janet?" She turned to face Quinn.

Quinn nodded. "Kristoff's sister, Helene, had a daughter with her husband Gideon Vasaro. Our records indicate the parents died in 1980, but there is no mention of the child..."

Nikita cut her off. "1980? When was she born?"

"April 4th 1977," Quinn read the date off her PDA.

Too old - was Nikita's immediate thought. "Her name was Janet?" She was willing to explore the idea.

Quinn shook her head again. "No, her first name was Debra, but her middle name begins with a J. In..."

Again she cut off Quinn. "The full name isn't on the birth certificate?"

Quinn sighed. "No."

Then why the hell are we talking? "What you are telling me is that this person - who may or may not be dead, has the middle initial J - that may or may not stand for Janet, and she may or may not be my Janet despite being about five years too old?" she snarled, thoroughly annoyed with Quinn.

Quinn's lips formed a single tight line; she said nothing at first, just glared fiercely at Nikita. "From 1980 onwards Debra's name doesn't appear on a single piece of paper - she disappeared. If she died we should have a death certificate - we don't. Gideon had no siblings, Helene had only Kristoff, and both sets of grandparents were dead. If the child survived, she went to live with her Uncle. In 1989 one of our operatives infiltrated Kristoff's organization. She lived in his house for a time, and in one of her early reports, she mentioned a girl named Deb. The operative was pulled out in 1990, just before the raid, in debrief she gave a list of all the houses' occupants, the name Deb did not appear..."

Nikita cut in. "Who was the operative?"

Quinn looked annoyed to have been interrupted yet again, but answered the question, "Simone Chiang."

Simone Chiang? Simone... "Not..."

This time it was Quinn who cut off Nikita. "Yes, one and the same." Quinn paused as though she expected Nikita to speak again, when she didn't, Quinn continued, "In 2001 a J.H.Baldacci brought a large parcel of land in the United States, just outside Baltimore. J.H.Baldacci has a birth certificate and all relevant documentation; but before 1993, she doesn't appear to have had a bank account, a driver's license, a library card or anything else. So, I think we may have found her." Quinn was at her bitchy best.

"Send a team, surveillance only." Nikita was icy cold.

"Yes Ma'am," Quinn muttered on her way out.

Keep this up and you'll end up in Abeyance.

Nikita looked down upon Comm.; a few minutes later Quinn marched across the room and took her seat. The woman got straight to work, and in very little time, the first cold operatives wandered towards the briefing table. For all Quinn's faults, she was good at her job.

If only she wasn't so eager to steal mine.

By the time the necessary operatives were assembled, Nikita had thoroughly examined the information on Debra Vasaro and J. Baldacci - she was convinced they were one and the same. She was convinced they had found Janet.

I'll bathe in her blood.

************************************************************************************************************************

However dangerous anger was, love was more so.

He had allowed emotion to rule; he had allowed his feelings to dictate his actions. And now...

Now, he was in trouble. Now, he and Adam were "guests'" in Janet's house, and at her mercy.

"Vous ne dormez pas?" (You're not sleeping?)

Michael followed the sound of the voice and found Janet leaning casually against the doorway.

"Moi aussi." (Me also.) She smiled. "Est-ce que je peux vous joindre?" (May I join you?)

It was her house; Michael nodded. "Mais, oui." (But, yes.)

Janet moved further into the room and, making a sweeping gesture with her hand, announced, "C'est ma pièce préférée dans la maison." (It is my favorite part of the house.)

"Il est confortable." (It is comfortable.)

She came and sat in an armchair across from him; she sunk into the cushions, observing him in silence.

Michael detected the faint aroma of alcohol and, though she displayed no outward symptoms of intoxication, he suspected she was drunk. She looked terrible, as though she hadn't slept or eaten in days. Dark circles were forming around her eyes; her cheekbones looked like blades beneath her skin. She seemed leached of energy.

Michael thought the look suited her - it seemed more honest.

After a prolonged staring match, Janet broke the silence. "L'oubliez." (Forget her.)

The comment took him off guard; he hadn't thought he was so transparent. Nikita and Adam were all he had thought about the last few days. "Je ne peux pas." (I cannot.)

Janet smiled with false sympathy. "Il n'y a pas d'autre façon que ceci peut terminer." (There is no other way this can end.) She was seemingly unable to work up enough energy to impose much inflection on her words, speaking in a low monotone most of the time.

A few days before he wouldn't have understood what she meant - now he knew. He knew why she had come to him this evening, knew that she had planned it this way. He had found out only because she had allowed it. What he didn't know was why. Why now? Why ever?

