It was late, but that never stopped him. Federation Security Agent Micah Pikelsimer looked at himself in the mirror and smiled. He was dressed as he had been on his arrival: casual clothes with a nice leather jacket. But after the planning session and discussion with the Command staff, he had come back and eaten dinner by himself. He cleaned up, and then put on a cologne his sister had sent him from home. It smelled of the woods, with just a hint of leather and bourbon. He went to the table where his bag was kept and reached inside and pulled out two jars with screw on lids. Inside sloshed a clear liquid. Holding the glass jars in his non-metal hand, he made sure he was presentable and then left his room.

A few minutes later, he arrived at the door he sought. Rather than pressing the chime, he used the metal hand on his left side to knock, the metal-on-metal ringing softly through the quiet passageway. He then leaned on the side of the door frame and waited.

Pikelsimer