Becknar Gear, Professor, formerly of Starfleet Research and Development, sat in his office, behind his matt-painted desk. The desk was practically bare, apart from a small, bronze plate which read "Assistant Deputy Director, Sector 001 Intelligence". Becknar had very little of the 'romance' about his job that his son possessed. His office was bland - no paintings or statues or models. Just grey walls, a grey desk, and two grey chairs.

In his hands were reports from the Sentok Nor facility computers - the parts that had been recovered, at least. He had been assigned to strategic analysis, rather than data analysis. It confused him - after all, rumor was the station had been performing DNA extraction experiments on Betazoids, and there were few people within the upper echelons of Intel more au fait with that topic than he was. But his was not to reason why.

His desk-communicator beeped. "Sir? Your thirteen-hundred appointment is here."

Becknar could not recall having an appointment this afternoon - his paper diary was empty. He reasoned it was probably one of the increasingly-regular meetings with underlings that his superiors planned to replace him with. They seemed to think he was approaching retirement age. More fool them. "Send 'em in, Miss Merriweather."

Of course, he definitely wasn't expecting the woman who strode through the single door. Stalked, might have been a better word for it, as she opened the door hard enough to slam against the wall before stepping inside, and without taking his eyes off of him, close it behind her with a push of her foot against it in a remarkably practiced motion. She was only somewhat taller than the female Human average and hardly an imposing figure in her own right. However, there was an intensity in her expression and manner which told that she was very, very unhappy.

But he knew her. She was one of the in-laws - Jesa's mother and from her expression, there was no mistaking it. They had never precisely gotten along before their children's marriage, and there seemed to be little hope that would change anytime soon. After all there weren't too many other blue-eyed, red-haired, fifty-something Human women he could have thought of right now who would have reason to attempt to kill him with a glare. She stopped about three feet from his desk and crossed her arms in front of her chest. "So, just how long were you going to wait before telling me?" her voice held acid.

His hand idly rested on a phaser strapped to the underside of his desk. It was aimed at the door, and therefore Mrs. Callen. He allowed himself a small smile. He had hoped his last gesture of fellowship - a gesture that made it possible for her to be seen in this space at all - might have soothed the savage beast. Evidently he was wrong, and the humorous irony certainly did not escape him.

"I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about, Jessie. Now please, have a seat - I'll have Merriweather bring in a cup of tea - and we can sort out whatever this is quietly like reasoned," he paused, grinning, "Human Beings."

Her glare went from fire to ice in one second. It said one thing more clearly than if he had lifted it from her mind, 'playing dumb will get you nowhere.' However, she followed his direction and sat down, arms crossed over her chest, and legs crossed at the knee. "You know precisely what I'm talking about and I'm not leaving this office until you either kill me, which would be rather rude since I came here unarmed, or tell me something."

Becknar keyed some instructions into his desk comm. He suspected he knew what she was talking about; a light surface scan proved he was right. It also informed him that she had no evidence that he was wiser than she was, and was trying to bluff him out for information.

Well, she had a right to know something. He knew that if he told her nothing then she would just make herself a nuisance trying to find them - and that would be more dangerous for Buck and Jesa's continued survival than anything else...

A few moments of silence passed, and Miss Merriweather brought in two cups of tea. When she left, Becknar tapped in another instruction into his desk-comm and his door locked itself. "Now we can talk privately. Drink up, my dear lady - the world's about to end."

Jessie took a sip, but more to appease him than anything else. She didn't even taste it. A wisecrack was lost somewhere in her mind and she just sat there and waited for him to elaborate. Truth was, she wasn't as outraged as she appeared, but this had always been a helpful façade - kept most people (telepaths aside) from guessing when she really was upset. Besides, she had a reputation to uphold.

Becknar sipped his tea gingerly. It was a Vulcan blend - he found it helped him think. "But my, oh my, hasn't your daughter inherited some of your tendencies. And Buck, I fear, has inherited some of mine."

He eased back into his chair. "We can at least take some solace in the fact they are about as hard to kill as we are. They are alive - and, compared to the alternative, fairly well."

Jessie allowed herself a very small feeling of triumph that she was right, but she also knew it was more the fact he chose to tell him than any manipulation on her part. The second emotion to follow was quickly relief. She was right about them being alive, and Jessie was always of the opinion that you never truly were out of options until you were dead, so that was a start.

The Human woman waited for a moment for him to continue and then realized he wasn't going to. "And where are they? What are their intentions? Who is responsible?" Unfortunately that last part came across more like 'Who can I kill?' But well, one could only mask so many emotions at once.

Becknar chuckled. "If I answered the first question, what would you do? Honestly, Mrs. Callen - remember, I am a telepath."