"Pourquoi pas simplement promenade loin?" (Why not just walk away?) he asked, knowing the answer only too well. She couldn't walk away; she was destructive by nature.

She shook her head ever so slightly. "On le décide. Je ne pourrais pas la sauver même si j'ai voulu." (It is decided. I could not save her even if I wanted to.)

He didn't believe her. "Ce ne doit pas être de cette façon." (It doesn't have to be this way.)

She looked away and sighed deeply. She stared out the window for a few minutes and then, seeming to come to a decision, turned back to face him. "Je vous dois une dette," (I owe you a debt,) she said tiredly. "Vous pouvez l'avertir sis vous souhaitez." (You may warn her if you wish.)

She surprised him; he had not thought she would give in so easily. It was unlike her to do so - there would be a catch.

Janet rose and spoke again. "Vous avez le choix. Choisissez, mais choissez sagement." (You have the choice. Choose, but choose wisely.) She left the threat unspecified.

She owed him - her life and her freedom. Because of that debt, he was free to do as he wished; but it would cost him. What, he wasn't certain. She would withdraw her assistance - that was a given - but interference of this kind would merit something more punishing. If he caused her to fail, she would make him pay; she wasn't the type of person who let things go.

Janet moved to exit the room. At the doorway she paused and then turned back. "Il n'y a plus d'enfants," (There are no children nowadays,) she said softly, then turned and left.

Michael's blood ran cold. He listened to her retreating footsteps, echoing up the hallway.

She would do it; he knew she would. Janet didn't make idle threats. She was born a bitch.

Il n'y a plus d'enfants.

Janet had never been a child, never been innocent. He knew that now, but once he had mistaken youth for innocence; it was proving a costly error.

"Ce ne doit pas être de cette façon." (It doesn't have to be this way.) He wanted it to be true, but now...

Now it seemed he had no choice. Thousands would die, Nikita among them.

Thousands.

He had the power to save them, he believed. He didn't know if he could do it; didn't know if he wanted to do it.

Not now.

He didn't want to choose.

I need another option.

He was in her house - at her mercy; Di was his shadow, ever vigilant. But there was a way; he knew there was a way.

He could alert Nikita to the threat Janet posed without risking Adam's life. There was a way.

He just couldn't think of it.

THINK! he ordered himself.

************************************************************************************************************************

There was no way it could end well for her. If Nikita succeeded, she'd end up cleaning Section's toilets. If Nikita failed, she'd either - depending on the circumstances - end up in Abeyance or dead. Quinn was leaning towards death as her preferred option, which was just as well because - in her opinion - it was also the most likely.

The mission was going exceptionally well; their teams had cut through the opposition like a hot knife through butter. They had yet to sustain a single casualty and their teams were well within the complex. Quinn felt as though she were watching a train wreck.

All too easy.

It was a trap; it had to be. The security was limited and ill-placed; the personnel couldn't shoot straight though their lives depended upon it. Each one of them seemed to be acting alone; there was no organization, no cohesion - no plan. It just didn't fit with what Nikita had told her about Janet.

I'm going to die here.

If she had been able to choose a way to die, this wouldn't have been it. However, there wasn't another person in the world she would rather die with than the woman beside her. Her own death was a whole lot more acceptable knowing that Nikita would be joining her in hell - Quinn was almost looking forward to it.

Nikita didn't appear to think there was a problem. Despite lecturing them all on how cunning and vile Janet was, Nikita didn't seem the least bit concerned at how easily their teams were taking the base. When Quinn dared to mention the possibility of a trap, Nikita had laughed in her face. Quinn was having doubts about Nikita's sanity - the woman was possessed.

"There's something..."

They never heard the rest of what team three's leader had to say, the transmission cut out.

Quinn had been expecting something of this sort - Nikita had not.

"What happened?" Nikita looked at Quinn accusingly.

"Transmission cut out," she replied, calm as calm can be.

Her tone appeared to annoy Nikita. "Get him back," she bit out.

Quinn tried every trick in the book and a great many that weren't - it was of no use, she hadn't expected it to be.

Waste of time, we should get out of here.

"Nothing I can do, it's a total system failure."

"Does Section still have contact?" Nikita was becoming agitated.

Quinn laughed. "I'd ask but we're cut off completely." Told you so, she was tempted to add.

Quinn laughed. "I'd ask but we're cut off completely." Told you so, she was tempted to add.

"Get us back up," Nikita ordered, her tone cold - her face stern and unyielding.

I hope she dies first - I'd like to see that.

"I can't. We need to get the hell out of here," she said, though believing it was already too late.

Nikita's eyes flared, for a moment they were wild, dangerous - insane. Nikita blinked hard and her angry haze appeared to lift. "You're right. This is a trap."

I told you so.

Nikita banged on the divider to the cab. "Let's go."

They went nowhere. Quinn pulled up the cab camera - no one was there. "On our own."

"Where the hell did he go?" Nikita demanded.

Quinn smiled. "I doubt he went willingly."

Nikita stared at her, then nodded slowly. "I'm sorry."

Too late now. "What are your orders?"

Nikita handed her a weapon and grabbed another for herself. "Let's go," she said, pulling the door open as she did so.

Quinn wasn't sure if Nikita's eyes were burning with confidence or insanity - somehow she doubted there was much difference under the circumstances. You first. "Yes, Ma'am," she crisply responded.

Nikita raced out the door into the nearby brush, but didn't get much farther than that - she collapsed in a heap. Quinn, who against her better judgment had followed Nikita out the door, only managed a few steps before meeting a similar fate.

In the moment before the darkness took her, Quinn cursed Nikita to hell.

************************************************************************************************************************

She stood in the center of Comm. watching a blank screen and wondering what the hell had gone wrong.

Communications was down - not just on Operations' mission, but every mission.

It wasn't supposed to be possible, but someone had hacked into their system and pulled the plug. Jasmine doubted the timing was coincidental; it was all part of a larger plan, one she was sure included Operations' mission.

The techs were working with a furious intensity she had never before witnessed, but they weren't moving nearly fast enough for her. Operations was very likely walking into a trap and they couldn't warn her - they couldn't even get the doors to open. They had to get back online before it was too late - if it isn't already.

"I think I've got it!" a tech optimistically stated, while Jasmine continued to stare into blackness. "God damn it!" he cursed a moment later.

More typing, rewiring, and twenty more minutes of impotence.

"Try again," he ordered.

Jasmine was still watching a blank screen - nothing.

The tech ripped out a few more wires; then jury-rigged another pathway. "What about now?"

The screens flickered to life.

"Got it!" another tech announced. "It will take a few minutes to connect," he continued, all the while typing with lightning speed.

Jasmine paced from one end of Comm. to the other, becoming increasingly nervous with each step. Too long. Too long.

"We're up," he said.

Jasmine couldn't see any proof of that. "Then where are they?"

He swallowed hard. "The teams are dead."

"What?" Her stomach moved up into her throat.

"No life signs - they are dead."

"Operations?" She failed to keep the desperation from her voice.

"Dead too, no wait a minute..." he trailed off.

"What?" she demanded.

"I'm not getting any readings,' he replied.

"No readings?" She considered. "Possible someone has phased out her transponders?"

"That could account for it, but then she could just as easily be dead." He shrugged.

"What about Quinn and Trent?" she asked, her heart pounding.

"Trent is dead. Quinn I have no readings for," he told her.

"You're sure the others are dead, but don't know about Quinn and Operations?"

"We'll know more when more systems are up and running," he hedged.

"Nothing on any of Operations transponders?"

"Nada on both."

Both?

Her heart skipped a beat. "What about the third?"

He shot her a confused look. "I wasn't aware she had another."

Let's hope you're not the only one.

Jasmine glanced up at the Perch where Jacob stood.

"Any chance you could leave him there a little longer?"

He followed her gaze. "I'm really very busy."

Jasmine smiled. "Let's get to work."

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[> [> Comments inside. -- Shanola, 22:19:09 02/01/04 Sun

Glad to see you posted another part. =P

I was happily reading along, intrigued and in the story when suddenly, I got to a conversation all in parenthesis. Totally, 100% threw me out of the story. Completely.

I don't understand the need to include an entire conversation in French. I've heard it said that it makes the fiction more real but if that's the case, then ALL of Michael's thinking should probably be in French, which could pose a serious communication problem to the reader.

Why not just say something like, "She spoke in French and Michael answered the same way". Then I'd KNOW they were speaking French but I wouldn't have to actually look at a sentence and then read the translation.

Sorry if I'm ranting but I'm interested in the story you are writing but I couldn't read past this part. It bugs me to be tossed out of a story because of something like that.

Otherwise, it's good. You've got a nice description of Janet with cheekbones like blades. Very nice description, really gives a nice visual image.