Jessie's jaw clenched. She hated that advantage. A part of her really wished she could get away with one good old-fashioned lie to this man. "I would make an attempt to cross their path, ascertain the situation, attempt to discover the parties responsible and eliminate the threat." Gods, she was having trouble completely shoving the obsessive concern out of her mind and sticking with a more rational balanced approach of acceptable losses. 'Acceptable losses be damned!' Jessie thought angrily, 'She is my daughter.'

Becknar read her mental processes and snarled, angrily, "And he is my son. And you somehow believe I don't wish to tear this sector apart to get to him? And that I don't with I could use every means at my disposal - EXTENSIVE means, make no mistake - to deal with his enemies?" He paused, calming a little. "And she is my daughter, too... I don't know about humans, but Betazoids take family seriously. And I know that if either of us contacts them directly, their enemies are powerful and influential enough that we will have signed their death warrants ourselves. Mrs. Callen." He sipped at his tea.

Despite the absurdity of doing so, the corner of Jessie's lip curled upward in a half-smile. So he did feel something underneath all of that smug superiority. She supposed he had to, he was Betazoid after all, but she had never been one to impose cultural stereotypes like that. She sighed deeply, it wasn't what she had wanted to hear. But she knew it as well as he.

She had already been second-guessing every one of her limited moves which had been aimed at discovering some information. Mostly she was trying to figure out what they knew. Jessie, despite her emotional outburst, knew that her attempts to find them would have been pointing a big red arrow. So she had restrained herself to seeing if Jesa's access codes were still in-tact awhile back. And considering the stir it had caused - their enemies believed Jesa and Buck were still alive. Of course, she didn't know whether to be comforted or further disturbed by that.

"So we're supposed to sit up all night like when they were teenagers waiting for a security report of their deaths or them to show up back home?" Jessie asked. It was a half-hearted attempt at humor, but it wasn't helping her mood any.

"That's... The plan. Yes." Becknar's face softened to a sympathetic smile. "If we do anything else, their enemies will use us to zero in on them. And we can't afford that to happen. Not until they get... Until they get down the lion's throat." He grinned.

He finished his cup of tea. "Your daughter has made powerful, powerful enemies. Much more powerful than anyone we can take on. There's only one way to deal with them - I just pray that Jesa has enough... Has enough of her Mother about her to work out the best course of action. And that, when she strikes, she doesn't miss." His face became melancholy.

A muscle in Jessie's jaw tightened again. She should have taken the opportunity to inform Jesa better, teach her more things. Make her aware of more that was going on. She knew that Jesa had made enemies, but hadn't realized the seriousness of it until too late. And then she had been preoccupied with the rest of the family's survival. Truth told, she honestly wasn't sure what Jesa would do.

The thought terrified her, and not being able to do anything frightened her more.

Jessie's eyes flicked back up to look at Becknar. He had just told her where they were going to be, no timetable, but a location. 'Of course...' Jessie thought. 'Her instinct is to run, avoid, but is unwilling... They aren't sure of that. But who will she strike? And with what?' She prayed that Jesa had learned enough in spite of her, not because.

"So, while we are on the subject of missing children, do you happen to know where they've sent my other daughter off to?" Jessie asked, out of the blue, her previous line of thought terminated for the moment.

Becknar's expression hardened. She could not know of it, but he had spent a large amount of time trying to work out just what had happened to the other 'Callen' girl, but to no avail. There were some places in SF Intel that were black holes, even to the ADD of Intel for Earth Sector...

"She's in... Intel. Beyond that, I honestly cannot tell you..."

"Damn," Jessie said softly, either not noticing his expression or not paying attention to it. Another seemingly off-handed sigh and she stood up, "Well, thank you for this lovely chat. We must do it again soon, just without the excuse for hostilities." She completely ignored the point that she was the one with the whole hostility thing. But she didn't insult his intelligence by sealing with a smile.

"A pleasure, as always Mrs. Callen. Remember, there's always an opening in my branch for experienced officers. And good people. There is a shortage of late, and I would redress the balance." He stood up, a gentleman to the last.

"Good afternoon, Jessie."

She smiled, then, uncharacteristically she leaned across the desk (slowly, so as not to provoke a reaction) and squeezed his forearm gently. It was probably the only way she knew to try and be reassuring. "Take care of yourself, Becknar," she said to him.

He smiled, softly, returning the gesture. He didn't speak, but she heard the words in her mind. 'Stay safe, Madam. And my compliments to your husband.'

Jessie nodded in acknowledgement, a slight smile still on her lips, then she turned and left, shutting the door quietly behind her. That was definitely her style. Coming like a lion, leaving like a lamb.

Becknar eased back in his chair, and returned to his reports. After almost exactly seven minutes, he keyed some instructions into his desk-comm. "Miss Merriweather? You can reactivate the internal cameras now. If security asks, tell them it was a glitch. Thank you."