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[> [> [> Ok. (r) -- Cyanide, 16:19:29 02/02/04 Mon

I don't understand the need to include an entire conversation in French. I've heard it said that it makes the fiction more real but if that's the case, then ALL of Michael's thinking should probably be in French, which could pose a serious communication problem to the reader.

Actually, the french conversation had more to do with Janet than it did Michael - she started the conversation, she choose the language. I had thought of having Michael's thoughts in french as well - simply because he was having a conversation in that language and it is usual to think in the language you are speaking - but then decided against it, in order to provide more of a divide between his thoughts and the exchange with Janet. Now, having said that, I will again consider changing his thoughts to french.

Why not just say something like, "She spoke in French and Michael answered the same way". Then I'd KNOW they were speaking French but I wouldn't have to actually look at a sentence and then read the translation.

Having already included a brief conversation between Janet and Daniel in Latin, I thought it best to stick to the same format.

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[> [> [> [> Hmm... -- Shanola, 20:15:36 02/02/04 Mon

First off, thanks for answering. =P I wasn't sure you would. This is a touchy subject for me and I tend to rant when it comes up so I was afraid you'd read it and go, "Silly girl!" and blow me off. Thanks for taking the time to answer me.

I don't necessarily think you should change Michael's thoughts to French. I agree with you that he probably thinks in French but I don't think it's necessary to write his thoughts in that language.

You said that you included the second conversation because it kept to the same format as earlier in the story. I'm questioning that format.

I find it very distracting when entire conversations are written in another language. I've been trying to think of an example of that in a published novel and I can't. Words, phrases, sure. No problem there. Words and short phrases are short and it's easy to include a translation of the phrase/word in the conversation. In books, when characters speak in different languages, the author usually just makes a note of it and goes on. I can't think of one book where an author has written an entire conversation between two characters in a different language. Not even Tolkien. I certainly don't think that if a book is translated into, say, French that the character's American converstations are left in English.

I don't think its okay to write that way in published writing and I find it distracting in fanfic. It's unneccessary. Can you convince me otherwise? I'm very willing to hear another side of this issue.

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[> [> [> [> [> Warning rambling ahead...(r) -- Cyanide, 14:25:41 02/03/04 Tue

First off, thanks for answering. =P I wasn't sure you would. This is a touchy subject for me and I tend to rant when it comes up so I was afraid you'd read it and go, "Silly girl!" and blow me off. Thanks for taking the time to answer me.

lolol, I am not inclined to take these things personally, so feel free to rant all you like.

I'm not the type of person who asks for people's opinions' and then refuses to consider them, no matter how they are delivered. (I've never been able to understand people who do do that either.)

Regardless of whether or not I agree with someone's opinion, I will always consider it, dissect it and then dissect my own to see whether or not it requires editing.

You said that you included the second conversation because it kept to the same format as earlier in the story. I'm questioning that format.

I find it very distracting when entire conversations are written in another language. I've been trying to think of an example of that in a published novel and I can't. Words, phrases, sure. No problem there. Words and short phrases are short and it's easy to include a translation of the phrase/word in the conversation. In books, when characters speak in different languages, the author usually just makes a note of it and goes on. I can't think of one book where an author has written an entire conversation between two characters in a different language. Not even Tolkien. I certainly don't think that if a book is translated into, say, French that the character's American converstations are left in English.

You are quite right, usually only small portions of conversations are written in different languages - personally, I've always felt a little cheated when authors did that.

Though I possess little talent in regards to different languages, I do enjoy the intricacies of the written word and find the inclusion of different languages interesting.

Having said that, I think it is likely that the majority of people would concur with you on this matter, and so, I shall see if my addled brain can come up with a clarifying sentence which will allow me to eliminate the french passages.

I don't think its okay to write that way in published writing and I find it distracting in fanfic. It's unneccessary. Can you convince me otherwise? I'm very willing to hear another side of this issue.

I sincerely doubt I would be able to convince you otherwise, even if I wanted to. Yes, it is probably distracting, but then I enjoy distractions and to me that is what fan fiction is.

Seeing as you used the magic word "unnecessary," I will change it - I do so dislike anything unnecessary. *bg*

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[> [> [> [> [> [> Okay. And hey... -- Shanola, 20:13:53 02/03/04 Tue

It's going to be a few days before I can beta the rest of this story. I'm getting ready to head out of town and working like crazy so I can go. I might need a week or so to get back to you on the remaining bits.

Thanks so much for putting the story here, though. I'm really enjoying it. =P

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